by Kim McMahon
Orpheus nodded himself resolutely. “Let’s talk tactics.” They hopped back down and the kids sat crosslegged on the straw-covered dirt floor.
“First and foremost, I do not have any special powers to whisk you out of danger—if you get in a tough spot, you’ll have to take care of yourselves,” he warned. “Our best option is to grab Eurydice if at all possible. Next best is to find out what happened to her, where she went and who with. But I can’t keep us here indefinitely—my energy meter is running. Call it three days, max. We have to be physically back together by then, to time travel home. Otherwise, you’re stuck here for the rest of your lives—and in this situation, that probably wouldn’t be very long.
“In order to survive, you’ll have to stay under the radar. There’ll be a good-sized crowd at this meeting, so that will help. But your clothes are impossible—and Artemis, your hair. This is not exactly the land of the platinum blond—you’ll stand out like a lightning flash. If the locals get one look at that mane, you’ll be whisked off to an auction block and sold into some sheik’s harem.”
Her mouth opened in dismay, and for the first time, she actually looked a little scared—still determined, but it was clear that she was starting to realize this was a lot more complicated, and dangerous, than the exciting, romantic adventure she’d imagined. Adam had been nervous all along, he had no problem admitting that, and now it took another jump. He’d tried to imagine the dangers of battle, but being sold into a harem? Nothing like that had even occurred to him. Talk about strangers in a strange land, he thought. If they’d had any idea this was going to happen, at least they could have been better prepared.
“I can use this as a head scarf, at least,” she said, pulling off her black shawl. Then she added anxiously, “But there’s another problem I never even thought of. We don’t speak the language—we won’t understand a word anyone says.”
“That, I’ve got covered,” Orpheus said. “My creator, Vantorix, thought we might run into the same problem, so he set up a translating mechanism.”
A small panel in his throat slid open—just like the other niches, but this was under his chin. A tray came sliding out, divided into compartments like a toolbox made for somebody six inches tall. One of those popped open and a slender stem jackknifed up, with what looked like a tiny barb at its tip.
“Artemis, pull your hair away from one side of your head,” Orpheus commanded. “Adam, hold me up next to her ear.” The kids glanced nervously at each other again, but obeyed. “A little closer—there, that’s good.” As Adam steadied him, the tiny barb suddenly darted forward, tapping the slight hollow of her temple. There was a tiny pttt sound, and the stem bounced back.
He’d just given her a shot, Adam realized, like a doctor with one of those fancy guns. What was that all about?
But Orpheus was already saying, “Next—come on, let’s move it.” Adam handed Orph to Artemis and braced himself, but when the pttt came, he barely felt the barb—it was like getting bumped by a gnat.
The stem snapped back into its compartment and the tray disappeared seamlessly into Orpheus’s throat.
“Okay, you’re GTG on that count,” he said. “Those are like implanted microchips, except much more advanced. They create an energy field that alters sonic frequencies—so the language anyone speaks to you will enter your brain as English, and whatever you say back will get changed to their language. It’s instantaneous, so you’ll barely notice it. But—the process has to be routed through me, and the range is limited—a couple of miles, depending on the terrain. Another good reason for us to stay close together.”
That was a big help, for sure, although there were still plenty of other problems and questions—starting with how they were going to get to the meeting place unnoticed.
“I’ll sneak a look around,”Adam said, trying to sound braver than he felt. There must be a place nearby where gear for the camels was stored—maybe there’d be some burlap or pack cloths they could wrap around themselves.
He was just starting toward the crude wooden door when it swung open.
A boy about the same age as Artemis and Adam, with sun-darkened skin and curly black hair, was staring back at them with huge eyes that mirrored their own shock.
FIFTEEN
The boy jumped back, turning like he was going to flee.
“Wait—we’re friends!” Artemis called out. “We won’t hurt you—please, come talk to us.”
He hesitated—still poised to run, but now he seemed entranced.
And it wasn’t because of Orpheus, Adam realized—his gaze was locked on Artemis. Her hair was still uncovered while she’d been folding the shawl into a scarf, and apparently, the sight of that wild blond mane was much more fascinating than the extra head perched on Adam’s shoulder.
Artemis was quick to realize it, too—and to put it to use. She gave him a radiant smile, and gracefully stood up. Then she ran her hands through her hair, fluffing it out to its maximum end-to-end extension, as wide as she was tall.
The boy gasped in awe, sinking to his knees and clasping his hands together.
“Oh, lady,” he whispered. “Are you a jinni?”
“Not exactly—but we come from a faraway time and place, and we are magical. Look!” She pointed at Orpheus. “This is the miraculous talking head of legend, that can perform many marvels.”
Orpheus jumped on the cue like a hungry trout hitting a caddis fly—first, by changing color from the ambient earth tones around them to a brilliant rainbow spectrum that moved subtly around his face.
“Arise, O brave son of the Prophet, and tell us your name,” he said, in a rich, formal voice.
Adam was noticing that while he understood all the talking perfectly well, the words had an odd feel, like they were hitting his brain differently than usual—that must be the implanted chip altering the sonic frequencies.
The boy stood up shakily, his eyes still huge. “I am called Mustafa, O marvelous head that shines like a rainbow and speaks like a mage.”
Adam felt Orpheus stretch himself a little taller, preening.
“I am Orpheus. This young man is Adam, and the lady is Artemis.”
Mustafa’s lips moved as he repeated her name under his breath.
“Will you help us, Mustafa?” she asked. “I swear to you, we won’t harm anyone—we only have a task to accomplish. And we’ll reward you handsomely.”
He lowered his face shyly. “If I may serve the lady with the moonlight hair, I ask no other reward.”
Adam closed his eyes with relief. They still had a long way to go, but this was a big step.
“The great Sultan Saladin, and the Frankish King Richard, will soon hold a meeting to discuss terms, is it not?” Orpheus asked.
Mustafa nodded. “The Sultan’s emissaries are riding out from the city even now.”
“We need to be present there—but we have to stay secret, and look like everyone else. Can you find clothing for Artemis and Adam?”
Mustafa’s face turned miserable with shame. “It would be easily bought—but I am a poor groom and have no money.”
Damn! Adam thought—that was another thing that had never crossed his mind. He had a couple of Euros in his wallet, but they weren’t going to cut it here.
“What about these?” Artemis said, holding up her many-ringed hands. “They’re pure silver.”
Mustafa’s face brightened again. “Oh, yes! Two or three of those will buy everything you need. My uncle has a shop in the bazaar—he’ll cheat me on the bargain, but he won’t ask where I got them.”
“Here, take some extra, just in case,” she said, quickly tugging several of the rings off her fingers. “And this—” she held up one that was particularly lovely— “is the best of them, and it’s for you. Don’t let your uncle even see it.”
She stepped forward and took Mustafa’s hand, pressing the rings into it. At her touch, he looked stunned with ecstasy.
“I’ll be back very soon,” he said. “You’ll be saf
e—no one else comes here but me, to feed the camels.” Then, looking worried, he added, “But when you leave, the lady Artemis must be very, very careful to keep herself covered. The Grand Vizier has spies everywhere. He’s a treacherous man with a spiderweb of plots—it’s whispered that he seeks to overthrow the Sultan and seize the kingdom. If he hears word of her and sees her in her glory, as I have seen her, he will take it as an omen either for his success or his failure. The first will mean his harem—the second, his dungeon.”
As Mustafa hurried out the door, Orpheus muttered, “Far be it from me to say, ‘I told you so.’”
“But how very lucky we found him,” Artemis said. “I do think we can trust him, don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” Orpheus said ominously. “He just might decide to pocket the cash—or even that he can make a lot more of it if he turns us in.” But when he saw her look turn dismayed, he grinned. “I’m kidding—just trying to lighten the mood. Yes, I think we can trust him. I’ve gotten to be a pretty good judge of character, what with knocking around the world for umpteen thousand years.”
It was a real stroke of luck to find a helper, especially because they might have met someone not nearly so friendly. But a lot of it was due to Artemis, Adam realized. She’d stepped right in where luck left off. Mustafa was obviously smitten with her, and she knew exactly how to keep it going.
Adam wasn’t sure whether that stuff came naturally to girls or they learned it, but he was starting to suspect that they held all the real power.
They climbed back up on the grain bin and watched Mustafa scurry like a rabbit through the village streets, darting in and out of the crowd of people and animals toward the bazaar.
“What he said about the Grand Vizier is right on the money,” Orpheus said with a scowl. “He’s pure evil—and he’s the one who really started all the trouble that lost Eurydice. Saladin knows he’s up to no good, of course—he’s way too smart not to. But he has a lot of other problems on his mind, and the Vizier is still useful to him, so he’s just watching and waiting for the right moment to settle the score.” Orpheus’s eyes narrowed dramatically. “There’s more treachery lurking out there than the wine that flowed at Nero’s orgies, more secret agendas than crocs in the Nile.” It was another of his over-the-top descriptions, but there was definitely one secret agenda—theirs.
“You said the Vizier’s the one who started all this trouble,” Artemis reminded him.
He nodded himself grimly. “Life was going along fine. I was living with an astrologer in Egypt, a very sweet guy, trying to teach him the basics of real astronomy—convince him that the earth revolved around the sun and not the other way around, that sort of thing.
“But the Vizier heard about me, and had me stolen and brought to him. He thought I was magic and if he could master me, he could rule the world. Well, I’d run into his type plenty of times before, and I just went into my dumb rock act. He tried to make me talk, of course—which was something he was usually very good at—but he couldn’t use his standard tactics because he was afraid he’d damage me.
“It drove him crazy that he couldn’t crack me—he was obsessed, and so paranoid about losing me, he kept me with him every second. That’s why I was inside the pommel of his saddle—he’d rigged it to hide me there. So that’s where I was—or am—at this meeting, stuck inside a leather knob where I can’t see a thing.”
“We need a way to distinguish the two of you—you, the Orpheus who’s here now, and that Orpheus back then, who’s inside the pommel,” Artemis pointed out. “Let’s keep calling you Orpheus, and him OrpheusToo, all right? OToo for short.”
“OToo,” Orpheus said thoughtfully. “Sure, I like that—it’s catchy.”
Adam couldn’t help a slight grin—OToo sounded like the name of a rap musician, or a robot from one of the old Star Wars movies.
“What happened next, Orpheus—at the meeting, I mean,” Adam said.
“It started off with the usual formalities and posturing—both sides verbally thumping their chests. Then, out of nowhere, there was this sudden commotion—yelling, horses rearing up—and I figured a fight was breaking out. What I didn’t figure was that it might have something to do with me—that never even crossed my mind.
“But next thing I knew, I was flying through the air. I felt somebody manhandling me, just for a couple of seconds. Then—Eurydice was gone.
“All I remember about those next few minutes is that I got bounced around more—I was so shaken up I hardly knew what was happening. When things settled down, the Templars had me, and before long, I was on one of their ships, sailing across the Mediterranean to Europe.”
Adam tried to sort through the options—which did not look good. No way were they going to be able to grab Orph while he was in the saddle pommel, with the Vizier sitting practically on top of him. And trying to intercept him in the middle of a brawl, with a bunch of big horses and armed warriors stomping around?
“Look—here comes Mustafa!” Artemis said—pointing down to the bazaar, where his slender, wiry figure was scampering back up the hill toward them, with a woven sack over his shoulder.
Adam started to tingle with adrenaline. This was coming down to the wire.
SIXTEEN
Within another fifteen minutes, they were hurrying along the village streets to join the growing crowd on their way to witness the parley between the emissaries of King Richard and Saladin. They could see the meeting place in the distance, on the long wide plain that lay between the walls of Jerusalem and the Crusader camp. A large pavilion had been set up there, and women carrying baskets were setting the tables with food and wine.
By now it was mid-afternoon. The sun beat down like a hammer, and the many horses and camels, plus the throng of spectators on foot, raised clouds of fine gritty dust that Adam could feel between his teeth. Luckily, Mustafa had given him a skin gourd of water, which he and Artemis sipped at as they walked. It was lukewarm and tasted sort of murky, but it was wet.
Mustafa had also taken care of their other needs with sharp efficiency. He’d brought Artemis a full-length black burqa that covered her from scalp to toe, even veiling her face—it was obviously used, a little threadworn, and not up to her fashion standards, but it was clean and her favorite color. Adam had gotten an outfit like the other local boys, rough loose-fitting tunic and pants, and a taqiyah cap. There was still the problem of their exposed pale hands and Adam’s face, but Mustafa had thought of that, too. He’d scrounged up a jar of walnut juice to stain them darker—a trick, he told them, used by the spies of the infidel Crusaders to pass as Arabs.
Then there was Orpheus. For him, Mustafa had brought a small hemp sack that Adam slung over his shoulder, a sort of medieval daypack. They’d folded up their own clothes in there to make Orph a comfortable pad, and the weave was open enough so he could get a good view of what was going on around them. But of course, he still had to be a prima donna.
“Oh, great, another bag job,” he grumbled as Artemis tucked him inside. “This one smells like it’s been hauling goats.”
“Hush,” she said. “It won’t be for long.”
That, Adam thought nervously, had all too true a ring.
Mustafa had gone ahead of them, reluctantly parting with Artemis, because he had to take his place with the other grooms and stable boys.
“We mustn’t be seen together—my friends would wonder who you are,” he told them. “Mingle with the crowd, and no one will notice you. The soldiers’ eyes will be on the enemy, not the young and small.”
The crowd kept swelling as they got closer, streams of people coming both from Jerusalem and the neighboring villages. It was easy to pick out the two opposing factions of soldiers, with a couple of dozen in each group. The Muslims were fierce-looking, turbaned men astride Arabian mounts. Adam knew horses, and these were beauties—not tall at the shoulder, but swift and agile. The Crusaders, including several Templars, wore heavier armor—how could they stand it in this heat? he
wondered—and rode bigger warhorses. All of them bristled with weapons—wicked curved scimitars, broadswords, battleaxes, and spiked iron maces.
Besides those two groups, there was a third waiting off to one side, wearing hooded black robes with bright red sashes. Those must be the Assassins—with a capital A—that Orpheus had mentioned last night, Adam thought queasily. They looked smaller and lither than the warriors and their drooping hoods made their faces hard to see—which was probably a very smart way to dress, considering their job description. He didn’t know much about them, except that they’d been founded by the legendary Old Man of the Mountain, they lived in great secrecy in a remote fortress—and they were the most feared killers of ancient times, in a way even scarier than the Templars. If somebody hired the Assassins to punch your ticket, it got punched, even if you were a well-guarded king.
“Let Orpheus take a look,” Artemis whispered. Adam casually swung the hemp sack around between them so that Orph could see, with her staying close to shield him from other gazes.
“I don’t see the Grand Vizier yet,” Orpheus said. “He must be on his way.”
The two factions of soldiers were squaring off about forty yards apart, reining in their nervous horses that pawed the sunbaked earth and sent up more clouds of dust. The air was so filled with tension it felt like a single spark could blow everything sky high.
Then one of the Templars rode forward a few paces and started calling out to the Muslims. Adam couldn’t hear the words over the noisy crowd, but the tone was challenging, even threatening. One of the Muslims rode out the same distance from his ranks and answered back the same way. It seemed to be a sort of ritual, with each side staking out its turf and warning the other how tough they were.
“Tell us what you see, Orph—anything that might help,” Adam said, intently studying the situation. That was how he was, Artemis realized—not flashy, but clearheaded, steady, a problem solver who would follow the string to a knot, work it loose, and go on to the next one.