Revenge of the Mad Scientist (Book One: Airship Adventure Chronicles) (16 page)

“Now we shall be paraded in front of the pasha like cattle,” Armani said mournfully. “If only Qarim were here, perhaps he would rescue me.”

“Who is Qarim?” Belle asked.

“The man my father arranged for me to marry. We were supposed to be wed next month.”

“Do you love him?”

“Well, I’ve never met him, but I saw him once. He is handsome and I hear he is well respected. He works for the raja as a scribe. My father says he is very intelligent and will have a bright future.”

Belle did not respond. After being exposed to so many new aspects of different cultures she felt overwhelmed. True, her father had arranged her marriage with Rett, but she had known him all her life and they got along well as friends before the fateful ceremony when he disappeared. And if she had said at any time that she didn’t want to marry him, her father would have supported her decision. However, she had allowed herself to believe she loved the scoundrel back then and was eager for the marriage. But poor Armani had never met the man who would become her husband.

“We have to find a way out of here,” Belle whispered. But Armani only shook her head sorrowfully.

After the women finished working on the girls, they removed the trays of food and brought in platters of sweets surrounded by baskets of fruit. Curtains were drawn across the windows casting a dim shadow over the room. Then the servants left and the room quieted as the exhausted and well fed captives settled on chaises and in nests of pillows before succumbing to fatigue and falling asleep. Even Armani slumped over on a plush cushion and closed her eyes. Only the lanterns on stands about the room gave off any illumination.

Belle sighed and rubbed the back of her neck where anxiety had knotted up the muscles. She decided to take advantage of the absence of their captors to take a dip in the pool. The thought of being clean and floating peacefully in the water was too enticing to ignore. She stripped off her clothes and hid the skewer under them.

With only the soft glow of the lanterns glinting off the ivory of her skin, she stepped softly around the sleeping bodies and lowered herself into the welcoming water of the pool. She muffled her sigh of pleasure. She dove under the surface and swam to the opposite side. It was deliciously cool without being chilly and she felt immediately refreshed.

Her gaze traveled around the room again. But still no possibility of escape presented itself. She hoped there might be an opportunity during a future transfer if they were to be taken to the pasha and vowed to be ready. And she was determined to take Armani with her. She felt a loyalty to Lord Ismatan and knew she had to return his niece. But did she dare put the girl in danger?

These thoughts still rolled around in her head when she decided to leave the pool. She felt clean and rejuvenated now that she had eaten and bathed. The servants had left piles of the large towels around the pool, so she picked up one and dried most of the moisture from her hair. The long auburn tresses hung in damp curls down to her hips. Then she toweled off the rest of her body and took a towel to wrap around her as she made her way back to her clothes.

But she never made it. The brass doors flew open and four mansabs entered followed by the man who had drugged her, Rafi Tarris, and another man in rich burgundy robes embroidered in gold. That man looked to be in his early forties, exotically handsome with his long raven black hair and a short beard. Sharp brown eyes traveled over her body in an appraising manner. Belle shivered.

The black haired man moved around the others and came to stand in front of her.

“You were right, Rafi. She is exquisite.” His eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her gulp down a breath. “I must have her.”

Rafi gave a satisfied smile and walked forward. He bowed to the other man and then looked at Belle. “Of course, Your Highness. I knew she needed no fripperies of clothes or jewels to accent her beauty.”

“You were quite right, my friend.” The pasha said in a low voice, but his eyes never left Belle. “Seeing her naked in the gas light was worth the wait.”

“And now to settle on a price.” Rafi rubbed his hands together.

Fury rose in Belle’s breast like a raging fire. This had all been a set up—leaving her alone, letting her think the household had gone to rest. Somewhere they had been spying on her while she bathed. She lost all reason in her haze of rage and before they could stop her, she hauled back her arm and sent a fist into Rafi’s smug face.

Chapter 11

Rett’s eyes burned with fatigue but his focus remained intent on the distant lights of the train ahead of them. He’d convinced Benji and Jasper to get some sleep once they located the northbound train, knowing it would be hours before it reached its destination. Sam sat slumped over in a chair on the deck, exhausted after his last stoking of the engine.

Sam had offered to take a shift at the wheel to relieve him, but Rett knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He was too keyed up with concern over Belle’s situation. He wasn’t so much worried about Belle’s well being. He knew she would be treated as a valuable commodity. The big worry was what they would do once they reached Faldoral. His mind went round and round but he couldn’t come up with any semblance of a plan to rescue her. Once she was secreted away in the pasha’s harem, there was very little chance of them ever seeing her again.

The sun edged over the horizon to his right and he could just make out the ridge of mountains ahead. He knew Faldoral rested at the foot of those mountains beside a large lake. Only another hour and the train would be stopping. He had to come up with a plan.

“Morning, mate.” Sam rubbed his eyes and climbed the stairs to the pilot station. “There yet?”

Rett jerked his jaw up indicating the line of mountains.

“I’ll make some coffee,” Sam said heading back down to the gondola.

He soon returned with two steaming mugs and handed one to Rett. “So what’s the plan?”

Rett gave him a harsh glare.

“Ah, so no plan.” Sam shook his head. “I thought so.”

“I’ve never even been to Faldoral. What the hell are we going to do?” Rett muttered.

Sam took a gulp of coffee and leaned against the rail of the aftcastle. “Well, she won’t be taken to the palace straight away. This trader must have a place here to take his slaves. He’ll want them all fixed up before the pasha sees them. If we can find that place maybe we can sneak in and let her out.”

Rett’s eyebrows went up. Why didn’t he think of that?

“Okay, so we need to stay in the air and see where they’re transported to and then we need a place to land so we can go back into the city. We’ll have to come up with a way to grab her if she’s transferred.”

Sam nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Are we there?” Benji emerged from the gondola and looked up at Rett, his gaze full of hope. Jasper followed, his thin features pinched in worry.

“Almost.” Rett pointed ahead. “We need to keep an eye on that train. When it stops we’ll find out where they’re taking Belle.”

Benji ran to the side rail and looked over. The train was well ahead of them but they wouldn’t lose sight of it.

Below, the outskirts of Faldoral showed small farms and windmills. It was like Urbannia a hundred years ago. They could see the lake now and large villas that curved around the northern shore with the mountains as a dramatic back drop. The city itself could not compare in size to Harruca and it spread from the houses up to the foot of the hills. Set like a jewel in the side of the largest mountain, a white stone palace nestled with numerous spires and turrets poking up to the heavens.

There were only a half dozen other airships in the air around the city. Rett didn’t know if they even had an aeroport. But it didn’t matter; they wouldn’t dock there if they had one. He’d find a hill to hide behind and set
Gambit
down there until they could locate Belle.

“All right, mates, here we go.” Ahead, the train stopped at a small station. There were two covered wagons waiting with six large men circling around them. “Keep your eye on those wagons. I bet that’s how they’ll get Belle to where ever they’re taking her.”

###

Two of the mensabs grabbed Belle’s arms in rough grips after she punched the slave trader in the nose. He fell over backwards and sprawled on the floor with a hand over his face as blood poured out of his nostrils. One mensab pulled a dagger from his sash and held it to her throat. Belle sucked in a gasp.

“No!” The pasha put up a hand and the knife slowly lowered.

The commotion woke most of the girls and they whispered, holding onto each other. Armani rushed forward but stopped in her tracks as a mensab pointed a sword at her chest.

“Unhand her,” the pasha ordered.

The mensabs reluctantly released Belle’s arms and she allowed the breath she had been holding to escape her lips. She’d acted on instinct, furious at the man who had offered her help and then drugged her along with all the other women in the room—a man who traded women like livestock. Despicable!

She glanced at the pasha, surprised he had intervened. His expression did not reveal his emotions but his eyes focused on her intently. He took a step forward and his gazed ran from her head to her toes and back again. He stood an inch or two taller than her, which gave him an imposing presence. Then a slow smile curled his lips.

“Yes, she is truly magnificent. Like a lioness.” He glanced down at the man on the floor. “I’ll give you five thousand in gold.”

Rafi sputtered and used his sash to wipe the blood from his nose. He scrambled to his feet and glared at Belle. “But your highness, such a rare beauty is worth more than ten thousand in gold.”

The pasha looked at him with a hint of contempt. He took a step back so Rafi’s blood would not soil his robes. “Very well, ten thousand,” he said as if it was nothing. He turned to Belle and motioned with one hand. “Come.”

“No,” Belle said, clenching her fists. She would fight every inch of the way if needed, but she would not willingly become some man’s property.

The pasha turned back to her and his eyes narrowed. Then he studied her with his head tilted to one side for a moment. “Your name is Arabella, I am told.”

She shifted on her feet, ready.

He moved toward her and unfastened the velvet cloak he wore over his robes. He draped it around her bare shoulders. “Arabella, I would like to speak with you. Rafi will allow us the use of a room where we may talk. You may come of your own accord or I can have the mensabs carry you there. It is your choice.”

He stepped back and held out a hand.

She looked around. The bald headed mensabs looked like they would enjoy the opportunity to carry her out.

“I’ll come quietly on one condition,” she said, hoping her ploy would work.

The pasha smiled, amused. “And what is that?”

“That she can come with me where ever I go.” She pointed back to Armani whose eyes were wide and her face pale. “And I want my old clothes.”

For a moment nothing happened and Belle’s heart sank. Then the pasha laughed. “Very well. Bring her. Ten thousand should cover them both.” He motioned to the girl from Gandiss, and then held out a hand to Belle again.

She hurried over to the chaise where she had dropped her clothes with her precious pocket watch and bundled up the skewer as well. She returned to the pasha, reached out and took his hand. It was warm and strong with calluses along the fingertips. This was not a man of idle leisure. She walked at his side, one hand grasping the bundle of clothes close to the cloak.

He led her to a room dimly lit with candles, some type of sitting room with lush rugs and plump cushions among scattered tables. Fur pelts draped here and there and Belle wished she could snuggle into one. The outside chill invaded the room and the towel wrapped around her was damp.

“Please, sit.” The pasha led her to a round hassock and released her hand. He pointed to a chair at the end of the room. The mensabs took Armani there and with a flick of the pasha’s hand they left the room, closing the double wooden doors behind them.

He sat on a hassock beside her, so close she could feel the heat from his body. He reached out without moving his eyes and took a fur then placed it around her shoulders.

“Better?”

She nodded, trying to figure out his angle. Did he think if he was nice to her she would do whatever he wanted? If so, he would be very surprised at her response.

The table beside them held a pitcher and golden goblets. The pasha lifted the pitcher and poured red wine into the goblets, then handed one to her.

“You’ll excuse me if I pass on the wine. The last time I accepted a beverage from a stranger it was drugged,” she said.

The pasha smiled, lifted his goblet and took a drink to allay her suspicions. “It’s not drugged. I won’t lie to you.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“I am Pasha Arian. Everything within a hundred miles of this place is mine. I have no reason to lie.”

“I see your point.” She raised the cup and took a sip.

He grinned at her compliance. “Excellent. Now, as I said, I wish to talk with you.”

Belle nodded, eyeing him warily.

“I want you to know I am not ignorant of your ways. I received my education at the University of Aereopolis.”

“Then you know that slavery is a vile practice.”

The pasha gave a small laugh and stood. He paced around her. “You are very naive. Slavery is a necessary evil in this part of the world. Most of those girls in there would have been dead in a few years from starvation. Those that survived would either be forced into prostitution or married to husbands who beat them. I offer them a life of luxury with no responsibility but to make me happy.”

“But no freedom.”

“Freedom is relative here.”

“I don’t think a debate about the merits of slavery is going to get us anywhere.”

“True. But I wanted you to know I understand your mindset so that when I make my offer to you it is with the understanding that I am not ignorant of western ways.”

“An offer?”

He paced a moment then returned to the hassock. Leaning close, he reached out and ran a finger along the line of her jaw. “You are very beautiful, and you have spirit. You are the type of woman I would have sons with—sons that would be tall and strong as well as intelligent. I need such sons to rule the region after I am gone. These sons might even go on to rule all of Pandistan one day. Pandistan is a brutal place. We pashas fight each other constantly without mercy, hoping to take more territory and wealth. The weak perish here, but your sons would not be weak.” His voice low, soft and enticing aimed to seduce her.