Home > Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(55)

Imprudence (The Custard Protocol #2)(55)
Author: Gail Carriger

However, of the entire company, only that last proved to be of concern.

The chief officer closeted himself with the werelioness for a good half hour. The fluted notes of an animated discussion emanated from Tasherit’s cabin. It being in a foreign tongue, Rue and Prim couldn’t even eavesdrop.

Once he emerged, the officer insisted on speaking to Rue privately, as the captain, in order to finalise the ship’s approval. Rue insisted that Primrose accompany her, as chaperone. He agreed and they took to the stateroom.

He stamped her application for an air tourist licence, then had her sign several documents of writ and disclaim. He then shuffled through the resulting stacks of papyrus sheaves awkwardly.

Finally he said, his English heavily accented, “Very well, missis. You hitch to a red obelisk for twenty-four hours.” He whipped out a map of Cairo, pointing to several red x marks along the southern part of the Nile. “Until you clear Quinton.”

“Quinton?” Rue hissed to Primrose, confused.

“Do you mean quarantine, sir?” Primrose asked gently.

“As I said, missis, Quinton. After that, you free to travel around our land. We give you flag. Guard it well. There are many who want flag, missis. Value is high.”

Rue smiled at him vacuously.

He passed over a little triangle-shaped flag, like those of the standard bearers in medieval tapestries. It was bright blue with an eye embroidered in yellow and gold thread.

“After Quinton, you free to partake of Cairo. Here are your teskireh.”

He went to pass over a stack of papers, then paused to examine one particular note.

“Teskireh?” Rue whispered to Prim.

Prim consulted her Baedeker’s. “Viceregal recommendations for the allowance of scientific study.”

Rue squinted her tawny eyes. “Percy or Quesnel?”

Prim considered. “Likely both. On the bright side, Teskireh carries with it a weapon’s licence for the acquisition of big game.”

The official jumped on that. “Speaking of big game, your dreaded one is not free.”

Rue blinked. “My dreaded one?”

The man waved the papyrus at her, as if Rue could read the funny curly dotted writing as anything more than something that most closely resembled, in her experience, musical notes.

At her continued confusion, he explained. “She who mauls, before whom evil trembles. She who speaks with hot breath of desert wind.”

Rue screwed up her nose. “Miss Sekhmet?”

The man’s smile from behind his tidy beard was startlingly white. “A good name. Yes. She not leave ship. Egypt does not welcome damned.”

“Naturally.” Rue did not feel it necessary to point out that even with the God-Breaker Plague, Tasherit was cat enough to take any attempt at confinement as a challenge.

After the officials left, Rue bearded the lioness in her den.

Normally, Rue respected the werecat’s privacy, but this was a matter of ship safety, which gave her licence to pry. She left the door open so as not to cause gossip.

“You’re not technically allowed out of quarantine while we’re in Egypt.”

The werecat rolled her brown eyes. They were big and almond-shaped with thick lashes so monumentally unfair that combining them with flawless coffee-coloured skin, a straight nose, and full lips was basically an insult to every other female. Some supernatural creatures looked tired or old when they lost the shine of immortality. On Tasherit, the mantel of death turned her approachable, and by extension, Rue thought, more deadly.

“I’m not surprised.” The werecat wasn’t offended. “They do not hold with females who have lost their faith. Even if I am older than its arrival in this country.”

“You were born here?” Rue pounced on the clue, catlike herself.

“I am a daughter of the desert sands, at least in part. I took my name from an Egyptian queen, as is our custom,” was all Tasherit would say.

The phrase reminded Rue of the officer’s comment. “He called you ‘she who speaks with the hot breath of the desert wind’.”

“A fair accusation.”

“How did he know?”

“I do not exactly match the rest of your crew, Lady Captain.”

Rue narrowed her eyes. “You understand very well what I’m asking.”

Tasherit fiddled with the thin chain around her neck. “He noticed this.”

From the chain dangled two small gold charms. Rue had never seen them up close but judging on general shape they appeared to be a shield and a sword. They were not only tiny but also worn with age, so it was difficult to discern details.

The werelioness explained. “Even the followers of Mohammad have not forgotten all the old symbols. It does not pay to count entirely on the God-Breaker to protect one from the outside world. The smart ones remember that borders shift, even anti-supernatural ones. It is best to know the signs of the damned, even if you believe them long gone.”

“You don’t mind being trapped aboard?” Rue had made the promise on Tasherit’s behalf.

“I don’t mind that they wish to pretend.” At Rue’s worried look, she added, “I will not go exploring this city. And Cairo doesn’t mind what happens to the south.”

“Good.” Rue figured it was only the appearance of compliance that mattered. “Will we see you at supper?”

“Indeed. I find my fragile mortal self is quite hungry. How do you people manage?”

Rue laughed and stood.

   
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