“We will decide what to do with him later,” Montu said lazily. “If his information proves useful, perhaps we will spare him.”
Bastet glowered while the twins pushed Xander away from the group, toward the end of the semi-circle of tents. They led him inside the shelter on the end.
Montu then approached Leila and Drake, spinning a dagger in his hand. Leila kept her eyes on the blade as it flicked back and forth.
“And you two,” Montu mused as he gently slid a gloved thumb along the edge of the blade. “You’ve broken an oath…”
“Weren’t you listening?” Drake hissed. “There are more important things going on right now than to worry about the rules. Sometimes they just need to be broken.”
Leila gave Drake what she hoped was a grateful look. At least one of them is on my side.
“Now stop your crying over your fingers,” Drake continued, “we have to find Soliman and stop Al-Rashid from doing even more damage and killing even more people.”
Montu narrowed his eyes. “This isn’t about my fingers. This is about our code of—”
“Let’s take a vote then.” Drake lifted her chin.
Leila whipped her head around, studying the gazes of the Medjay surrounding her and Drake. Peteese and Pihor had returned, their expressions solemn. Leila’s gut twisted. This was a bad idea. For Drake to hang their fates on a vote seemed reckless.
“Have it your way, then,” Montu said, his voice confident. “We’ll vote.”
“Who is for punishment?” Bastet asked, jabbing the tip of her sword in the sand before lifting her hand.
Two more hands went up, Montu’s and Pakhet’s.
After a moment, the three of them lowered their hands again. They were short by one vote.
“Very well,” Montu snapped, putting his dagger into its sheath. “But you both will be held prisoner until Soliman is found. Bring these two into the tent. If any of them try to leave, shoot them on sight.”
Montu turned on his heel and stomped across the sand, disappearing into the shadows.
“Who put him in charge?” Drake muttered as she and Leila were dragged to their feet and pushed toward the tent where Xander had been deposited.
“He’s a very capable leader,” Onuris insisted as he lifted the tent flap and guided Leila inside.
“Sorry I asked,” Drake muttered.
Xander sat inside, illuminated by the soft yellow glow of a kerosene lamp. “Oh, you made it.”
“Don’t sound so disappointed,” Drake sneered, and Pakhet tied her to one of the four tent poles.
Leila was pushed against an empty pole, then her hands were pulled around the back and tied tighter than necessary.
“We’ll be watching,” Pakhet huffed, then she vanished out of the tent, swishing past the flaps.
Onuris paused by the opening, then tossed something to Drake. “Wait for the signal,” he said, then left.
Drake stretched out her leg, reaching her foot toward the object Onuris had thrown at her—a small knife.
“What’s going on?” Leila asked.
“Onuris can’t stand Montu.” Drake nudged the knife closer with her toe.
A small gleam of relief lightened Leila’s shoulders. They weren’t alone in this, after all. “He’s good at hiding it.”
“He can be diplomatic,” Drake agreed.
Xander sighed. “So, what’s the plan?”
“I’m working on it.” Drake stood and shook off the ropes, then cut the bonds from Leila’s and Xander’s wrists.
Leila rubbed her wrists, but quickly stopped at the sharp sting from the scratches.
“What did Soliman tell you when you saw him in front of the museum?” Drake asked, her voice urgent.
“That he was going to a doctor’s appointment.”
Drake narrowed her eyes. “He didn’t have any appointments that day.”
Leila studied Drake. Was Drake always that familiar with Soliman’s daily schedule? “So he lied to me?”
“Did he tell you a place or a name?”
“He said he had an appointment with Dr. Sobek, a pulmonologist.”
Drake’s eyes widened. “I know where he is.”
Xander crossed his arms. “Where?”
