The Eye of Midnight (17 page)

William slunk back to their earlier vantage point above the purple flame. The feast continued in the round room below without interruption. Cups and plates clattered, the servers came and went, and the Rafiq sat apart from the
fida'i,
stripping the flesh from a pile of bones. William waved to Maxine across the attic and gave her the all-clear sign. She nodded and put her eye to the floor.

Beneath her Nura poked her head inside the door of the Rafiq's chamber, glancing about cautiously as she stole across the room and circled the wide divan. She opened a latticed cabinet against the wall, rifling through drawers and shelves, then turned and searched a heavy, carved desk and several wooden bowls atop a long black table.

Bending her head upward to the spot where she knew Maxine crouched and waited, she raised her hands in bewilderment.

“Get back here,” Maxine hissed, but Nura was too far below to hear. The girl continued her fruitless search, and with each passing second Maxine's sense of impending doom increased. Her concentration was broken, though, by the sound of William calling to her from a distance.

“M!” His voice was low but urgent. “M, we're in big trouble.” He jerked his head up from the floor.

Down in the round room the Rafiq had drained his cup and pushed aside his unfinished plate. Rising to his feet, he waited momentarily for a salute from the
fida'i,
then stalked out of the feast beneath the symbol of the winged serpent, back toward his chamber.

William waved frantically across the attic. He stabbed his finger toward his feet and scrambled forward at a crouch, pacing himself with the Rafiq's progress below.

Maxine put her lips to the crack and whistled, but it was no good. Nura continued to potter about the room, oblivious to the approaching danger. She had just slumped down on the divan in frustration when something caught her eye. The polished corner of a small chest was visible beneath the cushions of the wide couch. She bent forward and her hand landed on the Rafiq's lacquered box. Her face flushed as she lifted the lid. There among a handful of cigarillos lay the heavy set of keys.

Nura glanced up toward the ceiling and waved the key ring in triumph, but to Maxine's great dismay she did not turn and head for the exit. Instead she pocketed the keys and made a slow circuit of the chamber, checking to see if there was anything she had missed.

Maxine's heart thudded inside her. William was nearly sprinting now, scuttering across the littered attic, and she knew that the Rafiq strode the same path below him. Her mind reeled, churning madly for some way to signal Nura.

“Your pockets, Will!” she cried as he slid up. “Empty your pockets!”

Blank-faced, William obeyed. He turned them both out, and the old coin left behind by the two visitors to Battersea Manor clattered onto the planks.

Desperately, Maxine snatched up the silver obolus and dropped it through the crack.

Nura whirled in surprise as the coin struck the ebony table with a ringing clank. Her eyes grew wide with startled comprehension, and she stumbled backward in a panic.

“Don't leave the coin behind, Nura,” Maxine whispered to herself. “He'll find it.”

But Nura's only thought was of escape. With a stricken gasp she lunged for the door, slipping out just as the Rafiq burst in on the far side of the room.

Maxine wilted with relief, and she and William turned and watched the top of the boiler ladder expectantly. Two minutes passed, and still Nura's head did not appear. William shifted from one foot to the other, and Maxine edged toward the precipice and gazed out over the darkened temple.

A single lamp burned upon the dais. In its feeble light she saw a furtive shadow stealing across the wide expanse below.

Nura mounted the steps of the dais and crept to the jinni's wooden crate. She lifted the lid and bent inside, tucking something into her haversack, then scampered back across the temple, back toward the boilers.

A few moments later her head appeared above the brink. William and Maxine pulled her eagerly off the bobbing plank. Too eagerly, perhaps, as the three of them all tumbled backward and landed on the floor in a heap. A clay sphere from the crate spilled out of Nura's haversack, landed with a dull thud, and rolled across the floor.

The cousins caught their breath and ducked their heads, but the sphere wobbled to a harmless stop.

“That was close,” said William. “I thought we'd kicked over the lantern in the hay shed that time for sure.”

“What is it?” asked Nura as she clambered to her feet.

“Grandpa called it some kind of fire bomb,” William replied. “I don't think you want to be around when it breaks.”

He fished the Rafiq's key ring from Nura's bag, along with one of the Hashashin daggers. “Nice job, kid,” he said. The blade sang faintly as he drew it from the black sheath and tested the point against his thumb. “We gotta think of a nickname for you. Bulldog, maybe. Or Beartrap, or—”

Maxine flicked his earlobe. “You and your nicknames,” she said. “Can we please just figure a way out of this place?”

“Aw, don't get yourself all in a twist,” William said. “We got the keys, didn't we?”

“Yeah, well it's a little early to celebrate. They don't do us any good until we figure out where the Hashashin are keeping Grandpa.”

“I'm still sorting that part out,” said William. “We saw them drag Binny out of the round room, right? They took him through the doorway straight across from the storeroom, the one with the scorpion on it. If they're keeping Grandpa in the same place, then maybe we can find him from up here.”

“I've been over to that side of the attic,” Maxine said. “We can't see through the planks there. There's no way of knowing which room they've got him in.”

“All right. Then I guess we'll just have to go down there and look for him. But we have to figure out how we're going to make it without being seen. The whole factory is crawling with Hashashin.”

“Perhaps we should wait for midnight,” said Nura. “When the lair is dark and everyone sleeps.”

“There's no time,” William insisted. “The Hashashin have something awful planned for Grandpa tonight. If we don't find him before then, it's bad news for sure.”

Maxine nodded and pulled anxiously at her lip. “For Grandpa and this whole city,” she said.

Twilight leaked in through the splintered hole in the roof. Beneath the attic's shattered ribs, Nura stood among a thousand broken shapes and prepared for one last labor, one final leg of her weary journey.

She removed the canvas haversack she had never been without, laying it aside. The black dagger she slid into her sleeve, and she fingered the blue
nazar
-bead on her necklace and tucked it beneath her collar. A brass lamp lay nearby, the same one she brought to the attic when they first arrived, and she took it up and checked the oil inside. When this was done, she found the battered cigar box once more and held it before her as if it were a sacred offering.

Nura untied the string slowly, and Maxine and William saw her hands tremble as she cast away the cigar box and lifted the Eye of Midnight. A spasm of doubt seemed to enfold her like a black shroud. She stood motionless before them.

“Take it,” she said suddenly, forcing the silk-wrapped mirror into William's hands.

The cousins frowned at her in puzzlement.

“It's yours, Nura,” replied William, pushing it back. “I don't want it.”

“The mirror must be delivered to your grandfather, no matter what happens to me. Take it.”

“There's no use talking like that, Nura. We're all in this together, and we're all going to make it out of here in one piece.”

“You don't understand the strength of the Hashashin,” said Nura in despair. “The Eye of Midnight must not fall into their hands. So many lives are at stake. The
fida'i
will strike terror into the hearts of the people of this country, and no one will be able to stand against them. And when a river of innocent blood has been shed in the streets and fear has spread like a fire of thorns, they will rule with ruthless cruelty, and the Old Man of the Mountain and his evil followers will trample every soul beneath their feet.”

Her words were harsh and urgent, but her eyes were pleading.

“Keep the mirror, Nura,” said William. “No matter what happens, we're not leaving you behind. When we find Grandpa, you can give it to him yourself.”

Nura took back the small black bundle and hid it in a pocket of her dress.

“I have come so far for that chance,” she said, wiping a tear from her cheek, “and now I fear that it will never happen.”

“It's time,” said William at last. “We've waited long enough.”

Nura nodded. She searched the debris of the attic and found a small empty paint can and pierced it on a jutting nail.

“What are you doing?” asked Maxine.

“We must have something to conceal the flame,” Nura replied.

They crept down to the storeroom, as silent as thieves, back between the crowded shelves and barrels, back to the round room, empty now, and they halted beside the undying violet fire as Nura lit her lamp and hid the flame beneath the can.

“That's where they took Binny,” said Maxine, pointing across the room at the arched opening marked with the scorpion.

“It's a sure-enough hornet's nest in there,” William said. “That's where all the
fida'i
are camped out. Once we go through that door, there's no turning back.”