Silver Angel by Johanna Lindsey

said against them, and I am inclined to look there only as a last resort, too. First, they each of them adore Jamil. But more to the point, none of their sons would benefit unless Selim and Murad both died as well as Jamil, and although Selim is missing, Murad is here in Barikah, and no attempts have been made on his life.”
    “But if every one of Mustafa’s sons died?”
    “It would be up to the Divan to decide whether to accept Jamil’s firstborn.”
    “It is not unheard of for a kadine to rule through her son,” Derek reminded him.
    “But he is only six years old, Kasim. If he were older…It is more likely the Divan will choose a new Dey, and Mustafa’s line will rule no more.”
    “But your vote could sway them either way?”
    Omar laughed. “By Allah, you are bringing new thoughts to this problem that even I have not considered. Yes, it is true I could sway the Divan. After thirty-five years of serving as Grand Vizier of Barikah, I assure you my opinion is second only to the Dey’s. But it is also true that no one can know how I could vote, least of all Jamil’s wives, when I haven’t even thought of this possibility myself. But come, Kasim, sit down, sit down. We will have ample time to discuss who is causing all this trouble. Tell me, how did you get here? No new ships have arrived these past few days, and all those before I have had checked.”
    “A friend of mine got me passage on one of the Royal Navy’s warships. I would have been here yesterday…only we ran into a little trouble with some Algerian corsairs and became separated from our escort. I imagine they’ll arrive either later today or tomorrow, once they regroup. I was dropped off up the coast late last night and rode in this morning. I needed a good enough excuse to get in to see you, and what better way than as Ahmad Khalifeh, come in from the desert with tribute for the Dey?”
    “Ah, the horses!” Omar chuckled. “Wherever did you find such magnificent beasts?”
    “Find them?” Derek’s lips curled with a touch of pride. “I raise them. And Jamil had better be around long enough to start a new line in Barikah.”
    “ Inshallah ,” Omar replied in all seriousness.
    “Yes,” Derek agreed, just as seriously now. “If God wills.”

Chapter Thirteen
    D erek Sinclair, Earl of Mulbury and future Marquis of Hunstable, was riding an incredible high in spirits, and had been ever since he had entered the city this morning. The sights, sounds, and smells that greeted him made him realize how much he had missed this part of the world and how easily it was to slip back into the shoes of a Muslim Turk.
    There was nothing English about the bazaars he had passed through, where sandalwood and gum scented the air from the spice stalls, camels plodded along with noisy complaint, bells tinkled in the breeze that turned the silk merchant’s stall into a waving riot of bright color. It was a sea of turbans and kohl-eyed women enshrouded in mystery. It was the din of merchants haggling over prices, the sweet song of nightingales in bamboo cages, the bubbling of fountains on each comer. It was Barikah, which Derek had never thought to know again.
    And the Dey’s palace, spread out over more than twenty acres on the highest hill of the city, brought back a wealth of memories long forgotten. Derek moved through the labyrinth now, following in Omar’s wake. When he first arrived, he had only gotten as far as the outer court, enclosed in high walls that protected the arsenal, mint, bakery, guards’ barracks, and other service buildings. But Omar had taken him through several rooms off his office that led directly into the inner palace, thereby avoiding thesecond court, where only officials and ambassadors ever penetrated.
    Unlike the outer court, which was usually easily accessed by the public, the second court was a cloistered garden with avenues running over its lawns to gates and low buildings. Gazelles and peacocks wandered at will under tall