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Authors: Darren Craske
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nod of approval. ‘You took my advice about the suit, I see. It slims down your waist and accentuates your shoulders nicely,’ she said, stifling a yawn.
‘Bad night’s sleep, Madame?’ Quaint asked.
‘ Non , just a malaise that has set in over the past few weeks. Perhaps it is all this time at sea. Other than our brief stops en route, I have not set foot on dry land for a long time. Now that we are finally at our destination, I must admit a slight fatigue. The hours on ship seem to obey a different clock than on dry land.’
‘I know what you mean,’ nodded Quaint, offering the Madamethe crook of his arm. ‘Can you believe it was Christmas a couple of days ago? We did well getting an invitation to Captain Adamson’s table. All the best goose and the finest of wines! Do you know it’s the first Christmas dinner that we’ve spent apart from the circus in years?’
‘Oui, my sweet, I thought that also,’ said Destine. ‘Although, I admit that I certainly did not miss Jeremiah’s brandy butter. I spilled some once and it almost burned a hole in the train’s flooring.’
‘Brandy butter? Is that what that stuff is supposed to be?’ Quaint rocked his head onto Destine’s and laughed along with her. ‘Come on, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.’
And the conjuror was not to be proved wrong.
Quaint and Madame Destine took their favourite table by the oval window in the dining saloon, and soon a lavish breakfast had been delivered. Whilst Destine tucked into warm bread with lashings of butter and conserves, Quaint devoured a platter of eggs, sausages, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, topped off with a hefty slice of black pudding. After twenty minutes, with the majority of his breakfast consumed, Quaint sat quietly waiting for the conversation to resume. He ran his hands through his silver-white hair, choosing to occupy his eyes around the dining hall – anywhere but in Destine’s direction. During the long voyage, they had spoken little of their plans once they arrived in Egypt – partly because the conjuror was intentionally ignoring the subject. It was only on this, the day of their arrival, that time seemed to catch up with him.
‘You have something that you wish to tell me, Cornelius,’ said Destine when she had finished her breakfast.
‘Me? No…no, certainly not,’ Quaint lied.
‘ Vraiment? ’ Destine asked. She removed her gloves, placing them neatly on top of the wide-brimmed hat on the seat next to her. This was a signal that she was not about to let the conversation drop. ‘You are thinking about what we are going to do once we go ashore.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Quaint.
‘Merely a logical assumption, my sweet – unless you have devised a way to thwart this plot without leaving the confines of the ship.’ Madame Destine blinked hard. ‘You have something that you wish to discuss – or is it that you have something that you do not wish to discuss? Have our plans changed without my knowing?’
‘No, they haven’t changed,’ said Quaint. ‘We’re still here to stop that poison, but by now we’ve surely missed its interception in Al Fekesh, and that means that we’re on the back foot. We’re still no nearer to knowing what the Hades Consortium plans to do with it, other than tip it into the Nile. According to Renard, their plot is set to conclude at New Year, which means that we have less than a week to put a stop to it. This country isn’t like England, Destine. At the best of times Egypt is unfamiliar and undoubtedly unfriendly territory. We can’t trust anyone.’
‘Not even the local authorities?’ asked Destine.
‘ Especially the local authorities,’ said Quaint. ‘They practically make up the law as they go along here. We can’t risk involving them yet. Not until we’ve found out more. Plus they might be a teensy bit interested in a little something called evidence, of which we have none.’ He tousled his silver curls nervously. ‘So
‘Bad night’s sleep, Madame?’ Quaint asked.
‘ Non , just a malaise that has set in over the past few weeks. Perhaps it is all this time at sea. Other than our brief stops en route, I have not set foot on dry land for a long time. Now that we are finally at our destination, I must admit a slight fatigue. The hours on ship seem to obey a different clock than on dry land.’
‘I know what you mean,’ nodded Quaint, offering the Madamethe crook of his arm. ‘Can you believe it was Christmas a couple of days ago? We did well getting an invitation to Captain Adamson’s table. All the best goose and the finest of wines! Do you know it’s the first Christmas dinner that we’ve spent apart from the circus in years?’
‘Oui, my sweet, I thought that also,’ said Destine. ‘Although, I admit that I certainly did not miss Jeremiah’s brandy butter. I spilled some once and it almost burned a hole in the train’s flooring.’
‘Brandy butter? Is that what that stuff is supposed to be?’ Quaint rocked his head onto Destine’s and laughed along with her. ‘Come on, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.’
And the conjuror was not to be proved wrong.
Quaint and Madame Destine took their favourite table by the oval window in the dining saloon, and soon a lavish breakfast had been delivered. Whilst Destine tucked into warm bread with lashings of butter and conserves, Quaint devoured a platter of eggs, sausages, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, topped off with a hefty slice of black pudding. After twenty minutes, with the majority of his breakfast consumed, Quaint sat quietly waiting for the conversation to resume. He ran his hands through his silver-white hair, choosing to occupy his eyes around the dining hall – anywhere but in Destine’s direction. During the long voyage, they had spoken little of their plans once they arrived in Egypt – partly because the conjuror was intentionally ignoring the subject. It was only on this, the day of their arrival, that time seemed to catch up with him.
‘You have something that you wish to tell me, Cornelius,’ said Destine when she had finished her breakfast.
‘Me? No…no, certainly not,’ Quaint lied.
‘ Vraiment? ’ Destine asked. She removed her gloves, placing them neatly on top of the wide-brimmed hat on the seat next to her. This was a signal that she was not about to let the conversation drop. ‘You are thinking about what we are going to do once we go ashore.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Quaint.
‘Merely a logical assumption, my sweet – unless you have devised a way to thwart this plot without leaving the confines of the ship.’ Madame Destine blinked hard. ‘You have something that you wish to discuss – or is it that you have something that you do not wish to discuss? Have our plans changed without my knowing?’
‘No, they haven’t changed,’ said Quaint. ‘We’re still here to stop that poison, but by now we’ve surely missed its interception in Al Fekesh, and that means that we’re on the back foot. We’re still no nearer to knowing what the Hades Consortium plans to do with it, other than tip it into the Nile. According to Renard, their plot is set to conclude at New Year, which means that we have less than a week to put a stop to it. This country isn’t like England, Destine. At the best of times Egypt is unfamiliar and undoubtedly unfriendly territory. We can’t trust anyone.’
‘Not even the local authorities?’ asked Destine.
‘ Especially the local authorities,’ said Quaint. ‘They practically make up the law as they go along here. We can’t risk involving them yet. Not until we’ve found out more. Plus they might be a teensy bit interested in a little something called evidence, of which we have none.’ He tousled his silver curls nervously. ‘So
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