We continued our travel by train, in a Second Class car, arriving at Suez. It hadn't the age and density of Cairo, nor the intellectual culture of Alexandria, but was a busy port. I was reminded of our adventure at the Isle of Dogs.
The Gendarmerie were here. There was also a large Mercantile presence of ships flagged with the crest of globe and anchor that signified all nations yet no nation.
"All these Merc ships paying fees to a French company?"
"Ha," Murphy said. "Canal is the shortest sea route. But, you should see Gaza."
"Where?"
"Gaza, past Al-Arish, in Palestine. Mercantile have made land there." Murphy put a hand on my right arm. "Let's see if a wire office is still open."
It was late in the day and past time we had a meal, but I had spent my time aboard the train writing out a report, including sketch, to alert Hypatia of someone potentially sympathetic to our cause, as well as my suspicion that regional code could be abused to target populations with specific affiliation, which was supposed to be against the Pax.
I wasn't for the Pax, because it represented enforced peace rather than collective desire to discontinue war. I could admit that for some, the ones now in power, the signing of the Pax may have been their expression of a choice to end war. But, the strictness of the Pax seemed to imply that those who had fought and witnessed The Great War couldn't now be trusted to keep from violence.
My feelings aside, I was convinced that The Fashionista herself did believe in the Pax. I couldn't see why she and her Creatrix would allow Dress Code to restrict ability to follow the comforting faith of our choice. It was one of the few choices left us.
If the Code read: "A man will remove his hat indoors, except as guided by his faith," the editing of one phrase could make the faithful into violators. I could not believe anyone wanted that.
The Pax gave us secular holidays we could all share, but it didn't restrict practice of others. We did not speak against faiths or peoples, only regimes. We didn't really talk about why. Why some nations needed demilitarized zones between them and others didn't. War, I supposed. I only knew it from aftereffects: machine limbs, adopted refugees, a man who relied on his companion animal to stay calm.
Murphy located the wire office where they had numerous wirefaxs, post boxes, even a ray, and a telephon device. He gestured for me to go ahead with my business.
I hadn't been in the position to decide to inform on anyone before. I'd been assigned tasks. In the case of that wardrobe malfunction, I'd been more or less coerced.
Murphy had mentioned sending the wire to Hypatia, but that was after he'd seen me look concerned.
"I'd like to send a wirefax to Alexandria," I said, setting my bags beside me.
The clerk gave me a paper form.
I wrote out Hypatia's extension on the form. I stacked the papers beneath the form and handed them to the clerk. As I watched, the papers were passed through the bright lamps and lenses. The clerk clacked at the machine. He retrieved the papers and handed them to me.
"Does that model keep cards?" Murphy asked, then aside to me, "Ghat says some new ones do."
The clerk held up his hands. "Only on receive or copy."
"Thank you," I said. I tucked the original papers into my satchel before gathering the rest of my bags.
Me'rah was waiting just outside the door, guarding her stack of books. Murphy lifted these by the knotted twine and walked beside her, his suitcase rolling behind on its little trolley.
As we moved closer to a port area, Murphy walked ahead to make some inquiries. He'd gesture to Me'rah and I then continue on in the direction he'd been given. I think he even asked a couple of early-blooming nightflowers for a recommendation; Me'rah tsked her tongue at him when he returned.
Finally, we came to a wharf where several seamen were sharing a table.
"Salaam," Murphy said, "I'm looking for the crew of the Lethe."
"Zahri," one of them said, as another among them, dressed in dark, loose clothing stood.
They spoke in Arabic. "Can the Lethe ferry us down the Sinai coast?"
Captain Zahri, presumably, gestured for Murphy to step aside, away from the others, but closer to where I stood with Me'rah. I expected a question about our destination, but Zahri looked towards Me'rah, and then me, before peering closely at Murphy. "Tyron? It is you Samir's son? Is he a...?" I didn't recognize the word.
"No. Julien was in the Review. He is the student of Sultan Antonia Kaígetai. An ally. Our friend."
At that Zahri embraced Murphy by the shoulders and exchanged cheek kisses with him. "Me'rah."
Me'rah put her hands together and bowed.
Murphy and Zahri exchanged nods.
Zahri stepped towards me and offered a hand, slight and calloused, which I shook.
"Good to meet you," I said.
"Good to meet you," Zahri repeated. Then, looking to Murphy, switched again to an Arabic dialect. "What port do you want?"
"Abu Rudeis," Murphy said.
Zahri nodded then said something like, "Travel is restricted." There was mention of El-Markha, which I took to be another place name. "Military is there."
"I know this. Samir my father and Nablus my brother may be among them."
"Come," Zahri said, including us all in the sweep of an arm.
We walked along a pier to where the Lethe was docked. The boat appeared to have both sail mast and rear motor, similar to the Hippocampus, though this was a slightly larger vessel by my recollection.
We were ushered into a lower cabin. Murphy was last to enter, and explained that we would be underway as soon as preparations could be made, and before morning should be at the port of Abu Rudeis, near the plain of El-Markha, where his father would meet us.
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Chapter 88.
The media is "Into the Water" from the Exodus Gods and Kings soundtrack. I think I almost used it for a previous chapter, but then didn't (several having involving sea travel).