The Holmes Brigade
Page 17
“This is your racer, eh?” the man turned to them.
Dodie knew exactly who this stiff man was and his heart sank. Lord Hadi, Atallah’s father, had the same rare icy blue eyes as his son, and held his head up in the same haughty manner. He was dressed in rich emerald robes trimmed with gold thread. His face was narrow and clean shaven with a prominent nose that would have been a feature to make fun of if it was on anyone lesser. But on Hadi it looked regal, and gave him an excuse to look down it at others. He did so at Dodie and Taj.
“My son is excited to race against you, Taj,” Hadi said in a smooth voice. “He admires you greatly.” He ignored Dodie as he turned back to Gamal. “This will be a good fair bet. Shall we?”
“What bet?” Dodie asked. “What are you talking about?” He looked from his father to Lord Hadi.
“Stay out of this,” Gamal said quietly.
“I have the contract all written up.” Hadi slapped a sheet of parchment on the counter and whipped out a quill. He scrawled his signature at the bottom of a block of text on the parchment. The signature glowed gold for a moment, then dried into black. He passed the quill to Gamal.
Taj put out a hand to stop his father. “Wait, what are you signing? What is this?”
“Later.” Gamal hastily signed his name.
Hadi smiled in satisfaction, rolled up the parchment, and tucked it and the quill into an inner pocket of his robe. He fished out a stone amulet carved into a pair of wings and held it out across the counter. He gripped one wing in his fingers while Gamal gripped the opposite wing.
“I solemnly swear to uphold my end of the bargain,” whispered Hadi.
“I swear it, too,” answered Gamal.
The amulet glowed blue and snapped apart, leaving both men with a wing. Hadi looked very pleased, while Gamal looked anxious.
“Nice doing business with you, Rue, as always.” Hadi swept out of the shop with a swish of his long robes.
“Dad! What deal did you make with him?” Dodie asked.
“Does it have to do with the Grand Flyer?” questioned Taj.
Gamal ran a hand over his haggard face and through his long gray beard. “I made a wager.”
“What did you wager?” Dodie felt his pulse quickening. “We don’t have anything!”
“‘S why I made the wager.” Gamal tucked the wing amulet into his inner pocket and started closing up shop. He wouldn’t look at his sons. “Taj wins the Flyer, Hadi forgives our debt to him. Atallah wins the Flyer—”
“He won’t!” Taj growled. “I won’t let him.”
Gamal managed a small smile. “‘S why I made the wager.”
“But if Atallah does win,” interrupted Dodie. “What happens?”
“Hadi owns the emporium,” finished Gamal quietly.
“Oh, Dad,” moaned Dodie. “We can’t lose the shop.”
“I won’t lose the race,” Taj said with steely resolution in his voice.
“What if someone else wins the race?” wondered Dodie.
“Nothing changes,” replied Gamal. “We keep paying off our debt to Hadi.”
“I’ll win,” repeated Taj. “Then we won’t have our debt, but we’ll have the prize money, and I’ll have my genie wish, and life will be good!” His optimistic spirit was back, and it lightened the mood.
“Here.” Gamal dropped five sheks into Taj’s hand. “For the Seer.”
“Dad, no.” Taj tried to give the coins back. “We can’t afford her.”
“You gots to get a word from her to get sponsors.”
Dodie agreed. “You’ve gotta have all the help you can get. You gotta beat Atallah.”
“Oh I will.” Taj pocketed the coins.
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About the Author
F.C. Shaw started writing stories when she was eight years old. She loves children’s stories, Sherlock Holmes, and mysteries, so had to write a book combining all three. She spends her afternoons writing for kids, and her nights dreaming of new stories. She lives with her husband and two sons in a home they have ambitiously dubbed The Manor in Santa Maria, California. When she’s not plotting stories, she teaches visual arts in local schools and enjoys a good game of Scrabble.
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