The Iron Man [Serial]

Of the Plain

I did not see our approach along the Sinai coast. I had dozed off within the Lethe, so that my first view of our destination came as I climbed up onto the deck. The morning light cast everything in a pale blur, and I then saw rays of sunlight from behind the mountains burning away the fog that had fallen like a shroud in the night.

The mountainsides were marked by water-etched wadis leading to a flat plain along the sea.

Murphy called to me and I picked up my bags to cross the decking of the boat rocking near the shore. I did a second take, seeing Murphy reach to offer me a hand off the Lethe; he was wearing a patterned blue and black keffiyah, wrapped about his head in such a way that one loose end draped forward over his shoulder.

He laughed at me as I stepped to the stone warf. The rest of his attire, provided by various Mediteranean and Egyptian tailors, still looked altogether European in fashion, today in dove grey with shades of blue. 

"Is he here?" I asked, "I mean, your father."

Murphy gestured towards the south, away from the structures of Abu Rudeis, along the coast. "His ray said he would meet us."

I had a sense of movement there on Al-Markha plain. There was what I momentarily took as a mirage or trick of light: patches of red, black, or violet on the sandy soil. "Are they farming something there?" I asked.

"In a manner of speaking," Murphy said.

A cloud of dust, or more properly sand or dry soil, signaled the approach of a vehicle from the south. Out across the water of the Gulf of Suez, over the masts of water-going vessels, there were barques in the air hovering on long red or purple balloons. 

"They make the balloons here."

Murphy turned his face from the roadway and nodded. "Yes, though the details are secret. The barques are built across the gulf."

"We can't get a closer look?"

"No. Like Zahri said, the area is restricted. Tourists use the port further north at Abu Zenima, and there's no stopping or photography allowed along this section of roadway or coast."

"But you know?" I asked Murphy quietly.

"Not all of it." He didn't look at me to speak; the pale colored steam-cab was slowing as it neared the port.

I supposed the cab to be one of the Hispanos I'd heard mentioned. It was a long vehicle, with a wide span between front and rear seats, such that the rear seat had its own windscreen. I could see a person behind each of the two screens.

The front door opened first and the driver stepped out. I knew at once he must be Murphy's father, not only because he was expected, but because he had the same lithe build and a similar coloring and manner of movement.

His long coat swayed as he strode toward us; I thought it must be a Great War era trench coat. He wore a black thawb beneath, with a high collar that might have indicated some regional influence, but I barely knew mashriqi from khaliji from maghrebi other than they were words Murphy used when chatting about clothes with Alpha or Sina.

"Me'rah," he said. His full beard was streaked with grey.

Murphy's mother walked silently to her husband and stood close to his side, just behind his arm arm.

I had expected to see cheek kisses.

Neither Murphy nor his father spoke for a moment, and then his father raised one hand in a beckoning gesture; his fingertips were stained purple. Murphy laughed, out of relief I supposed, then rushed forward and embraced his father.

A car door slammed and, just as Murphy stepped away from his father, a girl walked up. She was taller than Me'rah, but not by so much as to be as tall as Murphy. She lifted her arms and put them about Murphy's neck, but she looked at me as she did it.

Murphy kissed her forehead, which was bared by a pink hood. Her garments were a such a mix of styles I thought she must be a real kapareghora. She wore sari fabric wrapped like a sarong over boy's trousers.

Murphy introduced me to them, first, and then he turned and said, "Julien, this is my father, Samir, and my sister, Maya."

"Like water," I said. I saw Maya whisper at Murphy's ear. "I didn't even know you had a sister." But, this, I realized as I said it, was impolite. "I mean, I'm pleased to meet you."

Samir's brows rose as he looked down at me.

"I was like a drink of water after all my brothers," Maya said.

Samir extended his hand, "Pleased to meet you."

"Thank you, Sir...Your Grace...Abu Tyron."

"Don't be nervous," Samir said firmly in English, then added, "'Sir' will do."

At his side, Me'rah giggled from behind her lace veil.

Murphy returned to my side as Samir stepped away to speak to Zahri. "He's still Military Caste, my father. He likes things a certain way, but he's not a hard man, really."

I took a deep breath.

Samir returned to us, and though I supposed him to be speaking to Me'rah, whom he looked towards, he used English, "Zahri has refused our hospitality with the excuse the Lethe has scheduled clients to meet, which I find reasonable."

"I spoke to Zahri a little on the Lethe."

"I am glad to hear it. Is there anywhere we need to be?"

"I wish to be in St. Katrine on Saturday."

"Of course," Samir said. He looked over his shoulder to Murphy. "Tyron, you and Julien will stay with us through Saturday, at least."

"Mais oui."

Samir turned and looked sternly at Murphy.

"Yes, Sir."

"Mommy, may we sit together in the cab?" Maya called.

Me'rah extended a hand for Maya.

"Tyron, the luggage," Samir said; he then lifted the stacked books himself.

-----

Chapter 89! This work is 90K words long at this point, considering word count goals and special half or double length chapters.

Media (video) is "Clubbed to Death" by Rob Dugan, popularized on The Matrix soundtrack, or maybe in clubs. I chose it because: cracky stunt casting.

The image (top) is "Mount Sinai in a Blizzard" by American Colony (Jerusalem) Photo Dept. and is in the public domain and part of the Matson Collection in the Library of Congress.

Also, the body/carriage type of the Hispano Samir owns is a dual-cowl phaeton. There was a photo on Wikipedia, but those CC licenses are a pain to cite every time I use an image here.

Oh, I also wish to acknowledge that this idea that the Egyptian Sky Navy barques are created along the sides of the Gulf Suez at Wadi el-Jarf and El-Markha plain was inspired by a Scientific American article from November 2015 "The Pyramid Effect", which describes (among other things) the existence of an ancient port and boat storage facility at Wadi el-Jarf.

I also read some papers on Academia.edu about archaeology at el-Markha and how it related to Pharaonic expeditions to Sinai for copper and turquoise.

Oh, also, Murphy has a sister!? I knew all along; I just wasn't sure how and when to introduce her.