Free Zealot by Donna Lettow Page A

could work with iron
     were considered blessed.” In the back of his mind, he could hear the singsong voice of the ancient
griot
who once told him the tale. He hoped he was doing her memory honor in his retelling. “Now, to these people, the greatest
     of the animals that roamed the grasslands was not Lion, with his cruel and vicious hunger.” The
griot
had growled at that point, but MacLeod wasn’t sure that would be appropriate in his current setting. Assad might take it
     personally. “It wasn’t Elephant, all-mighty and powerful. The greatest of the animals was Gazelle.”
    “The gazelle,” she repeated and the tone of her voice said she wasn’t buying this for a minute but would happily play along.
    “Are you always this tough an audience? This one always wows ’em at the preschool.” He took one of the gazelle combs from
     her hand and continued as if uninterrupted. “Gazelle, Now Gazelle didn’t have the power of the lion or the strength of the
     elephant. But Gazelle had a special magic all her own. She could fly with the winds. She could run until she caught the horizon.
     Gazelle had heart. She had courage. She had grace and passion. And with this special magic, she could escape Lion’s cruel
     hunger and she could direct Elephant’s all-mighty strength.” He cocked his head toward Maral. “You getting all of this?”
    “The greatest of all the animals,” she said, stroking the slender coil of horn that rose above the dark wise eyes.
    “Now, metals being scarce and all, this was a tribe that wouldn’t just cast any warthog into sacred iron—that they reserved
     for Gazelle. Because, so they said, when a truly skilled craftsman created Gazelle in Father Iron, he could imbue the piece
     with her special magic, and those same qualities that made Gazelle the greatest of all the animals would bless the bearer.”
     He pressed the second comb back into Maral’s hands. “Fly with the winds, Maral. Run until you catch the horizon.”
    She stared at him, openmouthed, and the streetlight glinted from a tear in the corner of her eye. She started to speak, then
     stopped, at a loss for words, then as she tried to speak again, Assad interrupted.
    “We are here,” he announced, and the car stopped abruptly in front of the hotel once again. Immediately the car door was opened
     and MacLeod was pulled out by security guards intent on Maral’s safety.
    As she exited the car, Farid moved quickly to spirit her away into the fortress of the grand hotel, but Maral stopped him
     with a hand. She turned back to MacLeod. She didn’t dare touch him, couldn’t in front of this crowd of men so concerned for
     her protection, but he could see it smolder in her eyes, feel it flow between the two of them like a thing alive. The possibilities.
     The need.
    MacLeod moved toward her and, despite a fierce look of warning from Farid, kissed her chastely on one cheek. “So how much
     of that was bullshit?” she whispered to him.
    “Does it matter?” was his reply, as she was pulled away from him.
    “
Ana muser
,” Farid said harshly. I insist.
    MacLeod called after her. “You need anything, anything at all, you call me.”
    I promise—she mouthed the words as Farid and his men swept her into the great revolving doors and away from MacLeod’s sight.

Chapter Five

    Israel: 14 Nisan, The Present
    The sun shone bright over the Dead Sea, its rays reflecting off the shimmering blue surface. On the road that skirted along
     the edge of the sea, Avram Mordecai reached into the glove box for his sunglasses. With one hand he flipped them open and
     put them on, relieved to be able to see the road again.
    There wasn’t much traffic on the narrow road that wove its way through the craggy desert surrounding the sea of salt. It wasn’t
     yet high season for the seaside resorts, despite the unseasonably warm spring, so the hordes of tourists who flocked to the
     area to encase themselves in mud baths or just float in the