Fadla bint Tarriq looked around herself at Cairo.
"It's amazing the way they held out, supreme general," Qajar was saying.
Tarriq nodded. She had been busy herself with other parts of Egypt. She had delegated the task of taking Cairo to al-Xyz and Qajar, since their forces had been closer to the city. Other generals more interested in their own glory than winning would have waited and perhaps missed the window of opportunity. She had been wise in letting the other two take the city when the chance presented itself.
An Egyptian had appeared. He bowed to Fadla Tarriq. She did not return it.
"I want to thank you, madam general, for bringing my men water. We've been dying of dehydration and heatstroke. Less honorable warriors would have let us die."
"Do not thank me," Tarriq said, "I would have let you die, personally. The English, however, paid us a considerable amount to give you the water. You are Ras Qahira, are you not?"
"I am," the head of the Rhinos admitted.
"Moss, they call you. You certainly lived up to that in your defense of this city, as my generals tell me."
"Thank you. Do you have terms of surrender?"
"The English will deal with that. We are only holding the city until they get here to deal with you. We'll take our pay and go."
Qahira nodded.
"Good bye, then, madam general."
Tarriq nodded and walked on. Behind her Mossad al-Xyz strode stonily on, while Abd Qajar scampered around getting under the heels and demanding attention.
Ras Qahira marched bravely into history like a desert fox.
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