The Book of Wonders Page 6

  Perhaps…

  Sinbad must have seen where her gaze lingered because he picked up the archer’s belt and unclipped the bow from the quiver, examining it with interest. “Impressive workmanship,” he mused, turning to face her. “Is this yours?”

  “My father gave it to me,” Zardi managed to say through gritted teeth. “It was a birthday present.”

  “Touching,” Sinbad replied. “But you must be far from home, young man, if you have a father who can afford a bow of this craftsmanship.” He clipped the bow to the quiver and slung the belt over his shoulder. “It is far too nice for you, young one.”

  A red-hot surge of anger lanced through her. How dare Sinbad take things that didn’t belong to him? How dare he enjoy it so much? He was just as bad as the sultan. Her disappointment in the man she thought might be able to help her defeat Shahryār turned her anger to rage. She couldn’t see Sinbad’s smug smile through his disguise, but she was determined to wipe it right off his face.

  “Actually, I have something else that might interest you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wooden carving of the falcon that Sinbad had given her a mere four days ago—it felt like a lifetime had passed since then.

  “Zee, what are you doing?” Rhidan asked in a baffled voice.

  She ignored him and held the falcon out to the pirate leader. “This was given to me by a sailor in Taraket four days ago. He told me he’d just come back from Kadrijt, where he’d battled a ferocious beast.” A deathly quiet descended on the boat. Sinbad’s men became as still as scared rabbits as they stared at her. The apprehension in their eyes gave Zardi a thrill of power. “Oh, what was the sailor’s name again?” She rubbed her chin. “It seems to have escaped me.”

  “Sinbad.” Rhidan’s voice was a croaky rasp.

  Zardi turned and saw sudden understanding dawning on her friend’s face as he looked at the pirate leader.

  Sinbad took a step forward, and Zardi lifted her arm in defense, expecting a blow. Instead, he snatched the wooden carving out of her hand.

  “I’ve heard of this Sinbad,” the pirate leader said, fixing her with a piercing gaze. “He is a great sailor, admired by many, and foolishly kind to children who turn up in the strangest of places.”

  “Why are you talking about this Sinbad?” Assam growled. “I want you off my boat. You’ve got what you wanted.”

  Sinbad looked over at his men. “He’s right, we’re finished here. Pick up all that you can carry and move out.” He turned to Zardi and Rhidan. “You two will join me.”

  Zardi’s mouth went dry. The steel in Sinbad’s voice told her he would not leave them on the Triumph. Not when they could identify him to the authorities in Sabra.

  “Show us the way, Captain,” Rhidan said. His voice sounded squeaky, whether from fear or excitement she could not tell.

  Sinbad turned on his heel and strode off the Triumph and onto the smaller boat.

  Rhidan rushed after him, but Zardi felt as if her feet had taken root in the wooden deck.

  Assam’s head snapped round in her direction. “Surely you will not join this man and his band of crooks?”

  She swallowed hard. Assam was asking her the question as if she really had a choice. Out of the corner of her eye she could see one of Sinbad’s men waiting for her to move off the boat. His hand rested on his crescent dagger. One way or another she was going to be taken from the Triumph, and if she didn’t leave now someone could get hurt.

  “I’m sorry, Captain,” she whispered. Ripping her feet from the deck, she followed Rhidan.

  “Traitors!” Assam shouted, his voice full of hurt.

  Traitor. The word clawed viciously at her insides as she crossed the small boat that had been the Triumph’s undoing. Assam had got it so wrong. Zardi joined Rhidan, who was standing at the prow of the smaller boat, and they watched as the last of the pirates left Assam’s vessel. In the marsh she could see Nadeem and two other pirates guiding a raft loaded with the stolen bolts of silk and sacks of grain over to the bank. Soon the water was alive with even more pirates as Sinbad and his men jumped into the river and struck out for the shore.

  She turned to Rhidan. “Stay close to me,” she said quietly enough so that Sinbad’s men couldn’t hear her. “We need to find a way to esc—”

  There was a firm nudge at her shoulder. “Swim,” the pirate behind commanded.

  Zardi did as she was told and dove into the water, closely followed by Rhidan. She was a strong swimmer, years of living by the Tigress had ensured that, but the marsh water was thick with sediment and reeds reached upward, grasping at her legs and arms. As she fought through the muck, dread curled around her and drew in tight. She remembered Nonna’s warning about the impatient sesame seed that burst from its pod, almost as if it wanted to get eaten. Zardi cursed herself. Her fate and Rhidan’s were joined with Sinbad’s just because she wanted to needle the pirate leader. Who knew what lengths he would go to keep his identity a secret? And how was she going to save Zubeyda and Baba when she was a prisoner herself?

  Sopping wet, she climbed onto the bank and flicked the riverweed from her hair. Straightaway Nadeem was at her side, guarding her.

  “I suppose you think you’re really clever,” Nadeem said through clenched teeth. “Mocking Sinbad the way you did.”

  Zardi snorted. “No, not really clever, just smarter than you.” She gave him her most withering look, ignoring the voice in her head that said she probably shouldn’t be aggravating her captors. “Captain Assam thought you were in need of help and you tricked him. How can you stand to look at yourself in the mirror?”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” Nadeem snapped.

  “I’ve seen all I need to.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “You’re a liar and a coward.”

  Nadeem opened his mouth to say something but stopped as Zardi’s original guard climbed out of the water and came to stand beside them. Nadeem glared at her instead and strode off.

  Zardi looked across the marsh at the Triumph. Only Assam, Hakeem, and Rakin were on the boat now, and they were desperately bailing water. The Falcon’s lifeboat was still lodged in the Triumph’s hull, and Zardi hoped Assam had enough wits about him to keep it. Selling the lifeboat would go some way toward covering his losses. Assam must have felt her eyes on him, because at that moment he looked up and stared at her, his face deformed with rage and blame. She quickly looked down at her feet.

  Rhidan pulled himself up onto the riverbank. His violet eyes were bright with anticipation, and Zardi found herself clenching her hands. Does he really think Sinbad is going to tell him anything about the Black Isle? He’s supposed to be the smart one. Can’t he see that we’re probably being led to our deaths?

  Two pirates marched Zardi and Rhidan inland, through a cluster of date palms and along the path set by Sinbad and his men.

  “Zardi,” Rhidan whispered.

  She ignored him. She didn’t want to deal with his misguided excitement right now.

  “Are you angry with me?” he asked. “Come on—I had to say we’d go with Sinbad. It wasn’t exactly a request.”

  She grudgingly conceded that point in her head but still didn’t say anything.

  “What happened to the Triumph is awful,” Rhidan went on, “but I’m sure Assam will be able to fix it.”

  He fell silent, but she could tell he had more to say. It took all of twenty seconds for Rhidan to crack.

  “We found him. Can you believe it?”

  Zardi’s anger boiled over. “Ah yes, your precious Sinbad.” She glared at him. “He’s a pirate. For all you know he’s taking us somewhere to be killed.”

  Rhidan flinched.

  “We guessed Sinbad’s true identity.” She emphasized each of the words, enjoying the look of horror that now painted her friend’s face. “We’re a threat.”

  “Well, perhaps he can be reasoned with?” Rhidan babbled. “Maybe he’ll still tell us where the Varish warriors are or where we can find the
Black Isle. Perhaps…” He trailed off, his face suddenly crumpling. “Oh, Zee, when did I become such a numbskull? What are we going to do?”

  Zardi shook her head, suddenly feeling mean. Now her friend was just as scared as she was. “You’re not the numbskull, Rhidan. I should have never let on I recognized him or revealed my identity.” She rubbed at her eyes. “He was just being so arrogant—”

  Rhidan reached for her hand. “It’s all right. We’ll think of a way to get out of this.”

  “Less talking, more walking,” a pirate said, pushing them forward. Zardi’s gaze was pulled to their guard’s curved dagger. There was no arguing with it.

  They continued to walk inland. Away from the river the air was oppressively humid and birds screamed from the treetops as if protesting at the heat. At an ancient-looking olive tree with a gnarled and twisted trunk they turned sharply to the right and headed for the banks of the Tigress again. Looking ahead at the river, Zardi could see that the stretch of marsh had ended, and she spotted the Falcon, with its distinctive multicolored sails, moored by the riverbank.

  Zardi had forgotten how big the Falcon was. It was at least six times the size of the Triumph and had a high cabin in the back with five windows and a poop deck. The ship was manned by several crewmen dressed in simple white sailor garb, busy preparing the Falcon to sail.

  As they got closer the ship’s landing planks went down and the pirates bounded onboard, throwing the bundles of loot they had seized to their friends. Nadeem was hoisted onto the shoulders of a sailor with nutmeg-colored hair, and the crew began to cheer and congratulate him on a good job. Zardi’s eyes met Nadeem’s and he smirked.

  Following Assam’s cargo onboard, Rhidan and Zardi watched miserably as it was safely stowed belowdecks. A new guard, one who must have been left out of the raid, as he was dressed in white, came to stand by their side. He stood stiff and silent, chewing on the end of his long braid. Zardi got the distinct impression that he was just as nervous as she and Rhidan were.

  A water buffalo was sitting on the muddy riverbank, its tail slowly swaying back and forth, its broad face peaceful. The beast didn’t have a care in the world, not one single worry. Zardi sighed with envy. If a djinni appeared right now she’d wish to swap places with the buffalo in a heartbeat. Then there would be no pain, no fear—just mud.

  9

  The Pirate Ship

  In no time at all the ship’s anchors had been raised and the Falcon was sailing downstream.

  “That didn’t take them long,” Rhidan said, looking over at the pirates who had changed out of their wet black clothing and were now dressed in white linen tunics and softly flaring trousers. “They’re not half as scary now,” he continued, sounding bolstered. “They reminded me of giant bats before.”

  The young guard beside them snorted with laughter, but quickly tried to disguise it with a coughing fit.

  Zardi frowned. She didn’t expect laughter from these criminals—it didn’t fit. She irritably picked at the wet clothes that clung to her skin, then berated herself for even caring. Wet clothes were the least of her problems.

  Up ahead, she could see Sinbad talking to an older man with a shock of thick white hair and skin the color of polished mahogany. Sinbad’s companion looked over at her and Rhidan before nodding his head at something the captain said.

  Zardi’s body stiffened as the man started walking toward them. At her side, she could feel Rhidan thrumming with tension.

  The old man stopped in front of them. “My name is Mustupha, but everyone calls me Musty.” He held out a calloused hand. “I’m the shipmaster, Sinbad’s second-in-command.”

  Zardi looked down at the hand with bemusement. A polite handshake? Musty laughed, his dark brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Is it not customary to shake hands when you meet someone for the first time?”

  “Not when you’ve been kidnapped,” Rhidan pointed out coldly.

  Musty dropped his hand. “Ah, yes, that is unfortunate.” He looked at their guard with the long braid. “Zain, you can go. I’ll look after these two.”

  Zain bowed his head and left.

  Musty turned to face Rhidan and Zardi. “I’m sorry events have unfolded in this way. We’re not a bad lot. Hopefully, after spending some time with us you’ll see that. Sinbad is busy at the moment but hopes to talk with you later.” The shipmaster looked uncomfortable. “You have a choice. You can sit here under guard or you can help me out onboard. Which is it to be?”

  Zardi looked around at the sailors who were busy sluicing water off the deck and hanging their wet black clothes on the rigging to dry. The Falcon might be a pirate ship but it was a ship, and a big one; she couldn’t help but be intrigued by how it operated.

  Rhidan sighed. “From the look on my friend’s face, I think you’d better put us to work.”

  The rest of the day swept by like the river. Zardi found herself helping the crew to darn holes in the spare sails, while Rhidan discovered his seasickness had abandoned him altogether now that he was on a bigger ship. Finding his sea legs gave him new reserves of confidence, and he even had a go at climbing the mast, albeit rather slowly. At points Zardi almost forgot she was a captive. The twins who manned the tiller, Mo and Ali, were always making jokes, their smiles identical right down to a chipped front tooth. Only the turban that Mo wore made it possible to tell them apart. And Musty had even showed her how to use a navigational instrument called a kamal. He explained that the rectangular board with its trailing cord was used to keep records of the latitudes of different ports. His soft voice immediately put her at ease, although his eyes missed nothing and he was quick to correct those around him if he thought they had made an error.

  It only occurred to Zardi later, as she sat by herself twining rope from strands of salted coconut fibers, that Sinbad’s crew was a clever lot. With their smiles and laughter, they almost made her feel like they were good people. Maybe the crew hoped she and Rhidan wouldn’t put up a fight when the time came to dispose of them.

  Zardi balled her hands into fists. They were wrong. She and Rhidan would get off this ship—she just didn’t know how yet.

  Night fell, and lanterns were used to light their way down the river. Zardi was finishing her last length of rope when she spotted Rhidan heading toward her from the other end of the ship. Earlier that afternoon he’d been instructed by Musty to help the ship’s cook, a man as round as one of Nonna’s cooking pots, with the preparation of tonight’s dinner.

  “Dinner’s up.” Rhidan crouched down next to her. “It’s fish stew.” His words were nearly drowned out by a ringing bell. Sailors everywhere dropped what they were doing and stampeded toward the cook, who was standing next to a steaming cauldron. Rhidan wrinkled up his nose in annoyance. “I was hoping we’d get there first.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Zardi set the completed rope beside her. “How’d you find the cooking?”

  “Not too taxing.” He sat down next to her. “It makes a lot more sense than ship’s knots, and the cook is really nice. I even showed him one of Nonna’s tricks to clean fish.”

  “Nonna would be proud. At least one of us has some skill in the kitchen.” Zardi smiled sadly as she thought of her grandmother but tensed as she saw a tall figure walking toward them.

  Sinbad.

  Light and shadow played across his face as he strode past the lanterns on deck.

  Zardi and Rhidan scrambled to their feet.

  “He’s coming for us,” Rhidan hissed.

  “We’ll jump overboard if we have to,” Zardi said. “Be ready.”

  “That’s the great plan?” Her friend sounded distinctly unimpressed. “They’ll only fish us out again.”

  “Just be ready.” Zardi’s palms were sweaty. Sinbad and his crew had overrun the Triumph and threatened Assam in the morning, and then laughed and joked with each other in the afternoon. They were a paradox. Who knew what they were really capable of?

  “At ease, young ones,” Sinbad said sof
tly as he reached them. “I don’t plan on hurting you—it’s not my way.”

  “Captain Assam would say differently.” The words escaped from Zardi’s lips before good sense could stop them. Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?

  “Would he?” Sinbad looked at her keenly. “Tell me, did I touch a hair on his head?”

  She paused, remembering the events on the boat.

  “Well, did I?” Sinbad asked again.

  “No, I suppose you didn’t actually harm him, but you held a knife to his throat.”

  “But I would never have used it.” Sinbad held his head proudly. “My men and I are simply actors; our boat is our stage. We may pretend to be pirates but never, ever, have we shed a drop of blood.”

  Zardi felt some of the tension ooze from her body. It was like getting the last bit of puzzle, an answer to a riddle. She realized that she’d already seen Sinbad’s crew play many different parts: rich merchants, adventurers, pirates, and today just plain old sailors. She wondered which role was the true one; she wondered if they even knew.

  “But you steal. That’s not acting,” Rhidan said.

  Sinbad inclined his head. “I lived on the streets of Sabra until I was twelve years old. Stealing was the key to my survival—it’s a hard habit to break.”

  For an instant, Zardi was reminded of the pickpockets who roamed the streets of Taraket. She remembered the hungry look in their eyes. Had Sinbad once been a boy like that? She stared into the captain’s face, but his gaze still held that mocking gleam that had so infuriated her on Assam’s boat—it refused sympathy. “So what do you plan to do with us, if you’re far too nice to kill us?” she asked.

  Sinbad grinned wolfishly. “All in good time, my lady. Have you eaten yet?”

  Rhidan shook his head.

  “Well, that’s no good,” Sinbad replied. “The cook should most certainly eat, as should his friend. Nadeem!” The boy, who was at the other end of the boat, eating, turned round. “Bring two bowls of stew for our guests.”

  Nadeem did the captain’s bidding but he wasn’t happy about it. “I don’t see why we have to feed them,” Nadeem said with a scowl as he arrived with the bowls. “They look like they have had plenty of good meals in their lives.” He thrust the food into Zardi’s and Rhidan’s hands and then stomped off.