The Book of Wonders (9 page)

“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.

He really doesn't like us
, Zardi thought to herself.
That's fine with me because I don't like him either
. The smell of the fish stew hit her nostrils and chased away all thoughts of Nadeem as she and Rhidan sat down and eagerly began to devour their food. Sinbad sat down beside them, patiently waiting for them to finish.

As they took their last spoonfuls, the captain cracked his knuckles. “Right, and now to it. I don't know what wind of misfortune or cruel coincidence has blown you into my life, but I want some answers.”

“Itisn'tacoincidence,” Rhidan said in a rush. “We've been looking for you. We followed you from Taraket and—”

“Hold it.” Sinbad interrupted Rhidan's tide of words. “I'm still talking.” His face remained relaxed, but Zardi noticed that a strained note had entered his voice.

“Let's start from the top.” Sinbad pointed to Zardi. “Back in Taraket you had significantly more hair. Why are you dressed as a boy?”

“I wanted to go to sea, so I ran away,” Zardi replied simply. This was only a small part of the truth, but she wasn't about to tell him that she was a daughter of a vizier looking for a way to destroy the sultan of Arribitha, or for that matter that the sultan had imprisoned her sister and father. Sinbad would probably ransom her to Shahryār before the words even left her mouth. “My name's Zee now.”

Sinbad nodded. “I suggest we keep the truth about your gender to ourselves. My crew can be a superstitious lot. They'll see it as bad luck to have a woman onboard.” He turned to Rhidan. “And you, pale one, what do you mean you came looking for me?”

“Twelve years ago I was left on the banks of the river Tigress.” Rhidan spoke more slowly this time. “The only thing I had with me was a piece of parchment with my name on it and this amulet around my neck.” He stroked the intertwined snakes. “Zardi's family, or should I say Zee's, took me in.” His eyes met Zardi's for a moment, and she silently thanked him for failing to mention that his adoption was under the sultan's orders and that her father was in Shahryār's employ. “Four days ago,” he continued, “we met you and you mentioned a place called the Black Isle. You said that the inhabitants of this place look just like me.” He fixed Sinbad with a stare shiny and hard with hope. “I need to know where the Black Isle is.”

Sinbad rubbed at his temples, and Zardi thought that he looked like a man who'd just been given some
really
bad news.

“Sinbad, please, you need to tell me,” Rhidan repeated more urgently.

“I can't.” The words were wrung out of the captain. “I can't tell you where the Black Isle is, because it doesn't exist.”

Rhidan's eyes widened. “What?”

“I mean that the Black Isle is a myth, a story. A tale my adoptive mother, Sula, used to tell to keep me entertained when I was younger.” Sinbad winced. “Who knows, it might be a real place. But if it exists I don't know where it is.”

“This can't be.” Rhidan recoiled from the captain's words, pushing backward until he was up against the ship's edge. “Y-you said that I had classic Ilian features.”

“You do,” Sinbad insisted. “Sula said that the Black Isle is populated by a race of sorcerers with violet eyes and silver hair…” The captain trailed off.

Rhidan sprang to his feet. “Sorcerers,” he snarled, his hands clenching into fists. “Do I look like a sorcerer? If I was a sorcerer would I still be a prisoner on this stupid ship? You lied to me, you made me think—” He didn't finish his sentence, launching himself at Sinbad instead.

Zardi leaped after him. Rhidan was upset, but he wasn't going to win in a fight against Sinbad. She grabbed the sleeve of her friend's tunic, but rage had made him strong and he threw her off. Before he could take another step, she jumped onto Rhidan's back and pinned his arms. He bucked like an unbroken horse but she held on.

Sinbad was on his feet, watchful and wary. Alerted by Rhidan's angry shouts, Nadeem and four of his friends, Zain, Dabis, Syed, and Tariq, raced down the deck. The captain held up a hand, stopping the sailors in their tracks. “Everything is fine here,” he yelled over to them. “Just a minor disagreement. Go back to your meals.”

“Captain, are you sure?” Nadeem asked. “These two can't be trusted. Can't you see it? Something doesn't add up about them.”

Nadeem's four friends eyed Rhidan and Zardi suspiciously.

“Nadeem, I am old enough and wise enough to look after myself,” Sinbad said gently. “But I do appreciate your concern, my young friend. Go back to your meal. It is fine, really.”

Nadeem opened his mouth to object, but his friend Dabis took him by one arm and Zain took him by the other, and all five sailors went back up deck.

Sinbad turned to Rhidan. “Listen, I am sorry I gave you false hope.” The captain sounded genuinely regretful. “It was never my intention. Zee here wanted a story and I wanted a sale.”

The fight went out of Rhidan and he sank to his knees. Zardi gratefully slid off his back.

“We dock in Sabra in just over five days,” the captain went on. “I'd ask that you remain on board as my guests.”

“Your guests or your prisoners?” Zardi questioned.

Sinbad ducked his head, his cheeks red. “Both, I suppose. I cannot let you go. You know too much about me and my men.” He shrugged. “You're a liability. I don't know what I'm going to do with you.”

Zardi almost felt sorry for the captain. Deep inside, she knew he wouldn't hurt them, but whichever way she looked at it, he was her captor. She glanced at Rhidan, expecting a reaction to Sinbad's words, but he was staring down at the silver amulet, his shoulders hunched over.

She stood a bit straighter. “Circumstances as they are, Captain, we accept your gracious invitation.” The words were sticky with sarcasm.

The captain bowed deeply and, with one more regretful look at Rhidan, returned to his men.

She watched Sinbad go. For a moment, she wondered if she should tell him about her quest to stop the sultan and ask if he knew anything of the secret order of the Varish warriors.
Don't be stupid, Zardi
, she told herself firmly. Sinbad might not be a killer, but he and his men were driven by their greed for wealth; it would be far too easy for them to betray her to Shahryār.

A claw of sadness raked across Zardi's chest as she remembered one of her sister's favorite sayings.
Trust is the friend of trust
. Zubeyda was always telling Rhidan that he was too quick to judge and he should try to see the good in people. Not that believing in Sinbad had done Rhidan any good.
No, now is not the time to start trusting people, Zub
, Zardi's thoughts whispered.
You and Baba are still the sultan's prisoners, and now Rhidan and I are prisoners of Sinbad
.

Zardi pressed a hand to her temple, reassured by the steady throb she found there. Any hope of answers for Rhidan had been blown away like grains of sand in a storm. But her hopes to save her sister and Baba would not be scattered so easily. Once they reached Sabra, she would escape the
Falcon
with Rhidan and find the Varish.

H
eat from the midday sun was prickly on her neck, but Zardi didn't care. After five days they had finally reached their destination and were swiftly approaching the southernmost tip of Arribitha. As the Tigress River raced to join the ocean that lapped her kingdom's south coast, she swiftly climbed the rope ladder to the poop deck.

She stepped onto the raised platform, and the
Falcon
burst from the river into the sea. Her breath became a whistle through her lips. The ocean was so much vaster and darker than she'd imagined—an inky blue swath that went on forever. She wondered how men had ever found the courage to build ships to explore this dark expanse. How had they resisted the urge to run screaming from its hugeness?

She hoped she'd get the chance to find out one day. But saving Zubeyda came first, and the Varish were not to be found at sea. They were hiding somewhere in Sabra. For the past five days the secret order of warriors had been the only thing that Zardi could think about. Questions and doubts plagued her.
Can I find them? What does a secret order of warriors look like? Will they help me?

“It's going to be tight,” she heard Sinbad say to Musty. The two men stood below her and were looking out at Sabra's busy port, which jutted out into the sea.

Following their gaze, she could see hulking ships and stout fishing boats arranged like dates on a stem. Even more vessels jostled for position on the coast's waterfront.

“Tight!” the shipmaster exclaimed. “It'll be like threading a camel through the eye of a needle.” Musty headed for the tiller and shooed Mo and Ali out of the way, much to the twins' annoyance.

Zardi looked inland. The quay was teeming with activity: men building boats, boys wheeling crates full of salt to trade, and women selling oranges to thirsty sailors. The harbor curved, almost as if it were smiling in welcome—welcoming her to Sabra and the Tigress to the sea.

“If you grin any wider, your face is going to crack.” Rhidan's voice from below made her jump.

“Oh, sorry, I didn't realize…” She trailed off. It seemed wrong to be smiling when Zubeyda and Baba were still in danger and all hope of Rhidan finding out the truth about his origins had been destroyed. She clambered down from the poop deck to stand next to him.

“What are you apologizing for?” Her friend sounded annoyed. “I was only teasing. I know how much seeing the ocean means to you. You dreamed of this.”

“You dreamed of a few things too, but you didn't get them,” she replied softly.

“No, I didn't. But that doesn't mean I can't be happy for you.” He smiled, although it looked a bit wobbly. “How many times have you told me that you wanted to sail on the open sea? That you wanted to know what lay beyond Taraket?”

“A few times,” she replied, knowing what an understatement that was. She could talk about sailing all day.

“A few times plus a thousand, perhaps!” All teasing left Rhidan's face. “Zee, somewhere in this vast world there must be a power greater than the sultan's. We'll find it and stop Shahryār before time runs out. We've still got eighty-one days until the Hunt.” He paused as Sinbad's sailors started to cheer and stamp their feet in approval as they watched the
Falcon
slip into the tightest of moorings. “Of course, we'll need to escape first.”

“I'd like to see you try.” Zardi turned to see Nadeem, his tanned face as sour-looking as the earliest plums. Over the last five days, she'd come to rather like the
Falcon's
crew. The men were quick to help and quick to laugh, but the youngest member of Sinbad's crew was different. He would just sit and watch them, his eyes narrowed as if trying to work something out. “Leave us be, will you?” Zardi asked.

“Just letting you know the facts,” Nadeem snapped back. “You're not going anywhere until Sinbad says so.” The boy curled his lip. “More's the pity. We don't need your kind round here.”

“What d'you mean, ‘your kind'?” Rhidan demanded.

“Annoying, stuck-up people like you,” Nadeem replied. “You might try to dress like us, but you're not one of us. You come from money, I can tell from your accents, the way you stand, even. The only question is why you're here and not in your fancy home.” He crossed his arms. “Where do you really come from?”

“Enough, Nadeem.” Sinbad's voice cut through the boy's sharp words as he walked up to them. “These two are our guests. You will show them some respect.”

“But, Captain,” Nadeem protested, “these two stink of trouble.”

“I said, enough,” Sinbad responded. “Go and help Syed and Tariq take the cargo off the ship.”

Nadeem's face flushed red but he obeyed without further comment.

“Sorry about that.” Sinbad watched Nadeem's retreating back. “He doesn't trust strangers and gets very protective of the
Falcon
. This crew's the only family he's got.” The captain rocked on his heels. “I've been thinking,” he said finally. “I believe I have a solution to our little problem.”