“This… it’s not real.”
“No, my love, it is not. It’s that drug you just smoked, but I’m here now, and I have a great deal to say.”
Quinn’s heart was pounding so hard it sounded like it was trying to get out of her chest. “What’s to say? I’m in a harem of one. A prisoner of love, as it were.”
Fiona sat on the edge of the bed. “Oh my love, don’t you know? Love has always made you feel like a prisoner.”
Quinn shook her head. How could this Fiona know so much and be so wise? “It has?” Quinn tried to make a logical thought, but the clouds in her brain prevented her from doing so.
“Of course it has. You love the idea of a romantic relationship, when, in reality, you love the sea, the action, the adventure. The truth is, my sweet love, you love not being a woman. All that defines a woman is the antithesis of what you prefer. Face it, my love, being a woman wearing women’s clothes and doing womanly things made you miserable. Loving a woman who dresses as a woman and who does womanly things does as well.”
Quinn raised up, her head felt so heavy.
Or was it light?
She truly couldn’t tell.
But she did remember that Fiona was dead… killed in childbirth.
“Are you paying attention?”
Quinn nodded. “Yes, but—”
“No buts, Quinn Callaghan. You keep struggling with this abstract notion of love, when the truth is, you are fighting with yourself… who you are… who you are going to become. You are a pirate. You love being a pirate. Accept what that means, sweet girl. Accept that you keep trying to love women who want you to be something you are not.”
“Accept what?” Quinn’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth.
“That you are a thief, a killer, and a privateer. That you enjoy the fighting, the plunder, the excitement of riding the sword’s edge. Admit it, Quinn Callaghan. Admit and accept that love is secondary to your love of adventure.”
Quinn struggled to rise. She wanted to hold Fiona, to tell her once again how much she loved her, how she missed her.
But suddenly, Fiona was gone, leaving Quinn shrouded in the smokey haze from the hookah.
“Fiona… I… I miss you. Come back.”
“She can’t come back,” Becca said softly as she walked through the smoke. “She’s dead. Dead and gone and leavin’ you to raise her child. You keep rememberin’ her and yer time together like there was no strife or problems. Yer not quite rememberin’ she was a married woman who wasn’t free to love you. A woman who would never have left the safety or comfort of her fancy castle to be with you.” Becca inhaled deeply before slapping Quinn across the face. “Wake up! You chose Fiona because you couldn’t have her. She was the perfect lover for you, Quinn Gallagher. There when you needed her, not there when you didn’t.”
“Becca—”
“Shut. Up. For once in yer life, let someone else tell you how things really are.”
Quinn rubbed her eyes with her fists. “I loved her.”
“No one is sayin’ otherwise, but she was anchored at Blackrock. Her time and expectations of you were limited.” Becca shook her head sadly. “But me? I had nothin’ but time fer you, and it was too much. I was too much. I was real.”
“Becca—”
“I loved you, Callaghan. I loved you with all my heart, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. I was—”
“Bec—”
“I was too much. But now, I have a woman who loves and appreciates me. A woman who wants all of me all the time.”
“You’re happy.”
“Verra much so. She loves me all the time. She has shown me what it means to truly be loved.”
“Then I’m happy for you.”
“No. No. No, Callaghan. I don’t need ya to be happy fer me. I need you to be happy.”
“I… I don’t think I know how to do that with another woman.”
“Ya don’t. Look at ya. Yer some bitch’s whore, smokin’ on a hookah pipe. Like the rest of us, she’ll fall in love with ya if she hasn’t already. You’ll break her heart, like ya always do, and then you’ll move on to the next poor soul. Yer a pirate. A thief. Stealin’ hearts is what you do.”
“Becca, I’m so—”
“Sorry?” She laughed. “That’s a fine chuckle and a half. Yer sorry ya were never in love with me? Don’t be absurd.”
“I do love you, just—”
“Just not like you love her.”
“I loved Fiona like—”
“Not Fiona, you boob. Her. Grace Fuckin’ O’Malley,”
Quinn rocked back as if slapped. “Grace?”
Becca turned around and was walking away when Quinn called to her. “Becca?”
When Becca turned, it was no longer her.
“Evan?”
The small galloglaigh smiled as she walked back toward Quinn. “Aye, Cap, though I doona ken how ya let that one slip away, lovin’ ya like she did.” Evan glanced around. “How’d ya get me here?”
Quinn rose unsteadily to her feet. “Wait. You’re not a dream?”
“Not as far as I can tell. Yer in some sorta dream weed or somethin’, and, from the looks of it, yer not in Ireland enna more. I called Bron just before ya pulled me in. Maybe she can help.”
“Evan… listen to me… I’m in trouble. I’m being held—”
“That’s just it, Cap. Yer always in trouble, and usually because of her.”
“Grace?”
“Oh, aye. Cap, I doona ken if yer in love with her or what, but ya’ve put yer life in her hands time and time again. Why, if it wasn’t love?”
“Evan—”
Evan held her hand up. “Think about it, Cap. Be honest with yerself. That’s what these visions are about. Honesty. Lookin’ within fer the truth.”
The room swam before her eyes, and Quinn fell back onto the pillows when everything settled, a woman stood where Evan had been standing.
“Sayyida?”
Sayyida knelt down next to Quinn. “Callaghan? What in the hell is going on?” She looked around the room. “Joined a harem, have you? I must say, I never quite anticipated this.”
Quinn blew out a sigh and shrugged her shoulders. “Abducted is more like it.”
“Let me guess,” Sayyida said, bending over to help Quinn to her feet. “Beren?”
Quinn stood. “Yes. How did you know?” Quinn looked at Sayyida’s hand on her arm. She actually felt it. “Wait. Are you real?”
Sayyida gazed into Quinn’s eyes. “Ah. I see. The hookah. Visions. No wonder you are babbling like a touched person.” Sayyida picked up a mouthpiece and sniffed it. “Ah Yes. Quite.”
“So… you are real.”
“I won’t be if we remain here much longer. I have a boat waiting. I came to get you out of here.”
“How? You couldn’t’ have made it back this quickly.”
Sayyida gathered Quinn’s jacket and pushed a chair over to the small window. “It will be a bit of a squeeze, but we’ll make it. We must, otherwise we will be dead at the bottom of the sea.”
“Just answer me one thing. Are you real?”
Sayyida pushed Quinn to the window. “Of course I’m real. Damn that hookah shit. It can truly make you believe in unicorns.”
Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose. “But… you can’t be here. I am so confused. Have you seen Evan?”
“I’ll explain later. Right now, we must get you out of here.” Grabbing Quinn by the shoulders, Sayyida shoved her to the chair. “Climb up and over. Do not go anywhere else. Just wait for me.”
Quinn managed to scramble up and through the window, landing hard on the deck below. Looking right, then left, Quinn tried to remember why she was out here.
When Sayyida landed almost on top of her, she remembered.
“Up and over the rail, Callaghan. Someone was trying to get in the room.”
Quinn looked down at the water below. It felt very, very far away. “Oh, I don’t know if we can make that leap.”
>
With both of her hands against Quinn’s chest, Sayyida shoved her overboard and jumped in behind her.
Quinn landed in the water on her back. The cold darkness enveloped her almost immediately. No sound, no sight, she wasn’t even sure which way was up.
I’m going to drown.
The disturbance in the water next to her reminded her she was not alone. A pair of hands roughly grabbed her and pushed her to the surface where more hands snatched her and tugged her into a boat.
“Go, go, go!” Sayyida yelled as she pulled herself onto the small boat.
Four men grabbed oars and quickly rowed them away from the ship.
When they were quite a ways away, Sayyida wrapped a scratchy horse blanket around Quinn’s shoulders and sat next to her. “The cold will help wear off the effects of the hookah.”
Quinn blew on her cold hands and rubbed them together, the haze in her mind still thick. “Okay. Okay. How is it you are here?”
Sayyida warmed her own hands up. “My sweet girl, if you think I would just leave you in Dragut’s hands, you do not know me very well. I was afraid he might torture you or use you for the delight of his men, but I have to say, I never expected…this.” Sayyida laughed. “Poor thing. Were you being fucked to death?”
“No!” Quinn felt her mental acuity slowly return. “I mean…not for lack of trying.”
“No? Then what was that all about?”
Shrugging, Quinn shuddered from the cold. “It was about Beren’s infatuation with female pirates.”
“So she lusted after you.”
“Something like that.”
“Come on, Callaghan, there must be more to the story of you being in a hookah den.”
“Fatma was getting my demon out or something. I am unsure now why she had me smoking.”
“So you never consummated your relationship?
“It was no relationship and no, we did not.” Quinn suddenly remembered why she was with Sayyida. “So, where are the Sultan’s granddaughters?”
“Sailing toward Istanbul with my ship and my men. We let Dragut believe I sailed out of the bay, but I returned at nightfall only to discover you were gone. It was then a matter of trying to locate you on over three dozen ships of his.
“You made a good guess.”
“Not a guess, my love, a calculated choice. Once I knew he’d brought Beren, I had a pretty decent idea of where you were. It was only a matter of finding out where in the ship.”
“Well, Sayyida, thank you. Again.”
“You are here because of me. I wasn’t about to allow Dragut to come after you. The man has lost his way and the Sultan’s granddaughters will be the first to tell their father so. The damage he is doing does not bode well for the Sultan and once he knows that, he will understand why I remained back here. With you.”
Quinn nodded. “So… what now?”
“Now, we must head back to Turkey to inform him of everything I’ve discovered about Dragut’s dealings here in Europe. I would wish for you to accompany me on that voyage, but I will understand if you wish to get back to your crew.”
Quinn thought for a moment. “So you never saw the Edge?”
“No. We went to Bari, where I asked around about your ship, but no one had seen it. I took a horse back from Bari to here.”
Quinn wasn’t sure how to feel.
“I am sorry, my love, but it would appear your crew finally followed your orders and left you in Italy.”
Quinn pinched the bridge of her nose and made a decision that surprised herself. “I’ll go with you, Sayyida. As long as my crew is safe, then there is no need to drag them into Dragut’s path. I’d like to see this to the end.”
“That’s a wise decision, Callaghan. Sultan Suleiman is not called magnificent for nothing. You saved his granddaughters. That will be worth something, to be sure. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain if you come with me.”
Quinn had no doubt she was right – it was just… Istanbul felt so very far away… from her home, from her crew, and yes, from her.
Grace O’Malley.
The three days at sea aboard a small but swift Corsair went by incredibly fast. The first day, she merely slept and recovered from whatever opiate had been in the hookah. The second day she spent getting used to the curved blade of the scimitar the Corsairs were so fond of using. It had taken Quinn the better part of the morning to get used to its weight, but by mid afternoon, she wielded it like a Turk.
They made such good time that by mid-morning of day three, they could see the coast and feel the energy from the Turkish cities dotting the coastline.
“Wow…” Quinn muttered softly as she stood next to Sayyida on the captain’s deck. Because of the previous theft of Sayyida’s ship, Quinn had had to keep her distance from Sayyida, lest her small crew wonder if Sayyida was, once again, bedding “that Irishman.”
“It is beautiful, isn’t it?” Sayyida said, staring ahead.
“I had no idea. There’s so much color.”
“You Europeans with your ill-fitting clothes and your buttons and laces believe yourselves to be the height of fashion. You could not be more wrong.”
“On that, my friend, we can agree.”
“Good. Then might we also agree you will not bring any shame to me by bedding another while under the roof of the Sultan. Respect for my position is in order, and it has already been tiresome enough answering questions about us.”
“Sayyida, you have my word. The last thing I wish to do is bring disrespect to your name or crew.”
“Excellent. Then I shall take the lead and let the Sultan know we have returned. I have no doubt he will be generous with his coin and praise. In that order.”
Three hours later, they stood in front of Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent in a throne room worthy of any King or Queen Quinn had ever met.
Topkapi Palace, the primary residence of the Ottoman Sultanate since 1465, sat at the water’s edge overlooking the area known as the Golden Horn. The buildings, unlike the European penchant for thick, block-like castles, were low, surrounded by verdant courtyards, pavilions, and gardens that had trellises of various hanging flowers as large as plates.
Quinn was impressed.
On their walk to the throne room, Sayyida explained that the palace held such important relics as Muhammad’s cloak and sword.
“At any one time, it is home to over three thousand people, many of whom work at the hospital as well as the Hagia Sophia, where, I am sure, you will wish to visit before departing. It is perhaps, the most beautiful place of worship in the world.”
“I look forward to it.”
Sayyida stopped and looked at Quinn. “Please hold your tongue in here. Speak when spoken to. I know this is not something you are used to doing, but I need you to follow our rules and not your own.”
“I understand.”
As Quinn stood in front of the Sultan, who wore what appeared to be multiple robes, she realized how little she had actually seen of the world.
The Sultan beckoned Sayyida to him where they spoke in rapid Turkish or Berber or whatever foreign tongue they were speaking. Quinn couldn’t follow it because they were speaking so quickly. It sounded like Berber, but she could not be sure.
When the conversation ended, Sayyida motioned for Quinn to join them.
“His Latin is good enough, Callaghan. Just speak slowly and answer as honestly as you can. He is a very wise and intelligent man.”
Istanbul was the only metropolis stretching two continents. It extended to Thrace in Europe and Anatolia in Asia, so it made sense to Quinn he knew some Latin.
“Your magnificent Excellency,” Quinn said, bowing at the waist.
Sultan Suleiman looked from Quinn to Sayyida and said something to her. He smiled as he said it.
Sayyida returned the smile. “He says how many more women out there who pretend to be men?”
Quinn smiled as well.
“Captain Callaghan of the island of Ireland, I hu
mbly welcome you to our home.”
Humbly?
So far, Quinn had met two queens and a king, and there was nothing humble about any of them. “Thank you.”
“The safe return of my granddaughters is a prayer answered, and we wish to thank you in person for all you have done to secure their safety.”
“Women matter, your Excellency,” Quinn said before she could stop herself.
Sayyida visibly stiffened.
The Sultan laughed. “Indeed. For where would we all be without them? You Europeans treat your women like chattel. It is no wonder you and Grace O’Malley wear men’s clothes and plunder the seas.”
Quinn did not know much Asian history, but she was pretty certain women had it just as bad here. After all, what woman would willingly wish to be part of a harem?
“We will feast tonight in the Grand Room, where I will pay my deepest respects to you both for all you’ve done for our family.”
“I look forward to it.”
The Sultan leaned forward toward Quinn. “I understand Admiral Reis is participating in some very unsavory behavior.”
Quinn looked to Sayyida, who nodded. “He is asking your opinion.”
“The truth?”
Sayyida nodded. “Yes.”
To the Sultan, Quinn said, “Slavery is one thing, your grace, but beheading Christian women and children will only incur the wrath of those who follow the Pope. Catholic nations will band together against Muslims as they have for centuries. There is no need for such barbaric behavior on your behalf.”
The Sultan rubbed his chin. “And that is how the world will see it, eh?”
Quinn nodded. “He is your Admiral.”
“I appreciate your opinion, Captain. Now, enough of the long faces. Tonight, we celebrate!” The Sultan clapped and his guards appeared out of nowhere to escort the two women to their accommodations.
Which were extravagant.
“Oh my,” Quinn said.
“Yes, we are not in Europe, Callaghan, where everything is cold and gray, gray and cold. We celebrate warmth and colors, comfort and luxury.” Sayyida flopped on the enormous bed. “And this is quite nice.” Sayyida patted the empty side of the bed. “And it would be nicer if you joined me.”
X Marks The Spot (The Plundered Chronicles Book 6) Page 9
