by Kai Meyer
The princess didn’t let it distract her. Together with Jolly she tied the pirate emperor with a golden cord that they tore off the canopy of the bed. He swore the whole time, but he no longer tried to defend himself. Possibly he’d realized that he’d stay alive as long as the younger girl was in command.
“And now,” said Jolly, “onto the trunks with him.”
Soledad’s eyebrows came together in a frown. “Humpf!” she said when she grasped what Jolly had in mind. Then she murmured, “Could work,” and grabbed Kendrick’s shoulders, while Jolly took his feet.
He protested, but they didn’t listen to him. Seconds later they’d heaved him onto the trunks. He lay straight across the barricade, stretched lengthwise toward the door, with hands and feet tied.
An ax plunged through the wood less than six inches away from Kendrick’s head.
“You idiots!” His voice broke. “Stop it, you mindless monkeys! I’m right behind the door! You miserable riffraff—stop, I say!”
Jolly smiled with satisfaction. “That might buy us a moment’s time.” She hurried over to the window and opened it. Light fell through the open back door onto the deserted courtyard. The guard must have run upstairs with the others.
Soledad stood indecisively in the middle of the room. On the one hand, she wanted to run; on the other, she still burned with the desire to exact revenge on Kendrick.
He, meanwhile, was screaming to his people not to touch the door or shoot through it.
“But Captain,” said a dull voice through the wood, “how else can we get to you?”
Kendrick would doubtless have pulled his hair if his hands had not been tied behind his back.
“Come on!” cried Jolly, and climbed onto the windowsill.
Soledad saw that Kendrick was a help to them only as long as he bellowed at his people and kept them from breaking down the door. With a regretful shrug, she turned away from him and ran over to the window.
Jolly had already shoved off from a crouch and jackknifed over to the nearby slanting roof She landed on the tiles with a clatter, grabbed on, and whisked quickly up to the ridge of the roof.
Soledad was a head taller than Jolly and had much more difficulty pushing herself out the small window in a bent position. But she came through safely and sought frantically with her hands and feet for a hold. She was threatening to slide down when Jolly quickly grabbed her by the arm.
Moments later they were running, crouched, over the ridge of the roof.
Kendrick’s cries followed them outside. “They’re through the window, you stinking sea snails! Run down and grab them! … Lord God, am I surrounded by soft-boiled jellyfish brains?”
Immediately there was the sound of the clattering on the staircase again—at least a party of his men were on the way down. Already, shadows interrupted the light stripe in the courtyard.
“Along here!” Jolly pointed to the tavern’s rear building, which connected the side wings. “The rope I climbed up to the roof with is hanging on the back side.”
They reached it just at the moment that a great outcry arose in the courtyard below. One of Kendrick’s men had seen them on the ridge just before they slid down the back slope. Pistols were cocked, then the first balls whistled through the night.
“Quick!” Jolly’s hands burned like fire as she slid down the coarse hemp rope.
Swearing, she landed on the ground and leaped to one side to get out of Soledad’s way.
They took off side by side. Soon the pirate princess took the lead, since she knew the streets and corners of the stone quarter better than Jolly, They ran through gates and under makeshift bridges connecting some houses, then crossed small squares on which, even after midnight, the confusion of the Oriental bazaar reigned; they pushed through alleyways that were almost too narrow for their slender shoulders and clambered over mountains of garbage, once even over a heap of grumbling drunks an innkeeper had thrown out of his tavern.
Then, after endless minutes, Soledad stopped,
“They’ve lost our trail,” she said, panting, “Otherwise they’d have caught us by this time,”
Jolly pressed both hands against her sides. Her throat burned with exhaustion, “How far is it from here to the harbor?”
The princess pulled her thin dress straight, without much success, then she pointed to the left, “Run in that direction, then it’s just a cat spring. But stay away from all the open squares.”
Jolly thought for a moment, “You can come along, I have friends in the harbor and a boat, perhaps you can—”
“No.” Soledad’s tone was final, “I don’t need anyone to get what I want.”
“Kendrick’s head?” Jolly smiled thinly. “Looks rather as if neither one of us got what we wanted.”
“Because you kept me from it”
“And you me.”
They looked at each other silently for a moment, then Soledad shrugged. With a hasty motion she pushed a strand of red hair out of her face. “Another time. Kendrick won’t get away from me.” She hesitated, then added, “You saved my life up there on the roof. Thanks.”
Jolly smiled. “What’re you going to do now? He’ll have a search out for us.”
“First I have to get out of these horrible rags.” And again she tugged in vain at the tangled straps and ribbons of her dress. “Then I’ see what ’s next.”
“You’re still planning to avenge your father?”
“Of course.”
Jolly sighed; finally she nodded. “Then good luck with it.”
“If you want some advice: Get out of New Providence right away if you can.”
“I’m not afraid of Kendrick.”
Soledad smiled, and for the first time it looked almost friendly. “No, well, hardly … nevertheless, the Spaniards are going to attack, perhaps even tonight.”
“Tonight? But Kendrick—”
“He’s a fool. Another reason he doesn’t deserve to be leader of the pirates. He actually believes his men are so afraid of him they’d refuse the bribe money of the Spanish spies. Yet it’s swarming with traitors here.”
Jolly remembered what Soledad had said in the inn. “You mean the lookouts in the mountains are bought? By the Spaniards?”
“Definitely. If Kendrick paid more attention to what was going on around him, he’d have seen that long ago. Everyone in the Caribbean—except Kendrick and his pals—is saying that the attack of the armada is about to happen. In the past few days, more ships have put out to sea than in the last four weeks. Those that are still here are just as blind as Kendrick—children who close their eyes and think no one can see them. But the Spanish are somewhere out there at this moment, not very far away. I intended to use the last night to kill Kendrick—now it’s too late.”
“What will you do?”
“Retreat inland. There are a few ships anchored on the other side of the island whose captains were loyal to my father—one of them will take me aboard.”
“Why don’t you come with me?”
“Kendrick knows who I am now. If he survives the Spanish attack, hell chase me with everything he’s got. There are still many who despise him and would rather see Scarab’s daughter on the throne than him. He has every reason to fear me, not only because of tonight. I’d be no help to you if half the pirate fleet were chasing after you.”
Jolly saw that Soledad wouldn’t be convinced. The princess shook her hand in farewell.
“One more thing,” said Soledad. “About Captain Bannon …”
“Yes?”
“You should think about whether Kendrick might not have had something to do with the affair”
Jolly frowned. She wanted to hold Soledad back, but her red mane had already melted into the shadows of an underpass. Her steps resounded in the darkness.
Gideon’s Grave
One Of the two parrots was waiting for her on the little sailboat in the harbor. It was Hugh, she saw by his poison yellow eyes. He was sitting on a piece of paper that was covered w
ith fine, looping handwriting.
It’s too dangerous to spend the night outside, it said. I’ve rented a room in an inn called Gideon’s Grave. Munk and I are waiting for you there. Follow Hugh. He’ll lead you to us.
The message was signed with the initials GT, which Jolly thought was a little silly. Underneath there was a postscript: What the devil did you pour down Munk? He turnea poor Moe crimson!
Jolly giggled to herself. Munk had drunk two large beakers of wine and suddenly become so befuddled that she had trouble getting him back to the boat. There she’d laid him under the tarpaulin in the stern so that he could sleep off his drunk and she could carry out her plan unhindered.
Now she pictured the Ghost Trader’s face when he returned to the harbor and found his protégé in that condition. She had to laugh, despite the fear still lurking in her bones after her flight.
Yet the thought of Soledad’s words turned her abruptly serious. Not only did she have the pirate emperor and his entire pack on her heels, but the impending Spanish attack gave her even more concern. She must find Munk and the Ghost Trader and convince them to leave without delay! Perhaps they’d manage to get aboard the ghost ship before the armada reached New Providence.
Hugh rose into the air with a flutter and flew ahead. Jolly crumpled the Ghost Trader’s note as she ran. She hoped it wasn’t too far to the tavern where the two were waiting for her. Heavens, who would lodge in a hole named Gideon’s Grave?
The inn was on the outer edge of the harbor, a two-storied wooden house from whose downstairs windows came the noise and the dubious smells of an overfilled taproom. The upper windows were dark.
“Jolly! There you are at last!” The voice rang out from one of the pitch-black rectangles above. It was only at a second look that she saw the outline of the one who was up there watching for her, almost invisible, as if he possessed no more substance than the shadows.
She waved to the Ghost Trader.
“Wait,” he called, “I’ll come down and get you,”
She shook her head, “Not necessary,” And with that, she walked through the door to the interior of the tavern and slipped quickly through the crowd of men before anyone could catch more than a fleeting look at her. It was good of the Trader to be concerned about her, but she’d been in worse cutthroats’ dens than this one, with Bannon. She knew how to avoid the drunks and to defend herself if necessary.
Not even the landlady or any of the barmaids paid any attention to her. Rum, gin, and beer were flowing in streams. Moist heat filled the room, and the fumes of countless pipes limited the view to a few feet.
Jolly found the stairs that led up to the guest chambers, She ran quickly up them. The triangular silhouette of the dark hooded cape rose abruptly above the end of the stairs. The Ghost Trader indicated an open door.
“In there.”
Munk lay on one of the room’s three beds, snoring to wake the dead. The Ghost Trader pressed the door closed behind him and shoved the back of a chair under the handle. There was no lock.
Hugh landed next to Moe on the windowsill. The Ghost Trader hadn’t exaggerated: The red-eyed parrot’s plumage shimmered flaming crimson in the candlelight. Munk’s mussels lay spread out on a small table.
“It will fade,” said the Ghost Trader. “In a few hours, his feathers will be black again.”
“The Spaniards are attacking!” Jolly burst out. “Tonight!”
His left eyebrow moved up hardly perceptibly. “Who says that?”
“Princess Soledad. Scarab’s daughter!”
The eyebrow slid higher, until it almost disappeared under the edge of the hood. “Princess Soledad? Since when do pirates have titles of nobility?”
“I believe she spoke the truth”
“Before we rush into anything, you should tell me everything first”
“But we have to get away from here!”
“Later … perhaps. First I’d like to hear your story”
She uttered an impatient sigh, glanced at the sleeping Munk with a touch of guilt, and began to tell everything. The Ghost Trader listened attentively without sitting down. He stood there, kneading his chin between thumb and forefinger and looking piercingly at Jolly, as if he could read things in her eyes that went beyond what she was saying.
“Hmm” the Trader said finally, and after a pause, he said it again: “Hmm, hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You could have pumped out the hull of a leaking ship with Jolly’s racing heart.
“Scarab’s daughter is a shrewd girl. She certainly wouldn’t speak such warnings carelessly.”
“Then what are we waiting for?”
“Well, to be honest, for a ship. And its captain.”
Jolly was hopping from one foot to the other. What sort of nonsense was he talking? They already had a ship! It might not be the most inviting in the Caribbean, but who cared about that at the moment?
The Ghost Trader looked at her and answered her question without her having to ask it.
“We must give up the ghost ship. We need a nimble, fast ship. And an experienced captain.”
“I can sail a ship, if I have to”
The Trader smiled indulgently. “I don’t doubt it. But what we need now is an old hand. Someone who knows all the tricks of the trade—and whom one can nevertheless trust.”
She frowned skeptically. “And you’ve found someone like that? Here?”
“Captain Walker. He’s sitting in the tavern downstairs and playing. As soon as the party is over, he’ll need money. And then he’ll talk with me.”
“Walker?” Jolly put her hands over her face and uttered a groan of despair. “The Walker? The same one who personally cheated Scarab out of a whole shipload of Jamaican rum? And who in a fight between Spaniards and English goes from one side to the other faster than the cannonballs?”
The Trader nodded. “He commands the fastest ship on the Caribbean Sea. And he’s a cutthroat with a certain sense of honor. We won’t find anything better than he is here, I’m afraid.”
“Honor!” she cried disparagingly. “May be that he’s so keen on honor that he hands me over to Kendrick.” She dropped, exhausted, on the edge of Munk’s bed. Suddenly a thought came to her. She stared at the Trader suspiciously. “Why do you really want to get away from the island so fast? Up until a few minutes ago, you didn’t even know the Spanish were going to attack.”
The Trader’s face darkened. “If we can’t put an end to the moving of the Maelstrom, there will be neither Spaniards nor pirates here. Believe me, the Acherus was only a shallow specter compared to what the Maelstrom will spew out if his power becomes greater. And it is becoming greater, with every day, with every hour”
Jolly only understood half of what he was saying, but at these words she began to shiver.
“What are you planning?”
The Ghost Trader didn’t answer. Restless, he paced to the window and looked out. Then he turned to her again. “Much remains in darkness, and everything is going much faster than we feared.”
Jolly thought of what had happened on the island and said nothing.
Suddenly Munk stretched in his sleep and laid a hand on Jolly’s thigh.
“My lord!” She angrily pushed his fingers away and leaped up. “Any field mouse can drink more than this …” She trailed off. Munk looked very peaceful as he lay there, as if he’d finally been able to throw off his grief for his parents for a few hours.
“Don’t blame him,” said the Ghost Trader. “He can help what is to happen just as little as you can.”
She looked at the floor. “I led the Acherus to his island,” she said sadly. “I can never make amends for that.”
“Yes, you can. In fact, sooner than you imagine.”
“But what do I have to do?”
The Trader came over to her and, smiling, took her hand. “In time you will understand everything, little polliwog.”
Jolly sat on her bed with her knees drawn up and stared out into
the night through the open window. She couldn’t sleep, although the Ghost Trader had advised her to. The starry sky of the Caribbean seemed to her too bright tonight, the roaring of the surf too loud. Many thoughts were buzzing through her head. She felt a vague, indefinable responsibility on her shoulders, an obligation she’d been given against her will.What did the Ghost Trader really intend for the polliwogs? And what would become of her search for Bannon? She wouldn’t give up her investigations, no matter what, with or without support. Kendrick, the Ghost Trader, this Maelstrom—they could all go to hell, as far as she was concerned!
She gave a start as a bone-shaking racket sounded through the floorboards. In the taproom below, something was flung against the ceiling with great force. Something—or someone!
She put her feet on the floor—and pulled them right back up again when the shaking was repeated, this time even harder. Then came the sound of breaking window glass, and voices outside the tavern grew loud. Obviously, a terrible fight was in progress down there.
The door flew open. The Ghost Trader, who’d just gone downstairs a few minutes ago, stood in the doorway, legs apart, his robe pulled back on one side. His left hand rested on the silver ring at his belt.
“Come, its starting!”
“Walker actually intends to help us?”
“Not yet. But when he has a clear head again, he’ll agree that ther’s no other choice open to him. We’ll just pick him up in front of the window—at least he was lying there a minute ago.”
Jolly stared at him. “Something tells me you had your hand in the game.”
“Who knows?”
“But you’re no magician, you said. Only a ghost conjurer.”
The Trader laughed suddenly, a sound that made Jolly recoil. Even Munk made a face in his sleep.
“No conjurer, only a trader. I collect the ghosts of the dead, I don’t conjure them up. But I can’t expect you to understand the difference … not yet. And as concerns the good Captain Walker: In this tavern there are more ghosts of men who’ve drunk themselves to death or been killed in fights than in any other—for no other reason is it called Gideon’s Grave. I’ve only directed a few of the poor souls to interfere a little with the captain at his card game.”
