She rained kisses across his startled countenance, both cheeks, his nose, and, finally, his mouth. Her kiss turned so passionate that his head swam.
When she finally pulled back, he looked at her. “What brought that on, love? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
“Nothing,” she said. “I’m just…glad.”
Jack shrugged amiably. “All right,” he said, and bent to pick up the heavy bag of treasure.
“I’ll carry it,” she said, taking it from him. “Let me. It will be an honor.”
“Whatever you say, love,” Jack said, giving her a genuine—if puzzled—smile.
Hand in hand, they walked through the exit, leaving the labyrinth behind.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
A Matter of Honor
BY THE TIME JACK, AMENIRDIS, AND TAREK made their way out of the temple, Jack was surprised to see that the trip through the labyrinth had taken no more than five hours. A glance at the sun showed him it was about noon.
Both he and Amenirdis were gritty with dust, as well as hungry and thirsty. “It is difficult to tell whether I want a bath or food more,” the princess said, thoughtfully, as they started up the hill toward the palace. Tarek paced them at a discreet distance.
“I know what I want,” Jack said. “A cup of rum and food.”
“Most of that can be arranged,” the princess said. “But I have decided. Bath first.”
“Can I watch?” Jack asked, hopefully.
“Only if you want to ruin my reputation for all time,” she replied. “You can go with Tarek to the male servants’ barracks, and wash off the dust while I have my bath. Then he can bring you back to the private courtyard the family uses, in the palace, and I’ll have food brought there.”
“We can’t eat in your rooms?
“My mother would disown me,” the princess declared.
Jack shrugged. Nothing ventured, as the old saying went. “I’ll need to be back aboard the Wench by four bells of the afternoon watch,” he said. “I told Robby to have all the water casks and provisions loaded by then, so we can set sail. Your people will be ready by then, right?”
“Tarek and I will be ready,” she said. “I spoke to the captain of the royal yacht. He will be ready. Must my brother come? He is very busy today, as you may well imagine.”
“I don’t think so, providing things go as you’ve planned. Ordinarily I’d have weighed anchor by now, but I want to give Christophe plenty of time to sail away. How long will the illusion you cast on the rock last?”
“It will last for a little while once they are on the other side of the protective illusion,” she said. “Perhaps an hour, maybe a bit more.”
“Enough time for him to sail six or seven miles,” Jack said, nodding. “That should be far enough to prevent him seeing us when we come out.”
“What if he is close enough to see your ship?”
“I’m not that concerned about it, love. His crew has had a chance to watch the Wicked Wench. They know that she’s bigger and faster than La Vipère—they chased us across the whole bloody Atlantic, now, didn’t they?” Jack chuckled. “Come to think of it, they may actually have believed that the Wench is a pirate vessel, because of that time I ran up the Jolly Roger—in which case, they’d be convinced we have more guns than we actually have. The men aboard La Vipère have gotten a nice prize from this venture, because of that bag Christophe carried away with him. They’ll be content with that, and have no interest in taking on the Wench, even if Christophe flies into a rage and orders them to do it.”
“But don’t they have to follow orders, the way your men do?”
Jack shook his head. “Pirates are different from merchant vessels or the navy. A captain’s word is law during battle, but pirates pride themselves on being more or less equals. The captain, quartermaster, first mate and ship’s surgeon—if they’re lucky enough to have a surgeon—usually get a bigger share of the prize, because they have more responsibility. They need more experience, to fill those posts.
“But a pirate captain has to be careful about what he orders. If he consistently shows bad judgment, or acts off his head, or he repeatedly angers his men, say by unfairly flogging them, the crew will meet and elect a new captain. Don’t think it hasn’t happened, love.”
“But isn’t that mutiny?”
“Not if the crew feels they have just cause. I’ve heard of captains that wound up being marooned.” Jack shuddered. “That’s an unpleasant way to die, love.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Christophe is an experienced captain, even if he is a sodding rogue. He’d have to be barking mad to order his crew to attack the Wicked Wench.”
“Anyone who would kill people who had surrendered, just murder them in cold blood, is mad, Jack.”
Jack nodded. “There is that.”
After washing off the dust, Jack was escorted by Tarek to the small courtyard Amenirdis had mentioned. Servants brought them food and beer, and Jack and the eunuch shared a companionable chat while waiting for the princess to join them. She did, appearing much refreshed.
“I am sorry I am late,” she said, sitting down cross-legged at the low table. “I wanted to give my brother his bracelet, and our father’s bracelet. When I told him that we discovered the sacred word, he was much relieved. There are several candidates for the new high priest, and he hopes to appoint one very quickly.”
Servants placed food and drink before her, and she started in on them.
Before long, the meal was finished, and they rose to leave. Amenirdis smiled at Jack, a bit shyly. “Before we go, Jack, I have something for you. A gift. Actually, two gifts.”
Jack smiled. “A gift? Two gifts? Not used to receiving those, love. Thank you.” But after a second, his smile faded, and he looked down. “I don’t have anything for you, love. I should, shouldn’t I?”
“Jack,” she said to him, smiling, “today you gave me the best gift anyone ever has. Believe me.”
“I did?” He looked startled. “Um…don’t recall anything of the sort,” he said.
“I swear by Apedemak, I am telling you the truth,” she said solemnly. “Now hold out your hand.”
Jack held his right hand out, a bit nervously. Amenirdis produced a ring. “Let’s see what finger this will fit,” she said, and tried it. The middle finger proved a perfect fit. “There you go.”
Jack looked down at it. It was reddish gold, with blue enameled insets, and a large, red bezel. “Coral,” she said. “For my man from the sea.”
“I love jewelry,” Jack said. “It’s beautiful.” He turned it back and forth in the sunlight, admiring it, then, suddenly, his eyes widened in alarm. “Ummmm, darlin’, this doesn’t mean we’re married now, or anything like that, does it?”
Tarek, who was standing behind the princess, huge arms crossed over his massive chest, rolled his eyes.
Amenirdis burst out laughing. “No, Jack! I suppose I ought to feel insulted by that remark, but today, nothing you might do or say could upset me.”
Flustered, Jack stammered, “Uh, it’s not like that, love! I mean, it is, but it’s not, if you get my meaning. I was just…I’m not…I’m just not good enough for you, love.”
Tarek nodded solemn agreement with Jack’s statement.
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “You’re a good man, and don’t let anyone tell you you’re not.”
After a moment, he nodded hesitantly. “All right, love. If you say so. I’m not used to thinking of meself like that, to be perfectly candid with you.”
“Jack, listen, this is not an ordinary ring one wears for adornment,” Amenirdis said. “I placed a spell on it. If you should ever want to come back to Zerzura, sail to within a league of the bearings you recorded, then breathe on the ring, all the while thinking of me. Then, just wait. I will come to you, through the illusion, and escort you through it, as I did before.”
Jack looked at the ring in wonder. “This means if I sail the Triangle, I can swing by, love. Especially after I buy
my own ship, and have to answer to no one.”
She nodded. “I will look forward to those times, Jack.”
Then the princess picked up the other article she’d brought, and shook it out. It was a lengthy piece of hand-woven fabric, white with narrow magenta stripes running through the weave. “I made this for you while we were on the voyage,” she said, “on my little hand loom. I think it’s probably too long, but you can double it, like this.” Stepping close to him, she wrapped the fabric around his waist twice, then tied it so the extra hung in short loops. “If you tuck it up like this, it won’t show under your waistcoat, Jack.”
He looked down at the homespun, then rubbed it between his fingers. “Does this have magical properties too, love?”
She smiled at him. “I cannot guarantee that it will stop a weapon, Jack, but as I wove it, I chanted, and what I chanted were spells of protection. When you wear it, think of me. I will pray to Apedemak each day that my weaving will be strong enough to protect you from injury, or sickness, or harm.”
“Thank you, love,” he said, and kissed her, wishing Tarek would take the hint and make himself scarce. Regretfully, he recalled his time limitation.
When they drew apart, she cleared her throat. “It’s time to go, Jack.”
With Ayisha, Tarek, and Chamba on board, Jack sailed the Wicked Wench back through the fogbank. Once more he had a ship in his wake, but this time it was the royal yacht, Heka, a brightly painted vessel that had a crew of oarsmen, in addition to its single mast. On its bow was painted a large, kohled eye, on its stern a lotus, and on the sail was the head of a lion.
Despite his brave words to Amenirdis earlier, Jack was relieved to see no sign of Christophe’s brigantine when his ship emerged from the illusion.
Sailing through the illusion-fog to leave the island had been simple and painless compared to what they had experienced on the way in. This time there were no strange voices, no almost-seen images, no unsettling swirling of color. The air around the ship simply appeared foggy, though, as before, the “fog” carried no water to dampen things.
Jack kept the Wicked Wench under sail until the ship was nearly a league away from the fogbank. Then he ordered the crew to heave-to.
The Heka approached, until she was lying just a hundred feet away, and then the yacht lowered her sail.
Amenirdis faced Jack, her expression somber. “I fear it is time, Jack. Please assemble your men.”
Jack held up a finger. “Before I do that, I have a request to make. I’ve been thinking about what you said this spell would do, love, and, if you can control how it affects the crew, there’s an element needs to be added to it.”
“What is that?”
“From here, I’ll be sailing south to Calabar, much as I wish I didn’t have to.” Jack grimaced at the thought. “And as soon as I sail into the harbor there, I’m going to have to report to Cutler Beckett, and he’s bound to question my crew to verify what I tell him. In order to protect them—not to mention me own precious hide—can you cast your spell so they also forget about Christophe’s ship, and how it sailed with us across the Atlantic?”
She thought for a moment, then nodded. “I will require a quiet place to chant and concentrate, in order to add an additional spell-thread to my weaving, but that can be done. I’ll use your cabin, if you permit.”
Jack escorted her to the cabin, and then waited outside, on the weather deck. After a little while, the princess opened the door. “I have changed the parameter of the spell, to accomplish what you requested.”
“Thank you, love,” he said, relieved. “It will be difficult enough trying to give my report to Beckett, without having to think up an explanation for La Vipère.”
She nodded. “I do not envy you that, Jack. Beckett is a man obsessed.”
“He’s rich already,” Jack mused, as, together, they walked up to the bow again, and stood by the rail. “And a very powerful man in the EITC at such a young age. It’s hard to imagine why he wants more gold, more power. If Beckett enjoyed himself as a result of his wealth and power, I could understand it…but all he does is work. What’s the fun in being able to afford the very best of everything, if you never enjoy yourself ?”
She shrugged. “He might as well be royalty.” Then she glanced over at the waiting Heka and took a deep breath. “Jack, summon your crew. Make sure they are all seated on the deck.”
The captain ordered “All hands!” and made sure his crewmen were safely seated on the weather deck. He turned to the princess. “Ready.”
She nodded, then beckoned Chamba and Tarek to join them, and led the way up to the bow. “Stand behind me, please,” she ordered them.
Jack stepped behind her, hearing uneasy mutterings from his crew. He smiled at them reassuringly. This is for your own good, mates.…
Ayisha took out her hand loom. It was already strung with colorful threads. She began to chant, her voice rising and falling, as she swiftly cross-threaded more thread over and under the threads she had strung. At times the chant sounded melodic, then her voice would change, and it would sound deeper, more powerful. Jack glanced at the hand loom, and saw that a pattern was emerging.
He looked back up at his crew, and saw their heads and eyelids were drooping. Many were beginning to sway as they sat. Amenirdis continued her chant. Slowly, one by one, the Wicked Wench’s crew slumped over onto their sides, and slept.
Amenirdis’s voice dropped off, ending on one final note, just as her fingers tugged the last thread of the pattern into place.
Jack, who had never watched her actually cast a spell before, blinked, impressed. “My word, love! That was worthy of Tia Dalma!” Looking at her face, he hastily put out a hand to catch her arm as she swayed a bit.
“It…tires…one, Jack,” she said. “But I will be fine in a few minutes.”
“So how long will they sleep?”
“At least an hour, Jack, perhaps a bit more. When they awaken, they will remember nothing that happened after we first spotted the illusion-fog in the distance. They will remember nothing of penetrating the illusion, nothing of Kerma or what they saw there. And they will not remember Christophe’s ship.” She walked over to the ladder leading down to the weather deck and sat down heavily, as though her legs were wobbly.
Tarek came over, and produced a flask. “My lady, drink this. You need a restorative.”
“I could get her some rum,” Jack offered. “The good stuff.”
Tarek looked at him with mingled exasperation and amusement. “Rum at this time would knock her flat, Captain Sparrow. She needs this herbal drink, sweetened with honey. Believe me, I know how to take care of her.”
Jack pressed both hands together and made a respectful bob to the eunuch. “I know you do, Tarek. No one could do better.”
Amenirdis drank long and deep, then passed the flask back to her bodyguard. “That helped. Thank you, Tarek.” She rose to her feet. “It is time to depart.”
Tarek waved at the Heka, and a crewman waved back. A small boat headed for the Wench, rowed by two Kerman sailors.
Jack went down the steps from the bow and carefully rearranged several of his sleeping crewmen, so there was a clear path to the ship’s ladder. Chamba, Tarek, and Amenirdis followed him.
Chamba went first, so he could row over in one of the Wicked Wench’s longboats. After he’d climbed into the boat, Jack held out his hand. “Farewell, Chamba. You will certainly be missed aboard this ship. Oh, and by the way—I now declare you an able seaman.”
Chamba shook his hand. “Thank you, Captain. I sure will miss you, and Mister Robby, and everyone. Good men, all of them.” The sailor had to pause to clear his throat. “Here’s the letter you asked me to write, Captain.” He held out a folded piece of parchment to Jack.
“Thank you, Chamba. I wish you the best.”
Jack and Tarek lowered the longboat. Chamba picked up the oars, and began to row toward the Heka.
Then it was time for the two Zerzurans to depart. T
arek climbed down first, so he could assist Amenirdis. Jack nodded solemnly at the bodyguard, and Tarek nodded back.
The bodyguard then tossed up a line to Jack. It was attached to a good-sized sack. “The pharaoh sent this for you and your men, Captain.”
Jack pulled the sack up the side of the ship, hand over hand, then heaved it over the railing with a grunt of effort. “Heavy!” he said.
“The pharaoh wished to reward a job well done, as he promised he would,” Tarek reminded him.
Jack put the sack down, then turned to Amenirdis.
He gazed at her, finding there were no words he could say, not public ones, at any rate. She gazed back at him, and he knew she was experiencing the same problem.
He reached out both hands, and she put hers into them. Jack leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Fare you well, love,” he whispered. “I’ll miss you.”
“And I you, Jack,” she whispered in return. “You will be in my prayers every day.”
Then she stepped back. Jack let her slender, dark fingers slide through his. One last touch…
The princess climbed over the side and started down the ladder. When she neared the boat, Tarek reached up and lifted her down, depositing her on the seat.
She looked up, but did not wave, as the sailors rowed away.
For a moment Jack considered going to his cabin and getting his spyglass so he could watch them go, but one glance at his cluttered deck convinced him that by the time he picked his way over there, and then back, the Heka would be on her way.
So he simply stood there, both hands on the rail, watching as the little boat sped across the water. It didn’t take long for it to reach the yacht. One by one, the passengers transferred from the boat to the yacht, and then the sailors, too, climbed aboard. Heka raised sail, and the oarsmen plied their oars. Towing both boats behind it, the royal yacht headed toward the fogbank.
Jack could see one figure waving. Chamba. He waved back.
Heka glided toward the fogbank, and then she was gone.
Pirates of the Caribbean: The Price of Freedom Page 64
