Chapter 2 #3
What a compliment to note my worth as it compares to carting her rich ass around. “I was taller than my father,” I deadpanned.
“But should it become necessary, I would be more than happy to remove you from the house.”
Her mouth quirked with what looked like triumph, as if she had enjoyed finally pulling a rude retort from me. It was unsettling—because
for the first time, I noticed that there was something a bit familiar about Salima. The way her large brown eyes glinted with
amusement and the set of her thin lips. Why did it feel as though I had seen her face before?
She leaned back on her cushion. “This is a very... interesting home. But in such a secluded location. Does your mistress
not get lonely?”
The roof chose that moment to begin leaking again, water pinging loudly into the pan. “I believe she enjoys the solitude,”
I said with as much grace as I could muster.
There was a timid knock on the door, and Marjana peered in. “Mama?”
Oh, for the love of God... the one time this girl decides to disobey. “Jana, I told you to stay upstairs,” I reminded her swiftly, making a shooing motion.
“I know, but I brought food.” She lifted a tray with a pitcher of juice and fresh banana fritters. “It sounded like we had
guests.”
And just like that, my lie began to crumble.
We had guests. The ownership in that phrase and this well-dressed little girl calling me Mama.
Sure enough, Salima turned her shrewd gaze to Marjana, still standing in the doorway. “Is this your daughter?” she asked.
“Yes.” I could scarcely deny it; the resemblance between us was obvious. But I tried to salvage the situation, fixing an intent
gaze on Marjana. “Thank you for the juice, beloved. This is Sayyida Salima. She came here looking for Lady Fatima, but I have
told her the family is away for the foreseeable future. She is just resting a bit before moving on.”
“Ah, well, we shall discuss the issue of moving on later...” Salima beckoned to Marjana. “Come in, dear one, join us.”
Marjana stared at me, confusion blossoming in her eyes. At ten years old, she knew only the vague outlines of what had led
our family to live so isolated. She knew that I had sailed many places, that I had done work that led to me wanting to avoid
certain people. She knew that in an emergency, there were hiding places she was supposed to go.
I had not told her more. It is a difficult thing to destroy your child’s innocence. To tell her the mother she adores is not
the “best mama in the world,” but a real person who has done terrible, unforgivable things.
My mouth had gone dry. “Sit, Jana,” I managed, patting the spot beside me. Salima had commanded it, and no servant would disobey
someone so obviously noble.
Marjana set down the platter with trembling hands before folding herself beside me, her body warm against my leg. Salima was
studying her with a fascination that made me want to bludgeon the old woman.
“Well, isn’t this quite pretty,” Salima remarked, reaching out to touch Marjana’s belt. “Did you make it? It’s so colorful.”
Marjana nodded and blushed, running her fingers over the bright blue and green stripes she’d chosen over the traditional red
and black. “I like weaving.”
“And you are clearly very talented for one so young. It must run in the family.” Salima glanced back at me. “Where is your
husband from?”
Somewhere I wish I could send you. I did not like Salima’s strange little smirk, and it was taking every bit of self-control I had not to snatch her hand away
from my daughter’s waist. “My village.”
“Oh?” She examined Marjana again. “Your daughter is rather fair. I would have assumed your husband a foreigner you met during
your travels.”
My heart skipped. “I have not traveled very much.”
“Is that so?” Salima met my gaze with a disbelieving lift of her brows. “That seems unlikely for a nakhudha.”
Well, fuck.
“ Nakhudha? ” I laughed a high, fake laugh, praying the word had been a misstep. The elderly make such mistakes all the time, right? “I
fear you must have the wrong family, Sayyida. Neither my mistress nor her son have much affinity for the sea.”
“And your mistress’s daughter? Amina, is it not? I heard she was a giant. Dark, with her teeth filed into gold-capped fangs
and a scar covering much of her right arm, scorched there by naft.” Salima tilted her head. “The stories got your size right,
if the teeth seem an exaggeration. A pity. I should have liked to see such a thing.”
Not an elderly misstep, then.
Another time, Salima’s characterization might have irked me.
But in that moment, I did not give a shit how a bunch of breathless male writers had described me.
Marjana had pressed closer, giving me a nervous look.
In the profile of her face, I could see a shadow of the baby she once was, and a surge of something primal, fierce, and very capable of throttling Sayyida Salima flooded through me.
I smiled—widely enough to reveal the gold incisor that had begun that idiotic rumor. “I think this visit has lasted long enough.
It is clear our climate is affecting your mind and making you say all sorts of things that are very dangerous.”
“On the contrary, I feel quite fine, God be praised,” Salima retorted with a challenging air. “Surely you would not wish to
turn away such a respected guest. That is the sort of rudeness that makes people talk. And what would your daughter think?”
Salima winked at Marjana, and I snapped. People have this idea of mothers, that we are soft and gentle and sweet. As though
the moment my daughter was laid on my breast, the phrase I would do anything did not take on a depth I could have never understood before. This woman thought to come into my home and threaten my family
in front of my child?
She must not have heard the right stories about Amina al-Sirafi.
“Jana.” I touched her hand. “Go upstairs and set up the mancala board. This will not take long.”
Her frightened gaze darted between Salima and me. “Mama, are you su—”
“Now, please.”
Marjana quickly stood, offered a murmured blessing to Salima, and then slipped through the door.
She was barely out of the room before Salima turned back to me. “I take it we can dispense with the ruse now, Captain al-Sirafi.”
I pressed my hands together to stop myself from breaking the pitcher of juice over her head. “I have attempted to correct
your misconceptions. I will be clearer. Get out.”
“I have proof.” She removed a ragged sheaf of papers from her cloak. “Do you think I pulled these details from the air? My son served on your ship and wrote all about you.” She thrust the papers at me. “Take a look.”
Her son ? Who in God’s name could that have been? I had sailed with dozens of men in my time, but only a few were ever privy to information
about my family. On the chance they were a test, I made no move to touch the letters. Tension grew between us, interrupted
only by the ping of the leak and the warbles of birds beyond the compound’s wall as I contemplated my options. I had little
doubt I could make swift, silent work of a single old woman. Her men would be more difficult, but they were weary, napping
unaware in the courtyard. I did not relish the prospect—it had been years since I’d taken a life.
However, they had come into my home. They threatened my family.
But Marjana will know . My daughter was no fool. She would hear the death cries, watch from the roof as I removed the bodies. Was I ready to be
a killer in my child’s eyes? Ready to greet my mother when she returned home with grave dirt on my hands?
Salima called me out. “Judging from the murderous gleam in your face, I will assume I found the right person, but you can
put such notions to rest. I made copies of both the letters and my suspicions. If I do not return to Aden by the end of the
month, my aides have messages ready to go out to all your enemies.”
I scoffed. “My enemies ? Am I a rival to the caliph that I have foes willing to travel into the hills for some supposed lady pirate on the word of
an old woman’s ragged letters?”
“For a supposed lady pirate, no. For Amina al-Sirafi? Absolutely. Do not underestimate your notoriety, nakhudha. You seem
to have the singular accomplishment of making an enemy not only of every other pirate cartel, but of merchants and sultans
from Sofala to Malabar. Why, the emir of Hormuz still has a bounty on your head for the horses you stole—”
“I did not steal anything. I recovered merchandise for a client.”
“And the incident at the customshouse in Basrah?”
“Fires start all the time. Nothing to do with me.”
“And I don’t imagine you were the one who poisoned the feast at the trade talks in Mombasa to rob the attendees while they were stuck at the latrines?”
“Never been to Mombasa. Is it nice?”
“Fine.” Salima’s eyes lit with annoyance. “Would you like a more recent example? Rumor is two boys from Aden recently visited
this area only to be abducted in the middle of the night by a monstrous fishwife who dragged them into a haunted lagoon, threatened
them with a sea djinn, and refused to take them ashore until they paid her off. A woman who had gold in her teeth and fought
like a man.”
Oh, is that what happened in the lagoon? “You really have quite the obsession with a common dental practice.”
The response seemed to break her.
“I know who you are!” Salima shook her letters more furiously. “I tracked you down through your family once. I can do it again
and so could others if they learn what I know.”
I cracked my fingers. “You need to stop talking about my family like that. When you do, it sounds as though you are threatening
us. That makes me very unreasonable, Sayyida.”
Salima eyed me like a vaguely irritated hawk. “I have no interest in threatening you. I want to hire you.”
“ Hire me?” I assessed again Salima’s lustrous silks and the sultan’s ransom she wore in jewelry. “What in God’s name for?”