Chapter 5 #3
But I knew another who preferred his paramours sweet and soft, and so when Yusuf stalked away, looking heartbroken and miserable,
I met Dalila’s gaze and we rose wordlessly to our feet.
We followed him through Aden’s narrow winding streets, deep into the city and through the pleasanter parts, which rose away
from the humid beach and busy market. Here the homes were larger: stone mansions with windows and doors framed in lovely intricate
designs of whitewash, their interiors so thickly perfumed that the smell of frankincense and bakhoor scented the neatly swept
avenues. The adhan rang out, the muezzin calling for maghrib prayer, and we took advantage of the knots of men strolling from
the pavilion overlooking the harbor to the city’s main mosque.
Yusuf was not behaving as though he suspected he was being followed. He turned down a skinny lane that cut between two buildings
so tall they blocked what remained of the sun’s dying light. A quick glance revealed no windows and no other passersby.
“Wait here,” I whispered. Dalila fell back, stationing herself casually at the foot of the lane, and I hurried forward, affecting
my best weary stoop.
“Sir!” I cried. “Please, might you spare a coin for a hungry old woman?”
Yusuf sighed but stopped to reach into his purse. Oh, bless him. “I do not have much, but—”
I was there the next moment, my dagger at his throat.
“Do not scream,” I warned. “I have no interest in harming you, but if you cry for help, by the time it arrives, you will be
dead, and I will be gone.” I shoved him forward, deeper into the shadows. “Walk.”
His eyes burning with indignation, Yusuf nonetheless obeyed. I waited until there was no possibility of being overheard and
his back was against a wall before I dropped the dagger a fraction away from his throat.
“Tell me of Tinbu,” I demanded.
Yusuf drew up with a furious, outraged air. “Who are you?”
“I am asking the questions. Is Tinbu hurt?”
His glare did not lessen, but he answered. “Tinbu is alive. He took a nasty blow to the head and seems confused, but that
has not stopped their interrogations.”
“And what exactly are they interrogating him about?”
“He was caught carrying iron ore he found in the shallows north of here. The authorities claim it belonged to a ship that
went missing several weeks ago. The ship has yet to be recovered, but the bodies of some of the passengers washed up. What
was left of them anyway,” Yusuf clarified, going pale. “The wali says they were murdered.”
So it was as the juicer said. Damn. “Do they intend to charge Tinbu?”
Trembling, Yusuf nodded. “With murder and brigandry.”
My heart dropped. Murder and brigandry were the most severe charges that could be levied against my kind.
Piracy is a tricky, complicated business in these parts.
The merchants and princes who rain curses upon our heads are often the very same ones who hire us to protect their ships, smuggle them through customs, and steal from their competitors.
I have never met a sea-thief who relishes ending a human life, if not for the sin of it, then for the risk of punishment beyond a fine or brief stint in the stocks.
Too much death and we were a scourge to be eradicated instead of a business resource.
Taking to the sea is terrifying enough. Should you step out of line, there is no authority who won’t hesitate to make an example out of you.
And the examples... they are gruesome. The punishment for murder and brigandry, for “cutting the sea lanes,” is crucifixion,
bisection, and having what’s left of you hung at the city gates. It has been the punishment since the time of the Romans,
if the stories are to be believed, and perhaps even longer.
“Did Tinbu confess to illegal salvage?” I asked, recalling his pleading on the Marawati just before getting knocked out.
“Not at first. He, ah... suggested that if he could not account for the iron ore’s past, perhaps they might all agree to
share its future.”
I groaned. “The fool has cut his own throat.”
“But he did not kill those men! I know Tinbu, and he is no murderer. I mean, he does not always conduct himself strictly within
the law but...” Suspicion stole back into Yusuf’s voice. “Why are you asking me these things? Were you involved with these men’s deaths?”
“Not in the slightest. I too am a friend of Tinbu’s and hoped to recruit him for a job. A job that he has already put at risk,
which is remarkably fast even for him.” I pinched my brow. “Are his men being charged as well?”
“I do not know. From what I gather, the wali is keeping them locked up without food and water while they consider their loyalties.”
Wonderful. A friend accused of murder and a crew of thirsty men. “And what of those galleys in the bay?”
Yusuf’s expression turned sourer. “They are new. The governor thought warships would make for a good deterrent after the pirate
attack a few seasons ago. Raised our taxes only to use them for personal pleasure cruises thus far.”
Unsurprising yet promising—perhaps the men who manned them were novices at sea fights. “What kind of soldiers do they carry?”
“Some Mamluks imported from God only knows where. I could not understand the language they were speaking amongst themselves
on the ship.”
“And what shape is the Ma —is Tinbu’s ship in?” I asked, correcting myself. “Is she seaworthy?”
Yusuf blinked. “I have no idea, I’m not a sailor. I know Tinbu brought her ashore for repairs a couple weeks ago, but he has
not started loading cargo for his next trip yet.”
That was both good and bad news. The Marawati would be light, but for all I knew the sails were full of holes and the oars traded away for supplies.
But no... that wasn’t Tinbu’s style. He was reckless with officials, never with ships. No one with as many years as he
had on the ocean was reckless with ships. There was a reason I had placed the Marawati in his hands.
I would have to pray he had earned it.
However, there was still the matter of getting him out of prison. “The wali and the muhtasib... Do you believe they’ll
act swiftly?” I asked.
Yusuf began worrying his shawl. “Yes. They seem to genuinely believe they have their man, and even if they did not, he’s an
unbeliever who makes for an easy scapegoat. They will make fast, awful work of him to put other travelers’ minds at rest.”
“What news?” Dalila asked.
Yusuf jumped. “Oh, God, there’s another one of you.”
I gave her a grim look. “Tinbu is being charged with murder and cutting the road and therefore will be shortly tortured and
executed.”
“Ah.” Dalila’s voice was blunt. “Then I reiterate my earlier point. We need another ship.”
“And I will reiterate my earlier point: we are not leaving him behind.”
Shocked hope blossomed in Yusuf’s eyes. “Are you saying you can help him? Do you have evidence to prove his innocence?”
Evidence to prove his innocence... oh, but this man did not know the seafarer he was defending so ardently. “Who are you to him?” I prodded.
Yusuf blushed, instantly confirming my suspicions. “I am one of his clients. He has been carrying cargo for my family to Calicut
for a few seasons.”
“And you defend all your contractors with such ferocity?”
The blush deepened. “We have become friends.”
Oh, I bet. “Does that friendship extend to risking yourself to save his life?”
The merchant hesitated. “I would have to remain anonymous—I cannot put my family in harm’s way—but I will do what I can.”
Dalila grabbed my wrist. “You cannot seriously be considering this. Breaking a man out of prison is the exact opposite of
‘being discreet.’ We will have to flee Aden. Salima—the woman who can track down your family, remember?—will be furious. And
any information we might have learned here will be gone.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” I snapped. The promises I made to Marjana, to my mother, to Salima were ringing in my head...
and yet to leave Tinbu to such a fate was unconscionable. “We will find another way, we always do. But right now, we’re getting
our friend out of prison, and I’m getting my ship back from those fucking Mamluks in the bay.”
“ Your ship?” Yusuf seemed to take me in anew, his eyes tracing my height and then going very, very wide. “By the Most High...
they say her first mate was an Indian, but surely you cannot truly be—”
“No, surely I cannot. Let us leave it at that, yes?”
Yusuf opened and closed his mouth. “All right.”
“Excellent.” I glanced at the darkening sky with apprehension. I’ve never liked swift action. A proper job takes time to plan.
The best take weeks of preparation for but a few hours of action. But Tinbu did not have weeks. I doubted he even had days.
I thought fast, contemplating my options. “Dalila, my light, do you remember the gold market in Kilwa? Could we get those materials in an hour?”
Dalila crossed her arms, giving me a severe look. “Obtaining those materials is not the same as blending them, and I have
yet to agree to this idiocy.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, I will give you another percentage of my share, all right? Is there enough time?”
“Theoretically. The mixture does better when it’s had a full day to simmer.”
“If we wait a day, you will have to row instead of the crew.”
She made a face. “Fine. But we have no elephant.”
“We will make do with another distraction.” I glanced at Tinbu’s merchant, who was looking at us as though we had gone mad.
“Yusuf... how is your acting?”