Chapter 29 #2
“Sure it is.” The Mombasa man let loose a scornful harrumph. “You know what I think, al-Sirafi? I think you came here with
this Frankish sorcerer. I think you planned to plunder the tombs, but things went poorly and he betrayed you. And now you’d
like us to clean up your mess.”
It was absolutely a strategy I might have considered a decade ago, which made it slightly more difficult to deny. Slightly.
“God forbid!” I cried, with great affront.
At my side, Raksh took a shaky breath and attempted to stop being useless.
“I have been to the cave,” he said softly, and even muted, his voice was laced with magic and suggestion, impossible to ignore.
“They are glorious. There are sapphires and rubies larger than melons and polished to such perfection that their dazzle could
blind a man. Automatons whose clever construction has yet to be surpassed and enough gold coins to swim in. The treasure chambers
are deep within the cave and thus you would need us as guides, but you would be amply rewarded. Think on it!” he urged. “You
are fearsome, well-sourced warriors. This would be an easy victory for you, an easy victory followed by an empire’s ransom
in plunder.”
Raksh’s exaggerated description was ludicrous, but the enchantment he painted was difficult even for me to shake free. I watched
wonder blossom in their eyes, a shadow of the dreamy haze Raksh had once used to lure me and countless mortals into his deals.
But then the young nakhudha shivered and shook free. “I don’t trust any of this. Those caves are cursed for a reason. And I suspect the Frank these two have set themselves against is far more powerful than they are letting on.”
“If that Frank is the one who attacked the village, it doesn’t matter who you trust.” The old woman’s response cracked like
a whip. “That is the covenant between our communities, one we’ve held for centuries. Socotra offers shelter to the pirate clans, and in return, you protect our people.”
“Yes, we protect you from foreign navies and would-be slavers,” said a third nakhudha, with a distractingly handsome face
and full black beard. He was missing his left leg beyond the knee, the baggy cut of his kameez that of a Balochi man. “Not
from foreign witches and the machinations of notorious smugglers. Granted, I am not averse to obtaining the riches of a treasure
cave, but it is wiser to first learn what we can of this Frank and his possible magic.” He cut a glance my way. “Al-Sirafi,
you and your man will stay here while we send a scout.”
“There’s no time for a scout!” I argued, trying to curb the desperation in my voice; the Moon of Saba was another part of
the story I had left out, but getting to it before the eclipse was paramount. “Falco is only getting more powerful. If we
delay further—”
A new voice boomed from behind me. “My, what a curious discussion.”
Startled, I spun around to see a great barrel of a man standing at the entrance of the tent who could have single-handedly
inspired every fearsome tale of the sea brigands of Socotra. He was even taller than me, with the craggy face only decades
upon the ocean can carve. Arms thicker than Raksh’s thighs were covered in tattoos of horses and female warriors, his biceps
bound with sheathed knives. A savage scar traced from his chin to his belly as though someone had once tried to hack him in
two, an ostentatiously large yellow turban splattered with boat pitch wrapped his head, and a cord of shark’s teeth hung from
around his neck.
He strolled farther into the tent, tossing and catching a heavy wooden mallet in his hand, and every member of the pirate
council went visibly tense.
“I was unpleasantly surprised to hear a meeting was called without me,” the new arrival drawled in a heavy Egyptian accent.
“Particularly when I was told what was being said in our tent. Frankish villains, treasure caves, entrancing female rogues...” His glittering eyes filled with delight as they took me in, and he grinned, revealing three gold teeth to my one.
“Peace be upon you, nakhudha. I am called Magnun. For I have been driven mad by love into the wilds of the sea, where I thirst forevermore.”
“Oh, is that what they call getting thrown out of the Fatimid navy?” the Malabar captain muttered under his breath. Magnun
whirled on him, spinning the hammer, and the younger man abruptly shut his mouth.
“Magnun...” the Balochi nakhudha said more diplomatically. “You seemed busy with repairs. We did not wish to trouble you.”
“Hamza, you lie very sweetly, but I always recognize the taste of sugar. And now I am quite troubled,” Magnun declared, his
already loud voice rising in incredulity. “Troubled to learn my comrades are nothing but cowards!”
That earned him glares from the other pirates.
“What you call cowardice, we call wisdom, you rash fool,” the Mombasa man snapped. “There is a reason our clans have thrived
here for so long, and it is because we do not go chasing after foreign wizards on the word of one extremely untrustworthy woman.”
Magnun rolled his eyes. “And you call yourselves pirates... Where is your sense of adventure!” He turned to me. “Forget
these yellow-bellied infants, Lady Sea Leopard. I will fight this Frank and his beasts with you. I will crack open his skull and see his brain dashed before your feet. In
return, you will lead me and my crew to this treasure cave the rest of these cowards are too small-balled to seize.”
His challenging words landed with a thunderous air. As you might imagine, it is incredibly easy to provoke a group of combative
old sea dogs. Let alone by calling them “small-balled cowards.” I expected blades to be drawn, blood to be shed.
Instead, a cunning expression slid into the eyes of the Balochi nakhudha. He glanced at the Socotran woman. “I do believe that would fulfill our covenant.”
The old woman regarded Magnun, Raksh, and me with open skepticism. “You would send only the three of them? To fight off a
sorcerer?”
“Why not?” the Mombasa elder asked sarcastically. “Magnun is very confident in his abilities, and we were already planning
to send a scout. Let him go instead. If he deals with this Frank on his own, he will have earned any riches he recovers.”
He smiled at Magnun with all his teeth. “And if they are devoured by a sea monster, we will better know the scope of the threat.”
“Sounds good to me,” grumbled the young Malabar man in his own tongue—which I knew decently. “Let the brash idiot learn a
lesson the hard way.”
Any relief I might have enjoyed upon the Socotran pirate council offering assistance was doused by how eager the rest were
to see Magnun chastened.
I tried again, looking more desperately at the other captains. “Surely some of the rest of you are intrigued... the cave
truly is an extraordinary prize.” I elbowed Raksh. “Raksh, tell them again about the treasure.”
“No need.” At my side, Raksh was glowing with excitement, gazing upon Magnun like a child expecting Eid money. “He’s perfect .”
“Then it is settled!” Magnun beckoned me to follow. “Come! I will show you my ship.”
Despite my apprehension, Magnun ended up possessing one of the terrifying bawarij I had admired, a genuine pirate ship with fighting platforms, archer galleys, and oars for sixty men.
Its hull and sails were painted to blend in with the colors of a midnight ocean, there were battering rams on each side, hoses for naft, and some sort of catapult system.
I spotted at least a dozen fireboxes, barrels of spears, and a false half mast studded with throwing knives and axes.
For all his eccentricities, I could tell Magnun ran a tight ship.
He had sprung for extremely high-quality cloth for his sails, and the rudders moved with a whisper.
No wonder the other captains had put up with his brazenness; in a fight, this seemed like a good boat to have.
“She is a beauty,” I said appreciatively. “I suspect you have had many adventures with her.”
“Aye, though it can be a lonely life. Not many women want to live at sea. You, though...” Magnun clucked his tongue. “Bet
you could bear strong sons with those legs.”
“I could snap a man’s bones with these legs,” I replied pointedly, with a grin at Raksh he did not return. “And can provide
a demonstration anytime.”
Magnun cackled. “Understood, nakhudha. You cannot blame a man for trying.” He gave me a more critical look. “While the cloak
of—quills, is it?—is rather fetching, I take it you would prefer proper armor?”
“I would.” I yanked free a spear from the practice mast with the ease of snapping my fingers. It was featherlight in my hand.
“And weapons if you can spare them. When is the soonest we can leave?”
“I need only call my crew; I prefer haste as well.” Magnun jerked a thumb in the direction of the tent. “I would not put it
past those craven fools to realize they might be letting a fortune slip through their hands and rush to show up after the
fight to claim some for themselves. But for now?” He grinned. “Let’s get you outfitted.”
***
“Well...” Raksh said when I reemerged from the ship’s galley. “You certainly look like you belong with your new friend.”
He spoke the truth. Magnun clearly had a penchant for robbing nobles and leaving them in their underthings, for his cargo hold had been filled with some of the finest fabrics I had ever touched, each more colorful and expensive than the last. A great number were too delicate for the task at hand: painted silks and muslins so sheer they were more likely to sweat apart than buffer chain mail.
But there was still plenty for me to choose from. I might have originally taken this job with the aim of being discreet, of
burying my brash, flamboyant younger self away, but to hell with all that now. I would fight in the manner truest to my soul.
Accordingly, the old Amina al-Sirafi had been unearthed in an emerald tunic embroidered with fire-yellow sunbursts, butter-soft