Chapter 4 — The Girl Who Refused to Cry
Amara decided there were three things she would not give her captors.
Her real identity.
Her obedience.
And the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
The last was becoming difficult.
The small boat reached the ship long after darkness had swallowed the coast. Lanterns moved above her as men shouted instructions and ropes were thrown down. The vessel smelled of salt, tar, wet wood, sweat, and something sour that turned her stomach.
Her wrists burned from the ropes.
Lela was alive. Amara had finally seen her in another boat approaching from behind, surrounded by armed men.
That was enough for now.
As they pulled alongside the ship, Amara stopped struggling.
The sudden change surprised the man beside her.
“Finally learned something?”
She looked at him without answering.
She had learned something.
Fighting without an opportunity was a waste of strength.
Two sailors pulled her aboard.
Amara stumbled as her feet touched the deck, but she recovered immediately and looked around.
Not wildly.
Carefully.
She counted.
Nine men visible on deck. Two near the bow. One beside the wheel. Three handling the boats. Another carrying a pistol. Two more near the stairs leading below.
There would be others.
She studied their faces.
The tall man who had led the attack had a narrow scar beneath his left eye.
Remember him.
A heavy man with a reddish beard walked with a slight limp.
Remember him.
Another had a missing finger on his right hand.
Remember him.
Amara intended to remember all of them.
One day somebody would ask who had taken her.
She planned to have an excellent answer.
Lela was pulled aboard moments later.
“Amara!”
“I am here.”
They moved toward each other, but a sailor stepped between them.
“Separate them.”
“No,” Amara said.
The man turned toward her.
“What?”
“She stays with me.”
He laughed.
Amara did not.
The tall man came across the deck. “Put them below.”
“Together,” Amara insisted.
He studied her.
“You don't give orders here.”
“I wasn't asking.”
His expression hardened.
For several seconds they stared at one another.
Then, unexpectedly, he shrugged.
“Together. For tonight.”
Amara said nothing.
She had won something small.
Small victories still counted.
They were taken down a narrow staircase into the ship.
Amara counted the steps.
Twelve.
At the bottom was a passage with four doors.
The first had a heavy iron lock.
The second was partly open and appeared to contain supplies.
The third led to a cramped sleeping area.
The fourth was where they were taken.
Amara counted everything.
Two turns from the stairs.
Four doors.
One lantern.
A small window high in the wall.
Iron lock outside.
Wooden hinges inside.
She was pushed into the room.
Lela followed.
The door closed.
The lock turned.
For several moments neither woman moved.
Then Lela threw herself into Amara's arms.
Only now did she begin to shake.
“I thought they killed you.”
Amara held her tightly.
“They didn't.”
“I heard the gunshots. I saw Kato fall. I couldn't find you.”
“I know.”
“What are they going to do to us?”
Amara did not answer immediately.
She had been asking herself the same question.
Ransom was possible.
Robbery was possible.
Something worse was possible.
She refused to give any of those possibilities a voice.
“They don't know who I am.”
Lela pulled back.
“Not yet.”
“And they must not find out.”
“Your father will be searching everywhere.”
“Yes.”
“He'll send the army.”
“Yes.”
“The ships too.”
“If necessary.”
That thought helped.
Her father would not sleep tonight.
Neither would her mother.
Every soldier who could ride would be on the roads. Every royal vessel would be searching the coast. Messengers would already be traveling toward neighboring ports.
King Adisa would tear apart half the country looking for his daughter.
But he had to know where to look.
Amara went to the small window.
Nothing was visible except darkness.
She could feel the ship moving beneath her feet.
“We haven't sailed yet,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“The movement is wrong. We're still anchored.”
Lela stared at her.
“You know that?”
“I've been on Father's ships.”
“Of course you have.”
Amara examined the window. Too narrow.
She tested the wooden frame.
Solid.
Then the hinges.
Old.
Interesting.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“A way out.”
“We were kidnapped less than an hour ago.”
“And?”
“Could you be frightened first?”
“I am frightened.”
Lela looked at her face.
Amara lowered her voice.
“Very frightened.”
It was the first time she had admitted it.
Lela took her hand.
Amara squeezed it once.
Then she returned to the door.
Fear could wait.
They needed information.
She knelt beside the lower hinge and touched it. The metal was rusted but strong. No obvious way to remove it without tools.
She searched the room.
Two narrow bunks. A wooden bucket. A small table fixed to the wall. An old blanket. Nothing sharp.
Amara lifted the table slightly.
One screw moved.
Very little.
But it moved.
She remembered that too.
“Help me check everything.”
Lela blinked. “Everything?”
“Everything.”
They searched the room carefully.
Behind one bunk they found a bent piece of metal no longer than Amara's finger.
Useless as a weapon.
Possibly useful for a lock.
Amara hid it inside her sleeve.
Under the other bunk was a loose board.
Nothing beneath it except the hull.
Still worth remembering.
When footsteps approached, both women immediately sat down.
The door opened.
The red-bearded man entered carrying water and bread.
His eyes moved over them.
Amara memorized more details.
A faded blue mark on his left forearm.
A brass ring.
Knife on the right side.
Keys on the left.
Three keys.
The largest opened their door.
“Eat.”
He placed everything on the table.
Amara asked, “Where are you taking us?”
He smiled.
“Somewhere.”
“Who is your leader?”
“Eat.”
“What is his name?”
The smile disappeared.
“You ask too many questions.”
“I've been told.”
He stepped closer.
Lela stiffened.
Amara remained seated.
The man reached toward her face.
She caught his wrist.
“Don't touch me.”
His surprise lasted only a moment.
Then he laughed and pulled free.
“You're brave now.”
“I'm going to be brave tomorrow too.”
“We'll see.”
He left.
The lock turned again.
Amara immediately crossed to the door.
“Three keys,” she whispered.
Lela looked confused.
“What?”
“He carries three. Our lock uses the largest.”
“You noticed that?”
“Yes.”
“While he was threatening you?”
“Especially while he was threatening me.”
Lela shook her head.
“You are not normal.”
“That may finally become useful.”
They ate because they needed strength.
The bread was hard and the water tasted unpleasant, but Amara forced herself to finish both.
Then they waited.
Hours passed.
Voices came through the walls.
Amara listened.
Most of the men spoke English. A few used other languages she recognized only partially.
She caught fragments.
Cargo.
Weather.
Dawn.
South.
And once, money.
Near midnight, footsteps stopped outside their door.
Two men were talking.
“The dark one fights like a wildcat.”
Amara glanced at Lela.
They were talking about her.
Another voice answered, “She'll learn.”
“Rourke says she's worth more untouched.”
Rourke.
Amara stored the name.
Perhaps the tall man.
“Where are we taking them?”
“Don't know. He'll decide after we meet the other ship.”
The voices faded.
Amara waited.
Then she whispered, “Rourke.”
Lela nodded.
“And another ship.”
That was worse.
If they were transferred to another vessel, her father's search would become much more difficult.
They had to escape before that happened.
The ship suddenly shifted beneath them.
Amara stood.
A moment later came the unmistakable sound of activity above: boots crossing the deck, ropes moving, shouted orders.
Lela looked at her.
“We're leaving.”
Amara rushed to the window.
There was still only darkness.
But now she felt it.
The slow change in movement.
The ship was turning.
Her home was slipping away.
For several minutes Amara could not speak.
She pictured her mother's face.
Her father's hands resting on the council table.
Her younger sister running through the gardens.
Her brothers arguing at breakfast.
Sanaa in the stable.
Her bedroom.
Even the ridiculous curtains.
She suddenly wanted all of it so badly that pain rose into her throat.
Lela began crying quietly.
Amara sat beside her.
This time she did not tell her to stop.
She held her cousin and stared at the wall.
Her own eyes burned.
One tear escaped.
Amara wiped it away immediately.
“No.”
Lela looked at her.
“You're allowed to cry.”
“Later.”
“When?”
“When we're home.”
“And if we don't get home?”
Amara turned toward her.
“We will.”
She said it with such certainty that for a moment Lela seemed to believe her.
Amara needed to believe it too.
By morning, the coast was gone.
A sailor brought more water.
This one was young, perhaps seventeen or eighteen, with nervous eyes. He avoided looking directly at them.
Amara noticed.
“What is your name?”
He nearly dropped the cup.
“You don't need my name.”
“Then why are you afraid to tell me?”
“I'm not afraid.”
“Good. What's your name?”
He hesitated.
“Thomas.”
“Thank you, Thomas.”
He looked toward the passage.
“You shouldn't cause trouble.”
“Were you at the attack?”
“No.”
“Did you know they were going to take women?”
His face changed.
That answer was enough.
Amara softened her voice.
“Do you have a mother?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Yes.”
“A sister?”
Another hesitation.
“Yes.”
“Then look at us.”
He did.
“Would you want this done to them?”
He left without answering.
Lela stared at Amara.
“What was that?”
“Another door.”
“He doesn't have keys.”
“Not that kind of door.”
Amara had spent her life around politicians.
People were also locks.
Some opened with money.
Some with fear.
Some with pride.
Others opened because somewhere inside them remained a conscience they were trying very hard not to hear.
Thomas had one.
She would remember that.
Later, Amara was taken onto the deck alone.
The sunlight hurt her eyes after the darkness below.
For the first time she saw the ship clearly.
It was larger than she had imagined, with weathered sails and a crew of perhaps thirty men.
Ocean surrounded them.
No land.
Amara's stomach tightened.
The tall man stood near the rail.
“Rourke,” she said.
He turned slowly.
His expression told her she had guessed correctly.
“Listening at doors?”
“Your men talk loudly.”
Rourke approached.
In daylight, the scar beneath his eye was more visible.
“Who are you?”
“Amara.”
“Amara what?”
“Just Amara.”
“Your clothes aren't those of a servant.”
“I never said I was a servant.”
“You said your father was a merchant.”
“He is involved in trade.”
That was technically true.
King Adisa was involved in a great deal of trade.
Rourke studied her.
“How rich?”
“Rich enough that kidnapping me was a poor decision.”
He smiled.
“Then perhaps he'll pay.”
“Perhaps.”
“And your friend?”
“My cousin.”
“You said servant.”
“I lied.”
Rourke laughed.
“At least you're honest about being dishonest.”
He leaned against the rail.
“Your family won't find you.”
Amara looked across the ocean.
“You don't know my family.”
“I know we're at sea.”
“My father has ships.”
“So do many men.”
“Not like my father.”
That interested him.
Amara immediately regretted saying it.
Rourke watched her more carefully.
“Who is he?”
She smiled.
“A merchant.”
He did not believe her anymore.
That was dangerous.
Rourke ordered a sailor to take her below.
As Amara crossed the deck, she studied everything.
Two boats.
Weapons stored near the stern.
A locked hatch.
Six men on duty.
The stairs below.
The position of the keys hanging from one sailor's belt.
And Thomas, standing near a coil of rope, watching her.
Their eyes met.
He looked away.
Amara returned to the room with far more information than she had possessed that morning.
Lela immediately asked what had happened.
Amara sat beside her.
“They think we're helpless.”
“Are we?”
“No.”
“We are locked below deck in the middle of the ocean.”
“Yes.”
“With armed men.”
“Yes.”
“And you still say we're not helpless?”
Amara reached into her sleeve and showed her the small bent piece of metal they had found behind the bunk.
Then she looked toward the door.
“I know which key opens the lock. I know approximately how many men are aboard. I know their leader's name. I know they plan to meet another ship. And I know at least one sailor doesn't like what they're doing.”
Lela stared at her.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing yet.”
That frightened Lela more than if Amara had given her an answer.
Amara slipped the piece of metal back into her sleeve.
She had been kidnapped.
She was locked inside a ship.
She had no guards, no title, no jewels, and no authority.
Her captors expected terror to make her obedient.
They had misunderstood her.
Amara was terrified.
She simply intended to use the fear instead of surrendering to it.
She would watch.
She would listen.
She would remember every face, every door, every lock, every mistake.
And sooner or later, somebody aboard this ship would make one.
When that happened, Amara intended to be ready.