Chapter 5
Majed dropped a chart in my lap. “What do you think?”
I started from my thoughts, blinking up at him in the bright sunlight, as the Marawati swayed beneath me. “What?”
“You said this Khayzur of yours spun you a map of the Persian Gulf in dust . . .” He tapped his own map and gave me a knowing look.
“I have permitted you several days of hand-wringing. Now, we work. Where do you think this Lab’s lair is?
I am curious as to whether there are any recorded maritime oddities in the area. ”
By God, had the brooding been that obvious? I didn’t need my crew fearing their nakhudha was distracted. The sailing thus far had been blessedly trouble-free, but my men deserved a captain whose head was on straight.
“Apologies.” I gestured for him to join me on the bench.
“Charts and oddities . . . Let me recall.” I had taken notes shortly after my testy confrontation with the peri, not trusting my memory, but I had few specifics.
“Khayzur’s map was bizarre to the eye, and the island where Lab is rumored to be imprisoned was not only small, it was shifting in and out of visibility.
But if I recall, it seemed in the gulf’s very navel, closer to the eastern coast.”
Majed frowned, looking at his map. “Near Reishahr?”
“From the sound of it, not near anything human. Apparently it appears due to magic and lures ships close with little warning. Khayzur said I should be able to sense it.”
He pulled at his beard. “I hope to peruse the booksellers’ street in Baghdad for additional nautical texts, but nothing in my sources discuss such a place.”
“You’re assuming enough of Lab’s victims escaped that there are records. Khayzur did not leave me with nearly so much hope.”
“Careful, sister. I am protective of my role as the crew’s pessimist.” His voice softened. “I take it the parting with your family was not an easy one?”
I glanced at him, spotting the same slump to his shoulders and somber gaze I suspect I sported. “You too?”
Majed grimaced. “I thought we’d have more time. Nasteho was understanding, but not pleased . . . Ay, no, do not make that face. I do not say it to guilt you, only that I understand.”
I fixed my gaze back on the sea, the vast watery depth that I had devoted myself to since childhood, that now separated me from those I loved most. “There is only so much time in this life. Only so many years that they are children. It seems yesterday that Marjana was a babe. When I think of the days—the months—that I stand to lose with her on these quests . . .”
“Do not torture yourself with those thoughts, Amina; they will only ail your heart.” But Majed spoke so swiftly, so fervently that I knew he felt the same pain. “And this world is only a shadow of the one we are promised.”
“Amen.” But then I spoke again. “Did you tell Nasteho everything about our new direction in business?”
He shook his head. “No. She would only worry, and truthfully, I want my family unaware of all this magic.”
I sighed. “I fear I’ve lost that option. Mustafa is already suspicious. Says they all are. Between that and Dalila running off . . .”
“Yes, that certainly was a choice.” Majed sat back from his map. “Dalila has always made clear her reluctance to return to Baghdad, but setting after Raksh and Lab’s escapee on her own?” He tutted. “That is rash even for her.”
Tinbu climbed up to join us “What is with the long faces? Are you two also despondent at leaving so many trussed-up trade ships in possession of their cargo? Sailing through here is like passing an orchard in full bloom with empty hands. Surely to pluck one or two would be no harm? And good for our coffers.”
“Do not tempt me,” I groused. For though I was not averse to a continued bit of smuggling and mischief, I was trying to draw a line at outright piracy—both for the sake of my soul and because I didn’t need any more enemies.
But I seized upon the change in subject.
“I think our coffers are adequate—well, I’ve seen them worse anyway.
With the payment in Muscat and perhaps picking up a couple supply runs on the way to Baghdad, we should be stable enough, God willing. ”
Tinbu let out a disappointed sigh. “Fine. I shall sadly look upon every ship we pass and merely dream of the riches within . . .” He grinned when I glared. “It’s too bad Dalila isn’t here, she would agree with me.”
“If only she were here.” I shook my head. “I want to search at least some of her old hunting grounds. See if anyone has had word.”
“We might waste months doing so and you know it,” Majed chided. “She is cunning and capable, and if she doesn’t wish to be found, she won’t be.”
Tinbu chuckled. “Getting affectionate in your elder years, Majed. I’m going to tell her about such a compliment.”
“If Dalila succeeds in dealing with Raksh, I will shower her with compliments every day for the rest of my life,” Majed declared. “Gifts, blessings. There will be no end.”
“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Tinbu leaned against the rudder, crossing his arms. “Does it not feel wrong to kill him in such a manner? My gods, he has a Banu Sasan assassin on his tail, plotting his interrogation and execution. And for what? Rescuing a man adrift at sea and boasting about treasure over drink?”
Majed drew up in a huff. “That is hardly all Raksh has done! He doomed Asif, he partnered with a Frankish sorcerer to hunt us down, he stole our boat and left us to be eaten by a sea monster! And he is very, very bad for Amina.” Majed shook a finger in my face as though scolding a wayward child for wanting to play with a poisonous snake.
Though to be fair . . . that was not the worst metaphor for my relationship with Raksh.
Tinbu tilted his head. “But was he not also our companion? For a little while?”
Now Majed glared at him. “This is because he has a tail, isn’t it? You lose your wits when it comes to animals. This is the rabid fox you brought on the Marawati all over again.”
“You don’t know it had rabies. It didn’t bite anyone!”
“Then there was the foul-mouthed parrot in Kilwa . . .”
“It could say my name!”
“That was not your name in the local tongue, Tinbu,” Majed countered. “It was a slur. And then there’s your cat.”
Tinbu straightened up like he’d been challenged to a duel. “What about my cat?”
I stepped in before my first mate threw my navigator overboard. “Majed loves Payasam,” I insisted. “As much as his own children. Look!” I added, spotting the aforementioned feline from the corner of my eye. “Here she is now.”
Tinbu gave us both aggravated looks but smiled at his cat, making kissy sounds as Majed rolled his eyes. “Come here, Payasam, my gorgeous girl. Majed wishes to give your ears a proper scratch.”
But the cat ignored him, picking her way over the ropes cluttering the deck. She appeared briefly stumped by the water cistern in her way—the cistern that had been in the same place longer than she’d been alive—and then continued on, darting through an opening in the cargo hold.
“Your lap has been replaced, my friend.” I laughed.
“Perhaps it is this nonsense you and Marjana have about splitting her. Your cat does not have enough wits to have two homes.” Upon meeting Tinbu’s idiot pet, my daughter had fallen irretrievably in love.
A heartbroken but understanding Tinbu and she had arranged a ridiculous and overly complicated plan that involved the blasted animal living in my house part of the time.
And now I’d taken Marjana’s cat away, too, I realized. Just another reason for her to hate me.
Majed frowned. “I have seen her go into the hold a few times. Maybe we have mice, and the cat has finally learned how to be a cat.”
Tinbu looked even more concerned at that prospect. “She has been going down there, but I’ve never seen her successfully kill anything. Or hunt anything. Or demonstrate any awareness of vermin.” He rose to his feet. “But I shall check. We don’t want to risk the wheat we’re taking to Basrah.”
“Please do,” I urged him. “The peris are costing us enough money already.” I turned back to Majed as Tinbu headed off. “Let me see your charts,” I said, not wanting to talk about Raksh, Dalila, Marjana, or any of my other various woes. “Maybe there is something there.”
But Majed and I hadn’t gotten very far into our discussion when Tinbu poked his head out of the hold.
“Amina?” His voice was oddly strained. “Can you come down here for a moment?”
I glanced up from the charts. “Mice?”
Tinbu gave me a pained grimace. “Not quite.”
Puzzled, I followed him into the creaking hold.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light, the only illumination whatever sunlight managed to pierce the deck, falling in dusty rays.
The air was close and musty, the ceiling so low that I was forced to duck as I maneuvered past supplies and trade goods, all lashed into place so as to not unbalance the ship.
Payasam was purring upon one of the crates, twitching her scraggly tail and gazing adoringly at a shadowed niche between a heap of trunks.
And sitting there, looked disheveled and guilty, was Marjana.
* * *
There have been many times when my Marawati felt overly small; crowded and smothering, a tiny blip of surface surrounded by the sea and shared with too many malodorous bodies.
And yet never more than after all but hauling Marjana out of the cargo hold—a hold in which she’d spent a week!
—and hastily checking her over for dehydration and injury.
She sat now in a patch of shade on my captain’s bench while I paced what narrow length I could and tried not to scream.
“I had no choice,” she declared, crossing her arms in uncharacteristic defiance.
“You had no choice? No choice?” I spluttered.
“Was our home about to be swept away by some beast? Were you being chased by bandits? Do you have any idea how foolish this was? How much danger you’ve put yourself into?
By the Most High, Marjana, how do you think Grandma felt when she realized you were missing?
She is elderly! Their hearts cannot take such shocks! ”
At that, Marjana shrank back. “But I left a note. In my bed. Saying I was with you.”
“That is worse!” Unable to control myself, I let out a stream of curses in every tongue I knew and wrenched at the tail of my turban.
Finally able to take a breath, I asked, “What am I to do with you? I am already delayed and going back will cost me time I do not have!” I continued my pacing and swearing, my brain abuzz with a dozen terrible options.
Marjana hugged her knees to her chest, looking even smaller and more fragile as I ranted.
I wanted to scream at her as much as I wanted to wrap my arms around her and keep her safe.
She spoke again, her voice tiny. “Are you very mad?”
“Yes!” Realizing I was shredding my belt, I stopped, but the motion caught Marjana’s attention and she seemed to deflate.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” she whispered. “But I did not know what to do. Everyone wants so badly to move to Salalah. I do too, but I know you don’t think it’s safe for me.
But they would be so happy. So I figured .
. .” She nervously smoothed her dress over her knees.
“You always say sailing is safe when I worry about you. So I hoped . . . that maybe I could join you. I can learn to sail and see all the places you go.” She glanced up, her eyes bright.
“And maybe together we’ll find Baba’s people. The ones who can do magic.”
Guilt instantly snared me. “Marjana . . .” I let out a messy breath. “The decision about Salalah is complex. But not your fault. It is something that your grandmother, uncle, and I simply need to discuss further.”
The open doubt on Marjana’s face reminded me too much of the teenager she was swiftly becoming. “And Baba? His kin? I know you said you didn’t have answers about their magic, but if we found more people like him—”
“We won’t.”
“But how do you know?”
I fought for a response. “It’s complicated. You are too young to understand.”
True frustration bloomed in her expression now, an emotion my quiet daughter rarely articulated. “You always say that. When I try to tell you my fears, when I ask why you have to leave, you always tell me that I won’t understand. But you’ve never let me try.”
Your child is suffocating. My mother’s warning returned as I gazed upon the daughter I was so terrified for at times that I could scarcely breathe.
Whom I feared I was failing. Who was growing up so quickly that my time to teach her how to live in this world might be eclipsed before either of us was ready . . .
Which is when inspiration struck. “I will take you to Baghdad.”
Marjana started, shock rippling across her face. “Truly?”
I swallowed, trying to show more confidence than I felt.
“Yes. Going back to Salalah will take even longer and your grandmother is probably worried sick. I will write to her as soon as we make landfall and leave you in the care of someone I trust in Baghdad while I proceed on my assignment—No,” I warned as she opened her mouth to protest. “My work after that is too dangerous. I will try to retrieve you myself, but if I take too long, Grandma will know how to get you. We both have contacts along these shores.” It would be a frighteningly colorful education among the kind of people my father and myself had cultivated, but they would get her home.
True joy lit Marjana’s face. “Oh, thank you, Mama! It is going to be wonderful!” She beamed. “And I promise not to cause any more trouble. It will be like I am not even here.”