Chapter 18 #2
I glanced down at the leopard-headed khanjar and meteor dagger sheathed at my waist. At the steward’s pestering, I had stopped wearing my sword; surely, they could not begrudge me these?
Then again, Lab seemed in no mood to deal with foreign eccentricities. Still I tried, keeping my voice diplomatic. “They are worn as part of my culture. Not as a matter of aggression.”
“And yet we are not in your country,” she retorted. “In Khatti Ugal, we find weapons displayed outside their purpose uncouth and hostile. You might take better care to craft the image you are portraying. Surely a ship’s captain has little purpose for so many arms.”
This ship’s captain was ready to put those arms to use insisting she be permitted to see her crew, but the warning in Dalila’s expression curbed my tongue.
“Understood, Resplendency,” I ground out.
That was a lie—I’d be going about Khatti Ugal unprotected only if said weapons were pried from my dead fingers—but I didn’t like the way Lab was looking at me, and I didn’t need her distrust causing any harm to my people.
Not when we still had no way off her island.
Dalila stepped between us, clearly determined to defuse the remaining tension. She took the queen’s arm—more daring and familiar than I would have expected.
“Resplendency, I was in the apothecary garden yesterday and noticed the most remarkable plant starting to blossom. The outer petals were a white gold with a crimson hook-shaped inner stamen. Do you know of it?” she asked. “I was warned not to touch it.”
Queen Lab immediately warmed. “You’ve a good eye,” she complimented Dalila.
“It’s griffin’s claw, one of the deadliest and most beautiful flowers to grow in Khatti Ugal.
Virtually every part of it is poisonous.
My grandmother planted and harvested them, claimed there was nothing better to cleanse toxins from the blood, but no one dares use it now. ”
Dalila might have brought up the flower to distract the queen from her displeasure, but her expression was true fascination now. “Might I try?”
Lab shook her head in amusement and patted Dalila’s hand. “You would be the bravest person to pass the apothecary doors in decades.”
“Ah, now the challenge of it tempts me even more,” Dalila replied, a slightly manic gleam in her eyes. “I assure you: there are few people with more nimble fingers than I. Why, in another life, I might have made for a talented pickpocket.”
My heart stuttered at the response. But Lab only laughed—Dalila clearly reading our mark more effectively than me.
The two of them launched into a conversation about botany I had no hope of participating in as I followed behind, four guards hemming so close I could’ve reached out and touched their silver spears.
I cannot wait to rob you, I thought, staring at Lab’s back.
Any misgivings I might have had about plotting to steal the spindle and break my promise to leave members of my crew behind—and there were few misgivings, my old pirate sensibilities gaining traction with each additional day in Khatti Ugal—were eroding fast, like sandcastles before a rising tide.
Finally, we arrived at a part of the palace I’d not yet visited and the queen deigned to speak to me again.
“We have a special task planned for you today, Captain al-Sirafi. How would you like to see the treasury?”
Was this woman reading my mind about robbing her? “Khatti Ugal is a welcoming place indeed to allow foreigners in their treasury.”
Lab chuckled. “You may feel differently once inside.”
Her reply was ominous, the sense of danger increasing when we headed toward a pair of barred doors.
Two guards stood in front of them, holding not spears but steel halberds, each pole ending in a wicked axe.
To the side of the formidable warriors, a plump, pleasant woman about my age was waiting, carrying an armful of scrolls. She bowed when the queen approached.
“Good morrow, Orinth,” Queen Lab greeted kindly in Khatti Ugalan; it was the one phrase I had finally picked up.
The woman—Orinth—straightened up. “Good morrow, Resplendency,” she returned, her voice solemn. But when her gaze shifted to me, her green eyes twinkled, and she switched to Arabic. “Peace be upon you, Captain. I hope I am saying that correctly?”
Her accent was strong but comprehendible—and far better than my paltry Khatti Ugalan. I nodded. “Upon you peace. Your Arabic is enjoyable to the ear.”
Relief lit the woman’s features. “Oh, good, that shall make our day easier.”
“Orinth is the keeper of mysteries,” Lab said by way of not particularly helpful explanation. “She is to be your guide.”
“My guide?” I asked, confused.
Orinth explained. “You have met plenty of our citizens. Now we wish to show you our treasures . . . admittedly in the hopes you can tell us what some of them are.”
Queen Lab gestured for the guards to lift the heavy iron bars.
“It is not only trading goods and lost travelers who wash upon our shores, but also tools, instruments, and texts of which we can scarcely make sense. You are a master of the seas, no? And from a land with superior technology?” she added, the polite tone in her voice not masking an edge of resentment.
“It would be most helpful to possess your thoughts on our inventory.”
Is this a trap? As described, the treasury sounded exactly like the sort of location the spindle might have ended up, but I was careful to conceal my excitement.
“I am but a ship’s captain, my queen,” I said humbly. “Hardly a scholar or tradesman, and my knowledge may be limited.” I nodded at Dalila. “Perhaps my companion could join me?”
“In time,” the queen replied. “There is no rush, of course, from what my scouts share of the state of your ship.”
The dig did not go unnoticed, but it felt more like a test, a goad to see if I’d been put in my place. And though I was desperate to lay eyes on the Marawati and my crew, I could not pass up such a promising opportunity to search for the spindle.
“I am here to serve,” I said again, a phrase I was starting to despise.
Lab motioned for the doors to be opened, staying behind with Dalila as Orinth and I were admitted into a lovely if small courtyard with two opposing corridors stretching beyond brick arches.
Overhead was a glass dome, letting in muted light.
The doors closed and I gaped in appreciation, feeling freer now that there was a wall between the queen and myself.
I turned my attention to charming my new friend—which was exactly what I was determined to make Orinth if she ended up inadvertently being the spindle’s caretaker.
“Your kingdom’s glasswork is extraordinary,” I complimented.
“My brother is a glassworker so I know something of the trade, but I cannot begin to imagine how you construct these vast pieces.”
“A local secret,” Orinth said, laughing when I paused.
“A joke, Captain al-Sirafi. I know little of glassmaking. It is mysteries I watch over, not those trades that are familiar.” She pointed to the opposing corridor.
“The chamber of my colleague—all those treasures we can identify, from olive oil to perfume to sapphires. And there . . .” She took my elbow, leading me in the other direction. “All that mystifies us.”
It took every bit of self-control I could pull on to ignore the other part of the treasury, my imagination ablaze.
The jewel-laden tomb of Muziris’s lost healer played before my mind.
Here was another treasure chamber, centuries of lost plunder but a few paces away.
Surely one of these quests would finally give me the chance to plumb the glittering depths of such a hoard.
One theft at a time, Amina. My focus pinned upon the spindle, I followed Orinth.
The room she brought me to was vast—about the space of a half-dozen Marawatis and even more crowded than the al-Hilli family library in Baghdad.
More large slabs of glass high above my head let in streaming rays of sunlight, illuminating wooden tables and shelves laden with unidentified goods of all sizes.
Some attempt at organization had been made—a group of assorted automatons stood in one corner, sharing space with battered statues.
Stone tablets and parchment rolls were all kept in the shade of the eastern wall, while tables weighed down with metalworks were in the middle.
“Our mysteries,” Orinth said, with a voice that was equal parts resignation and affection. “I’m not certain if my position is one to be envied or cursed.”
I ran my fingers over the green-hued nubs of a rusted copper contraption.
“I have a friend with whom I suspect you would find much commonality,” I said, thinking of Jamal and yes, wondering if it might have been best to bring him along for this part of my quest. “May I look around?” I asked casually, itching to start my search.
“Please. I shall call for refreshments.”
Hoping to impress Orinth and put myself back into the queen’s favor, I set myself to the task with zeal.
I wanted to make damn sure I could return to this place even if I was cautious not to demonstrate too much interest in any particular item; no doubt such curiosity would be reported back to Lab.
A circumnavigation around the room proved daunting; the space was even vaster than I had first realized, filled with countless nooks and crannies storing innumerable castaway artifacts.
With Orinth’s permission, I cleared a small table and then—starting with the outer northwest corner and moving in a methodical fashion—began examining every object I came upon.
Those I could firmly identify, I set upon the table for Orinth to label; those I could reliably guess at, Orinth took note of and put back.
Those objects that remained a mystery to me—the vast majority—stayed where they were, their dust only temporarily shaken loose.