The Thief of Kalimar; Captain Sinbad; Cinnabar

by Graham Diamond

  Ramagar fumed, but he didn’t move and didn’t say a word.

  The soldier took a step closer, looking at the written description. “What is your name?” he asked. Before the thief could reply, Mariana said, “We call him Ishi. Among hill folk it means the Foolish One. My husband does not speak very much, as he rarely has anything intelligent to say. But he enjoys making up poems, and he also likes to sing on occasion …”

  At this Ramagar lifted his head and smiled in the fashion of a buffoon. “Shall I s-s-sing for you, sir?” he stuttered. “I kn-kn-know many pretty tunes.”

  The soldier grimaced, feeling slightly sickened. Ramagar broke into a loud, grim tune extolling the virtues of farm work and shoveling manure for fertilizer. “Can’t you shut him up?” rasped the soldier in total exasperation.

  “It isn’t easy once he gets going,” admitted the girl with a sigh. “But for you,” she smiled, “I’ll do my best.” Then, catching the thief off guard, she delivered a quick boot to his rump. Ramagar looked up at her sharply, then, returning to his slow-witted grin, ended his song.

  The commander, relieved, looked away and shook his head. It was a mystery to him how such a lovely young woman, granddaughter of a haj, could have allowed herself to be wed to a dimwit like this. It was really a terrible waste. But then hill people were known to be a peculiar lot, and there was just no accounting for a woman’s tastes.

  He looked next to the Prince, who lost no time in pulling off his own hood so the soldier could get a better look at him. The blue eyes and yellow hair immediately removed him from suspicion and the need for any questions. Likewise with Homer; there wasn’t much point in interrogating a mere boy.

  Captain Osari drummed his fingers impatiently against the side of the railing. “Well?” he said. “Are you satisfied? Do I have your permission to sail my ship?” His tone and manner were gruff and angry, but inside it was all he could do to stop from bursting into laughter.

  The soldier put his written orders back into his tunic, took another fast look at the foul crew the Vulture’s skipper had been forced to hire, and nodded. “My apologies, Captain Osari,” he said, saluting smartly. “Of course you are free to be on your way whenever you like. I’m sorry for this delay. Please allow me to wish you and all your passengers,” he glanced admiringly at Mariana, “a pleasant and satisfying voyage. Perhaps the next time you sail to Palava we’ll meet again on better terms.” And with that, he spun around and made his way down the gangplank, signaling waiting troops to put away their weapons.

  When he was gone, Ramagar and the others breathed a long sigh of relief, as did the captain himself. “I owe you a debt of gratitude,” said the thief. “Thank you for not speaking up. I suppose that you know —”

  “Know what?” laughed the Cenulamian sailor. “That you are indeed the man the soldiers were seeking? It makes no difference to me. I am neither judge nor jury.”

  “Perhaps. But I want you to know that I never committed the murder they accuse me of.”

  The sea captain tightened his eyes and stared at his ragtag crew. “See those men?” he asked. Ramagar nodded. “They’re thieves and liars every one. I’d wager each man among them is a scourge on the face of the earth. I’ll have my hands full enough with the likes of them to have to concern myself with the deeds of a paying passenger.”

  Ramagar nodded with understanding. They did seem a rebellious bunch, filled with swagger and bravado. And desperate men sometimes will take desperate actions. “Are you expecting trouble, then?”

  The captain’s face grew stern and impassive. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “You’ve been a friend to me,” said Ramagar. “So if at any time during the voyage I can repay you in any way, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  Osari smiled grimly. “I’ll remember that, Ramagar. Let’s both hope, though, it doesn’t come to that.” He clasped the thief on the shoulder and nodded politely to all his passengers. “We’ll all talk again later at supper,” he said. “But for now I’ll have to ask you to excuse me. I’ll have the cabin boy show you to your quarters and give you a chance to settle in. As for me, the tide is with us and I’ve got too much to do.” Then he shouted an order to his helmsman, and another to the first mate, who in turn bellowed the command down the line to the crew.

  Every sailor quickly scuttled to his post. The morning sun by now was blazing; a flock of gulls flew high above the masts, racing out to sea. Mariana, her baggage in her hand, watched in wonder as the birds soared, then glided, and squawking, dived down to the water.

  Hand over hand the thick iron chain was hoisted, the black shell-and moss-covered anchor pulled aboard. Lines were untied, shirtless sailors grappled at the halyards. The lumbering ship groaned and bobbed as it slowly began to pull from the pier. Then with a rush the lower sails were unfurled, swelling in sudden crimson majesty against the salted wind. Mariana watched from the stern as the sprawling city of Palava, its towers and minarets shimmering in the light, became toy miniatures along the near horizon. Beyond the city the desert sparkled with golden sands and blood-red dunes and mounds of clay. Turning, she gazed at the vastness of the ocean ahead: the Great Western Sea, now calm and placid, deepening in its tones of blue with every forward surge of the mighty ship. Bow raising and dipping, the Vulture cut a wide swath of foaming white froth whose waves rippled endlessly on for as far as Mariana could see.

  And at last the voyage they had all dreamed of was under way, setting its course for the far North, the seafaring land of Cenulam not too far from the coasts of Speca. Kalimar and all of the Eastern Kingdoms became but a haze to her, a fragile memory slipping away as fast as the shoreline itself. And by evening all sight of land was gone.

  As the sun dropped away and the sky glowed in a dark azure, Mariana spent a few moments of solitude on deck, watching the stars appear one by one until the sky was lit as she had never seen it before. She felt the wind rushing through her hair and salt spray gently splashing against her face. This would be a long voyage, she knew, with a new world waiting for her at its conclusion. But for the duration of the journey she and Ramagar would at last share some peaceful time together: a few weeks of quiet happiness and tranquility until the stark mountains of Cenulam were in sight.

  Or so she thought.

  12

  The first few days of the voyage were completely uneventful, save for the mild discomforts the passengers felt at being at sea for the first time in their lives.

  But it was pleasant company they shared; supper at night with Captain Osari and his jovial first mate and cabin boy; long evenings of recounting longer tales of both the ancient Eastern Kingdoms and those of the mysterious North.

  Osari proved to be an affable fellow, eager to speak of many subjects, especially of his homeland. The only times he seemed to grow quiet were when the name of Speca was mentioned. Needless to say, the passengers never once told him or anyone else of their true mission or their urgency in reaching Cenulam.

  In addition to Captain Osari, three others of the crew were from Cenulam: the first mate, the cabin boy, and the helmsman. All were excellent sailors, all were completely trustworthy. As for the rest of the crew, though, they proved to be every bit as surly and cantankerous as the captain had feared. Many had to be badgered or threatened into performing even the simplest of tasks. And many of them seemed to show a strange interest in the passengers. More than once Mariana had been frightened by the sight of several of them milling about in the evening and watching her and Ramagar closely. The Prince noticed it, too. They seemed to follow him everywhere, without reason, be it day or night. Once he found two of them posting themselves outside his cabin. And though his cabin seemed in proper order, he was sure that it had been secretly rifled.

  Strangest of all, though, was the behavior of the little man Osari had taken on as ship’s cook. He prepared his food at night and never stepped on deck at any time. Hardly anyone had ever seen the fellow. He kept to himself like a hermit There had been one occasi
on when Ramagar, returning below after an afternoon of exercise, had seen him lurking in the dark shadows of the hold. The thief tried to approach the little man, but the cook caught sight of him and ran away as fast as a lizard, slamming and bolting the galley door behind.

  After one week out and perhaps a third of the voyage done, there was no longer doubt in anyone’s mind: there were peculiar doings on board the Vulture, doings that bode only ill.

  And then the problems began, a series of minor misfortunes that constantly plagued them and severely cut into the ship’s carefully planned running time. A small fire in the hold. A broken boom that was not discovered until the sail had ripped and was left slatting in the wind. Broken tools. Spoiled meats. Leaks in the water barrels. There was only one word to describe what was going on: sabotage.

  Making matters worse was that with the onset of spring, the terrible gales and tempests that troubled the Western Sea were about to begin. Captain Osari had hoped to avoid the season at all costs. He had reasoned that, by plotting every track with utmost care, they would make Cenulam or one of its close neighbors just in time. But now because of these nagging problems, his hopes were dashed. Already the weather was beginning to change. Cloud formations massed on the horizon every morn, ever thicker, ever darker. Each day he would watch them closely and take notes. The rains were coming, swept down from the frigid north by brutal gale-force winds. By now the hurricanes would be approaching Cenulam. Given a few days more they would reach the Vulture, and the ship would face the last week of its journey battling the fiercest wrath of the sea.

  Yet why the crew, even these rogues, would be so intent on forcing delays and creating difficulties was a mystery beyond his comprehension. What had any of them to gain by this behavior? Certainly any levelheaded, intelligent sailor would be trying to do everything he could to avoid such confrontations with the storms. But these men didn’t seem to care. In fact, at times he could only assume that the opposite was true. But why? For what reason would they welcome such havoc? What was their motive for slowing the ship down and making her journey to Cenulam needlessly treacherous?

  Captain Osari shuddered. He had discussed the matter with his mate and helmsman. They had drawn as many blanks as he had. Cornering the bosun and one or two other slouches, he had tried to get some information out of them. But when questioned they grew silent and sullen. Osari had felt the burn of their eyes upon him and the snickers on their lips when he turned his back. If answers were to be provided, he could only bide his time and be alert for what might turn up elsewhere.

  It was the evening of the fifteenth day: the captain went topside as usual to record his sextant sightings. Mariana was on the quarterdeck, alone, staring in fascination out at the eternal sea.

  “A beautiful evening, isn’t it?” he said, coming beside her and saluting. Mariana glanced up and smiled. “Magnificent, Captain.” She turned and faced him with her back leaning against the railing and the wind rushing through her hair. “The sea is an enchanting mistress, especially at this time of day. I’m beginning to understand how it lures men from home and makes them sailors.”

  Osari grinned, gazing out at the northern horizon. Low dark clouds, turned violet in the waning light, were scudding across the sky, “You should have a shawl,” he said. “It gets chilly at night.”

  Mariana shook her head. “I like it like this.” Her hand grasped at the rail and she sighed. “So calm, so peaceful …”

  The captain nodded with understanding. “Once you’ve been at sea you’ll always want to return,” he told her. “And the more you sail, the more you want to come back. When a sailor’s out, like we are, he always looks forward to reaching port. But once he’s back on land all he thinks about is returning, sailing the ocean again … He looked at her and frowned. “Pardon me, Mariana. I didn’t mean to get sentimental.”

  The girl laughed briefly, but then her face turned more serious. The look in her eyes only hinted at the worry she was concealing. “I’ve been wanting to have a few words with you, Captain,” she said soberly.

  “Is anything wrong? Has the crew been bothering you?”

  She shook her head. “Not that. But about our reaching Cenulam — we all know something’s wrong. What’s going on, Captain? Ramagar says we’re running several days behind schedule —”

  Captain Osari rested his arms on the rail and stared at the choppy water for a long time before answering. “Then … you know,” he said at last.

  Mariana shivered and rubbed her sleeveless arms, searching Osari’s face. A strong gust blew her hair across her eyes as she said, “It’s hard not to know. It’s the crew’s doing, isn’t it? This sabotage, I mean.”

  Osari’s features remained impassive even as his face darkened. “They’re a strange lot, Mariana. Defiant, sneaky. A sad bunch of wretches. And I won’t lie to you; I’m deeply worried. The way things are going now we won’t be able to reach Cenulam until the storm season passes. I’ll be forced to seek the first and closest shelter I can, to berth the ship until the weather changes for the better.” He looked away, tensely clenching his hands into fists. “I just don’t understand it,” he mumbled, as much to himself as to her. “Why would they want to sabotage the ship? My cargo isn’t gold or silver. Just spices, a hold full of cinnamon. What do they have to gain by forcing me to alter course?”

  “Perhaps that’s exactly what they want; to force you to reach a closer port.”

  The captain’s eyes slitted like a cat’s: he stared at the girl with unguarded puzzlement. “You could be right,” he said. “Frankly, I hadn’t thought of it like that. But I still don’t understand why.”

  The wind was growing colder; Mariana glanced down at the poop deck, where two burly sailors stood watching and grinning as she and the captain spoke.

  “I don’t have any answers, either,” she admitted, turning her attention back to Osari. “I only wish I did. I only wish that someone could explain to me what’s going on.” Then she leaned in closer to avoid any prying eyes. “I saw something very peculiar last night, Captain. I was just getting ready to go to sleep when I heard some muffled noises outside the door. Opening it just a crack, I saw at least six of your crew, including the bosun, sneaking down the hall and into the galley.” She looked at Osari sharply. “What would they be doing in the kitchen at midnight?”

  It was an interesting question; the captain rubbed a hand at the side of his clean-shaven face and pondered. Whatever they were doing was certainly a mystery; but one thing was certain — there were no meals being served at that hour of night.

  “Then you think that the cook might be involved in all this?”

  “Seems more than likely. If you ask me, I have a hunch that your galley is being used as some kind of headquarters for the crew to plot whatever they’re up to. And this cook, whoever he is, could well be the mastermind.”

  The captain seemed incredulous. “Him? No, Mariana. It’s impossible. Anyone but him. Why, the man’s a virtual hermit. He has nothing to do with any of the crew — or anyone else for that matter. Why, he hardly comes out of the galley for air. The cabin boy does the serving and returns the empty bowls. No one sees the cook. Not even me.”

  “All the more reason to suspect him,” growled Mariana. “Why is he so secretive? I’ve been on board the Vulture for over two weeks now. Two weeks. And I don’t even know what he looks like. Don’t you find that rather odd?”

  Osari was forced to agree; it certainly was.

  “Who is he?” she asked. “What name did he give you? What does he look like? And where does he come from? I have a feeling that if you question him he’ll provide some pieces to fill in the puzzle. What do you know about him?” Captain Osari shook his head and sighed. “Very little, I’m afraid,” he replied. “I needed a cook urgently, so I just took on the first man that asked …”

  “Asked?” mimicked Mariana, stunned. “He asked to sail aboard this ship? Isn’t that strange by itself? From everything you’ve told me, just about ever
y sailor had to be prodded and bribed to make the journey to Cenulam. Why do you suppose he volunteered?”

  Osari snapped his fingers and bit his lip. “You know, you’re right! I never really gave it much thought. I guess I was too relieved to get someone to question his motives …”

  “I think we’d better rectify that,” said the girl. “Let’s start from the first peg. What’s he like, where’s he from?”

  The captain of the Vulture thought hard, trying to recall everything he could. “He’s a small man,” he said at last. “Slightly deformed, poor fellow. A hunchback …”

  Mariana tensed. “Go on,” she urged.

  “He told me he was from the south. Didn’t say which city. Only that it was urgent for him to find a ship to take him to Cenulam. At first I was skeptical, but then he offered to work in any capacity I had available. Once he knew that I had taken passengers for the voyage, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He gave me a gold doubloon and promised more — anything I asked, in fact — if I’d just let him sail …”

  Mariana felt goose bumps rising and her hands began to tremble.

  “What’s the matter?” said Osari, suddenly concerned. “Has anything I said upset you? Have I —”

  She shook her head briskly. “No. no. It’s all right. Tt’s nothing. But you just reminded me of something, someone I’d hoped never to see or hear of again …”

  The skipper seemed confused. Then the girl faced him again, and this time her smile returned. “Do me a favor, Captain Osari,” she asked. “Don’t mention our conversation to anyone. Not just yet. Not until I have a few things straightened out.”

  “But why? I thought it would be best if I called all the passengers together, to see if we could get some of this cleared up —”

  “Please, Captain,” she pressed. “Wait a day. Give me until tomorrow to find some answers of my own. Will you do that for me?”