The Turning Tide

by Rob Kidd

“How soon is the feast?” Jack asked the warrior. “You’d better tell him; he gets a tad violent when he’s hungry.”

  The dark eyes did not move away from Jack for a moment.

  “Well, this is pleasant,” Jack remarked. “I can see we’re going to be great chums.”

  He paused, scanning the room casually, and then suddenly drew his sword and lunged at the small figure. But by the time he reached the wall, the warrior was gone. Jack whirled around in surprise and found his sword lifted right out of his hand. There was a strange whirring sound, a flash of moving steel, and a clatter as his sword landed in the far corner of the room, inches away from Jean’s head.

  “Hey,” Jean protested without sitting up. “Do you mind? I like my head the way it is, thank you.”

  The warrior stood before Jack, half-crouched as if ready to leap away again. In his hand was a kind of weapon Jack had never seen before. It had the hilt of a sword, which fitted neatly into his opponent’s palm, but blooming from the hilt were two long, gleaming steel ropes. Now they lay coiled at the warrior’s feet, but in an instant they could flick out like whips and do serious damage. Jack could see the sharp edges of the blades from where he stood. It was a bit of a miracle that Jack hadn’t been sliced open when his sword was plucked away from him. This warrior had quite a lot of skill.

  “Where were you hiding that?” Jack marveled. “What a remarkable toy. Mind if I take a look?” He edged closer, trying to seem casual.

  The warrior began to raise the weapon, as if warning Jack to stay back, but Jack abruptly dove at him, wrapping his arms around the warrior’s waist and knocking him off balance. The warrior struggled to raise his weapon as they fell onto the stone floor, but as Jack had noticed, it was a weapon best used at a distance. Up this close, the warrior was just as likely to hurt himself while trying to cut Jack.

  Of course, this kind of combat wasn’t exactly Jack’s forte, either.

  The strange weapon clattered to the floor, sending a ripple along the long flexible blades. Jack felt the warrior’s knee drive into his chest and he staggered back with an “oof!” The warrior spun around to kick Jack in the head, but Jack grabbed his foot before it connected and threw the warrior backward onto Jean’s bed.

  “Aaaaaah!” Jean yelped, trying to roll out of the way. For a moment Jean and the warrior were tangled together, rugs and limbs waving madly. Finally Jean struggled free and the warrior leaped to his feet, panting angrily. Jean glanced down at his hand and realized he had seized the warrior’s hood by accident while they were entangled. He looked up at the warrior and gasped.

  It wasn’t a strangely tiny man after all. The warrior set to guard them was, in fact, the most beautiful woman Jean had ever seen.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The women’s quarters were cool and quiet, with tall columns of white marble and tiny fragments of mirrors glittering from the ceilings and walls. The tranquil gardens were dotted with the bright colors of the flowers and the elegant silk outfits of the women strolling their narrow paths.

  These very outfits were currently the subject of a heated argument.

  “No!” Carolina protested. “I’m perfectly happy with what I’m wearing! I’m not changing!”

  “Can mine be pink?” Marcella asked. “I want a pink one!”

  The woman in lavender, who had introduced herself as Parvati, closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “It is only for a short while,” she said to Carolina. “We must present you well at the banquet tonight. Please. I am asking you nicely.”

  “Yeah, Carolina,” Marcella sniped. “Why do you have to be so rude all the time? And how come you don’t ever want to be pretty? I mean, I know it’ll be extrahard for you, but you could at least try.”

  Carolina noticed a young boy watching them from the top of a wall a few feet away. He looked about seven years old, with tousled black hair and bare brown feet. His small face was cunning and curious.

  “There’s a boy in here,” Marcella said to Parvati, pointing.

  “But of course,” the Indian woman said. “We raise all the children in the women’s quarters, boys and girls, until the boys are old enough to cross over to the men’s side. That is Toolajee, Sri Sumbhajee’s brother.”

  “Brother!” Carolina said in surprise. “But he’s so young.”

  “Half-brother,” Parvati amended. “Sri Sumbhajee’s father died just before Toolajee was born. He was quite old. Believe me, we were all surprised, too.”

  “Does Sri Sumbhajee have any children?” Carolina asked.

  “Not yet,” Parvati said. “His brother Mannajee is his heir for the moment. You see, our great and wondrous Sri Sumbhajee devoted much of his life to learning the serene and simple ways of the priesthood.”

  “Until he became a pirate,” said Carolina.

  “Well, yes,” Parvati said. “That’s what his father always wanted for him. Excuse me.” She beckoned to a young girl who was hovering nearby. “Veena, take Marcella and help her into her sari.”

  “Um, I think I know how to put on a pretty dress!” Marcella said.

  Parvati and Veena both hid smiles. “This is a little more complicated than a dress,” Veena said politely. She took Marcella’s hand and led her behind a screen.

  Carolina could still hear her complaining. “I hate this color! Why can’t I have pink? Oooh, do I get jewelry, too?”

  The Spanish princess felt guilty. Parvati did seem nice, and Carolina didn’t want her to think that Carolina was as horrible as Marcella. But on the other hand, Carolina had spent her whole life being told what to wear and how to behave and what to do every moment of the day. The whole point of being a pirate was freedom, wasn’t it?

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Marcella cried. “What IS that? Where are the armholes? Where is the bodice? I want a corset! That’s just a big piece of cloth! You want to wrap it WHERE?”

  Parvati gave Carolina a wry look. “If it helps,” she said, “we could wrap your sari in such a way to give you as much freedom of movement as possible. Our warrior women even wear these in battle sometimes.”

  “Really?” Carolina said, interested now despite herself. “You have warrior women?”

  “Of course,” Parvati said, producing a shimmering length of red silk. “Don’t you want to see how it’s done?” Her smile said she knew that Carolina was now too curious to say no.

  * * *

  Not too far away, one of these same warrior women was glaring at Jean. Her dark hair had tumbled to her shoulders and her large eyes were flashing dangerously. Jean guessed that she was a couple of years younger than he was—more of a warrior girl, really.

  “By all the gods!” she cried, stamping her foot. “You persistent, nosy pirates! Why couldn’t you just leave me alone to do my job?” She snatched the black scarf out of Jean’s hands.

  “Wait,” Jean said. “Don’t put it back on. Please. We’re sorry.”

  “I’m not,” Jack said, leaning toward her seductively. “’Allo, love. Captain Jack Sparrow. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

  “No,” she said. “And I don’t care who you are. I have my orders, and they include not talking to you.” She lifted the scarf to her face, but Jean leaped forward and grabbed it away again.

  “Tell us your name first,” he said.

  “Yes,” Jack said. “I can see I was rather on the wrong track before. You’re not much of a Fitzy.” He mused for a moment. “Brunhilda?”

  “I’m Jean, Jean Magliore,” Jean said. “We won’t interfere with your job. I just want to know who you are.”

  The girl kicked Jean’s legs out from under him and seized the scarf as he fell over.

  “All right, fair enough,” Jean said from the floor.

  “Pushy chap, isn’t he?” Jack said to the warrior girl. “He hasn’t had much success with the ladies in his short life. Not like me. ‘Popular with the ladies’ is my middle name.” He paused. “Well, that and ‘danger.’ And ‘freedom.’ And possibly Robert. Depends on who you ask, really
.”

  She stomped back over to the door and shook out her scarf, ignoring him.

  “I have a tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature,” Jack carried on, waving one hand in the air. “For instance, at this moment I intuit that you are falling madly in love with me despite yourself.”

  The girl looked down at Jean. “Does he always talk this much?”

  “I am afraid so,” Jean said.

  “It is one of my most charming qualities,” Jack observed, beaming.

  “He might shut up a little if you told us your name,” Jean offered bravely.

  The warrior girl pulled her hair back and wound it on top of her head. As she began to drape the scarf, her eyes met Jean’s, and her face seemed to soften a little. “Fine,” she said. “It’s Lakshmi. My name is Lakshmi.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And I am to take you to the feast as soon as you are refreshed.”

  Jean bounded to his feet. “I’m refreshed! I’m ready!”

  Diego poked his head in. Behind him stood Pusasn. “We’re being summoned,” he said. “Oh, hello.” He spotted Lakshmi as she knelt to pick up the odd weapon. “What is that?” he asked curiously.

  “It’s an urumi,” Lakshmi said. “It takes a lot of training to use, but it’s very deadly.” She shot Jack a warning look.

  “No argument here, darling,” Jack said with a flirtatious grin.

  They all watched in surprise as she coiled the long, flexible swords around her waist like a belt. No wonder I didn’t spot it, Jack thought.

  “Wow,” Diego said, shaking his head. “Carolina is going to love you.”

  From the moony look on Jean’s face, Carolina wasn’t the only one, Jack thought.

  Amazing smells wafted through the air as the pirates followed Lakshmi and Pusasn out to an open-air pavilion overlooking an enclosed garden of fruit trees, dark green leaves rustling in the wind. It was not quite evening yet; the sky had streaks of pink and gold in it. Jean inhaled deeply.

  “Will Carolina eat with us?” Diego asked Lakshmi. She nodded, her face hidden by the scarf again.

  Nobody asked about Marcella. Jean was too busy thinking about food and Lakshmi to remember. Jack remembered, but he was hoping if he didn’t bring her up, Jean might forget about her, too, and then they could sail away and leave her in India. That sounded like an absolutely brilliant plan to Jack, as did most of the plans that sprang from his mind.

  Sri Sumbhajee’s court was assembled around the pavilion, seated on cushions on the floor.

  Pusasn directed the pirates to the open cushions arranged near the Indian Pirate Lord, and they all sat down, with Jack on Sri Sumbhajee’s left.

  Diego craned his neck, searching the crowd for Carolina. A murmur of voices rose as a group of women approached through the garden. Diego’s eyes passed over them quickly; none of these brightly adorned women looked familiar.

  Suddenly his gaze popped back. One of them had winked at him.

  “Carolina?” he said, rising to his feet as she came closer. She was wearing a sari the color of Jack’s ruby, embroidered in delicate gold thread, with her midriff bare. Tiny gold teardrop-shaped ornaments sparkled in her ears and a deep red canna flower was tucked into her long, loose dark hair.

  “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said, covering her waist with her arms. “I’m embarrassed enough!”

  “You look beautiful,” Diego said, unable to contain his awe. She looked like she was born to dress this way. He had seen her in many elaborate gowns back in Spain; he’d held her hand while her long skirts swept past him, into the coach taking her to the latest royal ball. He knew she hated the corsets and petticoats and piles of lace and uncomfortable shoes. But here her feet were bare and she could sit down on the cushion beside him in an easy, graceful movement, arranging the end of the silk sari over her shoulder. Sitting down on the floor in a European dress would have required much more maneuvering and possibly a pulley system of some sort.

  “What about ME?” a voice demanded behind Diego. “Don’t I look beautiful?”

  Diego reluctantly tore his gaze from Carolina as Marcella elbowed Catastrophe Shane out of the way and threw herself down on the cushion on his other side. She glared over him at Carolina.

  “Um—you look…nice, too,” he said politely. Marcella’s sari looked like mustard and limes, a yellowish-green that unfortunately clashed with her skin tone. Her hair, ears, neck, wrists, and ankles were dripping with gaudy diamonds and rubies. Jack eyed them in fascination, but when he leaned toward her she snatched her arm away and edged closer to Diego.

  “Well, I’d look much better in PINK,” she said, shooting a scowl at Parvati. “Right, Jean? Don’t I look lovely in pink?”

  Across from her, Jean wasn’t paying any attention. His hands were clasped rapturously under his chin.

  “The food!” he cried. “The food is coming!”

  It was true. Large round platters were emerging from the kitchen, held aloft by a line of servants. A man dressed in a light blue tunic and trousers carried the first platter up to Sri Sumbhajee and knelt, placing it in front of the Pirate Lord’s knees. He lowered his forehead to the ground. Diego realized the man was trembling violently.

  The silver platter was divided into small compartments around a central hollow, like petals around the center of a flower. In the middle was a small tower of steaming white rice, and surrounding it were sauces of all colors.

  Jean was exceptionally talented at identifying food from a distance. He could tell that the bits of meat in the orangey-red sauce were chicken, while the white lumps in the dark green sauce were pieces of cheese. He was sure he could smell lamb and other vegetables as well. His stomach let out a prolonged rumble.

  Lakshmi glanced at him, startled. “For a moment I thought a tiger was creeping up on us,” she whispered, amused.

  “Why aren’t they serving the rest of us?” he whispered back.

  “Sri Sumbhajee is always served first,” she said. “And believe me, you want to wait.”

  Jean’s stomach growled again, as if disagreeing with her.

  Sri Sumbhajee glowered at the man kneeling before him. He flicked his fingers at the twin aides standing behind him.

  “Who has been near this food?” Askay demanded.

  “N-n-n-no one, sir,” the kneeling man stammered. “Please, spare me, sir, I am certain it is safe, I prepared it carefully myself—”

  “That’s what the last three said,” Pusasn snarled. “The life of our lord must be protected. Eat, you cowering cur!”

  Sri Sumbhajee tore off a piece of flat round bread from a second platter and handed it to the man in blue. With the eyes of the entire court upon him, the man leaned forward to dip the bread in one of the sauces. His hand was shaking so badly, he had to try a few times before he got the bread into the right compartment.

  “What’s going on?” Diego whispered to Carolina.

  “I think he’s a food taster,” she whispered back. “Our king back in Spain used one to make sure no one was trying to poison him. If the taster dies…well…”

  “…you will know the food has been poisoned,” Diego finished, his eyes wide.

  Jack was twisting the braids in his beard, watching intently.

  Silence fell over the courtyard as the man chewed slowly and swallowed. After a moment, a smile spread across his face.

  “You see?” he said, lifting his hands toward Sri Sumbhajee. “As I said, perfectly saaaaaaaugh.” His face turned purple and his eyes rolled back. Clutching his neck, he toppled over sideways. “Uh-oh,” Jack said. “Not good.” Sri Sumbhajee leaped to his feet. “Sri Sumbhajee knew it!” Askay bellowed, drawing his sword. “Sri Sumbhajee knows all!” Pusasn roared. “Someone is trying to poison him!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Well, it wasn’t me,” Jack said immediately. He leaned over to Barbossa. “We didn’t do it, did we?” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

  Barbossa rolled his eyes.
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  “Sri Sumbhajee is aware that this is not the doing of our distinguished guests,” Pusasn said with a small bow. “This is the fourth time now that his food taster has keeled over dead, so unless your assassins invisibly preceded you, someone here at court is the culprit.”

  “Sri Sumbhajee is most displeased!” Askay announced. “Sri Sumbhajee does not like to be nearly poisoned!”

  “The feast is hereby cancelled!” said Pusasn.

  “What?” Jean cried. “Why? What about us? I don’t mind a little poison! Wait, don’t go!” With a look of abject despair, he watched the silver platters being marched away. Lakshmi patted his hand sympathetically as his stomach growled again.

  “Whoever is trying to kill Sri Sumbhajee will be punished most severely,” Askay said, glaring around at the seated courtiers.

  Sri Sumbhajee banged his fist into the palm of his hand.

  “He will be trampled by elephants!” Pusasn declared. “And then fed to crocodiles!”

  “Um, yuck,” Marcella said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Are you sure we can’t eat the food?” Jean said plaintively. “Any of the food?”

  “Of course, you have to catch the scoundrel first,” Jack said to Sri Sumbhajee, lifting his spoon and twisting it to see his reflection. It gleamed as if it were made of gold. “You know, before the delightful spectacle of elephant-trampling and crocodile-feeding. But I’m sure you have the situation well in hand.”

  Sri Sumbhajee and his aides shifted their glares to him.

  “No?” Jack said, noticing their expressions. He breathed on the spoon and rubbed it on his sleeve. “Your beard hasn’t given you any hints? I thought the great Sri Sumbhajee and his wondrous beard knew all.”

  “Sri Sumbhajee will use his powers to identify the assassin,” Askay said.

  “And then—elephants and crocodiles!” Pusasn cried.

  “They probably didn’t poison everyone’s dishes,” Jean pointed out desperately.

  “I have an idea,” Carolina said suddenly. “Sri Sumbhajee, if we catch the assassin for you, may we ask you for a favor?”