Dressed in their finery, the pirates stood in the colonnaded entrance to the main hall while a heron-faced servant announced them as legates of Iduna. They waded through the majestic crowd of bejeweled silk and rose-powdered faces to the polished chair of the governor. He nodded, a plump, balding man with an aquiline nose, meticulously coifed beard, and red, parrot-beaked lips in the cup of an elaborate ruff. Behind him stood Diogo Almeida de Cão, the commander who had challenged the pirates two days earlier. He nodded to Pym and fixed Jaki with a haughty stare.
The governor tersely thanked them for their gift and introduced them to his special guest, sitting in the thronelike chair to his right — the Chinese merchant prince Hsi Hang.
A wizened mandarin, Hsi Hang wore traditional Hanfu attire: a black robe with red piping, shaved temples under a boxed cap, and excruciatingly long fingernails. "Captain Pym," he said in excellent Spanish, "I have admired your ship, Silenos, which I have seen in the harbor. Its lines and raked sails suggest that it is a vessel of great speed and adroitness."
Jaki noted the beastlike wariness between the two men and heard the reserve in Pym's voice. "I am pleased to hear you say that, Hsi Hang, for your reputation as a master seaman is famous throughout Asia. I designed Silenos myself, and she is indeed fashioned to carry her cargo swiftly."
"The better to avoid pirates, yes, captain?" He smiled with what may have been slyness or admiration.
"The Lanun are troublesome along the Malay coast," Pym replied, "but I've had no trouble so far with predators on the high seas."
"Then you have not yet run afoul of Wyvern?" Hsi Hang inquired, widening his sleepy eyes incredulously.
Pym turned a puzzled expression on the governor, seeking a clue.
"Hsi Hang refers to a notorious pirate who has harried our trade routes for a quarter century now," the governor said, scrutinizing Pym and his two companions from under a cocked eyebrow. "Come, captain! Surely you jest with us. Every seaman knows of Wyvern. I've been here less than a year, and that scourge has not escaped my notice."
"Yes, but you are governor of Macao," Pym said, nodding deferentially. "I imagine that very little escapes your notice. I am merely a merchant."
"How long have you sailed these waters, Captain Pym?" Hsi Hang asked.
Before Pym could reply, the herald stamped his mace for silence and announced, "Master of The Fateful Sisters, Captain William Quarles of the British Royal Navy, and his daughter Mistress Lucinda Quarles."
Pym stiffened as if stabbed, and Blackheart edged closer and laid a hand on his shoulder. " ‘Tis the bastard's flatulent ghost!" Pym hissed under his breath in English. Blackheart tightened his grip on his captain's shoulder and looked to Jaki, but the boy's attention had strayed to the far end of the room where the guests entered.
A stocky man with flattened brown hair, an oat-gray beard, and skin the color of pickled cedar stood in the entrance surveying the gathering with imperial hauteur. He wore an ermine-trimmed velvet jacket, blue knee breeches, pleated garters, and oxblood boots of polished leather. The young woman beside him, silver blond, pale as starlight, dressed in a soft black chemise, white satin skirt, and gray pearl-studded slippers.
As they approached the governor's chair, Pym shivered and backed off. Jaki stared, enthralled by the first blond woman he had yet seen.
Captain Quarles bowed to the governor and nodded to Hsi Hang. Observing the friendly intimacy of that nod, Pym tried again to back away and meld into the festive gathering. The governor detained him. "Master of Silenos — Captain Trevor Pym — this is the man who will assure that the sea lanes are free of the dread Wyvern: master of The Fateful Sisters, Captain William Quarles."
Quarles' hazel stare met Pym's single gray eye. "Do you know me?" he asked in bitter Portuguese. "I certainly remember you, sir. Your name is black in our family. Though I was but a mate's apprentice when I sailed with Drake in ninety-six to harry the Spanish in the New World, I remember well how you betrayed us. My uncle was Samuel Quarles, the captain you murdered on Drake's first foray."
Hsi Hang and the governor watched Pym closely and caught the hint of fang in his tight grin. "Sir, you are grievously mistaken," he said in Spanish. "In fact, it was your uncle who was the traitor. I was but the scapegoat he would use for his treachery, for I was callow and at that time had no taste for blood."
Blackheart gently pulled Pym back. Quarles waved the quartermaster away. "Do not fear for your master," he said serenely in English. "I am a man who abides law and will not seek my vengeance here in the governor's court."
Hsi Hang and the governor exchanged glances as Quarles stepped close to the pirate. "Trevor Pym, the snakebrand you hide under that headcloth will hang you if ever we meet in British territory. For certainly you do not deny your responsibility in luring Sir Francis Drake to his doom at Porto Bello?"
"Is this an inquiry?" Pym asked the governor. "I had assumed you invited us here to be entertained."
The governor nodded to Diogo Almeida de Cão, who glided forward and bowed first to Captain Quarles and then to his daughter. "The dancing is about to begin," he said. "Will you honor me?"
The girl curtsied and accepted, and they moved away to the first strains of the orchestra. Blackheart took that opportunity to lead Pym off, as well, scratching his palm to remind the captain of the money represented by the many merchants and traders gathered in the great hall.
"Aye, we've Perdita's surplus to unload," Pym muttered in English and let Blackheart guide him toward the glittering banquet tables where the businessmen dined.
Jaki let them go and then immediately sought out Almeida and Lucinda on the dance floor. He intruded and asked in Spanish, "May I have the next dance?"
"Sir, we have not been introduced," said Lucinda Quarles, looking inquiringly into the sandy haze of Jaki's features. Even more striking in person than he had looked to her in the lens that morning, he smiled unfazed by his gaucherie.
"My name is Jaki Gefjon."
"Then you are Dutch," she said, though she detected something else in his dusky complexion. "You are with that man my father remembers as a traitor?"
"Yes, m'lady," Jaki answered, dolefully. "He is my captain."
Almeida snicked a cruel smile. Before he could speak, Lucinda said, "I need refreshment."
Almeida and Jaki offered their arms simultaneously, and she took both but kept her eyes on the boy with the wind-sprung hair and riddling blue stare. "May I boldly introduce myself? I am Lucinda Quarles."
"You are British," he said in English, fumbling for something meaningful to say. "Macao is a long way from England."
"And you are far from the Low Countries," she answered in English, intrigued by his accent, which did not sound Dutch.
Almeida poured her a crystal of sherry and led her into a yellow pond of lanternlight away from the serving table. "The Dutch seem entirely comfortable in the presence of pirates," he remarked icily.
"What do you mean?" Jaki asked.
A small laugh chimed from Lucinda. "I think Commander Almeida means to refer to the strenuous competition between the Dutch and the Portuguese in the Spice Islands. The Dutch East India Company already encroaches on Lisbon’s long-standing interests in both Malacca and Maluku and last year doubled their exports of mace and cloves.”
"Lady, you surprise me with your political astuteness," Almeida said coolly.
"My mother died when I was an infant," she explained, "and so you must suffer a deficit of feminine charm with me and a surfeit of my father’s influence. I speak the trade languages at his insistence. And lacking a son, he has schooled me in the politics of commerce."
"Then my eyes shamelessly deceive me," Almeida said, smiling warmly, "for you seem the very shape of feminine excellence."
"Shape is the least of a woman's virtues," she smiled back and looked to Jaki. "Don't you agree, Master Gefjon?"
"A woman shall compass a man," he said, and the sound of his words embraced her with gentleness.
&nbs
p; "Ah me," Almeida groaned, "if you're going to quote the Bible, I am outdone. I would not have expected such rectitude from a pirate."
Jaki spoke in a dry voice: "My name is Dutch and you call me a pirate. Small reason."
Almeida studied the lanky man before him. "I call you a pirate because this lovely lady's father believes your captain to be so. That is why the Bantam of Siam invited Captain Quarles and his warship into these Asian waters, to ferret out pirates."
A fiery haze ruddled Jaki's cheeks, and Lucinda laid a hand on his arm. "A pact has been made between the Bantam and the British Crown to combat piracy in Asia for the benefit of all empires. My father has been ordered by his Admiralty to stalk these pirates, especially the infamous Wyvern that has plundered trade vessels with impunity for decades now. But my father would not accuse anyone of piracy without direct knowledge."
The heron-faced servant appeared and whispered in Almeida's ear. "Please, my lady, excuse me," the officer said with a bow. "My governor requires my presence." He turned to Jaki. "Your ruse is pitiful, Dutchman."
"Are you a pirate?" Lucinda asked when they were alone.
"If I were, you would be my first prize."
She smiled coolly. "Now you sound like that Portuguese sycophant."
"Forgive me." He blushed and put a firm hand over hers where it still rested on his arm. "I am drawn to you. Though we have just met, I must know you better."
"How can you say that, silly boy? You can't begin to know me."
He put a thumb on her chin. "When a man stands on a height, he can see for miles. Standing here with you, I see as far as my life can go."
"Bold, impetuous words for a pirate." A reckless feeling whirled up in her as she stared into his topaz face. "By which I mean, I believe you truly are a pirate, Mister Gefjon. My father is convinced that your captain is the villain whose standard is a wyvern."
Jaki's heart jumped, and he looked quickly into the crowd for Pym and Blackheart.
“I'm afraid it's too late," she said playfully. "Your captain will soon be undone. There is no way out."
Jaki faced her. "We are all on journeys toward wounds," he said with an intensity that startled her. "You must think me a fool. If my journey doesn't end tonight, will you grant me the favor of seeing you again?"
"Why?" She held him with a hard-eyed stare. "Because I have a pretty face?"
"You are beautiful," Jaki said. "Behind your beauty I see something more: a strong soul — a soul worthy of love."
"Love?" Her pixie face opened to laugh, but she did not laugh. "What does a boy like you know of love?"
"I know nothing of love," Jaki acknowledged with a candor that stopped her laughter again. "I feel that whatever I could know of love I will find in you."
"We have just introduced ourselves and already you speak of love." She compressed her lips and shook her head.
"Lady," Jaki said with an urgent squeeze of her hand, "please do not be swift in your judgment. I know I am a fool to speak like this with you. Yet my heart feels so clear — as though I already know you. Please, let me see you again."
She regarded him steadily. Always, she had played the eternal game, coquettishly amusing eligible men of her station, viscounts, naval officers, and all manner of aspiring young blades in every major European port and across Asia. The game was all preciosity and insignificance. She had just turned sixteen and enjoyed the tender speeches, the merriment, the anonymous sensuality of men's eager attentions. She had lost her heart once — to the poet in Rome — and had not believed she could love again. Now, all at once, this man — this boy — had enchanted her with his smile and those Asian eyes blue as an afternoon's emptiness. Very different from the pale, skinny poet in Rome, this young pirate defied type. She could not love him — she was determined. His melancholy accent would not move her. Her certitude gave her the strength to continue her game. "The Fateful Sisters' port in Asia is to be Singapore," she answered finally. "Perhaps we shall meet there one day."
"If I seek you out there," he whispered, "you will favor me?"
Her face shone with curiosity, ambivalence, and a hint of ardor. "Yes." She leaned closer and added, "As I favor all courtly gentlemen who seek my company."
"Expect me, then."
"I will be constant as the zodiac," she said flirtatiously.
Jaki spun away, sliding like a breeze through the crowd searching for Pym and Blackheart. He found them approaching the governor's chair and slid between them, whispering to Pym, "Quarles knows."
"So it seems, lad," Pym answered without looking at him.
"We must flee," Jaki said, crouching as if at the scent of a panther.
Blackheart put an arm about him and braced him taller. "Stand up, sorcerer," Pym commanded. "We are in the governor's house. He'll not butcher us here. Nor can we escape. Too many guards. We must brass this out -— see how they play us."
The governor waved to them impatiently, and Pym stepped forward.
Quarles, seated to the left of the governor and Hsi Hang, did not rise when Pym approached. "Your happy gathering here has helped me sell my entire surplus from Iduna," Pym said graciously to the governor. "Festivities like this inspire fair trade. How can I return this good will to you?"
"Quite directly, Captain Pym," the governor said. He nodded to the Chinese merchant beside him. "My estimable guest, Hsi Hang, has expected for three days now the arrival of a junk loaded with one hundred bars of bullion. Apparently, it has been lost."
Pym responded with consternation. "A hundred bars of bullion is a great deal of wealth to entrust to one storm-fragile junk."
"We suspect that no storm has sunk the vessel," the governor replied. "In fact, we are quite certain that it has been plundered by pirates."
"How can you be so certain, governor? This is monsoon season."
The governor turned his elegantly coifed head toward Quarles, and the British captain thrust out his bearded chin. "We had arranged with Hsi Hang to escort his gold vessel into Macao. When we sailed out to meet her, all we found was wreckage. And not just storm flotsam. Hsi Hang's ship was destroyed by cannon."
"Bad fortune." Pym’s eye bent consolingly. "Perhaps now with you here, Captain Quarles, we shall have less to fear of such villains. I do not see how my good will can help you with this particular loss, governor."
"Hmm, but you can, captain." The governor stroked his beard. "You see, your ship arrived from the direction and at the time that we expected Hsi Hang's gold."
"Alas, we saw no piracy on our journey here from Manila. The China Sea is no small body of water, sir."
"Captain Pym," Hsi Hang raised a long fingernail at him with barely restrained fury, "The sea is not so small as it was when first you came to these waters. You cannot hide your plundering as once you did."
Pym reeled toward Hsi Hang. "Sir, you accuse me of piracy?" The lilting music stuttered to silence.
The governor waved for the orchestra to continue, and the air paislied with sweet sounds again. "Forgive us, captain," the governor said. "We are not accusing you, though we do suspect you. How could we not? We are not fools. You bear the serpent brand of a traitor. Your ship is a sleek man-of-war. And you have arrived at the time and from the necessary direction to have intercepted Hsi Hang's gold junk. For these reasons, we ask that you disprove our allegation."
"And how, sir, can I possibly do that?"
"You will let us search Silenos," the governor demanded.
"Never!" Pym shouted. "I am the master of Silenos and legate from Iduna. I will not allow a search party of vain, importunate accusers aboard my ship."
"Then you prove yourself a pirate!" Hsi Hang yapped.
Pym swung toward him, and Almeida leaped between and shoved Pym backward. Jaki seized the officer and slapped him twice before Blackheart could pull him away. The swiftness of the first blow set Almeida back on his heels, and the second dropped him to his haunches, stunned.
"You have struck an imperial officer!" the governor barke
d at Jaki. “I can have you imprisoned and hanged for that.”
Pym raised his hands softly as a priest. "Governor, Hsi Hang gravely insulted me. My officer was only protecting me from yours. I am, after all, a true legate of Iduna, which has freely shared its wealth with Portugal. We are not pirates, I assure you, and we will not be treated as such. You did invite us here. We are your guests, not criminals. All of Macao society are gathered as witness to your hospitality."
The governor's placid face frowned deeply. "Very well. Your anger was provoked. Yet I insist your ship be searched. A hundred bars of bullion are at stake here. That is no small matter."
Pym dug deep within himself for the appropriate response and felt cold emptiness. His stomach turned, and Jaki read his distress.
"Our honor is no small matter, either," Jaki said sharply, stepping forward. "For us, it is more valuable than mere gold. I insist on satisfaction for your officer's insult." Blackheart grabbed Jaki's arm again, and the boy threw it off. "This is not the first time your officer has insulted me this evening. I cannot abide his physical abuse of my captain. I demand a duel. Now."
The governor grinned with disbelief. "Young Dutchman, clearly you are a fool. Your master has taken no grievance he did not himself inspire."
"So you say," Jaki answered, ignoring Blackheart's urgent protests. "He dared assault the official legate of the kingdom I am sworn to serve. I will have satisfaction."
Pym searched Jaki's expression for his true intent and read the stony will in his set jaw and a narrow stare, a plea of cunning. He understood. Here was their one chance to buy the time to escape. Pym, bound by their oath to Wyvern, could not spend Jaki's life, and Jaki saw that now in the squint of the captain’s one eye. And so he turned brusquely and slapped Almeida, who had just pulled himself upright from the previous blows. A blood-hungry light flashed in the officer's face, and he looked urgently to his superior.
"So, Dutchman, your death will be our amusement tonight," the governor decreed. "To the courtyard with you both, where you will not offend the women and those disinclined to see a life thrown away."
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