The Book of Wonders

by Richards, Jasmine

  He really doesn’t like us, Zardi thought to herself. That’s fine with me because I don’t like him either. The smell of the fish stew hit her nostrils and chased away all thoughts of Nadeem as she and Rhidan sat down and eagerly began to devour their food. Sinbad sat down beside them, patiently waiting for them to finish.

  As they took their last spoonfuls, the captain cracked his knuckles. “Right, and now to it. I don’t know what wind of misfortune or cruel coincidence has blown you into my life, but I want some answers.”

  “Itisn’tacoincidence,” Rhidan said in a rush. “We’ve been looking for you. We followed you from Taraket and—”

  “Hold it.” Sinbad interrupted Rhidan’s tide of words. “I’m still talking.” His face remained relaxed, but Zardi noticed that a strained note had entered his voice.

  “Let’s start from the top.” Sinbad pointed to Zardi. “Back in Taraket you had significantly more hair. Why are you dressed as a boy?”

  “I wanted to go to sea, so I ran away,” Zardi replied simply. This was only a small part of the truth, but she wasn’t about to tell him that she was a daughter of a vizier looking for a way to destroy the sultan of Arribitha, or for that matter that the sultan had imprisoned her sister and father. Sinbad would probably ransom her to Shahryār before the words even left her mouth. “My name’s Zee now.”

  Sinbad nodded. “I suggest we keep the truth about your gender to ourselves. My crew can be a superstitious lot. They’ll see it as bad luck to have a woman onboard.” He turned to Rhidan. “And you, pale one, what do you mean you came looking for me?”

  “Twelve years ago I was left on the banks of the river Tigress.” Rhidan spoke more slowly this time. “The only thing I had with me was a piece of parchment with my name on it and this amulet around my neck.” He stroked the intertwined snakes. “Zardi’s family, or should I say Zee’s, took me in.” His eyes met Zardi’s for a moment, and she silently thanked him for failing to mention that his adoption was under the sultan’s orders and that her father was in Shahryār’s employ. “Four days ago,” he continued, “we met you and you mentioned a place called the Black Isle. You said that the inhabitants of this place look just like me.” He fixed Sinbad with a stare shiny and hard with hope. “I need to know where the Black Isle is.”

  Sinbad rubbed at his temples, and Zardi thought that he looked like a man who’d just been given some really bad news.

  “Sinbad, please, you need to tell me,” Rhidan repeated more urgently.

  “I can’t.” The words were wrung out of the captain. “I can’t tell you where the Black Isle is, because it doesn’t exist.”

  Rhidan’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I mean that the Black Isle is a myth, a story. A tale my adoptive mother, Sula, used to tell to keep me entertained when I was younger.” Sinbad winced. “Who knows, it might be a real place. But if it exists I don’t know where it is.”

  “This can’t be.” Rhidan recoiled from the captain’s words, pushing backward until he was up against the ship’s edge. “Y-you said that I had classic Ilian features.”

  “You do,” Sinbad insisted. “Sula said that the Black Isle is populated by a race of sorcerers with violet eyes and silver hair…” The captain trailed off.

  Rhidan sprang to his feet. “Sorcerers,” he snarled, his hands clenching into fists. “Do I look like a sorcerer? If I was a sorcerer would I still be a prisoner on this stupid ship? You lied to me, you made me think—” He didn’t finish his sentence, launching himself at Sinbad instead.

  Zardi leaped after him. Rhidan was upset, but he wasn’t going to win in a fight against Sinbad. She grabbed the sleeve of her friend’s tunic, but rage had made him strong and he threw her off. Before he could take another step, she jumped onto Rhidan’s back and pinned his arms. He bucked like an unbroken horse but she held on.

  Sinbad was on his feet, watchful and wary. Alerted by Rhidan’s angry shouts, Nadeem and four of his friends, Zain, Dabis, Syed, and Tariq, raced down the deck. The captain held up a hand, stopping the sailors in their tracks. “Everything is fine here,” he yelled over to them. “Just a minor disagreement. Go back to your meals.”

  “Captain, are you sure?” Nadeem asked. “These two can’t be trusted. Can’t you see it? Something doesn’t add up about them.”

  Nadeem’s four friends eyed Rhidan and Zardi suspiciously.

  “Nadeem, I am old enough and wise enough to look after myself,” Sinbad said gently. “But I do appreciate your concern, my young friend. Go back to your meal. It is fine, really.”

  Nadeem opened his mouth to object, but his friend Dabis took him by one arm and Zain took him by the other, and all five sailors went back up deck.

  Sinbad turned to Rhidan. “Listen, I am sorry I gave you false hope.” The captain sounded genuinely regretful. “It was never my intention. Zee here wanted a story and I wanted a sale.”

  The fight went out of Rhidan and he sank to his knees. Zardi gratefully slid off his back.

  “We dock in Sabra in just over five days,” the captain went on. “I’d ask that you remain on board as my guests.”

  “Your guests or your prisoners?” Zardi questioned.

  Sinbad ducked his head, his cheeks red. “Both, I suppose. I cannot let you go. You know too much about me and my men.” He shrugged. “You’re a liability. I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

  Zardi almost felt sorry for the captain. Deep inside, she knew he wouldn’t hurt them, but whichever way she looked at it, he was her captor. She glanced at Rhidan, expecting a reaction to Sinbad’s words, but he was staring down at the silver amulet, his shoulders hunched over.

  She stood a bit straighter. “Circumstances as they are, Captain, we accept your gracious invitation.” The words were sticky with sarcasm.

  The captain bowed deeply and, with one more regretful look at Rhidan, returned to his men.

  She watched Sinbad go. For a moment, she wondered if she should tell him about her quest to stop the sultan and ask if he knew anything of the secret order of the Varish warriors. Don’t be stupid, Zardi, she told herself firmly. Sinbad might not be a killer, but he and his men were driven by their greed for wealth; it would be far too easy for them to betray her to Shahryār.

  A claw of sadness raked across Zardi’s chest as she remembered one of her sister’s favorite sayings. Trust is the friend of trust. Zubeyda was always telling Rhidan that he was too quick to judge and he should try to see the good in people. Not that believing in Sinbad had done Rhidan any good. No, now is not the time to start trusting people, Zub, Zardi’s thoughts whispered. You and Baba are still the sultan’s prisoners, and now Rhidan and I are prisoners of Sinbad.

  Zardi pressed a hand to her temple, reassured by the steady throb she found there. Any hope of answers for Rhidan had been blown away like grains of sand in a storm. But her hopes to save her sister and Baba would not be scattered so easily. Once they reached Sabra, she would escape the Falcon with Rhidan and find the Varish.

  10

  Through the Eye of the needle

  Heat from the midday sun was prickly on her neck, but Zardi didn’t care. After five days they had finally reached their destination and were swiftly approaching the southernmost tip of Arribitha. As the Tigress River raced to join the ocean that lapped her kingdom’s south coast, she swiftly climbed the rope ladder to the poop deck.

  She stepped onto the raised platform, and the Falcon burst from the river into the sea. Her breath became a whistle through her lips. The ocean was so much vaster and darker than she’d imagined—an inky blue swath that went on forever. She wondered how men had ever found the courage to build ships to explore this dark expanse. How had they resisted the urge to run screaming from its hugeness?

  She hoped she’d get the chance to find out one day. But saving Zubeyda came first, and the Varish were not to be found at sea. They were hiding somewhere in Sabra. For the past five days the secret order of warriors had been the only thing that Z
ardi could think about. Questions and doubts plagued her. Can I find them? What does a secret order of warriors look like? Will they help me?

  “It’s going to be tight,” she heard Sinbad say to Musty. The two men stood below her and were looking out at Sabra’s busy port, which jutted out into the sea.

  Following their gaze, she could see hulking ships and stout fishing boats arranged like dates on a stem. Even more vessels jostled for position on the coast’s waterfront.

  “Tight!” the shipmaster exclaimed. “It’ll be like threading a camel through the eye of a needle.” Musty headed for the tiller and shooed Mo and Ali out of the way, much to the twins’ annoyance.

  Zardi looked inland. The quay was teeming with activity: men building boats, boys wheeling crates full of salt to trade, and women selling oranges to thirsty sailors. The harbor curved, almost as if it were smiling in welcome—welcoming her to Sabra and the Tigress to the sea.

  “If you grin any wider, your face is going to crack.” Rhidan’s voice from below made her jump.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize…” She trailed off. It seemed wrong to be smiling when Zubeyda and Baba were still in danger and all hope of Rhidan finding out the truth about his origins had been destroyed. She clambered down from the poop deck to stand next to him.

  “What are you apologizing for?” Her friend sounded annoyed. “I was only teasing. I know how much seeing the ocean means to you. You dreamed of this.”

  “You dreamed of a few things too, but you didn’t get them,” she replied softly.

  “No, I didn’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for you.” He smiled, although it looked a bit wobbly. “How many times have you told me that you wanted to sail on the open sea? That you wanted to know what lay beyond Taraket?”

  “A few times,” she replied, knowing what an understatement that was. She could talk about sailing all day.

  “A few times plus a thousand, perhaps!” All teasing left Rhidan’s face. “Zee, somewhere in this vast world there must be a power greater than the sultan’s. We’ll find it and stop Shahryār before time runs out. We’ve still got eighty-one days until the Hunt.” He paused as Sinbad’s sailors started to cheer and stamp their feet in approval as they watched the Falcon slip into the tightest of moorings. “Of course, we’ll need to escape first.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” Zardi turned to see Nadeem, his tanned face as sour-looking as the earliest plums. Over the last five days, she’d come to rather like the Falcon’s crew. The men were quick to help and quick to laugh, but the youngest member of Sinbad’s crew was different. He would just sit and watch them, his eyes narrowed as if trying to work something out. “Leave us be, will you?” Zardi asked.

  “Just letting you know the facts,” Nadeem snapped back. “You’re not going anywhere until Sinbad says so.” The boy curled his lip. “More’s the pity. We don’t need your kind round here.”

  “What d’you mean, ‘your kind’?” Rhidan demanded.

  “Annoying, stuck-up people like you,” Nadeem replied. “You might try to dress like us, but you’re not one of us. You come from money, I can tell from your accents, the way you stand, even. The only question is why you’re here and not in your fancy home.” He crossed his arms. “Where do you really come from?”

  “Enough, Nadeem.” Sinbad’s voice cut through the boy’s sharp words as he walked up to them. “These two are our guests. You will show them some respect.”

  “But, Captain,” Nadeem protested, “these two stink of trouble.”

  “I said, enough,” Sinbad responded. “Go and help Syed and Tariq take the cargo off the ship.”

  Nadeem’s face flushed red but he obeyed without further comment.

  “Sorry about that.” Sinbad watched Nadeem’s retreating back. “He doesn’t trust strangers and gets very protective of the Falcon. This crew’s the only family he’s got.” The captain rocked on his heels. “I’ve been thinking,” he said finally. “I believe I have a solution to our little problem.”

  “You mean the little problem of us being your prisoners?” Rhidan asked flatly.

  “Yes, exactly that.” Sinbad clasped his hands together. “Come and work for me. Not as my prisoners but as full-fledged crewmembers of the Falcon.” His face was solemn. “I’m not ordering you to do this, I’m giving you a choice.” He glanced at Rhidan. “I think I owe you that much at least.”

  Zardi blinked hard. Sinbad’s request was a surprise, but so was the realization that if this were another time or place, if she lived in a world where her sister was safe and her father was free from the sultan’s clutches, she could have made a home on the Falcon. An image of Assam’s face suddenly filled her head. Zardi saw his hurt and anger again and she realized that this was not true. She could never live a life like Sinbad’s, taking what wasn’t hers. That would make her no better than Shahryār.

  Zardi met Rhidan’s gaze and saw her own feelings reflected in his eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she told Sinbad firmly.

  “Rhidan?” the captain asked.

  He shook his head, his silver hair dazzling in the sunlight.

  Sinbad sighed. “That’s a shame, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” He tilted his head to one side. “Luckily, I have another proposition.” The captain quickly explained that he had a friend in Sabra, a fellow captain, who owed him a favor. “He trades wool and silver between here and Mandar,” Sinbad went on. “I’m sure he’ll find space for two extra crew hands, if I ask nicely.” He winked. “It’s good money.”

  “Mandar!” Rhidan exclaimed. “That’s a bit far away, isn’t it?”

  “I think that’s the point,” Zardi said wryly. “If we’re on a ship to Mandar, we won’t be able to tell anyone in Sabra that you are a scoundrel, correct?”

  Sinbad shrugged. “People know me as a seller of trinkets, an occasional charm perhaps, but not a pirate, and I want it to stay that way. How about it then?”

  Zardi paused for all of a second to examine their options. Sinbad’s good humor could only last for so long. Besides, they didn’t have to go to Mandar, they just needed to make Sinbad believe that they would and then they could escape. She looked at Rhidan and his eyes told her that he’d go wherever she wanted. “Deal.” She held out her hand and Sinbad shook it.

  “Until I speak to my friend, I’d like to invite you to stay with my mother, Sula.” Sinbad sounded every inch the gracious host. “She lives here in Sabra. She’s the local medicine woman.”

  “I’m guessing that’s Sinbad for ‘I want to keep you out of sight until I can get rid of you,’” Zardi commented.

  The captain let out a roar of laughter. “Am I that obvious?”

  “It was pretty obvious,” Rhidan replied, not missing a beat.

  Sinbad shook his head. “You may be able to see through me, but you will not find Sula so easy to read.” He absently rubbed at the scar by his eye. “She saved my life, took me off the streets, and raised me as her own, yet she’s still a mystery to me.” He looked over toward his cabin. “Let me get a few things and I’ll meet you back here.” He strode off.

  “Shame we don’t have your bow and arrows,” Rhidan said once Sinbad was out of earshot. “What if this is some kind of trap?”

  “Sinbad doesn’t need to set a trap. If he wanted to hurt us he would have done it already.” Zardi looked over at the captain’s cabin. Her bow and arrows were in there somewhere, and she felt a wave of sadness as she thought about the gift from her father. She straightened her shoulders. “If we’re going to escape, we need to make him think that we’re going to Mandar. If that means going to his mother’s, we’ll go to his mother’s.”

  The door opened, and Sinbad walked out with a large sack slung over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  Zardi and Rhidan said farewell to the crew of the Falcon and then followed Sinbad across the landing planks and onto the docks. The port was peppered with tea and coffee houses, and outside them salt-encrusted sailors puffed on water pi
pes that made the air thick with apple-scented smoke. Men with small boat-shaped fiddles played happy tunes and serenaded anyone who would give them a coin. Traders and fishermen rubbed shoulders with scribes and storytellers. The busy port was like a bulging sack of grain about to split at the seams, and Zardi wondered how she would ever find the Varish in such a busy town. Where would she even start?

  Crossing the port, they headed in toward the heart of the city. Zardi noticed straightaway that there were hardly any watchtowers here. Also the streets in Sabra weren’t as narrow as the ones in Taraket, and all the houses were painted white, reflecting light into the narrowest of alleys. Sabra smelled different as well, the sea making the air briny and pungent. As they walked farther on, she could see young men weaving rugs, their fingers a blur as they manipulated the threads of color. A wizened old man, claiming to be a sage, gripped Rhidan’s arm with a clawlike hand and offered up a bejeweled spyglass.

  “Don’t you want to see the future?” the man asked, waving the spyglass at Rhidan and Zardi. “This will show you.”

  Zardi reached out to touch it, but Sinbad stopped her with a hand on her arm.

  “They don’t need that spyglass. I can see the future already,” Sinbad interjected. “And I don’t see a sale for you, old man.”

  The sage gave a cackling laugh. “I think you may be right. My humble little spyglass is not right for these two. More powerful magic will come their way, I think.”

  “More powerful magic?” Zardi repeated.

  “Don’t get pulled in, Zee,” Rhidan cautioned.

  The sage looked at Rhidan in amazement. “You don’t believe in magic? But you have the look of a sorcerer.”

  Rhidan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, I have classic Ilian features.” He lifted a shoulder. “I believe in magic. I just don’t believe that there is anyone left in Arribitha who can do it.” He looked grim. “The sultan saw to that, and you should really be more careful about what stories you sell.”