by Unknown
Lil’ Louis sighed and rolled up the maps. “Oy hope the lad can ‘ang on until then. We can’t keep feeding him bouillon for much longer. He’ll lose all his strength and…”
“The man is a lion. He proved it many times over in Egypt. If all the transformations haven’t killed him yet, he will survive.”
What transformations And why haven’t they heard me? Kalaan was raging inside and trying to muster the strength to regain control of his body.
“I am more worried about the rest of the crew’s behavior,” added Salam who, if the count’s ears were not deceiving him, had moved across the rug closer to Kalaan’s berth.
“Ya, sur[34]. And who could blame them? They’re afraid of the curse. Those who were with us at Amarna saw their captain transform with their own eyes. Ever since, there has been talk of little else on the decks and in the cabins.”
This was simply too much!! Kalaan managed to open his eyes and turn his head on the pillow. He could make out two silhouettes in the lamplight. It was night.
“What trans…formations...” he managed to get the words out, but instead of his normal, deep voice, he sounded like a duck having its neck wrung.
His two friends froze and rushed to his bedside.
“Elkent!”[35] It is about time ye returned to the land of the living!” Lil’ Louis could not hide his joy.
“Ahlan,[36] my friend.” Salam’s greeting, though more reserved was accompanied by a huge smile that said more than any words.
The blue man was still wearing his Tuareg clothes, but he had lowered the strip of his cheich, which usually covered his face. This was something he rarely did and certainly never in the presence of outsiders. To Kalaan’s surprise, the Tuareg’s features were more European, than Middle Eastern.
“Yes, bla, bla, bla... to you as well,” he muttered, clearing his burning throat.
“Ye need water!” Lil’ Louis rushed to get a goblet and returned to Kalaan who tried unsuccessfully to sit up.
Not only did he have pain shooting through his whole body and had his voice disappeared, but he also realized with astonishment that his hands and feet were attached to the bed by strips of fabric. What on earth was happening? He stubbornly refused the water and glared at the two men, growling like a wild animal in a cage.
“Untie me… immediately!”
Salam and Lil’ Louis looked over their shoulders towards the cabin’s small window and then at each other concerting in silence before turning back to Kalaan.
“Nay, lad, ‘tis almost daybreak.”
“So?” Kalaan shouted back.
“So, it will shortly begin again and being as it’s your first time awake, ye’d best be tied.”
“That’s enough! What on earth are you talking about?”
Lil’ Louis sadly shook his head and Salam tried to explain. “You haven’t been yourself since we took you out of that building. When the sun comes up, your appearance changes, but when night falls you become, once again Kalaan, count of Croz.”
Kalaan scrutinized his friends as if they had suddenly grown horns. Had they lost their minds? The story was so ridiculous that the young man started laughing, then coughed painfully.
Little by little, behind Salam and Lil’ Louis, dawn started to bathe the wood paneled cabin in a pale orange light. At the same time, sharp pains were shooting through Kalaan’s body, growing more and more painful. Soon the young man was trembling uncontrollably.
“Here it comes,” Salam said stepping back.
“Be strong, lad,” Lil’ Louis murmured gloomily following the blue man. “It never lasts long. Once the sun is up, yer suffering will be over.”
Kalaan heard him, but clenched his teeth. His whole body braced against the terrible pain running through his muscles and bones. He was in no condition to think. He could only endure, like a wooden puppet. He fought and fought but could not hold back the screams of agony. His husky voice returned for only a second, but as soon as the sun’s rays reached his berth; it was a woman’s scream that rang through the cabin.
Little by little the pain slowly subsided and his body relaxed. Kalaan’s breathing was labored, his eyes were closed and he could feel the sweat running down his face. His stiff fingers began to relax and released their grip on the bonds that were cutting into his wrists and ankles.
“There, now, it is over... until tonight.” Lil’ Louis’ tone was fatherly as he gently wiped Kalaan’s face with a cool cloth. Kalaan slowly opened his eyes and the old sailor jumped in surprise, calling over Salam.
“Look! His eyes, ‘tis the lad! They are the same color, the same amber-green of the Croz family.”
Salam nodded in agreement and backed away once more.
“It is the only thing he did keep” was Salam’s laconic reply.
Kalaan had enough of listening to them talk about him as if he weren’t in the room.
“Of course it’s me,” he wanted to reply, but as soon as he heard his voice, he was so shaken that he couldn’t finish his sentence. No, it couldn’t be!
“Salam?” he called out hesitatingly, more to hear the sound of his voice than to attract his Tuareg friend’s attention.
“Blast it all! Untie me at once!” Kalaan was fighting like a madman to get loose.
Lil’ Louis hesitated an instant and after glancing over at Salam, he unsheathed his knife to cut the count’s ties.
“Be still lad.”
Kalaan was so impatient; he could not stay in place and was grazed by the old man’s knife. Salam cut the ties at his feet and then, out of modesty, covered his friend’s legs with the linen bed sheet. Kalaan couldn’t have cared less and kicked the sheet off as he jumped out of the berth.
“My voice!” Kalaan, now standing brought his hands to his throat. Then he looked down in direction of his feet.
“Strewth! I cannot see the floor! B...but, wha...what?” he stammered in confusion.
Kalaan couldn’t see the floor because between it and his eyes a strange swelling had grown on his torso. He either didn’t want to or couldn’t believe it, so he looked inside the top of his large shirt and let out a scream.
“Breasts! Good God! I have women’s breasts!” When he raised his head, they could see the horror in his eyes.
“Get out of my way; I must get to the washroom!”
Once he was in the privy, Lil’ Louis started babbling, “Looks like he’s taking it well enough. Much better than we did the first time. Oy don’t think Oy could have run far enough nor fast enough to get away from him.”
This was soon contradicted by the loud shrieking they heard coming from behind the closed door.
“Gone! I don’t have anymore! There’s nothing there!” the count shouted again. He came back into the cabin to confront his friends as if they were guilty of stealing his virility.
“Do you think it’s funny? Blast and damnation, I’m a woman!”
“Ya fur sure, dinna we know it. We’ve been takin’ care of ye for some time now.”
The old sea dog couldn’t resist a furtive glance at Kalaan’s well-developed bosom.
The count angrily crossed his arms but it took him several tries before he could find the best position with the large orbs now poisoning his life.
“And a very pretty woman too.” Salam looked Kalaan up and down, with a humorous expression, which infuriated him even more and he threw a tantrum, which is something to be expected of the fairer sex, but that no man, no real man that is, would ever do.
If only he could see himself through his friends’ eyes. He was just as tall as before and his eyes were still the Croz family’s typical beautiful amber-green hue. But his body was that of a woman. From the shapely limbs barely covered by his shirt, to the voluptuous curves of his generous breasts and slender waist right down to his delightful little feet, and lovely fine-featured face, everything about him was feminine. His flowing chestnut hair with golden highlights had turned darker, to a shade of ebony, as had his eyebrows and eyelashes. Even his ful
l-lipped mouth had taken a feminine shape. Yes indeed, Kalaan was a real beauty.
He stamped his foot, screamed again and passing his friends in a whirlwind, went into the council room[37] and slammed the door in their faces.
Lil’ Louis wanted to follow but Salam held him back shaking his head. “We must leave him alone.”
“Oy dinna know if ‘tis the right thing te do.”
“He must become acquainted with this new side of his personality. We cannot help him now, but soon enough he will be calmer and in control of his thoughts. Then, perhaps he will be able to explain more about whatever is affecting him and what happened in that building at Amarna.”
Two hours later, Lil’ Louis, as Kalaan’s worthy chief mate was at the helm of the frigate, Ar sorserez on the quarter deck, while Salam was at the guardrail looking at the Sardinian coast through a spyglass. The atmosphere on the ship was deceptively calm.
Ever since their departure from Egypt either Lil’ Louis or Salam were always at the captain’s bedside. Now, for a change, neither man was in the count’s cabin. Soon they could hear worrying sounds that came from within. Most likely Kalaan was breaking everything he could see in the council room. The whole crew could hear the sounds of breaking glass, falling metal or wood as well as the feminine screams of rage.
The sailors continued their chores on the bridges, and shrouds and maintained the sails, while keeping a wary eye on the chief mate and the Tuareg who had covered his face again. The crew was clearly close to mutiny. A few had witnessed the count’s transformations and told the others. For many of them this was the work of the devil and they were overcome with fear.
“We’re sittin’ on cannon powder here,” Lil’ Louis muttered to Salam who was posted at his side facing the stern.
“They will calm down once they see the captain.”
“Diskiant[38] ye are! They will throw him overboard, ya!” Lil’ Louis was furious, and glared at his friend. “Not t’mention that it’ll take ‘im days, weeks, to get used te his new ...um... body.”
“I have total confidence in Kalaan; he will come through this ordeal.”
“As things are lookin’ right now, Oy canna share yer opinion. Jus’ look at the men. They’re like wolves ready t’jump on their prey.”
He was not mistaken. The men, all one hundred and thirty sailors were on the bridge and gangways, portside and starboard. A silent swarm, they stopped working when they heard the door to the captain’s quarters slam shut. Now their attention was on something moving that Lil’ Louis and Salam could not make out from where they were posted.
“Ah, here he comes. The lad’s got quite the character,” the old sailor said in admiration. They could hear the angry sound of Kalaan’s boots coming up the stairs to the poop deck.
The next minute he..she... was there, in his buccaneer’s glory. Kalaan wanted to make a strong impression as could be seen in the cold determined expression on his lovely porcelain-like face. One had to admit that even as a woman he inspired respect. What was even more impressive was that this man came through such an ordeal with disconcerting ease.
Kalaan had tied back his dark hair with a leather cord, as was his fashion. His now slightly oversized clothes floated on his shoulders; but his stately bearing hid his weak points. His royal blue jacket brought out the white of his shirt and jabot. His light suede trousers were held up by a red silk belt into which he had put his pistol and the sheath of his sword. Kalaan’s boots seemed too big for his delicate little feet but only a very observant person would notice he had problems walking in them.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, under his breath as he approached Salam and Lil’ Louis. He then turned and firmly faced the men coming up to the quarter deck.
At first, there was simply murmuring, but then voices raised sporadically, here and there, and soon everyone was angrily speaking at the same time. Some crossed themselves, others cursed with a rich vocabulary, as only mariners know how. The atmosphere was worsening so Kalaan grabbed his pistol and shot into the air.
“Silence! You’re nothing but a bunch of sissies!” he shouted to his men.
The group fell silent except for one big fellow who stepped forward, fist raised.
“The sissy here is you! I’ve got no orders to take from a blasted female. You’re the devil in disguise!” Loud protests and encouragements poured forth from the rest of the crew.
“You are correct on one point, La Gouelle![39]” Kalaan deliberately called the man by his nickname and he got the desired effect. The giant scowled and his braided beard trembled in anger.
“I was cursed; but you were not. And this cannot affect you in any way. It is my burden to bear for it was I who profaned a sacred building. The fury of the gods of Egypt struck your captain. Yes, your captain; even with this deplorable appearance, I remain your captain.”
The men could not help but look at the voluptuous breasts barely dissimulated by the large shirt and vest and several of the sailors smiled lewdly.
“La Gouelle, do you doubt my sincerity, or my mental state?” Kalaan could not help blushing (the scourge of a woman) and willfully stepped forward dominating his accuser who was much shorter.
“Ya! What proves it is really you? Oy only sees a woman, and women are a jinx on ships.”
Once again the same men shouted in encouragement, supporting the giant.
“Good god,” Kalaan smiled insidiously, “I am indeed the Count of Croz, a man whom misfortune has disguised as a woman. I cannot piss on your heads from where I am standing, as all my masculine parts have disappeared, but I soon will be able to and you will regret it. All I can suggest for now is to play the secrets game.”
Again the colossus trembled and his eyes narrowed. For he knew that the captain liked to wake drunkards up by urinating on them, but also, if it really was the count, he knew a secret that would embarrass him in front of the crew. But, it couldn’t possibly be the count!
“Go on, moutik![40] Look, I’m shaking with fear.”
Many of the men laughed like fools and La Gouelle started to swagger and bow to his audience, while limping slightly as if to mock Kalaan’s awkward walk in his over-sized boots. If he weren’t so high up on the poop deck, Kalaan would have loved to kick him in the breeches.
“Are you limping?” the count asked. His voice was powerful despite the unpleasant feminine pitch.
La Gouelle froze and turned to look at his captain. He’d suddenly turned pale under the layers of filth.
“Have you nothing to say? Yet you claim you were injured in the foot during hand-to-hand battle with an Englishman. Is that correct? And the fight lasted hours, if I remember correctly. But you finally got the best of him. Shall I continue?”
Murmurs started running through the crowd and the men were throwing suspicious looks at the giant now, not at Kalaan. Good, he’d gained a point. But as the man continued to face up to him; the count spoke again.
“Secret revealed! I am Kalaan and I was there the night La Gouelle came staggering drunkenly out of an inn, his belly full of whisky. He shot himself in the foot trying to put his pistol back in his belt! I was the only one there to help him and I am the only one who knows the truth. Is that not so?” he asked the giant who was quickly losing his composure now that the sailors were jeering and whistling at him.
“True,” he said, lowering his head in shame. He should have remembered that a battle with the captain was always lost from the start. Yes, indeed, without a doubt, this was the captain.
“Does anyone else want to play?” Kalaan’s tone was amused as he crossed and uncrossed his arms over his ample bosom. “What about you, Ar kaerell-vras?[41]” He was speaking to a pimply young cabin boy who was openly making fun of La Gouelle. He was a boastful, proud and lazy boy that Kalaan really wanted to put in his place. Now, on hearing his name the boy stood straight as a ramrod.
“Ma’am? Uh…s... sir?” he stammered.
Just because he’d said ma’am, Kalaan dec
ided to go in for the kill.
“My friends, do you remember the lovely Flora, this young man’s sweetheart that he presented you during a recent stopover in Saint Brieuc? Well, truth be told, she was nothing more than a strumpet who I paid to play the part so that you would stop teasing him.”
The stripling turned bright red and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible when then sailors turned to taunt him.
“Who’s next? Do I still have to prove who I am?” Kalaan had to shout to be heard over the pandemonium.
Then, everyone was quiet and together the crew all shook their heads to say no.
“Good, now that that is taken care of, get back to your duties, you lazy shirkers!”
The crew moved as fast as they could. Some went up the rigging, others went back to swabbing the bridge and gangways; but most of them disappeared into the belly of the ship, in direction of the cabins or the kitchens.
“Ye ‘andled that splendidly,” Lil’ Louis said after letting out a low whistle of admiration. “D’ye want te take back t’helm, now?”
“Yes, for we are turning back, returning to Egypt!”
Salam frowned and replied, “There is nothing more for you in that country, except certain death. The tale of what happened at Amarna and that building must have reached the ears of Muhammad Ali[42] Pasha, not to mention that we ran off, right under his nose, an insult he will most certainly wish to make us pay heavily for.”
“I must speak with Jean-François, find out if he was also afflicted by the curse and find the remedy that will make me a man once again.”
“Jean-François goes well. We received a letter from him shortly before leaving Alexandria,” Salam told him. “You must know that he has forgotten everything that happened in that building, and he doesn’t seem to have been a victim of any... transformations. You are the only one who can speak of this and help us to understand. Above all, we must not go back. It is important to accept the situation, as difficult as it may be.”
Lil’ Louis nodded in agreement with the Tuareg’s words. He seemed extremely worried at the idea of turning back.