“Curse you!” she yelled, flinging the clunky boots against the wall and storming across the room. “Not as if I’m going ashore anyway,” she said. As she opened the door to her cabin and stepped out, barefoot, onto the main deck, Molly shut her eyes and took a deep breath. The sweet, salty air filling her lungs banished some of her weariness. Feeling new once again she called good morning to Chera, the only one on deck. Geoffrey and Ine were below getting ready to go ashore, and Leon was simply avoiding coming out into the sun.
“Welcome to Mombasa, Captain Bishop!” called Chera from up in the rigging.
“Thank you, Chera. You’ve done wonderfully, and we have sailed quite far in not much time at all. The sooner we’re back home the better.” Molly touched her stomach and walked to the starboard railing, where she rested against it and cast her gaze over the pretty East African shoreline.
At that time Mombasa was ruled by the sultan Ahmad ibn Muhammad al-Muzru’i, but in earlier years it had been under Portuguese control. Like Bombay it buzzed with activity. Molly watched the traffic along the shore with great interest, seeing the people in long, light-colored clothes go to and fro, tugging a camel or two behind them. The hump-backed beasts complained as they galumphed along, their backs loaded with goods. Mombasa was also like Bombay in that it was a place of Indian Ocean riches. Ivory and gold passed through it regularly. As Molly watched she pondered over what the city might be like, and what wonders were to be found on the African continent. Twice now she’d come close to its eastern shores, but never had she set foot on land. She felt sad that she would have to decline the opportunity this time as well. Geoffrey, Ine and Chera had agreed to go ashore to find food and other amenities. Molly was simply not interested in wearing herself out, and going into the city for the first time while in her current condition was simply not wise. She could protect her ship well enough, but she dreaded the thought of having to run in the heat, should something unexpected happen. Molly laughed to herself, imagining Chera getting herself into trouble in the markets and stirring up a sword fight with some angry salesmen. Of course Ine would be able to handle a few swords at once. Chera could carry Geoffrey in one arm and wield a pistol in the other.
“You’re in a pleasant mood today, Molly,” said Ine sweetly as she and Geoffrey approached.
“Oh, well I’m just happy we’ll be eating well again. That is to assume you will bring back a number of delicious things and not come to me at day’s end empty-handed,” Molly joked.
Geoffrey looked mildly concerned. “Captain, if I may,” he said, “…there is a problem. We have no money with which to buy from the market. We’ve nothing to trade, either.”
“Oh, but we do,” said Molly. “One moment…” She left the deck and walked as fast as she could manage back to her cabin. Soon she returned carrying a leather purse filled to its fullest. As she handed it to Ine, everyone could hear the jingle of coins inside. “Ine, I want you to carry and protect this. Geoffrey, use whatever linguistic skills you have to hire some help to carry whatever you find back to the ship and load it onboard.”
“And I, Captain?” asked Chera, walking into the conversation and straightening up her gun belt.
“Chera, you will purchase anything you feel is necessary for the ship’s maintenance as well as our own. Don’t be terribly stingy. I want to eat, and I know you all want to eat.” Molly pressed this point. That particular day she wished she had taken Jack’s entire garden with her on her way out of Bombay. “We won’t stop again until we reach Cape Town. Fortunately Jack Darcy kept many of Thomas’s maps with the rest of our things, and we’ll be following the African coast until we see Europe, but I am not familiar with West African port cities. I cannot say when we will stop after Cape Town.”
“I’ll collect what will keep well and anything that is particularly savory,” promised Chera. “Best orders I’ve ever taken, though I haven’t taken many.”
“Captain Bishop,” Geoffrey spoke up again. “There must be a mistake.” He squinted, centered his spectacles on his nose and looked carefully over some of the coins she’d given him. “These coins are not gold. I could almost not tell the difference.”
“Very good, Mr. Mylus.” Molly applauded his keen observation. “Can you tell me what they’re made of?”
“Very clever magic is what! Where did you pick these up?”
“I didn’t. I made them, if you must know,” answered Molly, quite pleased with herself.
“Haha!” Chera burst. “What a sly one she is, our Captain Goose!”
“You don’t have any moral objections to spending that money, do you, Mr. Mylus?” Molly asked. “I assure you it’s as solid as gold and shiny as gold. What’s the real value of the stuff, besides what we place on it?”
“Good enough for Chera Rocha’s pockets!” Chera proclaimed. She was already excited, and Molly’s magic coins added just the kind of dishonest twist to the day’s work that got a pirate’s blood flowing.
“Your reasoning is sound enough,” agreed Geoffrey, smiling boyishly.
“Tell me, Mr. Mylus,” Molly added as a last thought, “how is it you saw through my trick? Impress us all.” She glanced at Ine, who was listening attentively as Geoffrey began to explain.
“Ah, well,” he began. “I’m no sorcerer, but I’ve a talent for appraising magical artifacts and the like. These spectacles,” he said, taking them from his face to show everyone, “are not for assisting my vision. I’ve been working on them for some time. They allow me to see traces of magic, the kind that cling to objects that have been tampered with, or the kind that hangs in the air after a spell is cast. They also remember spells they watch being cast, so I can write them down in my journals. I like to be aware of these things, for most people never notice them, and details can make all the difference.” Geoffrey put his spectacles back on his face and was quiet.
“Captain Goose is not the only one with tricks,” said Chera, praising Geoffrey’s ingenuity while Ine gently touched his arm and smiled.
“Indeed,” added Molly. “Now I say it’s about time you all went ashore and put your brilliant heads together to find something wonderful to eat!”
After the others had gone, taking a shore boat, Molly fetched a number of books from her cabin and began to read. It was a miracle that any of them had survived the trip so far. She had to admit Jack Darcy knew well the importance of anything he took from anyone. Most pirates she’d met would not have kept a bunch of old books. It wasn’t because they thought them to be useless, either. It was because few of them knew how to read. Molly’s books kept her company when she had nothing and no one else. They were a part of her because she’d filled them with her own notes—adding to their already voluminous knowledge. They were also a part of Thomas, because it was he who had first given them to her when she expressed an interest in sorcery.
In the hotter part of the day Molly moved into her cabin. Setting her books on a little shelf by the bed, she lay down and slept for some time. A loud knock at her cabin door awakened her. At first she thought something might be the matter, and that Geoffrey, Ine and Chera were back early, but when she peeked out the window in the door, she saw Leon. He had a hood over his head, waiting uncomfortably in the light of the sun. Feeling awful for making him wait, Molly quickly opened the door and asked him to come in.
“I know as long as I’m covered properly it will not harm me,” said Leon, looking back outside as he stepped in, “but being out in the day, surrounded by light, it is never any easier to brave.”
“Understandable,” said Molly. “What’s got you out of your cabin at this time of day?”
“I’m sorry if I alarmed you,” he apologized. “It is important that I speak with you, but there is no danger or emergency.” Shaking his head in embarrassment, he came to sit with Molly at a little table in the shaded corner of the cabin. Leon removed his hood once he was sure the light in the room did not reach him where he sat. “I spoke to you once before like this, soon after we met, a
t my family’s chateau in Paris.”
“Yes, I remember,” said Molly, a hint of puzzlement in her voice.
“I wanted to talk to you about a woman,” he explained, taking his time. “This woman,” he said, reaching into the long coat he was wearing and taking out a handful of letters. As he set them on the table, Molly picked up some of the letters and looked over them briefly.
“Gianna-Marie Fournier,” she read aloud. The name was signed the same way at the bottom of each letter in a most elegant handwriting. “Beautiful name. Who is she? Or do I already know?” Molly asked with a knowing smile.
“I believe you already know, but I will fill in the details,” said Leon, grinning and looking down at the letters shyly. It was unlike the old, familiar Leon Molly had known. “Gianna and I met when we were children. She is, of course, a vampire now. We were both formally initiated into the Black Coat Society of Paris at close to the same time.” Leon kept his eyes on the table and wall as he spoke, as if his mind were visiting distant memories.
“We spent entire days together when possible,” he said. “I had many other friends. I was not unpopular, but I preferred Gianna to anyone else because she was like me. Even after initiation, she and I clung to our more human sentiments more than other vampires. We did not stop enjoying the things we enjoyed as children, as was expected of us. Gianna was a wonderful painter. I wished to share in her passion for art and music, but I was expected to become a leader, so I took up swordsmanship. It is no less an art, but it was one I knew my father would respect.”
Leon paused for a moment, looking down at the floor to make sure the light from the open windows was not sneaking up on him. “The point that I am coming to is that when Gianna and I were younger we talked about how we would one day be married. We thought it was inevitable because of the time we spent together and the way we looked at one another. But we did not know the Black Coat Society would not allow it when the time came. You see, Gianna’s family was not nobility. In fact, some of her family worked for mine. When I told my father I planned to marry Gianna, he believed I was joking. The idea was so strange to him, he laughed. If my mother had been alive she would have taken the proposal seriously. I’m sure of it. After all, she was human when she married my father. The only reason they were allowed to marry was because she came from a family of noble mortals.”
“That is awfully unfair,” Molly commented, with Leon nodding in agreement. His mention of his mother caused Molly to remember hers. She looked down at the hand that had worn the ring Thomas gave her, the one that contained her mother’s spirit. The melted gold that had affixed itself to her fingers was still there.
“I never spoke to my father about the matter again after that,” continued Leon. “I was too embarrassed. Having to explain all of it to Gianna was terrible. She understood, although her patience made me feel worse than if she had renounced me in anger. I told her I would never stop loving her, and she made the same promise to me. For two years we barely spoke to each other, especially when my father began to urge me to find myself a wife. He even selected many for me when I did not express interest. He chose some of the most beautiful vampires I had ever seen, and from esteemed families, but I did not feel anything more than lust for them, and attraction was just not good enough. You know very well I had, at one time, similar feelings toward you, Captain, but they have since gone the way of many other failed romances.”
“You’re either the most charming or the strangest man I’ve ever known,” joked Molly, thinking of Thomas and every other man who’d ever chased after her.
“Well …” Leon laughed at himself. “Anyway, Gianna made a habit of writing me letters during the time we did not speak directly to one another. These letters made it easier for us. No one had to know we were sending them to each other, and … I don’t know if this makes sense, but when you speak to someone and never see her face, it’s almost as if she’s not real.”
“Yes, I understand,” Molly said quietly. She’d never heard Leon express such feelings, and seeing it now made her believe the cold way he had conversed with her in Paris had not really been a reflection of his true self. The way he spoke of Gianna—
His words interrupted her thoughts. “We were writing to one another until I left for the Hallows Eve Ball in London. I promised to write her again as soon as I returned to Paris, but I never had a chance because of the incidents that followed when we arrived.” Leon frowned and collected the letters from the table, shuffling them neatly together and putting them back into his coat pocket. “I kept these hidden inside one of my wings when Jack took our things,” he explained. “My family’s home was damaged severely by the Blood Moons. I did find Gianna and told her I was all right, but I did not know to tell her I was going to be leaving France.” He thought about something and then grinned. “Sorry, it’s just funny. I didn’t think about it, but that was the first time she and I had spoken face to face in all the time between. I can’t imagine where she went after that night in Paris, or where she is now. After I return to London, I first need to find Sylvia LeRouge. Afterward I mean to find Gianna. Perhaps now that things are different, our lives can be different too.”
“It is always possible,” Molly said, trying to encourage him. “You once told me you were afraid you could not love. I already see that you have changed that opinion. In fact, I doubt you ever really believed otherwise.”
“Thank you, Molly,” said Leon.
In the middle of the evening Molly heard several voices calling from the water off the port side of the ship. The coast of Mombasa had snuck ’round to the other side of the deck as The Roatán Butterfly pivoted on its anchor. The voices calling out belonged to Geoffrey, Ine and Chera. There were two small boats bobbing in the water, and in the second boat there were several men passing barrels and crates to one another and into Chera’s boat. There hadn’t been enough room to get everyone and everything in one little boat, and Molly had expressed concerns about simply docking the ship closer to shore. Molly lowered the pulleys and Chera fixed them to both ends of her boat as Geoffrey and Ine helped move crates. When all the cargo was in Chera’s boat, Ine gave each of the men a generous handful of coins, and Molly called for Leon to help her crank the pulleys.
“These are heavy,” Leon commented. “What’s in here? Wet sand?”
“We have fish and fruit and vegetables. No idea what they are,” began Chera, counting items off on her fingers, “Nails, brushes, pitch, some new brass fittings …”
“A good day at market,” Molly summed up for her, staying out of the way as Leon muscled the cargo onto the deck and set it down in no particular order.
“Suppose you didn’t find anything more suited to my tastes,” said Leon, meaning to joke and unprepared for Chera’s response.
“We did,” she said matter-of-factly, pulling a gourd from the boat and tossing it to him.
“What is this?” he asked, peeking in and unable to see.
“Blood, of course.”
“How’d you manage?”
“A man was mixing it with milk and selling it,” said Chera. “We asked him to leave out the milk. He gave us the strangest looks.”
“Ah, I see,” said Leon, smelling it. “It’s from a cow, is it? That will have to do.” He sounded genuinely disappointed, but he couldn’t have expected Chera to do much else.
“You’re not serious,” said Molly, making a sour face at Chera and then looking at Leon. “Tell me you found something not entirely foreign to eat.”
“Here you go then,” said Chera, leaning over ungracefully on one leg and digging around in the boat. Up she came with a coconut in hand, throwing it to Molly, who caught it and cocked her head in mild approval.
“How do you go about cracking one of these?” she asked, knocking it on the iron banding of the main mast to no avail. “I’ve never actually eaten one,” she admitted.
“I’d suppose you need a large, heavy chopping blade, like a machete,” Geoffrey piped in. “Cracking
it open won’t be the easiest method.” He fiddled with his spectacles and helped Ine out of the boat as they tossed the last of the rock-hard fruits onboard. “If you can’t manage, we have a number of other, softer foods. I’m sure they’re just as sweet, if not more so.”
“Haven’t got a machete,” Molly said, frowning and turning over the coconut in her hand.
“And you haven’t any need for one,” Leon declared, walking up to her and asking for the coconut. “Fantome can cut through anything.” He grinned arrogantly and set the fruit on the deck at his feet, drawing his enchanted blade and whispering the incantation. Winding back, he swung down at the coconut. The blade bounced against the husk and glanced off, ringing loudly. “Uh …” Leon made a noise of surprise, cleared his throat and swung again. Once more, the blade struck the husk but did not cut it. “What is this?” Leon’s voice cracked. Drawing his hand back, he stabbed at the nut, but the tip of Fantome sent it bouncing away across the deck without puncturing it. Leon gasped. To test the integrity of the blade, he fetched a cannonball from a nearby deck gun and tossed it into the air. With a flick of his arm he diced the solid iron ball in half as if it were made of butter. The two halves fell to the deck with a bang. Wide-eyed, Leon twisted his head and stared across deck at the coconut and then at his sword. Chera and Ine looked on in just as much confusion. Molly, thinking it was humorous, cupped a hand over her mouth to hide a smile.
“Sorcery!” cried Leon.
Geoffrey was the only one not watching. He was looking instead at what Molly was wearing around her neck. “Captain Bishop, when did you get that?” he asked innocently, having to take off his spectacles. The violet and blue visual firestorm hurt his eyes when he gazed at the necklace through his eye glasses, and that’s how he knew the illustrious rock had to be a piece of genamite.
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