“Certainly. What would she like?”
“Me!” Belle cried upon landing on the work table. Her glow dimmed with the stillness of her wings. “Oh, wait. That’s boring.”
“She’s undecided,” James said.
“Then she may have a moment to think. I’m in no rush to leave.”
While the sprite pondered over what she wanted, James crouched beside the work table and brought himself to her eye level. “Why do you think a glass figurine of you would be boring?”
“I already know what I look like, I don’t need a replica of myself,” she pointed out. “I guess I don’t know what I want.”
The glassblower glanced at them, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Has she decided?”
“No. She initially wanted you to sculpt her in glass, but she believes it would be dull.”
“I see.” The glassblower leaned closer to Belle. “If a sculpture of yourself is what you desire, may I have the creative freedom to instill life in your piece, little one?”
“Yes!”
“She agrees,” James translated.
Chuckling at Belle’s enthusiasm, the man straightened and returned to his work. He removed the molten ball of glass from the furnace and before their eyes, years of talent manipulated the shapeless blob into two distinct pieces connected by a single point. He rolled it against the metal table surface, hammered and twisted with his tools, and the vague shape of two figures emerged from the raw material.
Belle never glanced away, gaze fixed on the artist’s deft hand movements. He added dots of color and tapped glittering pearls into pieces of glass before tugging and elongating them from the figure’s back. Within minutes, the glass silhouettes revealed the shape of a pirate and fairy in dance. The pirate had only one hand, the other ending in a glossy hook with silver glass. The sprite’s wings glittered with luminescent, golden sparkles over each edge.
“Do you like?” the man asked as he extended it toward her for closer viewing.
James struggled to discern her mood through the rapidly shifting colors. Green then yellow, gray-blue to sapphire, and back to pink again. At last, the turbulent wave settled on a sunny, lemon shade. “She loves it,” he said, although Belle had said nothing at all.
“Return tomorrow and this will be ready for you. Good eve to you both, sir and madam.”
Jarred out of her daze, she glanced up at the glassblower. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” And after a moment of pause, he asked, “She did thank me, didn’t she?”
“Yes. A sentiment I will mirror for your kindness.” James placed another silver piece on the table for the man’s work then lifted Belle from the table. “Thank you.”
She spoke little once James returned her to his shoulder, and a thoughtful silence fell over the gentle creature.
“Would you like to see any of the other traders? They’ll all be closed soon.”
“Are there other places with pretty things?”
“The market is full of wonders, I’m sure.”
“Then yes, please.”
Perfect. The market would make an ideal distraction. Eager to restore her cheerful disposition, James veered from his intended course and headed deeper into the mazelike bazaar. With each stand or shop they passed, Belle’s deflated mood brightened, both physically and metaphorically, until she lifted from his shoulder and dashed forward to a red and purple striped tent.
“I love candles!” She zipped around the display, flying from one fragrant taper to the next. Some had been dyed in beautiful colors and others carved to resemble fantastical beasts. One looked like a dragon, the wax infused with sparkling blue motes and a scent reminiscent of cinnamon and smoke.
James had never taken the time to truly shop before, but Belle’s infectious enthusiasm changed his perception of the traders’ district, and he found himself studying the artistic offerings with genuine interest.
“Oooh, I like these.” Belle circled around a bundled set of tapers in varying lengths, nearly knocking them from the shelf. At first glance, they appeared rather ordinary compared to the rest, made from plain beeswax without any added colors at all, but closer inspection revealed the silhouettes of wild horses and floating jinn carved into the columns.
“Please forgive my companion,” James said to the nearby shopkeeper. The woman lingered nearby with her gaze focused on Belle. “She seems to like your wares quite a bit.”
“How much for the lovely creature, my friend? The tinkling sound is quite beautiful, like many wind chimes in a gentle wind. My daughter would love such an exotic mystery.”
Belle abruptly spun to face the shop proprietress, fury turning her into an ember-bright ball. “She isn’t for sale,” he replied, wincing. Hadn’t the woman heard him call Belle a companion?
“All things have a proper price. How much for her ownership?”
“I’m not for sale, you big turdlet!”
“She says thank you for the compliment, but she’s quite happy to remain with me,” James translated.
The sprite shook her fist at James. “That isn’t what I said.”
“I will offer you three golden rubles for her.”
Three gold coins, the equivalent value of a healthy horse or three goats, may have taken the candlemaker a week to earn. “Thank you, but no. Belle is no pet of mine, but an intelligent and thinking companion with desires of her own, madam. Think of her as a jinn, but much smaller.”
Recognition and understanding dawned in the woman’s gray eyes before she dipped into a low and humble bow. “Ah, forgive my mistake. I hadn’t realized. You both have my deepest apologies.” She removed the candles from the shelf, wrapped them, and offered the package to James. “Please, take these with my blessing for your tiny friend, since she enjoys them so much.”
James bowed. “Your kindness is most gracious.” When he slanted his gaze to Belle, he saw her gazing back at him with wonder in her eyes.
“You fixed that quickly.”
“The Samaharan people revere jinn and their kind, seeing them as benevolent spirits,” he explained. “She meant no insult to you.”
“A benevolent spirit?” Her brows drew pinched together. “Oh, I see! Well, thank you then,” Belle trilled to the woman. Before James could translate for her, the little sprite flew up and kissed the startled shopkeeper’s cheek.
When they walked away, James glanced over a shoulder to find the starry-eyed candlemaker still watching them. With one kiss, Belle had made the woman’s day.
“They’re going to look so pretty in the den.”
“I’m certain they will.”
The trip took twice as long as planned, thanks to the sprite’s inquisitive nature. She flittered from shop to shop, perusing the wares that James usually passed without a second glance. Seeing Ankirith through her eyes brought him a new appreciation for the bustling port city on Samahara’s northeastern coast.
Only after the shops began to close did they finally make their way back to the path that led to their original destination. James glanced down at the various packages tucked into his satchel and chuckled to himself. Between the two of them, they’d bought several treasures and small bags stuffed with treats.
“Where are we going now?”
“There.” He raised his hook and gestured to the white tower at the edge of the city.
The Opal Spire never failed to awe him, despite his many visits over the years. James thought it surpassed the beauty of Eisland’s throne room a thousand times over, rivaled only by the nearby section of desert known as the Jeweled Garden. He hoped to ride out and show Belle the gemstones growing from the sand like flowers before they set sail again.
“Your friend lives here?” Belle asked from his shoulder.
“That he does. As I said, he is the protector of this area, and a mage of some renown.”
“It’s so... tall. It’s taller than Benthwaite Castle where the king and queen live.”
“It mus
t be tall so Joaidane is able to hurl magic at invaders approaching from the sea.” Her little gulp made him chuckle. “Never fear, he’s as nice as they come for his kind. Unless, of course, you do something to incur his wrath. Then, I hear, he can become quite terrifying.”
“Right,” she muttered under her breath.
James hid a smile.
They passed through the open gates into a fragrant garden where an older man knelt beside the flowerbeds.
“Good evening, Orrin,” James greeted. “Is he in?”
The friendly retainer raised his attention from the flourishing desert roses and smiled. “He’s been expecting you. Probably pacing the study if he hasn’t seen your approach—”
The doors slammed open to frame Joaidane, a stern-faced man adorned in a cerulean blue, knee-length coat over matching trousers. He strode toward them, radiating the kind of confidence expected from a wizard who could crush the Jolly Roger with a few magical words.
James bowed. “Greetings, friend.”
Joaidane glowered. “You’re late for dinner.”
“Forgive me,” James said. He shrugged despite their host glaring daggers at him. If looks could kill, he would have melted into a puddle of molten goo. “I showed our newest addition the markets, and, well… I lost track of the time. But I did bring that Ridaeron rum you favor.”
“Uh-oh. Did I get you into trouble?” Belle asked.
“Of course you didn’t.”
Taken back by the appearance of Belle, who had been hovering nearby to admire the roses, Joaidane’s brows rose. “You brought a sprite.” The murderous glare vanished. Leave it to Belle to simultaneously get him in and out of trouble.
“I figured, if anyone knew what she was, you would. Of course, I discovered it myself only a short while ago.”
“I had no idea you traveled in such magical company, my friend. It’s a shame my family isn’t present to meet her as well. The little one would be especially enchanted, but they’ve traveled to visit relatives.” The noble magister smiled and offered out his hand, palm up. “What may I call you, little fae?”
“Tinker Bell,” she answered in the same moment James replied, “I call her Belle.”
Joidane’s amber eyes brightened until they resembled plumes of golden flame. “A pleasure, Tinker Bell. I am Enchanter Joaidane, and I welcome you to my home.”
“You understood her?”
“Indeed. Her language is not much different from the ifrit who roam the desert. Consider me impressed that you were able to learn it at all in such a short time. They say only a deep bond allows an older human to communicate with fae. Children and adults with light hearts usually have a natural gift for the language, but for a man of your age with your history…”
“Really?” Belle asked. Won over by the smooth-talking mage, she moved to Joaidane’s waiting palm and settled on his fingers. “My friends met an ifrit once in Creag Morden. They helped an old enchantress rescue her true love from a vile fiend named Aladdin.”
The corner of his mouth raised. “You are friends with Victoria and Ramsay?”
“You know them?” Belle asked, becoming a beautiful shade of purple.
“Indeed, little one, for the enchantress they assisted is my mother.”
Belle clapped her tiny hands and danced around. “See? I told you that story.”
“So you did,” James agreed, turning to regard his friend. “It would seem our large world is actually rather small.”
“It does appear so. I imagine the tale of how you two came into one another’s company will make for an interesting story over dinner. Then you can share the latest news of your fellow pirates and Ridaeron’s transports.”
* * *
Tink had never realized a visit to another kingdom could hold so much excitement. She awakened before the dawn and tugged on James’s ear for him to get up as well, but he blearily shooed her away. She put her hands on her hips and blew a raspberry at him.
“That’s what you get for staying up all night drinking rum.”
“It’s what we men do,” he mumbled against the pillow.
“C’mon,” she wheedled. “We have to get my glass sculpture.”
“Fine. Just please give me a moment to get ready.”
Pleased with her victory, she darted in beneath his hair and kissed his scruffy cheek. Then she hurried out to give him privacy. Unlike James, Joaidane greeted her with a fresh face and smile, animated despite their long night of catching up. She found him in the dining room with a variety of Samaharan breakfast choices laid on the table beside a steaming pot of black coffee. Ramsay, Conall, and Victoria had all taken a liking to the strange brew, but Tink and Sorcha didn’t care for it. Too bitter.
James’s requested moment became an hour by the time he joined them, smooth jawed and dressed in unwrinkled clothes. He accepted the coffee Joaidane slid his way and chugged it down at once.
“Perhaps this will teach you the folly of attempting to outdrink me,” Joaidane said. “Now, where are you both off to this fine day?”
“I’ve promised Belle a tour of the Garden. Do you mind if I borrow a horse?”
“Not at all. Enjoy your visit to Ankirith while I enchant these guns Smee and Patrick have brought to me. I’ve never enhanced a flintlock pistol before or its ammo, but there’s a first time for everything, no? Bring yours to me later, and I’ll do the same for it.”
James grinned. “I thought you’d feel that way. Thank you for doing this.”
“I appreciate the challenge. It may consume most of my day, but it’ll be time well spent. Perhaps my beloved will have returned by this evening. With her brother out of town on business, his wife needed help with their little one.”
“A baby?” Tink asked after swallowing a mouthful of honey cake. “I love babies. Will the baby be here, too?”
“Perhaps.” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
Her ever increasing anticipation led her to pull James out before he could finish his meal, while Joaidane howled with laughter at her antics. James stumbled behind her, drawn forward by her grip on his hook.
From that moment onward, the day was hers. James rode out from the city on one of the finest horses Tink had ever seen and took her to a place straight out of a dream. The Jeweled Garden was aptly named. Crystalline spires rose from the dunes at varying heights in every color imaginable.
“How are they growing like this?” she asked.
“Magic. Legend says a powerful ifrit created this place for the love of his life when he was attempting to win her heart.”
“Did it work?”
“It must have, since Joaidane is the product of that union.”
“It’s so romantic.”
“You think so?” James asked.
“Well, yeah. He made something for her that no one else ever could. It’s unique and special.”
“It’s a bit showy, don’t you think?” A playful gleam shone in his eyes. “What do the people in your land do when they ask a woman to be theirs?”
“Sex.”
James’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Er…” The pirate cleared his throat. “Far from what I expected to hear. That’s how your people propose marriage?”
“Well… It’s how the Oclanders propose, and shifters don’t have weddings. They find their mate and spend time hunting together. At the end, if they agree to be true mates, they have sex and they bond. I don’t really understand the specifics. Sprites don’t marry, either. We just find someone we like and hang around them all the time.”
“I see.”
“What do they do in Eisland?” Tink imagined something elaborate and expensive. James had a fondness for velvet and silk to rival Anastasia’s tastes in wardrobe.
“The man presents the woman with a gift of jewelry. Usually a ring, but it can vary. Always shiny, though. Sapphires are a traditional favorite.”
“But blue is a sad color.”
“Oh? What color do you favor then?” he asked.
> “Pink! Or yellow. Anything else isn’t a very happy color to commemorate your love for someone. It should always be happy, especially if you want to live the rest of your life with them.”
“A fair and wise point.”
They remained for a while longer, exploring the vast garden of living jewels. Tink discovered no two flowers were alike, each one a different masterpiece of gemstone in varying combinations. Turquoise stalks led to topaz flower petals, and ruby vines trailed across the sand with diamond blossoms. James told her he’d once wandered for hours after sunset to enjoy a break from the Jolly Roger.
Afterward, they returned for her figurine. James paid a messenger to deliver all their purchases to the pier where he said Smee would arrange for the things to be brought over to the Jolly Roger.
Tink rested on James’s shoulder and stretched out her arms, tired after their long day. He made the perfect perch, his tall height giving her a clear view of the streets and people around them. Everywhere she looked, she saw something new, until her gaze skimmed over a man with a thin mustache beneath his long, hooked nose. His braided beard reached a chest inked with the black tattoo of a fire-breathing reptile with a slim, serpentine body. She’d seen him earlier in the day, she was certain.
“James,” she whispered in his ear. “I think there’s a man following us. A creepy man.”
“Keep an eye on him and let me know if he leaves,” he murmured in a low voice while turning left into the next alley. Tink twisted and parted James’s dark hair with both hands to see behind them. The stranger made the same turn.
“He’s still there.”
After another two turns, goose bumps covered Tink’s arms. It couldn’t be coincidence. Dread formed a tight ball in the pit of her stomach when James veered left into a narrow alley without an exit. He swore under his breath.
They had been herded into a trap with no means of escape. Two additional men had joined the first, and the trio wore matching smirks on their faces.
“Gentlemen, I suggest you allow us to pass,” James said, putting his hand on his sword hilt. Tink tensed and clung to his collar. A fourth swung down on a rope behind them, entering the alley from the rooftop of another building.
Belle and the Pirate Page 10