The Pirates of Moonlit Bay

by Samaire Provost

  Christianne looked shocked. “I was so scared! Their hands grabbing me felt frozen.”

  “The wounds on your sides look like you’ve been touched by something colder than ice,” I said.

  Khepri beckoned Christianne to lift her robes again, then carefully applied ointment to the area. As Christianne lowered the cloth into place, Khepri said, “Take it easy for a while, and I’ll reapply the salve tonight.”

  Christianne nodded. Her face was white.

  “Do you think they followed us?” asked Caroline.

  “The specters or the raiders?” I asked. “Or the rocs?”

  “Any of them,” Caroline chuckled nervously.

  I looked back the way we’d come. There was no sign of pursuit, but one could never be sure.

  I was passing out handfuls of grain to the horses, when I turned and there he was.

  The young man who’d helped us.

  I jumped out of my skin. He hadn’t been there a minute earlier.

  He smiled, looking friendly.

  I walked up to him. “Who are you? How did you catch up to us so fast?” I looked behind him, in the direction of the tomb. “Did you get away unscathed? Are you harmed?”

  The others gathered around us.

  “Who are you?” Khepri asked.

  We all wanted to know.

  “Thank you for helping us get away,” I finally remembered my manners. “I don’t know how you did it, but I’m very grateful.” I held out my hand.

  He took it in his, grasping it gently. His hand was warm and dry, firm and calloused.

  “I …” he began to say. I waited expectantly.

  I noticed his face looked young, but at the same time, his eyes looked wise and old. There were no wrinkles, just a wisdom behind them, and I sensed something I could not put my finger on.

  “I was actually compelled to follow you,” he said.

  “What? Why?” I felt self-conscious for asking so many questions.

  He smiled again. Then blew a breath out his nostrils and stared at me.

  “You really don’t realize?” he asked.

  “Realize what?” I asked in return.

  He gestured, indicating the lamp still tied to my waist.

  “You’ve got my lamp,” he said softly.

  Huh?

  “Oh my god,” I heard Tupu whisper breathily next to me.

  The man glanced at Tupu and winked at her, then turned back to me and smiled again.

  “Charlotte,” Tupu touched my arm. I turned. “He’s a Djinn.” She turned back to meet the man’s gaze.

  I looked at him, my eyebrows raised. “You’re kidding.”

  “I am actually not kidding,” he said, “although I have been known to be quite the joker at times.”

  I just stared at him.

  “So, anyway,” he continued, “you’ve got my lamp.” He gestured at the old lamp again. I shifted, and it bopped lightly against my thigh with the movement.

  “I’m actually bound to the person who possesses the lamp,” he said. “You grabbed it when you were first running up the stairs, and the cloth rubbed against it, and that summoned me.”

  I blinked, not believing my ears.

  “I emerged from my lamp, and immediately assessed the situation, and decided to render aid.” He made a self-deprecating gesture. “I’m glad I could help,” he said, smiling.

  “Okay,” I finally found my voice. “Wow.” I sat down. My head was spinning. I quickly thought back on the race out of the tomb. Everything he said made sense. “Well,” I said, extending my hand. “Thank you, so much, for your help. That was awesome.” I smiled.

  The Djinn took my hand and shook it, a bemused smile on his face.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever met a real-life djinn before,” I smiled at him. Turning to the others, I asked, “have any of you?”

  No, none of them had ever even seen one before.

  I tried not to stare.

  He looked human, except, on closer examination, I noticed his mannerisms were not quite normal. I said as much.

  “Well, I don’t get out much,” he chuckled.

  I raised my eyebrows, wondering what he meant.

  “I was last out of the lamp about three thousand years ago,” the djinn stated matter-of-factly.

  My eyes opened wider in surprise.

  “It’s part of the rules, you see.” He grimaced.

  “Rules?” I asked.

  “Yes, and that actually brings me to the formal stating of the aforementioned rules.” He took a deep breath.

  “I have the power to grant you three wishes,” he said in a sing-song voice. “I may not kill, or by extension, cause death another.”

  He took another breath and continued. “I may not force any emotion to arise in a person or animal. And I am unable to raise the dead.” Finished, he looked both satisfied and sad.

  I looked deeply into the djinn’s face and saw pride, joy and amusement, but also the tiniest hint of resignation and melancholy.

  I sat back. “Sounds like you’ve got some magical powers in you, Mr. Djinn,” I smiled. I felt pity for him, and something else. A growing sense of compassion.

  “Do you have a name?” asked Kym.

  He looked at her in confusion, then answered. “No, I do not have a name. You are different,” he stared at her.

  Kym giggled.

  “Kym is actually a chimera,” I stated. “I named her Kym as a nickname.”

  “Ah,” he looked closer at the little girl, then leaned forward slightly. “May I smell you?”

  Kym giggled and nodded.

  The Djinn leaned forward, more and more, until his face was next to Kym’s shoulder. He proceeded to inhale deeply, over and over, taking in the chimera’s scent.

  “You’re tickling,” Kym giggled. “Enough.”

  The djinn withdrew quickly.

  “My apologies,” the Djinn bowed. “I have never in my life been this close to a transformed chimera.” He inhaled one last time. “I find you fascinating.”

  “Mr. Djinn,” I said. He swung back to face me, “May we call you Jim?”

  He thought for a moment. Then, “yes.” He smiled.

  “Well, Jim, being attacked and pursued by ghouls has put a great desire in me to put as much distance between us and that tomb as possible, so I am thinking we need to be on our way.” I turned to my troupe, raising my eyebrows for confirmation.

  “Ohhh, yes,” said Khepri.

  “Definitely,” said Caroline.

  “Let’s ride,” said Tupu.

  The others agreed.

  We got up and walked over to our horses.

  “Wait,” said Jim.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Don’t you want your three wishes?” asked Jim.

  I let out a breath. “Actually, I’m good, thanks,” I said. I untied the brass lamp and handed it to him, along with the rag. “Sorry I took this, I did not realize it was yours.”

  He took the lamp and rag wordlessly, and stood there staring at them, then looked up at me, perplexed.

  I remounted Shêtân and clucked for him to walk forward. The others followed.

  “I don’t think we’re going to be able to rest or sleep much. Let’s get out of here,” I said to the group at large.

  As we rode, I looked for where Jim had gone, and couldn’t see him at all. I hope he finds his way, I thought. He seemed like a nice enough fellow.

  We rode straight to caliphate Abü, and arrived in record time.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Pirates

  I strode purposefully into the sheikha’s throne room. She was there waiting, having been alerted to our return by her scouts.

  Akim was off to the side, sitting with one of Abü’s wizards. He jumped up and ran to me as soon as he saw me. I put my arm around him protectively, and hugged him, then turned to face Abü.

  I walked right up to her and plopped several small bags of gems at her feet. We had only been able to carry what we
’d put in our pockets, and this was half of it. I felt disgusted.

  One of her guards retrieved the bags and handed them to the old sheikha, who took them and then spoke.

  “My agents tell me the bandits they observed following you were slaughtered down to the last man,” Abü said, her hands held pensively.

  “You knew what would happen, didn’t you?” I said in clipped tones.

  “I knew what the legends said, yes. I had hoped you would be successful,” Abü answered.

  I gritted my teeth, “You should have told us everything the legends said was in the tomb!”

  “Would you have gone inside the Tomb of Ancients if I had been completely honest with you?” asked Abü.

  “No!” I said, furious.

  She shrugged and spread her hands, as if my answer explained everything. “As I said, I’d hoped you would be successful. And you were.”

  “And how would you have measured success?” I asked, feeling disgusted.

  “Well, these gems,” Abü opened one of the drawstrings and pulled out several emeralds and rubies, each the size of Kym’s fist, “These are priceless, each of them. They will support our caliphate for generations to come. Possibly even forever.” She smiled.

  “Was it worth the twenty or thirty lives lost?” I asked.

  “Those raiders were common ruffians, I did not hire them. I believe they were from Abdü, or so my sources tell me,” she shrugged. “They were expendable.”

  I felt hot anger rising in me.

  “We could have been killed!” my voice rose.

  Abü just looked at me.

  I could tell what she was thinking. We were expendable, too.

  I held Akim’s hand firmly, and stared at Abü, then spat on the ground in disgust, and turned, and we walked out.

  Later that evening, we all gathered round the fire. We’d been too upset to stay in the Abü compound.

  “She used us,” Tupu spat.

  “I know we had an agreement,” I said, “and I was happy to have her help in getting Akim, Tikiko, and Pala out of Abdü, but I would have liked to know we were going on what amounted to a suicide mission.”

  I poked moodily at the fire.

  Tupu spoke then, “I was told by the Abü healer that Pala made a full recovery, and she and Tikiko were escorted home the day before yesterday.” She paused. “I hope it is the truth.”

  Kym was sitting with Akim on the other side of the fire, and she spoke up then. “Do you think they would have outright lied about taking them back home?” she asked.

  “I don’t think they lied, but a half truth is a kind of a lie,” Caroline said. “I, for one, would like to visually confirm Tikiko and Pala are safely back home.”

  “I would like that, too,” Khepri said.

  “Definitely,” said Tupu.

  “We have to take Akim home anyway; we can check on them, too,” I said.

  We set out the next morning with Akim riding on a new brown mare Abü had supplied, and we had new stores of food and medicines to hold us over. I think the old sheikha felt guilty for not being completely honest with us.

  We took several weeks to arrive at the coast, and our trip was uneventful.

  Upon arriving at the villages near the Tambibo market, Tupu was overjoyed to find her cousins were indeed safely home.

  “Aren’t you going to stay with them?” I asked. “Your baby will be here in the winter.”

  Tupu touched her hand to her still-flat midsection. “I think I will stick around the troupe for a while yet, if you don’t mind.” She smiled shyly.

  I laughed. I’d never seen Tupu act shy before. She was a strong, bold woman and a great fighter.

  “I don’t mind,” I grinned.

  We traveled over the countryside to the coast then, to Tambibo and nearby Moonlit Bay, and met several ships at the docks. Caroline spoke with the captain of the largest ship, and came back to report.

  “He says we can be back in Swerighe in a week’s time: His mantas are pulling strong, and the winds are favorable, Miss.” She squinted up at me, then brought her hand up to shade her eyes.

  Khepri looked startled.

  “You’re going home?” she asked.

  “No, I am not going to return home,” I answered. “Not just yet, at least.”

  I turned and looked down to the far side of the harbor. “I still have business here in Alkebulan, after all.”

  I mounted Shêtân again, wheeling him around. The others followed suit.

  I had spotted a familiar ship at the end of the bay, and I’d decided to pay them a visit.

  A short trot, and I arrived.

  “Well, well, well,” I said loudly. Shêtân pawed the wooden dock loudly, punctuating my words.

  The huge ship, painted black with pitch, was anchored off the end of the dock. Its sides reached high, and the men working on it looked down at us.

  The man named Tam looked over the side again, and then waved at us with a smile of recognition.

  I scowled, pulling my scimitar out and brandishing it menacingly.

  The others did much the same, angry to be meeting the slaver ship that had held us captive so many months ago.

  A figure dressed all in black, sporting a large hat atop wild black hair, emerged from the captain’s cabin. “What’s all the fuss?” she asked. “Get back to work, you scabbard’s dogs!”

  She turned to look down at us. It was Kinah, the captain of the vessel.

  Oh, how I hate her.

  “Well, now. Last I saw you four, you were off to the slavers’ auction,” she threw her head back and laughed heartily.

  Akim shuddered in fear.

  “You’ll pay for that, Kinah,” I hollered up at her, waving my scimitar again.

  “Oh, really?” She sounded surprised. “You thinking to get revenge? You and what army?” she laughed merrily again, patting Tam on the back as she moved to stand near him.

  “Miss, I don’t think …” Caroline said quietly.

  “Shhh,” I said. I was mad.

  Then I had a thought.

  The ship had come to Moonlit Bay, to this port specifically. Was there a slavers’ auction in Tambibo, as well?

  I asked Tupu, and she replied in a whisper.

  “Yes, Charlotte. In fact, most larger ports have a slavers’ auction. It’s a huge trade in Alkebulan.”

  I hadn’t realized this, but it made sense. All the people in the Abdü compound, all those women in the sheikh’s harem. And Khepri had mentioned her uncle’s caliphate was one of dozens in northern Alkebulan. All filled with slaves.

  I felt a white-hot anger rise in me.

  “Come on,” I said to the others.

  As we rode away, Kinah hooted and hollered at us. We ignored her.

  She was small potatoes.

  Tupu led us to the slavers’ auction and I understood why I hadn’t seen it on our first visit. It was actually outside the city, a mile away from Moonlit Bay. It was situated away from market because it was so large. It was a bustling industry all on its own.

  I looked down on the buildings from the hill above.

  “There’ve got to be a thousand slaves down there,” I said in dismay.

  “More,” Tupu said. See there, and there?” she pointed at several large wooden structures. “Each building houses the slaves as they wait for auction. There are fifteen of those buildings on the far side alone, not counting these.”

  “Gods,” I spat. “So many.”

  “It’s a big problem here,” Khepri said grimly.

  “We don’t have slaves in Swerighe,” I said softly. “Yes, we have people who work for us, but we pay them. And they are free to leave. They are treated well. Skilled labor is not always easy to find.”

  “Miss, I know what you’re thinking, but I don’t think we can stop this from happening,” Caroline said. “There are just too many guards, too many soldiers.”

  “Too many people willing to participate in the slave trade, too,” said Khepri.
>
  I sighed sadly.

  Then thought a minute.

  “Caroline, how many slavers do you think are back on that black ship?”

  “Not sure, Miss. I saw maybe a dozen,” she replied.

  “I counted fifteen men, plus the captain,” said Tupu. Her voice told me she knew what I was thinking.

  “And I saw maybe six or eight slaves on the ship,” said Christianne.

  “Let’s do it,” I said grimly.

  We raced our horses back to Kinah’s ship.

  “Do you think we should wait until sundown?” I whispered. We’d gathered around the side of the closest building to plan, unobserved by Kinah’s men.

  Tupu spoke then: “There is no force policing these docks. Moonlit Bay and Tambibo market are free markets, no one polices them, and it’s everyone for themselves.”

  I stared at her.

  “That’s why everyone wears a weapon. Bandits used to be a problem before that.” She smiled mischievously.

  I grinned.

  “Okay them,” I said, holding up my scimitar. “Let’s go.”

  We rushed the ship.

  They were so busy following Kinah’s orders, cleaning the ship, restocking it, and so forth – and Kinah herself had gone back below decks – that they had little chance against us.

  Caroline and I snuck onto the ship by way of the fo’castle, we were able to drop onto it soundlessly from a beam swung overhead from the two-story shipmaster’s building.

  Tupu and Christianne slipped up the gangplank, running in a low huddle, fast as squirrels.

  Kym and Khepri climbed up a rope ladder from the dock that had been left hanging there.

  They really should have posted guards.

  Once on board and in place, we attacked.

  “ARRGGGHHHH!” I yelled, rushing several pirates as they tried to run and retrieve what weapons they’d set down in order to scrub the decks. I caught one with his hands still on the rope he was tying, and knocked him overboard.

  Another pirate turned to fight me, sword in hand, and we fenced for a minute before he pinned me, got his face right up against mine, and leered at me.

  God, I hated that.

  I shoved him off and kicked at him, and before he could regain his footing, I’d slammed my scimitar forward and knocked him toward the side, which kept him off balance until I could toss him overboard, too.