The Blackhope Enigma (18 page)

“Neither. It was a kind of boar.”

The girl took this in. “And in order to cross this sea, you must have been on one of
my
ships. Where is it?”

“The fog drove us onto the rocks, my lady, and the ship was sunk. I am the only survivor.”

Lady Ishbel waved his words away. “The sailors do not die. They merely disappear, only to reappear for the next voyage on a fresh ship. They belong to the painting.”

“Most ingenious,” said Angus. “A continuous supply of sailors and ships. Still, I am fortunate to be alive.”

“That is true.” Lady Ishbel nodded curtly. “I could have left you there, you know. You are a trespasser, and, as such, I am not obliged to rescue you. There are too many of your kind here already.”

“Why, my lady, that would have been tragic. I am merely seeking three children who came here by mistake. Two boys and a girl. I wish to take them home to our world.”

“A girl?” Lady Ishbel sat up. “In boy’s clothing?”

“That sounds like Sunni,” said Angus, though he had caught only a fleeting look at her by the arch. “So you’ve seen them?”

“I have seen the girl, but she was with one boy, not two. His hair was fair.”

“Ah, how marvelous; Sunni and Dean are safe. But I fear for the second boy — Blaise. He, too, is on one of your ships. He has something with him that may be very important. I must find him.”

“What is so important?”

“He took something: a map that he peeled away from the white wall before he boarded his ship.”

“That belongs to me!” Lady Ishbel burst out. “Everything here belongs to me. He has stolen it.”

Angus cocked one eyebrow. “Well, now, I would have thought everything here belonged to Sir Innes Blackhope. The map must be his, too.”

“But I am Lady Ishbel Blackhope. Sir Innes was my uncle. Fausto Corvo made this underworld, Arcadia, for him to enjoy adventure and amusements. When my uncle died, he left Arcadia to me, and I have been here since my sixteenth birthday. I repeat, everything here is
mine
.”

“I see,” said Angus. “Then it must be very frustrating for you to have so many trespassers here.”

Lady Ishbel clasped her hands so tightly together that the knuckles grew white.

“So many thieves,” she said, fuming, “who think they can steal what they like from Arcadia.”

“What could anyone
possibly
want to steal?” Angus asked.

“Paintings. Magical ones that are apparently hidden here. They were created by Fausto Corvo as well. When I arrived, I found outsiders already here, behaving as if Arcadia was theirs. It is
not
!”

“Any lost paintings should be yours if they are found,” said Angus.

“Yes,” she agreed, showing a slight smile at this idea.

“They would be yours to do with as you like, and to give to whomever you wish.”

“Yes,” repeated Lady Ishbel.

“If only they could be found.” Angus sighed dramatically.

“Indeed. Then the treasure hunters would have no reason to stay. I could evict them and live in peace.”

“Why can’t you evict them now?”

Lady Ishbel looked thunderous. “They do not believe I am the heiress of Arcadia.” She fingered her pendant, an intricately worked golden ship studded with rubies and pearls. She flipped it over to reveal
Speranza Nera
engraved on the back, along with her name and the word
chiaroscuro
.

“This was bequeathed to me by Sir Innes and is proof of my right to Arcadia. But these rogues will not accept a mere girl as their mistress.”

“I believe you, my lady,” purred Angus. “And I’m sure they will listen to you if you secure the paintings. You will keep them well protected, I have no doubt.”

Lady Ishbel frowned, looking flustered at this idea.

“What a lovely thought,” he continued smoothly, “that after four hundred years you might find the lost paintings at last. If only —”

“Four hundred years?” Lady Ishbel was aghast. “It has been so long?”

“Yes, I have come from the twenty-first century. But just think — finding the paintings will be all the sweeter for the wait.”

“I am no nearer to finding them than I was in 1600.”

Angus seized his chance. “The map this boy has stolen — perhaps it reveals the secret of the paintings’ location. But of course, he would never give it to you.”

“I would compel him.”

“He would destroy it before handing it over. One would have to approach him with great care,” said Angus. “Now, my lady, where did you see the girl and fair-haired boy?”

A dark cloud passed over Lady Ishbel’s face. “On a ship called the
Mars
. With Marin.”

“Marin? A most dangerous character, I am told.”

“You know him?” Lady Ishbel shot back.

“Only by reputation.”

“We are in pursuit of his ship. I — I have unfinished business with him.”

“This is most interesting, Lady Ishbel,” said Angus.

She stared down at her hands, deep in thought.

“I wonder whether I may be of service,” he ventured.

“How?”

“I want Sunni and Dean returned safely from Marin. They are friends of Blaise, the boy with the stolen map. Perhaps they can help me retrieve it for you. In return for your assistance with the children, I can also help you finish your business with Marin.”

Lady Ishbel’s eyes narrowed. “I ask again, how?”

“In any way you require,” he answered with a knowing smile.

“All you want in return is these three children? And then you will leave Arcadia?”

“That’s all,” Angus lied, holding his palms outspread before him. “The return of the children will be reward enough.”

Blaise woke to the peal of a bell. He shifted stiffly on the wooden bunk, forgetting where he was at first, and groaned when he realized he was on the ship, far from home and his lost friends.

He climbed on deck and found Patchy.

“Captain, look.” The sailor pointed at an island on the horizon, covered in lush vegetation and lit golden by the late afternoon sun. Just poking above the tree line on its southern shore were two masts and the tip of a furled sail.

“A ship’s on the other side of this island.” Patchy shook his head.

“Whose?” asked Blaise, suddenly alert.

Patchy pointed at the crow’s nest. “The boy says it is Bashir — a pirate from Barbary Coast.”

“Let’s get out of here before they see us. Can we sail any faster?”

“Yes, Captain.” Patchy gestured toward the back of the
Venus
. “Good idea, because another ship is following us.”

Blaise cursed under his breath.

“Let’s get out of here now. If that other ship is the one I think it is, the captain is a bad man and he’s hunting for me,” he said vehemently, and touched his messenger bag with the map inside.

Patchy saluted and left Blaise to watch the fleck on the horizon behind them, unaware that the ship in pursuit contained not Angus, but Sunni and Dean.

D
ean swung his jacket back and forth against the cabin wall, muttering. Sunni tried to ignore him as she doodled halfheartedly in her sketchbook.

Dean’s jacket whacked her shoulder as she sketched.

“What are you doing, Dean?” she snapped.

Dean threw his jacket down on the chart table and burst out, “We’re never going to get out of here.”

“Don’t say that!”

“Why not? It’s true. All Marin has to do is finish drawing me, and I’m history. He can’t wait to get rid of me.”

“Just listen to yourself! Mr. Doom and Gloom. Marin’s had plenty of chances to draw you, and he hasn’t.”

“Yeah, not
yet
,” said Dean sourly.

“He could have let you die in the maze, and he didn’t. He could have left us behind on the pier, too.”

“It’s only because he thinks he can trade us for information.”

“We’re together and we’re OK, aren’t we?”

Dean gave a weak shrug.

“We’re not going to let Marin get rid of either of us, right? We’ll stick together.” Sunni gripped his wrist and made him look her in the eyes until he nodded.

“And even if he did put you inside a drawing,” she said, trying to be cheerful, “I’d be next and we’d both be in there together!”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

“Huh?”

“‘My mummy died of plague, boo-hoo.’” Dean mimicked Marin’s accent. “He might want you to kiss him better, Sun.”

“What?” Sunni turned bright red. “You’re asking for it.”

She threw her sketchbook down and scrambled after Dean, who dangled his jacket like a matador. They ran around the cabin, knocking into the chart table and shrieking until she caught him.

“Stop it! Stop, please, Sun,” Dean pleaded as she tickled him.

“Are you going to cheer up?”

“Yes!”

“Promise?”

“OK, I promise!”

“You’d better not say anything like that about Marin again,” said Sunni, her face still hot. “Especially not in front of him.”

Dean nodded, panting heavily.

“I can’t stand it here, Sun. I want to go home,” he said in a low voice.

“I know. But we have to keep going. There’s no choice.”

The floorboards in the passageway creaked, and Marin stepped in. “You are making a disturbance.”

Sunni turned red all over again at the sight of him.
Had he heard what Dean had said?

“We’re just having fun,” said Dean. “Laughing — do you know what that is?”

“I laugh when I find something amusing. How are your wounds?”

“They’re scabbing over.”

“Good.” Marin looked around the cabin. “You will sleep in the bunk, and she will sleep on the floor. I will sleep on deck, with the other sailors.”

The cabin boy entered, carrying an armful of hay and rough cloth, which he arranged in a corner. Another sailor brought more dried fish and water.

“Is this it?” Dean groaned.

“For now, yes. We will get fresh provisions as soon as we come to a suitable island.” Marin turned to leave and said over his shoulder, “You must both remain in these quarters overnight, do you understand?”

Sunni and Dean nodded wearily.

Dean shook Sunni awake, his face close to hers. “Get up, Sun!”

“What?” She brushed straw from her face and hair as she got to her feet.

“Something’s happening!”

Footsteps pounded up and down the steps to the poop deck above. The sounds of scraping and stamping mixed with shouts and oarsmen’s grunts. A cry came from the crow’s nest and sparked a hum of frantic voices all over the
Mars
.

Sunni and Dean went to the cabin door and peered out at the deck and the night sky.

“Everybody’s running around,” Dean hissed. “Come on!” Sunni grabbed her bag, and they tiptoed out of the cabin. One or two sailors pushed past, paying them no attention. Others darted about or talked in clusters under lanterns dotted around the ship. Marin stood with the pilot on the forecastle, their eyes riveted on something to the port side.

Marin raised his hand to quiet the crewmen and then rattled away in Italian as he pointed at something in the sea.

“What is it?” whispered Dean, craning his neck.

“Something’s out there, but I can’t see. Come on.” Sunni pulled him past the oarsmen’s benches to a cooking area with a firebox stove and provisions stored in barrels and baskets, but they still could not see what Marin was pointing at.

“I’m going to climb up on that barrel. You get on the one next to it,” said Sunni.

They hoisted themselves up and hunched close to the ship’s rigging for support.

“That’s what they’re looking at.” She gestured at the black outline of a ship in the distance. “It’s a boat, but it looks abandoned.”

“We’re getting closer,” said Dean. “He’s taking us up to it.”

Marin hung over the edge of the hull, staring at the silent hulk, as the oarsmen slowed their pace to maneuver the
Mars
nearer.

Suddenly a light flickered on the dark ship. Then another and another, till a web of lanterns lit up the other boat, revealing sailors brandishing swords, crossbows, and pikes. A bearded man in long robes and a turban stood on the forecastle, laughing as his galley’s oars shot out from the side and propelled it toward the
Mars
.

“Bashir!” bellowed the lookout, and Marin’s crew roared as one.

Marin, face taut with fury, shouted orders, and the master of the oarsmen stamped a rapid beat. With an awesome collective gasp, the men moved their ship away from Bashir’s galley.

“Bashir — isn’t that the pirate Hugo told us about?” Sunni shrank against the rigging.

“Yeah.” There was a quaver in her stepbrother’s voice.

“Maybe we should get back to the cabin.” Sunni squinted at the far-off doorway, clogged with sailors running backward and forward, picking up cutlasses and daggers. “Only I don’t think we can right now.”

“We’ll be cut to ribbons here!”

“Only if Bashir catches up,” said Sunni. “We’ve got a head start.”

The
Mars
powered away, with the pirate ship in its wake. A few sailors hung in the rigging, knives clenched in their teeth, while others lined the deck, taunting Bashir’s men. The pirates had caught up to within half a length when a bolt from one of their crossbows whizzed across the water and caught a sailor in the arm. He fell and was swiftly dragged away, his dagger clattering to the floor.