The Turning Tide (3 page)

“I
t suddenly got a lot quieter, didn’t it?” Jack observed pointedly after the girls were gone. This snide remark, mainly about Marcella, was lost on Jean, who stood on tiptoe to watch her leave, wringing his hands anxiously.

“I hope she’s all right,” Jean said. “Well, actually, what I mean is I hope she behaves herself. If anyone could set off an incident, I’m afraid it’s my cousin.”

“Oh, marvelous,” growled Barbossa. “That’s all we need: a pack of women outraged because that girl made fun of their hair.”

“Sensitive as always, Barbossa,” Jack commented.

Inside, Sri Sumbhajee’s palace was a maze of corridors and courtyards. Rich silk tapestries hung on the walls; inlaid marble tables and doors glittered with semiprecious gemstones. Jack could hear streams bubbling in the enclosed gardens and small waterfalls cascading down the walls, cooling the rooms. He spotted more stone screens and realized that there must be a whole other labyrinthine complex of women’s quarters on the other side.

They were walking down a hallway with smooth, white walls when they passed a courtyard with another multicolumned enclosure like the one at the entrance. Sri Sumbhajee glanced casually into it as he walked by, and then, a few steps further down the hall, he stopped suddenly in his tracks. His aides threw out their arms and barely managed to keep the rest of the group from crashing into him.

Sri Sumbhajee whipped around, the points of his moustache trembling violently. He flapped his hands at Askay and Pusasn and stormed into the courtyard, nearly at a run.

Curious, Jack hurried after him. Something had clearly set off Sri Sumbhajee’s temper, and Jack enjoyed seeing another Pirate Lord mad. Sri Sumbhajee pulled a long knife out of his waist sash as he stormed across the stone paths, kicking a peacock out of his way. He was heading for the enclosure with the columns, where, Jack now saw, there was a throne set up high in an alcove of the back wall.

The throne was made of gleaming black wood with gold covering nearly every inch of it; gold lion heads glared from the top of the throne, gold claws jutted from the arms, and gold lion paws formed the base of each leg. Red velvet pillows embroidered with gold were piled high on the throne and a fur-lined robe was thrown across the back.

Lounging across this throne was a sleepy-looking middle-aged man with a bit of a paunch. His beard was not as long as Sri Sumbhajee’s, and his eyes were nowhere near as fierce, plus he was significantly taller than the Pirate Lord. But Jack was sure he could see a strong family resemblance nonetheless.

Sri Sumbhajee snapped his fingers at his aides, gesticulating impatiently.

“MANNAJEE!” Askay bellowed as they reached the first line of columns.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Pusasn joined in. “SRI SUMBHAJEE IS CONSUMED WITH RAGE!”

The man on the throne jolted awake and rubbed his eyes blearily. He blinked down at the Pirate Lord, who was waving his fists at him.

“Oh, hey,” he said slowly. “I mean, all hail…how does it go again?”

“HAIL THE GREAT AND WONDROUS SRI SUMBHAJEE, PIRATE LORD OF THE INDIAN OCEAN AND TERROR OF THE ARABIAN SEA!” Askay roared.

“Yeah,” Mannajee said, yawning. “That.”

Jack was amused to see Sri Sumbhajee’s face turn deep red. It looked almost as if smoke were about to come pouring out of his ears. The Indian Pirate Lord seized Pusasn’s wrist, and Pusasn let out a small yelp of pain.

“GET OUT OF HIS CHAIR!” Pusasn bellowed.

“REMOVE YOUR UNWORTHY CARCASS FROM THE REVERED LION THRONE OF THE PIRATE LORD!” Askay elaborated.

Mannajee twisted around and seemed to notice where he was. “Oh, sorry, Sum-Sum. It just looked so comfortable.”

“Sum-Sum?” Jack echoed with glee.

The Pirate Lord fumed while Mannajee slowly hefted himself out of the chair. Looking abashed but not terribly upset, Mannajee fluffed the pillows and straightened the fur robe.

“Sri Sumbhajee wishes to remind his fool of a brother that he is allowed to live by the mercy of the great Pirate Lord, and that he should be more mindful of the respect he owes to him,” Askay growled a bit more softly as Mannajee climbed down from the alcove.

“No harm done,” Mannajee said, a resentful tone creeping into his voice. “I was just taking a nap. There’s no need to get all high and mighty about it.”

“Sri Sumbhajee is keeping an eye on you,” Pusasn said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mannajee muttered. “As always.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Jack interjected, stepping forward with a grin. “I had no idea you had a brother, Sri Sumbhajee.”

“Sri Sumbhajee once had many brothers,” Askay said, “but not all of them knew how to show proper respect.”

“Now there are only two,” Pusasn added ominously.

Mannajee rolled his eyes, but Jack was the only one who noticed.

“Monsieur?” Jean called from the corridor, where the rest of the pirates were waiting. “Er…Sri Sumbhajee, sir? I was just wondering whether we might be getting to eat soon.”

Sri Sumbhajee’s angry look vanished, and a sly smile spread across his face. He poked Pusasn’s elbow and whispered in his ear.

“But of course,” Pusasn said, straightening up. “Sri Sumbhajee will have the kitchens prepare a great feast for tonight. We will share with you the very best of Indian hospitality.” He and Askay pressed their hands together and bowed.

The pirates were taken to a corridor lined with empty rooms. Each room contained a few rugs and blankets for sleeping on, but little else. Jack noted with disappointment that there didn’t seem to be anything worth “borrowing” in his room. Even the rugs had been nailed to the floor.

“Well, how do you like that?” Jack said, looking injured. “No trust. After I gave them back that ruby and everything.”

“Shocking,” Jean said mirthfully, shaking his head. They were sharing the room, with Billy and Barbossa next door and Diego and Shane on the other side.

“Jack Sparrow,” Askay said from the door, his massive bulk nearly filling the entire doorway.

“
Captain
Jack Sparrow,” Jack said absently. He was peering through his window at the flower-filled courtyard outside, wondering if he could catch a glimpse of the women’s quarters from here.

“Sri Sumbhajee knows you are a pirate with many enemies,” Askay went on smoothly. “For your safety during your stay with us, he has selected a warrior of the highest skill to accompany you…
everywhere
.” Askay layered this last word with meaningful intensity.

“I see,” Jack said. “Well, that is very kind of Sri Sumbhajee; please convey my gratitude but assure him that I am more than capable of defending myself—as I have done on many a swashbuckling occasion, as he himself might remember.”

“Sri Sumbhajee insists,” Askay said in a voice that could not be argued with. He turned and motioned to someone in the corridor.

A small, masked figure appeared in the doorway, and Askay stood aside to let the warrior squeeze into the room. Jack raised one eyebrow. The warrior was tiny; no taller than Carolina. His loose pants and belted tunic were the bright orange of marigolds. A black scarf was tied around his head, hiding everything except his eyes. Jack couldn’t even see a weapon on him. The warrior clasped his hands behind his back and stood at attention next to the door, staring at Jack.

“Perfect,” Askay said, beaming. “I feel that you are much safer already.” He ducked out the door.

“Wait!” Jean called. “What’s his name?”

“You have no need to speak to each other,” Askay responded, “and therefore no need for names.” His footsteps receded down the hall.

Jack and Jean blinked at the silent warrior. His eyes were dark and revealed nothing about what was going on behind the mask.

“So, who might you be, then?” Jack asked.

There was no reply. “Come, come,” Jack said, “if you’re going to be trailing around perniciously spying on me, I think we should at least be able to chat about it.”

The warrior didn’t move.

“All right, let me guess,” said Jack. “Is your name…Harold?” He checked; no reaction. “Albert? Gustav? Umberto?
Fitz
?”

“This could go on for a while,” Jean observed. He lay down on his pile of rugs and clutched his stomach. “I wonder how soon the feast will be.”

“How soon is the feast?” Jack asked the warrior. “You’d better tell him; he gets a tad violent when he’s hungry.”

The dark eyes did not move away from Jack for a moment.

“Well, this is pleasant,” Jack remarked. “I can see we’re going to be great chums.”

He paused, scanning the room casually, and then suddenly drew his sword and lunged at the small figure. But by the time he reached the wall, the warrior was gone. Jack whirled around in surprise and found his sword lifted right out of his hand. There was a strange whirring sound, a flash of moving steel, and a clatter as his sword landed in the far corner of the room, inches away from Jean’s head.

“Hey,” Jean protested without sitting up. “Do you mind? I like my head the way it is, thank you.”

The warrior stood before Jack, half-crouched as if ready to leap away again. In his hand was a kind of weapon Jack had never seen before. It had the hilt of a sword, which fitted neatly into his opponent’s palm, but blooming from the hilt were two long, gleaming steel ropes. Now they lay coiled at the warrior’s feet, but in an instant they could flick out like whips and do serious damage. Jack could see the sharp edges of the blades from where he stood. It was a bit of a miracle that Jack hadn’t been sliced open when his sword was plucked away from him. This warrior had quite a lot of skill.

“Where were you hiding that?” Jack marveled. “What a remarkable toy. Mind if I take a look?” He edged closer, trying to seem casual.

The warrior began to raise the weapon, as if warning Jack to stay back, but Jack abruptly dove at him, wrapping his arms around the warrior’s waist and knocking him off balance. The warrior struggled to raise his weapon as they fell onto the stone floor, but as Jack had noticed, it was a weapon best used at a distance. Up this close, the warrior was just as likely to hurt himself while trying to cut Jack.

Of course, this kind of combat wasn’t exactly Jack’s forte, either.

The strange weapon clattered to the floor, sending a ripple along the long flexible blades. Jack felt the warrior’s knee drive into his chest and he staggered back with an “oof!” The warrior spun around to kick Jack in the head, but Jack grabbed his foot before it connected and threw the warrior backward onto Jean’s bed.

“Aaaaaah!” Jean yelped, trying to roll out of the way. For a moment Jean and the warrior were tangled together, rugs and limbs waving madly. Finally Jean struggled free and the warrior leaped to his feet, panting angrily. Jean glanced down at his hand and realized he had seized the warrior’s hood by accident while they were entangled. He looked up at the warrior and gasped.

It wasn’t a strangely tiny man after all. The warrior set to guard them was, in fact, the most beautiful woman Jean had ever seen.

T
he women’s quarters were cool and quiet, with tall columns of white marble and tiny fragments of mirrors glittering from the ceilings and walls. The tranquil gardens were dotted with the bright colors of the flowers and the elegant silk outfits of the women strolling their narrow paths.

These very outfits were currently the subject of a heated argument.

“No!” Carolina protested. “I’m perfectly happy with what I’m wearing! I’m not changing!”

“Can mine be pink?” Marcella asked. “I want a pink one!”

The woman in lavender, who had introduced herself as Parvati, closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “It is only for a short while,” she said to Carolina. “We must present you well at the banquet tonight. Please. I am asking you nicely.”

“Yeah, Carolina,” Marcella sniped. “Why do you have to be so
rude
all the time? And how come you don’t ever want to be pretty? I mean, I know it’ll be extrahard for you, but you could at least
try
.”

Carolina noticed a young boy watching them from the top of a wall a few feet away. He looked about seven years old, with tousled black hair and bare brown feet. His small face was cunning and curious.

“There’s a boy in here,” Marcella said to Parvati, pointing.

“But of course,” the Indian woman said. “We raise all the children in the women’s quarters, boys and girls, until the boys are old enough to cross over to the men’s side. That is Toolajee, Sri Sumbhajee’s brother.”

“Brother!” Carolina said in surprise. “But he’s so young.”

“Half-brother,” Parvati amended. “Sri Sumbhajee’s father died just before Toolajee was born. He was quite old. Believe me, we were all surprised, too.”

“Does Sri Sumbhajee have any children?” Carolina asked.

“Not yet,” Parvati said. “His brother Mannajee is his heir for the moment. You see, our great and wondrous Sri Sumbhajee devoted much of his life to learning the serene and simple ways of the priesthood.”

“Until he became a pirate,” said Carolina.

“Well, yes,” Parvati said. “That’s what his father always wanted for him. Excuse me.” She beckoned to a young girl who was hovering nearby. “Veena, take Marcella and help her into her sari.”

“Um, I think I know how to put on a pretty dress!” Marcella said.

Parvati and Veena both hid smiles. “This is a little more complicated than a dress,” Veena said politely. She took Marcella’s hand and led her behind a screen.

Carolina could still hear her complaining. “I hate this color! Why can’t I have pink? Oooh, do I get jewelry, too?”

The Spanish princess felt guilty. Parvati did seem nice, and Carolina didn’t want her to think that Carolina was as horrible as Marcella. But on the other hand, Carolina had spent her whole life being told what to wear and how to behave and what to do every moment of the day. The whole point of being a pirate was freedom, wasn’t it?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Marcella cried. “What IS that? Where are the armholes? Where is the bodice? I want a corset! That’s just a big piece of cloth! You want to wrap it WHERE?”

Parvati gave Carolina a wry look. “If it helps,” she said, “we could wrap your sari in such a way to give you as much freedom of movement as possible. Our warrior women even wear these in battle sometimes.”

“Really?” Carolina said, interested now despite herself. “You have warrior women?”

“Of course,” Parvati said, producing a shimmering length of red silk. “Don’t you want to see how it’s done?” Her smile said she knew that Carolina was now too curious to say no.

* * *

N
ot too far away, one of these same warrior women was glaring at Jean. Her dark hair had tumbled to her shoulders and her large eyes were flashing dangerously. Jean guessed that she was a couple of years younger than he was—more of a warrior girl, really.

“By all the gods!” she cried, stamping her foot. “You persistent, nosy pirates! Why couldn’t you just leave me alone to do my job?” She snatched the black scarf out of Jean’s hands.

“Wait,” Jean said. “Don’t put it back on. Please. We’re sorry.”

“
I’m
not,” Jack said, leaning toward her seductively. “’Allo, love. Captain Jack Sparrow. Maybe you’ve heard of me.”

“No,” she said. “And I don’t care who you are. I have my orders, and they include not talking to you.” She lifted the scarf to her face, but Jean leaped forward and grabbed it away again.

“Tell us your name first,” he said.

“Yes,” Jack said. “I can see I was rather on the wrong track before. You’re not much of a Fitzy.” He mused for a moment. “Brunhilda?”

“I’m Jean, Jean Magliore,” Jean said. “We won’t interfere with your job. I just want to know who you are.”

The girl kicked Jean’s legs out from under him and seized the scarf as he fell over.

“All right, fair enough,” Jean said from the floor.

“Pushy chap, isn’t he?” Jack said to the warrior girl. “He hasn’t had much success with the ladies in his short life. Not like me. ‘Popular with the ladies’ is my middle name.” He paused. “Well, that and ‘danger.’ And ‘freedom.’ And possibly Robert. Depends on who you ask, really.”

She stomped back over to the door and shook out her scarf, ignoring him.

“I have a tremendous intuitive sense of the female creature,” Jack carried on, waving one hand in the air. “For instance, at this moment I intuit that you are falling madly in love with me despite yourself.”

The girl looked down at Jean. “Does he always talk this much?”

“I am afraid so,” Jean said.

“It is one of my most charming qualities,” Jack observed, beaming.

“He might shut up a little if you told us your name,” Jean offered bravely.

The warrior girl pulled her hair back and wound it on top of her head. As she began to drape the scarf, her eyes met Jean’s, and her face seemed to soften a little. “Fine,” she said. “It’s Lakshmi. My name is Lakshmi.” A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “And I am to take you to the feast as soon as you are refreshed.”

Jean bounded to his feet. “I’m refreshed! I’m ready!”

Diego poked his head in. Behind him stood Pusasn. “We’re being summoned,” he said. “Oh, hello.” He spotted Lakshmi as she knelt to pick up the odd weapon. “What is that?” he asked curiously.

“It’s an
urumi
,” Lakshmi said. “It takes a lot of training to use, but it’s very deadly.” She shot Jack a warning look.

“No argument here, darling,” Jack said with a flirtatious grin.

They all watched in surprise as she coiled the long, flexible swords around her waist like a belt. No wonder I didn’t spot it, Jack thought.

“Wow,” Diego said, shaking his head. “Carolina is going to love you.”

From the moony look on Jean’s face, Carolina wasn’t the only one, Jack thought.

Amazing smells wafted through the air as the pirates followed Lakshmi and Pusasn out to an open-air pavilion overlooking an enclosed garden of fruit trees, dark green leaves rustling in the wind. It was not quite evening yet; the sky had streaks of pink and gold in it. Jean inhaled deeply.

“Will Carolina eat with us?” Diego asked Lakshmi. She nodded, her face hidden by the scarf again.

Nobody asked about Marcella. Jean was too busy thinking about food and Lakshmi to remember. Jack remembered, but he was hoping if he didn’t bring her up, Jean might forget about her, too, and then they could sail away and leave her in India. That sounded like an absolutely brilliant plan to Jack, as did most of the plans that sprang from his mind.

Sri Sumbhajee’s court was assembled around the pavilion, seated on cushions on the floor.

Pusasn directed the pirates to the open cushions arranged near the Indian Pirate Lord, and they all sat down, with Jack on Sri Sumbhajee’s left.

Diego craned his neck, searching the crowd for Carolina. A murmur of voices rose as a group of women approached through the garden. Diego’s eyes passed over them quickly; none of these brightly adorned women looked familiar.

Suddenly his gaze popped back. One of them had
winked
at him.

“Carolina?” he said, rising to his feet as she came closer. She was wearing a sari the color of Jack’s ruby, embroidered in delicate gold thread, with her midriff bare. Tiny gold teardrop-shaped ornaments sparkled in her ears and a deep red canna flower was tucked into her long, loose dark hair.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said, covering her waist with her arms. “I’m embarrassed enough!”

“You look beautiful,” Diego said, unable to contain his awe. She looked like she was born to dress this way. He had seen her in many elaborate gowns back in Spain; he’d held her hand while her long skirts swept past him, into the coach taking her to the latest royal ball. He knew she hated the corsets and petticoats and piles of lace and uncomfortable shoes. But here her feet were bare and she could sit down on the cushion beside him in an easy, graceful movement, arranging the end of the silk sari over her shoulder. Sitting down on the floor in a European dress would have required much more maneuvering and possibly a pulley system of some sort.

“What about ME?” a voice demanded behind Diego. “Don’t
I
look beautiful?”

Diego reluctantly tore his gaze from Carolina as Marcella elbowed Catastrophe Shane out of the way and threw herself down on the cushion on his other side. She glared over him at Carolina.

“Um—you look…nice, too,” he said politely. Marcella’s sari looked like mustard and limes, a yellowish-green that unfortunately clashed with her skin tone. Her hair, ears, neck, wrists, and ankles were dripping with gaudy diamonds and rubies. Jack eyed them in fascination, but when he leaned toward her she snatched her arm away and edged closer to Diego.

“Well, I’d look much better in PINK,” she said, shooting a scowl at Parvati. “Right, Jean? Don’t I look lovely in pink?”

Across from her, Jean wasn’t paying any attention. His hands were clasped rapturously under his chin.

“The food!” he cried. “The food is coming!”

It was true. Large round platters were emerging from the kitchen, held aloft by a line of servants. A man dressed in a light blue tunic and trousers carried the first platter up to Sri Sumbhajee and knelt, placing it in front of the Pirate Lord’s knees. He lowered his forehead to the ground. Diego realized the man was trembling violently.

The silver platter was divided into small compartments around a central hollow, like petals around the center of a flower. In the middle was a small tower of steaming white rice, and surrounding it were sauces of all colors.

Jean was exceptionally talented at identifying food from a distance. He could tell that the bits of meat in the orangey-red sauce were chicken, while the white lumps in the dark green sauce were pieces of cheese. He was sure he could smell lamb and other vegetables as well. His stomach let out a prolonged rumble.

Lakshmi glanced at him, startled. “For a moment I thought a tiger was creeping up on us,” she whispered, amused.

“Why aren’t they serving the rest of us?” he whispered back.

“Sri Sumbhajee is always served first,” she said. “And believe me, you want to wait.”

Jean’s stomach growled again, as if disagreeing with her.

Sri Sumbhajee glowered at the man kneeling before him. He flicked his fingers at the twin aides standing behind him.

“Who has been near this food?” Askay demanded.

“N-n-n-no one, sir,” the kneeling man stammered. “Please, spare me, sir, I am certain it is safe, I prepared it carefully myself—”

“That’s what the last three said,” Pusasn snarled. “The life of our lord must be protected. Eat, you cowering cur!”

Sri Sumbhajee tore off a piece of flat round bread from a second platter and handed it to the man in blue. With the eyes of the entire court upon him, the man leaned forward to dip the bread in one of the sauces. His hand was shaking so badly, he had to try a few times before he got the bread into the right compartment.

“What’s going on?” Diego whispered to Carolina.

“I think he’s a food taster,” she whispered back. “Our king back in Spain used one to make sure no one was trying to poison him. If the taster dies…well…”

“…you will know the food has been poisoned,” Diego finished, his eyes wide.

Jack was twisting the braids in his beard, watching intently.

Silence fell over the courtyard as the man chewed slowly and swallowed. After a moment, a smile spread across his face.

“You see?” he said, lifting his hands toward Sri Sumbhajee. “As I said, perfectly saaaaaaaugh.” His face turned purple and his eyes rolled back. Clutching his neck, he toppled over sideways. “Uh-oh,” Jack said. “Not good.” Sri Sumbhajee leaped to his feet. “Sri Sumbhajee knew it!” Askay bellowed, drawing his sword. “Sri Sumbhajee knows all!” Pusasn roared. “Someone is trying to poison him!”