The Book of Wonders (10 page)

“You mean the little problem of us being your prisoners?” Rhidan asked flatly.

“Yes, exactly that.” Sinbad clasped his hands together. “Come and work for me. Not as my prisoners but as full-fledged crewmembers of the
Falcon
.” His face was solemn. “I'm not ordering you to do this, I'm giving you a choice.” He glanced at Rhidan. “I think I owe you that much at least.”

Zardi blinked hard. Sinbad's request was a surprise, but so was the realization that if this were another time or place, if she lived in a world where her sister was safe and her father was free from the sultan's clutches, she could have made a home on the
Falcon
. An image of Assam's face suddenly filled her head. Zardi saw his hurt and anger again and she realized that this was not true. She could never live a life like Sinbad's, taking what wasn't hers. That would make her no better than Shahryār.

Zardi met Rhidan's gaze and saw her own feelings reflected in his eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she told Sinbad firmly.

“Rhidan?” the captain asked.

He shook his head, his silver hair dazzling in the sunlight.

Sinbad sighed. “That's a shame, but I can't say I'm surprised.” He tilted his head to one side. “Luckily, I have another proposition.” The captain quickly explained that he had a friend in Sabra, a fellow captain, who owed him a favor. “He trades wool and silver between here and Mandar,” Sinbad went on. “I'm sure he'll find space for two extra crew hands, if I ask nicely.” He winked. “It's good money.”

“Mandar!” Rhidan exclaimed. “That's a bit far away, isn't it?”

“I think that's the point,” Zardi said wryly. “If we're on a ship to Mandar, we won't be able to tell anyone in Sabra that you are a scoundrel, correct?”

Sinbad shrugged. “People know me as a seller of trinkets, an occasional charm perhaps, but not a pirate, and I want it to stay that way. How about it then?”

Zardi paused for all of a second to examine their options. Sinbad's good humor could only last for so long. Besides, they didn't have to go to Mandar, they just needed to make Sinbad believe that they would and then they could escape. She looked at Rhidan and his eyes told her that he'd go wherever she wanted. “Deal.” She held out her hand and Sinbad shook it.

“Until I speak to my friend, I'd like to invite you to stay with my mother, Sula.” Sinbad sounded every inch the gracious host. “She lives here in Sabra. She's the local medicine woman.”

“I'm guessing that's Sinbad for ‘I want to keep you out of sight until I can get rid of you,'” Zardi commented.

The captain let out a roar of laughter. “Am I that obvious?”

“It was pretty obvious,” Rhidan replied, not missing a beat.

Sinbad shook his head. “You may be able to see through me, but you will not find Sula so easy to read.” He absently rubbed at the scar by his eye. “She saved my life, took me off the streets, and raised me as her own, yet she's still a mystery to me.” He looked over toward his cabin. “Let me get a few things and I'll meet you back here.” He strode off.

“Shame we don't have your bow and arrows,” Rhidan said once Sinbad was out of earshot. “What if this is some kind of trap?”

“Sinbad doesn't need to set a trap. If he wanted to hurt us he would have done it already.” Zardi looked over at the captain's cabin. Her bow and arrows were in there somewhere, and she felt a wave of sadness as she thought about the gift from her father. She straightened her shoulders. “If we're going to escape, we need to make him think that we're going to Mandar. If that means going to his mother's, we'll go to his mother's.”

The door opened, and Sinbad walked out with a large sack slung over his shoulder. “Let's go.”

Zardi and Rhidan said farewell to the crew of the
Falcon
and then followed Sinbad across the landing planks and onto the docks. The port was peppered with tea and coffee houses, and outside them salt-encrusted sailors puffed on water pipes that made the air thick with apple-scented smoke. Men with small boat-shaped fiddles played happy tunes and serenaded anyone who would give them a coin. Traders and fishermen rubbed shoulders with scribes and storytellers. The busy port was like a bulging sack of grain about to split at the seams, and Zardi wondered how she would ever find the Varish in such a busy town. Where would she even start?

Crossing the port, they headed in toward the heart of the city. Zardi noticed straightaway that there were hardly any watchtowers here. Also the streets in Sabra weren't as narrow as the ones in Taraket, and all the houses were painted white, reflecting light into the narrowest of alleys. Sabra smelled different as well, the sea making the air briny and pungent. As they walked farther on, she could see young men weaving rugs, their fingers a blur as they manipulated the threads of color. A wizened old man, claiming to be a sage, gripped Rhidan's arm with a clawlike hand and offered up a bejeweled spyglass.

“Don't you want to see the future?” the man asked, waving the spyglass at Rhidan and Zardi. “This will show you.”

Zardi reached out to touch it, but Sinbad stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“They don't need that spyglass. I can see the future already,” Sinbad interjected. “And I don't see a sale for you, old man.”

The sage gave a cackling laugh. “I think you may be right. My humble little spyglass is not right for these two. More powerful magic will come their way, I think.”

“More powerful magic?” Zardi repeated.

“Don't get pulled in, Zee,” Rhidan cautioned.

The sage looked at Rhidan in amazement. “You don't believe in magic? But you have the look of a sorcerer.”

Rhidan rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, I have classic Ilian features.” He lifted a shoulder. “I believe in magic. I just don't believe that there is anyone left in Arribitha who can do it.” He looked grim. “The sultan saw to that, and you should really be more careful about what stories you sell.”

The sage cackled again. “You're in Sabra now. Things that are hidden in other places will be revealed here. You just have to know where to look.”

Zardi stared at the sage. His words seemed loaded with meaning. Maybe he knew where the Varish were? But how could she ask him with Sinbad right beside her?

“Come on,” the captain urged. “Let's keep moving.”

As they continued to walk, Zardi kept careful track of their route. Once she and Rhidan had escaped Sinbad, she wanted to find the old sage and ask him some questions.

They passed herbalists promising potions that would bring wealth and health and snake charmers who made their serpents dance for eager audiences. It took a moment, but Zardi finally put her finger on the real difference between Sabra and her home. Sabra was a city that breathed, whereas Taraket held its breath. Magic did not hide its face so much here. But then this city didn't have Sultan Shahryār squatting at its center like a large, poisonous toad.

“This way.” Sinbad turned down a narrow alleyway and toward a small stone-white villa. The doorway was covered with gauzy slips of brightly colored material, which the captain easily swept aside. Sinbad smiled. “In we go!” And the three of them crossed the threshold and entered the house.

T
he house was much larger than it looked on the outside. Cavernous chambers led off from one another and hundreds of candles lit the way. They walked deeper into the house, leaving the outside world far behind. The smell of incense hung heavily in the air, and Zardi's eyelids drooped as she breathed it in deeply. The edges of everything became softer.

“Hey, which way did he go?” Rhidan asked.

Zardi opened her eyes to see Rhidan squinting in the low light. “No idea.” She pointed over to the first chamber. “I guess we should look in there.”

They walked into the room calling Sinbad's name, but there was no reply. Sitting by one wall of the chamber was a tall dresser, and above it were wooden shelves lined with glass jars. Many were filled with familiar spices like saffron, sumac, and star anise. But inside some were much more unusual things: pear-shaped blue stones that glowed with icy brightness, preserved butterflies that hung motionless in their containers, and something she could only compare to lightning that flashed, fizzled, and flashed again.

“What in all of Arribitha is this stuff?” Rhidan murmured as they stepped right up to the shelves.

Zardi felt her stomach knot in excitement. “Magic,” she whispered. “Maybe Sinbad's mother can do magic!”

“But how did she escape Shahryār?” Rhidan asked. “He executed so many with magic when he came to power.” He reached out to touch a jar full of burnished bird feathers.
“Ow!”
He snatched his hand away. “It's hot!” He sucked his fingers, staring at the jar indignantly.

“Don't touch anything else.” Zardi's gaze wandered over again to the jar filled with the blue jewels. She could feel herself being drawn toward them. As she leaned in even closer, her world shifted like a sand dune during a storm. The jar next to the jewels contained a miniature girl, no bigger than a little finger. She floated in water, suspended, her hair drifting all about her face. Zardi swallowed hard.

“Come away from there,” came a woman's lilting voice from behind her. “That Snolot will suck the life right out of you if she wakes up and catches you staring.”

Zardi whipped round to face a tall woman with floor-length white hair.

“I am Sula.” The woman bowed her head in greeting. “Sinbad will be along shortly; he is just freshening up. Scheherazade and Rhidan, you are both welcome. I have been waiting for a long time.”

“How do you know my full name?” Zardi asked in amazement. “I never told Sinbad.”

“Neither did I,” Rhidan said, looking at Sula hard.

“All in good time, my children.” The white-haired woman stepped forward and took Zardi's hands into her own. Any questions vanished from Zardi's mind as a thick mantle of peace settled over her.

Sula's hands were as smooth as marble, just like her face, which was without blemish or wrinkle. Only the wisdom and experience that shone from her eyes and her long white hair told Zardi that this lady had lived a long time.

The medicine woman let go of her hands and turned to Rhidan, taking his burned fingers into her grasp and examining them closely. “You are lucky that these burns have not blistered. That can happen with phoenix feathers. Don't worry, I have something that will heal them.”

“Phoenix feathers,” Rhidan repeated dumbly as Sula dropped his hand and reached into the folds of her dress to produce a small vial filled with an amber liquid. “There are no phoenixes in Arribitha. Shahryār killed them all.”

The ageless lady gave a trill of laughter. “Oh, he tried, but he did not succeed. Phoenixes are still with us. They're just a little bit disguised with magic. We would be quite lost without them.” She pulled the stopper out of the vial and poured a drop of the liquid into her hand. “Of course, it does not surprise me that you went straight for the feathers. After all, power always attracts power.” She reached for his fingers.

Rhidan's mouth hung open.

He's speechless
, Zardi thought, smiling in spite of herself.
That has to be a first
. “What is that stuff?” she asked, pointing to the amber liquid in Sula's palm.

“It is many things.” The medicine woman rubbed the liquid onto Rhidan's scalded skin. “A salve for burns, a cough medicine, drops for earache.” She examined Rhidan's fingers. “Give it a moment or two to work.”

He sniffed his fingers. “It smells of sesame.”

“The medicine's main ingredient is sesame oil.” Sula smiled. “Sesame seeds are one of nature's dearest gifts to us. They cure many ailments.” The medicine woman put the vial in her pocket. “Speaking of gifts, Zardi, I have a present for you.”

Sula walked over to the wooden shelves, reached for the jar of blue stones, and plucked one out.

Zardi's heart began to pound. She didn't know why, but she wanted this stone desperately.

The medicine woman opened the top drawer of the dresser and took out a gossamer-thin length of thread that glinted in the low light. Hanging from the center of it was a tiny spiderweb. Sula placed the pear-shaped blue jewel into the web's center, and Zardi gasped as the thin strands started to twine around the stone, seemingly of their own accord. In no time at all the blue gem was securely enclosed in the web's grasp.

Zardi could only watch as Sula walked over to her and placed the newly made necklace around her neck. Looking down at it, she could see that the stone shone more brightly as it touched her skin.

Sula looked happy. “See that light? It means the stone is pleased. It has accepted you as its owner.”

Zardi reached to untie the necklace. “I can't take this. It's far too valuable.”

“You are a guest in my house, Scheherazade Lion-born. I'll be offended if you do not accept it. Just promise to take good care of it.”

“I will,” Zardi said as the gem settled in the groove at the base of her neck. Somehow, it felt as if it had always been there, and Zardi knew she would not be without it.

The medicine woman smiled. “Good. These stones are incredibly rare. A gift of the stone's own choosing will be given to its wearer—at a time of its own choosing.”

“Is it magic?” Zardi asked. Saying these forbidden words, she could almost feel the executioner's blade on her neck.

“Yes. I think you may require the stone's power one day.”

“So, what power will it give me?” Zardi asked, stroking the stone.

Sula laughed. “So impatient, just as I always imagined you to be. The stone does not have the kind of magic that moves mountains, but it can grant a helpful magic.”