The Book of Wonders (13 page)

Rhidan's frown deepened. “Shh, we can't talk about this now. Someone might be listening. Sinbad would sell us down the river for a fraction of what the sultan offers.”

Zardi looked around, checking that no one had overheard their conversation. She needn't have worried. Only about half the crew was onboard and none were close by. She froze as she saw Nadeem sprinting toward the ship, his sharp face pinched with fear.

“Captain!” he yelled as he jumped onto the deck. “We've got to go. They're coming.”

Sinbad strode forward. “Who's coming?”

“The sultan's guard.”

Rhidan and Zardi shared a look of horror.

“Nadeem, there's no sultan's guard in Sabra,” Sinbad dismissed.

“There is now,” the boy replied, still gasping for breath. “I was in the market, selling the red silk to your favorite merchant. He asked how things were on the
Falcon
, told me he'd seen a strange boy with silver hair on our ship earlier today. Said he was funny-looking and wanted to know where he was from.”

Rhidan's cheeks flared with color, and Nadeem managed to smirk despite being out of breath.

“I told him not to be so nosy, and to fix on a price for the silk. That's when I could feel someone watching me. I turned round. It was that old captain, you know, Assam. He'd heard everything—your name, the name of the ship. So I ran for it. But the old bird wasn't alone. All these guards started coming out of nowhere, trying to dive for my legs. The old man was screaming at me the whole time. He said he worked for the sultan now and that Shahryār would see me and the rest of the pirates that robbed the
Triumph
in prison, or worse.” Nadeem pointed at Zardi with a lean finger. “He said that the sultan would stop at nothing to hunt the
Falcon
down and capture Rhidan and the girl.” He stared round at his crewmates. “See, I told you. I always said something didn't add up about these two.” His eyes met Zardi's. “Who's the liar now?”

The gaze of the crew bored holes into her skin. They knew. They knew she was a girl, and that the sultan wanted her and Rhidan. She looked over at Sinbad, and his face was sad.

He's going to hand us over to Shahryār
. Zardi's stomach squirmed as if it had a life of its own. But the captain didn't say a word to her or Rhidan; instead he turned to the crew on his ship.

“If what Nadeem says is true then the sultan's guard and Captain Assam are looking for the
Falcon
at this very moment. We're leaving, right now!”

Nadeem's hands were clenched by his sides. “We should hand them over, Captain. The sultan might look on us kindly then.”

Sinbad glared at him. “The sultan is incapable of kindness, and I will sacrifice no one that is in my care. We set sail now,”

At his words Zardi felt a frisson of shocked gladness go through her.

“But, Captain,” Musty protested, “half our crew is still on shore.”

Sinbad gripped the shipmaster's shoulder roughly. “Unless you want to see the inside of a prison cell or the executioner's blade, I suggest you do as I say.”

“Yes, Captain.” Musty turned and instructed Zain and Tariq to haul up the anchors while the rest of Sinbad's skeleton crew set about hoisting the sail. Even the cook helped. Zardi and Rhidan assisted, but progress was slow. Normally it took a whole crew of twenty a quarter of an hour to rig up the sails. She did a quick head count: They only had twelve men on board, not including Rhidan, herself, and Sinbad.

Finally the first sail was up and they swiftly started on the second. But halfway up to its fully rigged position, the sail stuck fast. A piece of rope had become twisted.

Zardi ground her teeth as they lowered the sail and began working at the knot.
We're not going to get out of here in time
.

Sinbad must have had the same thought because his next order was an astonishing one. “Get that knot out, then hoist this sail. We'll go out to sea without rigging it up.”

“But, Captain,” his men chorused.

“You heard me!” Sinbad bellowed. “We'll hold the sail in position with brute strength alone. Our muscles will scream and our bodies will say no, but we will not slacken until we're on the open sea.” His words seemed to transform his men, and panicked expressions were chased off their faces by steely determination. Sinbad grabbed the sail's trailing uphaul rope and pulled. “We'll rig the sail properly once we're away from the port.”

Zardi turned to Rhidan. “Come on, we need to help.”

“No,
we need
to find Sula. We're getting off this ship.” Rhidan strode toward the stern of the ship.

She grabbed his wrist. “If I get caught, I'll be made a praisemaker, and who knows what the sultan's plan is for you. Do you really think you'll get to speak to Sula again if Shahryār gets hold of you?”

The ship lurched forward. The two sails were up and had caught some wind, which pulled the
Falcon
out of its mooring. As the gap between the ship and the dock opened up, Rhidan wrenched his wrist away and moved toward the railing. He stood there for a moment and she could see his whole body bunching up, getting ready to jump.

She dived in front of him, standing in his way, as he'd once stood in her way on the balcony at home. “We'll be back, Rhidan, I promise.” She grabbed his hand. “Stay … please.”

Rhidan's throat worked furiously as if he was trying to swallow tears or maybe a scream of frustration, but he dragged himself away from the ship's railing and slumped down onto the deck.

Zardi knelt beside her friend. Disappointment came off him in waves and blended with her own. They had been so close to starting their quest to find the Windrose and the Black Isle. To finding sorcerers to stop Shahryār. She looked toward the port, catching a glimpse of a lady with a mane of white hair whose hand was raised in farewell. Zardi blinked and the woman was gone.

“Sula.” Zardi put her hand to the blue jewel around her neck. It pulsed a welcome like a heartbeat, and Zardi knew that magic wasn't quite done with them yet.

“O
i, could you two give us a hand?” Sinbad roared. The strain of holding up the unrigged sail was carved into his face.

Zardi and Rhidan sprang forward and grabbed hold of one of the ropes that normally tied the second sail to the mast, pulling it taut.

Both sails were fully unfurled now and the
Falcon
was picking up pace as it surged into the open sea. A stiff breeze had also sprung up, and any gust that caught the second sail sent violent vibrations down the ropes and through the arms of the sailors that held them. The friction of the rope gnawed at Zardi's hand, and her arms thrummed from the effort it took to hold onto the cable, but she did not let go.

She gave a tired cheer with the others when Sinbad finally gave the order to begin rigging the sail up properly.

We escaped
. Zardi finally allowed herself to think these words as they set about the task of the rigging. She couldn't quite believe that Sinbad had chosen to run instead of handing her and Rhidan over to Shahryār. The
Falcon
, which earlier that day had been their prison, was now their refuge. She worked happily alongside Rhidan and the other sailors, drinking in the blueness all around her.

“Well done, men,” Sinbad congratulated them once the rigging was completed. “We were in the jaws of danger and your strength and courage broke its teeth.”

His crew stamped their feet in approval, but Nadeem was not smiling. He stared at Zardi for a moment, his eyes sharp flints of anger, before turning and climbing the mast. Sinbad held up his hand for quiet. “As you know, our friend Captain Assam and the sultan's guard are looking for the
Falcon
. We'll have to lie low. Become nomads of the sea for a while. Assam and his new friends will get bored soon enough and go home. Once the coast is clear we'll go back to Sabra and pick up the rest of the crew.”

Musty took out a large book full of navigational charts. “Where to next then, Captain?”

Sinbad rubbed his chin. “Andalus, I think. We haven't been there for some time.”

Musty began flipping through the pages.

Suddenly, a cry from atop one of the masts interrupted the celebrations. “Captain,” yelled Nadeem, “we have company. I think it's the sultan.”

His words silenced the crew. Zardi looked behind her, shielding her eyes from the deep glow of the sun. Sure enough, in the distance, she could see a large ship racing toward them. Unlike other ships she'd seen in the harbor, this vessel had three sails instead of one or two. The hull of the boat was also longer and thinner than a normal ship and sat higher in the water, skimming the surface like a flat stone.
The
Swift, Zardi thought, coldness seeping through her. A red flag emblazoned with a golden jackal—the sultan's insignia—flew from the ship's mast, and just like a jackal the sultan's ship was greedily devouring the distance between them.

The crew did not have a chance to panic. Sinbad wouldn't let them. Instead, he ordered them to move for the wind. Nadeem immediately climbed down from the mast and headed quickly with the whole crew to the starboard side of the ship. She and Rhidan followed. As they did so, they felt the ship tilt and saw the sails catch more wind, giving the
Falcon
a surge of speed. The twins, Mo and Ali, took charge of the tiller and expertly began to guide the rudder, so that the ship turned to bring the wind directly onto the starboard side.

They raced on, and while the sun began its steady descent in the sky, Sinbad called on every sailing trick he knew to lose Shahryār's ship … but the sultan continued to cut down the distance between the
Swift
and the
Falcon
.

“All food, all boxes, overboard,” Sinbad ordered. “We need to make ourselves as light as possible.” He turned to the shipmaster. “Musty, cut two of the anchors.”

Rhidan, Zardi, and the rest of the crew set to work unloading the ship.

“You imbecile!” she suddenly heard the captain roar. Zardi turned around to see one of the sailors, the mouselike Mirzani, at the ship's rail about to dump a box of weapons into the water. “Don't you think we might need those, seeing as we're being chased by a ship filled with guards with very, very pointy swords?”

“Sorry, Capt'n.” Mirzani dropped the weapons onto the deck. “You said all boxes.”

“I know what I said,” Sinbad growled. “But we're going to need those daggers.”

Zardi suddenly felt incredibly scared. Sinbad's men weren't really fighters. If they were caught they would be no match for the sultan or his guards. Shahryār was a ruthless hunter and the
Falcon
was his prey only because she and Rhidan were on it. Zardi looked at their pursuers, hoping to see space opening up between them as the
Falcon
was unloaded of its provisions, but the other ship continued to gain on them.

She picked up a bag of rice. It was heavier than she expected and she felt a twist of worry as she thought about Nonna all by herself in the house, perhaps having to lift bags just like this. Zardi shook her head. She had to keep moving and help the
Falcon
escape.
Or I might never see Nonna again
.

The
Swift
was close enough now for Zardi to make out the faces of those on board.

She stiffened as she spotted a figure dressed in expensive white robes and a silk turban standing at the prow of the pursuing ship. Even from this distance, she felt the sharp point of Shahryār's gaze. Did he recognize her? Zardi's stomach flipped, but she refused to look away. Instead Shahryār did, and she watched as he left the prow. She felt a surge of elation at the victory, small as it was.

As she turned to grab another bag of rice, something fast and hot whizzed past her ear and embedded itself in the mast at the center of the ship. It was an arrow, its flaming tail dripping clusters of fiery ash onto the deck. She looked at the sultan's ship. Shahryār stood there again, but this time with an archer by his side who was preparing a bow that was as tall as he was.

On deck, the crew of the
Falcon
had been stunned into stillness by the sudden appearance of the flaming arrow. Dabis was the first to leap into action, and he plunged the arrow into the rain barrel before the fire could touch the sail.

“We're doomed,” Mirzani wailed as he crouched for cover on the deck.

“And it's her fault.” Nadeem's eyes were slits as he watched Zardi duck low and scramble over to them.

“We can fight back,” Zardi said, ignoring Nadeem's words.

Mo, Ali, Syed, and Tariq looked at her pityingly.

“Is that for show?” Tariq pointed to the bow and quiver on Zardi's belt. “You're not much of a bowman, if you can't see that fighting back is futile.”

“Zardi's the best archer I know,” Rhidan said angrily.

“That may be so, but how far can she shoot with that bow?” Tariq's swamp-colored eyes were despondent.

“Two hundred and fifty arm spans,” Zardi replied confidently.

“And how far away is the sultan's ship?” Syed asked, wiping at the sweat that beaded on his shaved head.

Rhidan glanced at the
Swift
. “I don't know, about four hundred arm spans?”

“Well, there's your answer.” Zain pulled anxiously at his long braid. “We haven't got any weapons that can reach that far.”

“The sultan and his guards have the better ship and the better weapons,” Musty confirmed. “We're a sitting duck.”

Sinbad looked at them all, his normally handsome face a haggard mask of worry. “It's a warning shot. They're showing us that they can hurt us and that there's nothing we can do about it.”

“We'll burn on this ship.” Mirzani's face crumpled with fear. “They'll fire off arrows until the
Falcon
is cooked.”