The Turning Tide (4 page)

“W
ell, it wasn’t me,” Jack said immediately. He leaned over to Barbossa. “We didn’t do it, did we?” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

Barbossa rolled his eyes.

“Sri Sumbhajee is aware that this is not the doing of our distinguished guests,” Pusasn said with a small bow. “This is the fourth time now that his food taster has keeled over dead, so unless your assassins invisibly preceded you, someone here at court is the culprit.”

“Sri Sumbhajee is most displeased!” Askay announced. “Sri Sumbhajee does not like to be nearly poisoned!”

“The feast is hereby cancelled!” said Pusasn.

“What?” Jean cried. “Why? What about us? I don’t mind a little poison! Wait, don’t go!” With a look of abject despair, he watched the silver platters being marched away. Lakshmi patted his hand sympathetically as his stomach growled again.

“Whoever is trying to kill Sri Sumbhajee will be punished most severely,” Askay said, glaring around at the seated courtiers.

Sri Sumbhajee banged his fist into the palm of his hand.

“He will be trampled by elephants!” Pusasn declared. “And then fed to crocodiles!”

“Um, yuck,” Marcella said, wrinkling her nose.

“Are you
sure
we can’t eat the food?” Jean said plaintively. “
Any
of the food?”

“Of course, you have to catch the scoundrel first,” Jack said to Sri Sumbhajee, lifting his spoon and twisting it to see his reflection. It gleamed as if it were made of gold. “You know, before the delightful spectacle of elephant-trampling and crocodile-feeding. But I’m sure you have the situation well in hand.”

Sri Sumbhajee and his aides shifted their glares to him.

“No?” Jack said, noticing their expressions. He breathed on the spoon and rubbed it on his sleeve. “Your beard hasn’t given you any hints? I thought the great Sri Sumbhajee and his wondrous beard knew all.”

“Sri Sumbhajee will use his powers to identify the assassin,” Askay said.

“And then—elephants and crocodiles!” Pusasn cried.

“They probably didn’t poison
everyone’s
dishes,” Jean pointed out desperately.

“I have an idea,” Carolina said suddenly. “Sri Sumbhajee, if we catch the assassin for you, may we ask you for a favor?”

“And what is that?” Askay asked, his eyes narrowing.

“Er, a favor to be named later,” Jack interjected quickly. He knew how Carolina thought; he’d seen her negotiations with Mistress Ching veer sharply away from Shadow Gold and into wishy-washy “fight alongside us” territory. As if defeating a worldwide nemesis were more important than saving Jack’s life!

“Sri Sumbhajee does not need help,” Pusasn said. “Sri Sumbhajee—”

“Knows all, yes, yes,” Jack said, waving one hand in a circle.

Diego noticed that his spoon appeared to have vanished…well, “vanished” if you pretended not to notice the spoon-shaped lump in Jack’s sleeve.

“The court may disperse,” Askay announced.

“Sri Sumbhajee is going to bed,” Pusasn added. Jack glanced up at the sky, which was still fairly light. The sun was a ball of orange on the horizon.

“Wait,” Carolina said, “shouldn’t we talk about the Shadow Lord?”

“Shouldn’t we
eat something
?” Jean protested.

“Sri Sumbhajee will speak with you in the morning,” Pusasn said firmly. The Pirate Lord gathered his robes around him and strode regally away.

As soon as he was gone, the members of his court started climbing to their feet, muttering and grumbling. Jean flopped over onto his back, groaning piteously. Catastrophe Shane tried to stand up, but he got his boots tangled in the cushions and ended up sprawled across the flagstones. Courtiers and pirates politely stepped over him.

In the commotion, Jack beckoned Diego, Carolina, and Barbossa. Marcella crowded up behind Diego, craning to listen in.

“So what’s the plan?” Barbossa asked, leaning into the huddle.

“Plan?” Jack said. “I was just saying hello. How are the women’s quarters, Carolina? Notice any secret ways to get there?”

“They’re nice,” Carolina said, giving him an amused look.

Jack spotted Mannajee whispering to a woman in a sari the color of the sea. She had a round, pretty face and looked about as doughy as Mannajee. Her plump hands smoothed his hair and straightened his kurta while they talked.

“Carolina, love,” Jack said, nodding surreptitiously with his head, “have you made the acquaintance of that young woman?”

“Sure,” Carolina said. “That’s Jhumpa, Mannajee’s wife.” Parvati had escorted the girls around the women’s quarters and introduced them to a few high-ranking court women. What had surprised Carolina the most was discovering that Parvati was in fact Sri Sumbhajee’s current wife. His last one had died a few years earlier.

“Keep an eye on her, would you?” Jack said with a wink. “She has a suspicious air about her. Reminds me of this charming blonde I met once on Tortuga.” He touched his cheek and winced, remembering. “Very…strong opinions.”

“We’re going to solve this,” Carolina said, giving Diego an excited look. “If we save Sri Sumbhajee’s life, then he’ll definitely help us fight the Shadow Lord, won’t he?”

“You may not have noticed this,” Jack said, “but he is a pirate.”

Carolina ignored him. “See what you can find out,” she said to Diego. “Especially about Mannajee. He’s Sri Sumbhajee’s heir, so he’d be the next Pirate Lord if Sri Sumbhajee died, which gives him a real motive.”

“I’m glad I don’t have someone hanging around plotting my death all the time. Eh, Barbossa?” Jack said.

Jack’s first mate made a strange contorted face. “We’re wasting time,” he growled. “We should draw our swords, demand the vial, and make our escape.”

“A solid plan,” Jack said. “Oh, except for the bit at the end where we get fed to crocodiles.”

“I have to go,” Carolina said, spotting Parvati moving toward her. She whispered in Diego’s ear and he nodded.

“What?” Marcella demanded. “What did you say? Secrets are rude!”

“Come along, girls,” Parvati said, taking their elbows and steering them back to the women’s quarters. Carolina gave Diego a meaningful look as she was led away.

“Maybe we should talk to Mannajee,” Diego said, glancing around the pavilion. Most of Sri Sumbhajee’s pirates were gone, but his brother was standing under one of the trees, trying to reach a low-hanging fruit. His whole body jiggled as he jumped and snatched at the air. The sun was going down and the sky was slowly shifting from light blue to deep purple.

“Suit yourself,” Jack said. “But I’m telling you, finding this assassin and saving Sri Sumbhajee’s life isn’t going to do any good. I save people’s lives all the time, and they’re never as grateful as they ought to be. ’Course, I’m usually the one pointing the sword at them in the first place. But still, I think the principle applies.”

Diego hopped off the pavilion and ducked under a branch. Mannajee glanced at him, but didn’t stop jumping for the fruit.

“What kind of tree is this?” Diego asked. “I’ve never seen it before.” The fruit was bigger than an apple with shades of dark green and brown and red and yellow-orange on the outside.

Mannajee looked around, as if he thought Diego must be talking to someone else. “It’s, um, a mango tree,” he said. He bent his knees and leaped as high as he could—which wasn’t very high.

“Need some help?” Diego offered.

Mannajee promptly sat down and leaned his back against the trunk with a sigh. “All right, if you insist. I’m absolutely starving. Sri Sumbhajee hasn’t let us eat a proper meal for days.”

“That’s too bad,” Diego said sympathetically. “Who do you think is trying to kill him?”

“You mean apart from everybody?” Mannajee said. “Let’s see…everybody, oh, and everybody else.”

“Really?” said Diego. He made a leap for the mango but missed it.

“He is a Pirate Lord,” Mannajee pointed out. “It comes with the territory. That’s just one reason I’m glad it’s him and not me.”

Diego studied the branches above him, then stepped around Mannajee and grabbed the trunk of the tree. He clambered quickly up through the leaves and scooted out along the branch. “You don’t want to be Pirate Lord?” he called down. “Really?”

Mannajee snorted. “Who would?” He caught the mango in his hands as Diego tossed it down to him. Producing a wicked-looking knife from his turban, he started slicing off the skin in swift, practiced movements.

Diego couldn’t tell if Mannajee was lying. His face seemed calm and agreeable, but there was a flash of something in his eyes when he mentioned the Pirate Lord that could be greed or jealousy…or hate.

Was Sri Sumbhajee’s brother plotting against him?

Was his sleepy, apathetic attitude just a mask for smoldering ambition?

Could he be the assassin?

C
arolina had fallen in love with mangoes.

“We have oranges in Spain,” she said, slicing the peel off her fifth mango. “But they’re nothing like this. I could eat nothing but mangoes for the rest of my life and be perfectly happy.”

“They’re so messy,” Marcella whined. “Ew, now my hands are all sticky. And I think I have mango bits stuck in my teeth. Are you sure you don’t have any fish?

They were sitting on the grass with Parvati and Jhumpa in one of the garden courtyards, under a spreading mango tree. Parvati had conjured a makeshift dinner out of bread she’d baked herself, mangoes, cheese, and tea.

“Mannajee loves mangoes,” Jhumpa said. She patted her bun of smooth black hair. “I must remember to gather some for him.”

“By the way, I am
not
sharing a room with her,” Marcella said, pointing at Carolina.

“Fine by me,” Carolina said.

Parvati nodded patiently. “That can be arranged,” she said. “More tea?” Carolina held out the small bronze cup she’d been given, but Marcella shook her head.

“Your tea tastes weird,” she announced. “You should really work on that. It’s all, like, spicy and strange and
blech
.”

“I like it,” Carolina said quickly. Parvati smiled at her.

“I want—” Marcella started to say, but suddenly a small brown shape hurled itself out of the trees and into her hair. Marcella shrieked at the top of her lungs and leaped to her feet, shaking her head and jumping up and down.

“Get it off!” she screamed. “Get it off, get it off !”

“It’s just a monkey!” Carolina shouted, trying to hold Marcella still. She had a funny feeling the monkey was grinning at her. Its tiny front paws were clutching two of the big jewels in Marcella’s hair, and its back paws were wrapped around her neck. It seemed unfazed by her flapping dance. With a thoughtful expression, it meticulously plucked the jewels free, and Marcella shrieked even louder.

Trying not to laugh, Carolina reached for the monkey, but it sprang away from her and scurried up into the branches of the mango tree.

Hee-hee-hee!
it chittered triumphantly, holding the diamonds up over its head. Its fur was a light brownish yellow tan color, fading to white on its chest and gray along its arms. Its little face was pink and looked deeply amused. Big, surprisingly humanlike ears stuck out on either side of its head.

“Give them back!” Marcella yelled. “You horrible little monster!”

“It’s just a baby,” Carolina said.

“A very poorly behaved baby,” Parvati said sternly. “Toolajee! Toolajee, I know you’re hiding. Come here.”

Carolina looked around for the seven-yearold boy she had seen earlier that day. It took her a moment to spot him, high in the branches of another tree nearby. She waved at him and he frowned.

“Of course,” Parvati said, following her gaze. “He climbs as well as the monkeys do. Which is perhaps why they get along so well. Toolajee, come down here at once.”

Carolina saw his shoulders rise and fall in a huge sigh. Finally he started clambering down, dropping nimbly from branch to branch.

“He’d be perfect on a ship, climbing the ratlines,” she said.

“That is what his mother thinks as well,” Parvati said. “She fills his head with stories of the sea and nothing else. He fancies himself a big, important captain already.”

“Have I met his mother?” Carolina asked.

Parvati shook her head. “Nisha never leaves her room. She says she is still pining for Sri Sumbhajee’s father. She will see no one but Toolajee; she even makes the women who bring her her food go in and out completely covered from head to toe.”

The boy dropped from the last branch and rolled to a stop at their feet. He got up and brushed himself off with an insolent expression.

“Toolajee, control your monkey,” Parvati said. “Make it return our guest’s jewels.”

“They’re not
her
jewels,” Toolajee said ungraciously.

“Well, they’re not yours, either!” Marcella snapped.

“They will be when I’m Pirate Lord!” Toolajee countered, putting his fists on his hips and glaring up at her. “Then everything will be mine, and I’ll sail around all the time in a ship with a crew full of monkeys!”

“Sounds kind of like our ship,” Carolina joked.

Parvati shook Toolajee’s shoulder. “Call the monkey down right now, or there will be no sweets until the next full moon.”

Toolajee scowled, perfectly matching Marcella’s expression for a moment. Then he looked up at the monkey and clapped twice. Chittering cheerfully, the monkey hopped down onto the little boy’s shoulder and dropped the jewels into his hand.

“Thank you,” Parvati said.

“Keep your nasty little creature away from me in the future,” Marcella said, reaching for the diamonds.

Toolajee jumped away from her and then, with a sly smile, he tossed the diamonds into the nearest fountain. “If you want them so much, go get them!”

Marcella gasped. Carolina thought she was about to throttle the boy, but he turned and sprinted off through the gardens with the monkey clinging gleefully to his hair.

Parvati looked pained. “He has not had much guidance, I’m afraid. Don’t worry, I’ll get one of the servants to—oh.” Marcella had jumped into the fountain with a stubborn expression. “Or…that.”

“When Mannajee’s son is born, I will raise him much better than Toolajee,” Jhumpa said dreamily, touching her stomach.

“Oh,” Carolina said. “So you’re—are you—”

“Yes, we’ve been blessed,” Mannajee’s wife said. She cast a sly glance at Parvati. “I’m going to teach him to be a great and noble Pirate Lord.”

“Noble!” Marcella sputtered, staggering through the fountain as her wet sari clung to her legs. “There’s nothing noble about pirates! You can’t be noble and despicable at the same time!”

“In any case,” Parvati said, giving Jhumpa a frosty look, “Mannajee and his son will only inherit the title if Sri Sumbhajee does not have children of his own. But I am certain that he will.”

“We shall see,” Jhumpa said, smiling a faint, smug smile.

Interesting, Carolina thought. So if Sri Sumbhajee dies before he has children, Jhumpa’s son will be Pirate Lord one day.

She studied the plump, affable-looking woman as Jhumpa adjusted her blue-green sari and sipped her tea. She seemed so harmless. But what lengths would she go to for her new baby?

Would she be willing…to kill?