Voyage of Slaves

Serafina looked up from hugging Ned, obviously baffled. “I don’t know, Mamma, he was afraid to go into the passage between the cabins—Ned, too. They went all pale and shaky, so I pulled them back out onto the deck.”

Signore Rizzoli ventured a diagnosis. “Maybe it is the mal de mer, the seasickness. There are some who suffer badly from it.”

La Lindi indicated the dog. “And Ned, too? It is very odd, both of them overcome by seasickness at the same moment.”

Mummo suggested helpfully, “Perhaps Ned was not seasick. I think he was distressed just because his master fell ill. Look, Ben is beginning to come round!”

Opening his eyes slowly, Ben stared at the anxious faces gathered around him. He caught the thoughts Ned was directing at him.

“They think you’ve been seasick, mate, so stick to that explanation. We don’t want them knowing about the Dutchman!”

Serafina passed a clean, damp cloth over Ben’s forehead. “You had me worried. How are you feeling now?”

The boy’s strange, clouded eyes blinked gratefully at her. He sat up straight, wiping damp hair from his brow. “I think seasickness suddenly took hold of me, Serafina. It was either that or the heat and darkness of that alleyway, I’m not sure. I’ll be alright now, don’t worry. Ned and I will stay out on deck for the rest of the trip. Thanks for the help you gave us.”

Bomba saw Otto glance his way; he averted his eyes, making it appear that he had no interest in what was going on upon the foredeck. The slave driver whispered to the small crewman alongside him, “How would you like to earn two gold pieces, my friend?”

Greed shone in Abrit’s eyes. “Two gold pieces, eh, who d’you want me to kill?”

The big man continued staring out to sea. “Are you still good at throwing the knife?”

Abrit patted the handle of the long, hefty dagger which he carried in the back of his waistband. “I can throw this blade like no other, you have seen me do it many times before, Bomba. Who do you want dead?”

Bomba drew close to the assassin’s ear, whispering, “The infidel boy, he will be sleeping out on deck from now on. A swift throw in the dark night watches, one slain brat slipping gently into the sea. Who would know? The boy was ill anyhow. What could be simpler to one of your skills, little man?”

Abrit glanced up at Ben, then looked away. “The dog, it never leaves his side. For three gold pieces I would rid you of them both.”

Bomba frowned. “You are the son of a miserly she-wolf. Two gold coins is a fair price, even for both of them. What do you say, eh?”

Abrit shook his head, sticking to his price. “Three gold coins, or you do the job yourself. The dog cannot be left alive once the boy is slain. Three!”

Bomba spat over the side, knowing the small man had won. “Three it is, then, but I want the thing done properly!”

Abrit nodded. “When I kill them, they stay dead, believe me. Payment in advance, give me the gold now, friend.”

Grumbling, Bomba slipped him three thin coins. “There, it is all I possess. You are a mean little man!”

Testing each coin with his teeth, the assassin chuckled. “Aye, and you will be a big, happy man tomorrow morning. The poor boy leaned overboard to be sick during the night. Alas, he fell into the sea, and his faithful hound went after him. So, the ship sails on, and they are both gone forever. Then you will be avenged for the loss of face and favour with our master, Al Misurata!”

Bomba hated his fall from grace being discussed. “Shut your mouth and go about your business, you spawn of sun-dried camel spit!”

Abrit smiled sweetly, though his eyes were hard as stone. “Sometimes I do not throw the knife. Often I just creep up and slip it twixt the ribs of big men who have insulted Abrit. Guard your tongue, friend Bomba!” He strode jauntily off, whistling between his teeth.

12

SOFT AS DARK VELVET, THE MEDITERRANEAN cast its warm enchantment over the waves. Each riplet reflected glimmers of golden light from myriad stars, and a segment of crescent moon.

Ben and Ned were on the fo’c’sle head deck, taking their ease on a few blankets, which Mamma Rizzoli had provided for them. Ben lay gazing up at the beautiful night sky, the Sea Djinn swaying gently on the swell as he conversed with his friend.

“We’re safe out here on deck, mate, but I won’t be really happy until we’re well clear of this ship.”

Ned settled his chin across the boy’s feet. “Aye, back on dry land, far from the ghost of old Vanderdecken. Y’know, it’s odd that we haven’t had any messages of warnings from our angel for a long time now. At least I haven’t, have you?”

Ben let his eyes close. “Not that I can recall. I expect sooner or later the angel will let us know when it’s time for us to move on. Though I hope it’s not sooner. I like being with the troupe, they’re a good bunch.”