Pirate Emperor Read online

  She returned his smile and noticed that he wasn’t wearing the knapsack with the Hexhermetic Shipworm. Obviously Aelenium’s new prince of poetry had not been invited to the assembly.

  Instead she caught sight of Griffin, who looked up at the same moment. Bored, he’d been sitting at the table with his feet on the edge of it. Now he leaped up with a joyful grin and quickly came over to her.

  Griffin and Buenaventure, she thought, and felt an unexpected warmth rise in her. If there were two people to whom she’d entrust her life unconditionally, it was these two.

  Possibly Soledad, too, but the princess’s goals still appeared a little too opaque to her: Soledad wanted to topple the pirate emperor Kendrick and enter into the rightful inheritance of her father, Scarab. But what price was she willing to pay for it? Would she ever value anything more highly than the throne of the Caribbean pirates?

  Then there was Walker, himself a pirate, who knew how to sail a ship as scarcely any other man did. Walker was here for one reason primarily: He was speculating on the gold that the Ghost Trader and Jolly had promised him.

  The scalding thought came to her that Walker must still believe the half-finished tattoo on her back was part of a treasure map. Jolly had told him that tall tale to get him to carry her and Munk to Tortuga without charging them for passage.

  Walker also had a second motive, however: He was hoping to win the princess’s affections, and she obviously didn’t intend to reject him outright—whether out of honest feelings for the captain or to secure his support was still a mystery to Jolly.

  And finally there was the Ghost Trader, who was now standing at the head of the table beside a man who wore the clothing of a European nobleman, not sumptuous but of fine materials. His cloak was embroidered in a manner similar to Jolly’s new vest, and she wondered if this correlation perhaps had a deeper meaning.

  Was she so highly prized as a polliwog that she might wear symbols similar to the rulers of this city? She felt flattered, even though she knew how irrational that was.

  The Ghost Trader was certainly the least transparent person of all those present. He was a living mystery, a man who could be friendly at times, almost fatherly, then cold and calculating, if it suited his secret purposes. He was the only one of the friends who had not put on new clothes: As usual, he was wearing his dark, floor-length robe, but his hood was thrown back and his haggard face was displayed openly. The narrow-lipped mouth and the piercing, dark blue eye did their part to make him seem more sinister, which perhaps in fact he was. On his shoulders sat the black parrots Hugh and Moe, imitating his every head movement in an irritating way.

  Jolly turned to Griffin and Buenaventure, who were now standing beside her, as they waited for instructions or advice. Both obviously felt just as uncomfortable and out of place in this remarkable gathering as she did herself.

  They’d hardly exchanged a few words when the doors at her back opened again and Munk came in.

  He wore a long-sleeved dark jacket with silver embroidery, which matched that on Jolly’s vest and on the clothing of the nobleman at the head of the table. Munk was supporting a gray old man in a long robe, who needed the additional help of a staff to walk. That must be Forefather, the teacher of the polliwogs.

  Munk gave Jolly a smile, but before she could return it, a gong struck somewhere in the depths of the hall. All conversation died.

  “Please, my friends, sit down,” said the nobleman at the head of the table to those who were still standing. “We are present in full number, now that our two polliwogs have arrived.”

  All eyes turned to Jolly and Munk. Forefather uttered a soft, satisfied mutter. Some of the men and women murmured stealthily to each other. Jolly’s doubts returned: They’d never be able to live up to these people’s expectations.

  Those who hadn’t been sitting now streamed to the table. Munk steered toward a place beside Jolly, but because he was leading Forefather on his arm, Griffin got there before him. Buenaventure let himself down on her left side.

  Ill-humoredly, Munk placed the old man on the opposite side of the table and sat down beside him. Jolly met Forefather’s eyes and smiled nervously when he nodded to her. His wrinkled features appeared serene and relaxed; he radiated a tranquility that did her good.

  Walker took the chair next to Buenaventure, then looked in Soledad’s direction and pointed inquiringly at the empty place next to him. The princess winked at him, but she sat down between two women, who regarded her with frowns. Among the aristocracy of Aelenium, people were obviously not in the habit of associating with pirates.

  The nobleman at the head of the table waited until everyone had sat down, then he began to speak again. “I am Count Aristotle Constanopoulos. My grandfather came to Aelenium many years ago with a fleet of ships from Greece. He was allowed to remain and in time was initiated into the secrets of this city. The council chose him to be ruler, and after him this honor was bestowed on my father. I myself have served Aelenium for four and twenty years now.” For an instant his gaze wavered, but then he resumed. “Under my guardianship the Maelstrom has burst his chains and has succeeded in gaining new power. I bear the responsibility for this catastrophe, and I will—”

  “Excuse me, Count,” the Ghost Trader interrupted, without rising from his seat, as would have been usual practice. “But you don’t bear the blame for this misfortune. No one could have held the Maelstrom.”

  Count Aristotle smiled sadly. “It is kind of you to seek to defend me, but I cannot agree with you. Since ancient times it has been Aelenium’s task to hold the Maelstrom imprisoned in the Crustal Breach, and for whatever reasons he has regained strength—it happened under my aegis.”

  The Ghost Trader was about to contradict him again, but the count cut him off with a wave of the hand.

  “It is a fact, my friend,” he said. “But today we will not speak further about that. There’s something more important that must be decided in this meeting.”

  Jolly was amazed at how much the Ghost Trader subordinated himself to the count. His nodding in agreement and becoming silent now did not appear to fit with his usual behavior. But perhaps that was a part of his wisdom: to recognize the moment when it was better to respect another’s opinion.

  “Some of us already know what stands before us and in what way we must fight against it” said the count. “I think, however, that we owe it to the two polliwogs to call the thing by name just this once.” Then he turned his eyes to Jolly and Munk and was silent for a remarkably long time while he regarded them. It seemed to Jolly as if his eyes pierced her eyes and behind, in the far distance, discovered something quite astonishing.

  A pirate girl and a farm boy. Possibly he was just realizing how hopeless the situation was.

  “Everything began with the magic,” the count explained, and the Ghost Trader at his side nodded slowly. “Magic is only another word for the power that streams through our world and thus flows through veins under the surface like blood through the body of a human being. It is this power that keeps us all alive, even if only a few learn its secret and hardly anyone understands it. It is this power, this magic, that comes to the world’s aid when it is threatened, as now. Just exactly as it did once before, many thousands of years ago.”

  Jolly felt that Forefather was still observing her. Munk was also looking in her direction. She returned his look briefly and noticed in surprise that he first blushed, then smiled.

  “At that time, the Maelstrom threatened for the first time to tear down the boundary of the Mare Tenebrosum and open a pathway into our world. Then, it was inhabitants of this island who succeeded in turning aside the danger and imprisoning the Maelstrom in a mighty mussel on the bottom of the sea. Today we call the place where the mussel lies the Crustal Breach. For a long time the Maelstrom was safely confined there, for the magic veins bunch together in the Crustal Breach. They keep the Maelstrom enclosed.

  “Nevertheless, some creatures of the Mare Tenebrosum succeeded at that time
in getting into our world through the Maelstrom, before it could be sealed in. In this way the ancestors of the kobalins crossed over, it is said, and there were men who mated with them. Thus the kobalins received the form they have today.”

  Walker, obviously uncomfortable in this meeting, raised his voice. “Does that mean the kobalins are half human?”

  Some of the gentry sent the captain reproving looks, but Count Aristotle nodded patiently. “Human blood flows in them too, certainly. How much, no one is able to say. Are they more of this world or are their roots in the Mare Tenebrosum? I do not know, and I doubt that any other here knows the answer to that.” He turned to the Ghost Trader, but the Trader shook his head silently.

  “But it is not the kobalins who concern us at the moment,” said the count after a short pause. “I have only mentioned them to illustrate what might await us if the Maelstrom opens completely.”

  He took up the earthenware goblet that stood before him and drank a sip. “The kobalins came to us because the border between the worlds was down for only a moment, perhaps a few seconds, perhaps a heartbeat. No one can imagine what would come over if the Maelstrom opened it for an hour or a day.”

  “Or forever,” added the Ghost Trader, and his parrots nodded wisely.

  “Or forever,” the count repeated. “There were polliwogs then too, in the first war against the Maelstrom. Only they were probably called something else at that time. The world opened the veins of its magic and let a little of it escape, and where it ran among men, polliwogs were born soon afterward. Exactly as it happened fourteen years ago.”

  “The earthquake,” Jolly murmured softly, but in the stillness that followed the count’s words, everyone in the room heard her.

  Aristotle nodded. “The great earthquake of Port Royal. It did not cause havoc there alone, but also deep on the ocean floor. Down in the Crustal Breach. The mussel opened and the Maelstrom was able to escape. The magic veins that crossed there were disrupted, and some were obliterated, and the power of the mussel diminished. That is the calamitous result of the earthquake, but there was also a good one, for the world keeps a balance in all things. Around Port Royal, there where the temblor broke to the surface, magic escaped from the burst veins and created new polliwogs. It is predestined for them to repair the devastation in the Crustal Breach.” He snorted scornfully. “No one could guess that once again men would have nothing better in their minds than to misuse the magic of the polliwogs for their own purposes. You all know what happened. The polliwogs and their families were hunted, and so today there are only two of them sitting here among us, the last survivors of the massacre.”

  Jolly knew the story. Munk’s father had told it to her. But to hear it again from the counts mouth sent chills down her back. Against her will came renewed doubts as to whether Bannon had told the truth when he claimed he’d bought her as a little child in the slave market on Tortuga. What if he’d been one of those who’d hunted the polliwogs, murdered their parents, and abducted the children? Anyway, he’d profited all those years from her being able to walk on the water.

  No, impossible. Not Bannon.

  She was glad when Count Aristotle resumed his speech and turned her to other thoughts.

  “It is predestined that the polliwogs take up the battle against the Maelstrom. With the help of the mussel magic they must”—he looked piercingly at Jolly and Munk—“you must close the Maelstrom into his mussel in the Crustal Breach again and thus seal the gateway to the Mare Tenebrosum.”

  Soledad raised her narrow hand. “May I ask a question?”

  “But certainly, Princess,” said the count.

  Soledad registered the title with satisfaction. Not everyone saw a princess in the daughter of a pirate emperor; probably far less polite words would have come to mind for many of them. “I’m wondering why Aelenium isn’t anchored directly over the Crustal Breach, but here, many miles away,”

  Count Aristotle nodded as if he’d already heard this question frequently. “Aelenium is a floating city, which is held in its position only by an anchor chain. But the length of such a chain, however strong it may be, is limited—the currents would tear it apart otherwise. Therefore, the depth of the sea under the city may be no greater than it is at the place where Aelenium lies now. One hundred feet more, and the danger of breaking the chain arises. But the Crustal Breach lies very much deeper. Here was the nearest possible place to anchor Aelenium, even though we are almost two hundred miles from the Crustal Breach.” The count looked at Soledad. “Does that answer your question, Princess?”

  “There’s something else that worries me. If the chain is as breakable as you say, then it will certainly be the first point of attack.”

  “We are aware of this danger, and we are doing our best to protect the chain. Divers patrol along the links, at least as far as it is possible for them. We do not know exactly how it looks on the ocean floor. The divers cannot go to such depths.”

  “But we can,” said Munk.

  The count frowned.

  Munk didn’t give him time to argue. “Jolly and I need practice. Before we go down to the Crustal Breach”—he looked quickly over at Jolly, uncertain, but also with a flash of triumph—“we could see if the anchor is all right down on the bottom.”

  “Too dangerous,” said the Ghost Trader, shaking his head so vehemently that Hugh, on his right shoulder, took a stalking bird step to one side. “We cannot risk your lives unnecessarily.”

  “Quite right,” agreed Count Aristotle, and a murmur of agreement arose among the others. Jolly was glad about it, but she also saw Munk’s face harden.

  She was becoming increasingly aware of how much he enjoyed the power of the polliwog magic; he was positively basking in the recognition the others showed him. It angered him to have his suggestion rejected.

  Griffin had noticed too. “Our good Munk is sulking,” he whispered to her.

  She nodded but said nothing. Munk might seem sulky to Griffin, perhaps offended. But she was afraid that the unexpected rejection had hit him much harder. She didn’t like the way the magic had changed Munk. She didn’t like it at all.

  And she herself? Was she immune to it? What would become of her if Forefather took her under his wing and initiated her into the mysteries of her origin?

  “The plan looks as follows,” continued the count. “Our soldiers have been bumping into spies for some days now. It appears there’s only a little time left before the kobalin armies will begin the attack on Aelenium. The preparations for the battle and defending the city are moving forward. Building of the barricades has long since begun. But the polliwogs’ training has priority—Forefather, that is your task.”

  The old man nodded his head but still said nothing.

  “In twenty days, at the latest, perhaps even sooner, the sea horses will take Jolly and Munk as close as possible to the Crustal Breach, From there on, you two are on your own. None of us can accompany you down to where you must go. The Maelstrom will direct his gaze to the battle for Aelenium. He will not expect his opponent to approach over the floor of the ocean. And that is our chance. Your chance.”

  There was unconcealed sadness in his eyes now, and his voice sounded depressed. “I know what I am asking of you. You will be alone down there in the dark. You will be able to rely only on each other. No one can prepare you for the dangers—for no one knows them. If all goes well, there is only a strenuous hike ahead of you before you reach the Crustal Breach. If not … well, we are not capable of foreseeing.”

  Jolly blinked. All at once she was dizzy. It was as if she’d walked into a dream from one moment to the next. The boundary between reality and madness was suddenly fluid.

  She felt Buenaventure shove his huge hand over her small one.

  “They’re children,” he said to the gathering in a thundering voice. “Just children.”

  Count Aristotle dropped his eyes, took a deep breath, and then looked up. “We all know that. But when the fate of the world rests
on children’s shoulders, then they must bear this burden. This was not our choice.”

  The pit bull man growled something that was lost in the storm of other voices. Suddenly everyone was talking at once. Soledad was arguing with the Ghost Trader. The aristocrats buzzed with excitement. Forefather spoke with Munk, and Walker was talking animatedly about God knows what. Even the parrots were squawking.

  Only Jolly said nothing. Before her inner eye spread a dark, dead landscape, an underwater mountainous region, full of deep crevices, like gaping mouths in the crust of the world. No green, no plants, only gray and deep shadows. She was afraid as she had never been in her life before. Not even the Acherus had filled her with such fear.

  Griffin bent toward her, but she took in what he had said only when he was looking at her expectantly.

  “Let’s vanish,” he’d whispered in her ear. “First thing tomorrow. We’ll go away and everything will be fine.”

  But perhaps that was only a part of this waking dream, this jumble of truth and miracles and out-and-out terror.

  For nothing would be fine, she knew that for certain.

  Nothing would ever again be the way it had been before.

  7

  Visit by Night

  Forefather’s voice was dry and cracked.

  “Just try it,” he said. “You can do it. You need only to want to.”

  Jolly stared at the three mussels lying on the floor in front of her. The opened mussel mouths looked as if they were grinning sneeringly.

  “There’s no point in it. I can’t do it, and I don’t ever want to either.”

  “That’s the excuse of someone afraid of herself.”

  “Nonsense.” But she didn’t look at the old man as she said the word. For deep inside her the truth dawned. Forefather was right. She was in fact afraid of herself, what she might learn about herself if she delved deeper into the unknown regions of her innermost feelings. She felt as if she’d ventured into a strange area of the sea without charts and compass, that under the waves lurked murderous reefs and currents.