Day of the Shadow (5 page)

L
amps were being lit on the deck of the merchant ship as night fell. The sailors moved quietly, subdued by the sinister presence of the pirates watching them from the
Seref
.

Ammand the Corsair stood on his quarterdeck, looking down at Captain Hawk across the small stretch of water between their ships. Ammand was young for a Pirate Lord—younger than Mistress Ching or Chevalle or Sri Sumbhajee, for instance, although older than Jack. But there were deep lines in his face that testified to how much time he spent frowning.

In fact, he was frowning right now.

“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You want me to drop off your entire crew—alive—at the nearest port.”

“Yes,” said Captain Hawk. He leaned on a carved wooden walking stick, looking unconcerned, as if he had conversations with swarthy, grouchy Pirate Lords every day of the week.

Ammand’s hair was long and brown. His thick mustache was twisted into a thin curlicue at each end. His eyebrows whisked up at the edges as if they were imitating the mustache, and his large dark eyes were pitiless. Carolina wasn’t sure why Captain Hawk thought there was any chance of mercy from this pirate.

Ammand strolled to the edge of his deck, hopped onto the railing, and leaped gracefully over onto the merchant ship. His pirates looked alarmed, then cocked their pistols threateningly. Ammand put up one hand to reassure them. He beckoned Captain Hawk to the side, away from his other sailors. In the gathering dusk, the corsair seemed not to notice Carolina, still crouched with Diego at the foot of the mast.

“I am not a man who negotiates,” Ammand said curtly. He was astonishingly tall, perhaps as tall as Gentleman Jocard, so he towered over tiny Captain Hawk. His gold and brown coat gleamed in the lamplight. Carolina could see the bulky shape of a pistol tucked into his bloodred waist sash. Hanging from his belt was a wicked-looking curved sword—his famed scimitar.

Captain Hawk inclined his head at the Barbary pirate. “I understand. But I believe you are also an intelligent man who likes to maximize his profits.”

Ammand twisted an end of his mustache between his fingers, studying the captain narrowly. “Explain.”

Hawk inhaled. “Do you smell that?” he asked. “Burning. That’s my ship burning, thanks to your cannonballs. It will sink within the hour.”

The Pirate Lord shrugged. “Precisely my goal. Why should this concern me? It saves me the trouble of killing you all myself. I can just leave you to drown.”

“Or,” Captain Hawk said, “you can fill your hold with the treasure we are carrying.”

Ammand’s eyes glittered at the word. “What treasure?”

“We are carrying a great reward,” Captain Hawk said softly. “The Spanish government has tasked us with bringing it to an East India Trading Company agent named Benedict Huntington, in exchange for the information he sent them about the whereabouts of a pirate named Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Carolina’s eyes widened. So it was Benedict who had told her father to wait for the
Pearl
in Marseille! But how had he known where they would go? And how did he know who she was? Since when did he work with the Spanish?

“All that treasure could be yours,” said Captain Hawk. “I don’t particularly feel the need to enrich one of those East India scoundrels.”

“I will take the treasure anyway,” said Ammand. “Leaving you alive serves no additional purpose.”

Now it was Captain Hawk’s turn to shrug. “Oh, you can try,” he said. “Your pirates can board this ship, and my men will fight you tooth and nail. Yes, you’ll defeat us, no doubt, and probably most of us will die horribly, but by the time you get past us, you’ll have a few dead pirates and, more importantly, not enough time to bring up all the treasure. This ship will be at the bottom of the sea before you can transport all that gold over to yours.”

Ammand let out a puff of air that lifted his mustache. “And you propose?”

“Simple,” said Hawk. “Instead of fighting, my men help carry the treasure over to your ship before ours sinks. Then you drop us all off, alive, at the nearest port and sail away with the gold. Everyone wins.”

“Hmmm.” Ammand tapped his teeth with one long, yellow fingernail. “Tell me…why would the Spanish government be so interested in the whereabouts of this Captain Sparrow? I know he’s a pirate, but don’t they have plenty of those to hunt?” He let out a bark of laughter. “Myself, for instance?”

“As I understand it,” said Hawk, “there was a girl aboard his ship that they were particularly interested in finding.”

“Oh, ah!” Ammand said. “I see now! That must be the Spanish princess everyone is looking for. And Jack had her all this time? How very funny.”

Carolina ducked her head, hoping no one would notice her. If only she had her cloak! How could she hide among Hawk’s crew without being spotted? Perhaps if she acted cowed and quiet, they wouldn’t be able to tell she was a princess.

“Carolina!”

She jumped. Diego was awake. He was clutching her arm and staring past her—straight at Ammand.

“Look!” he whispered hoarsely. “Look at his sash!”

Carolina turned to look at the Pirate Lord and saw what Diego was staring at. Tucked into the red sash, right next to Ammand’s pistol, was another tiny lump…and from the way it was glowing, she could tell that it was a vial of Shadow Gold.

Her eyes traveled slowly up the pirate’s vest, and her heart sank as she realized he was staring right back at her.

“And who might this be?” Ammand asked, stepping toward her. She stood up and hunched her shoulders, avoiding his eyes. She tried to look as nervous and scruffy as she could, not like a princess at all.

“Nobody,” Captain Hawk interjected. From the way he started talking faster, Carolina wondered if it had just occurred to him who she was. “Just a couple of stowaways. You can toss them out with us. I think the nearest port is in Italy, by the way….”

Ammand put one finger under Carolina’s chin and tipped her head up so he could examine her face by the lamplight. She blinked vacantly, hoping he couldn’t see any spark of defiance in her eyes. “Pretty,” he said. He waved one hand over his shoulder. “All right, Captain Hawk, I agree to your proposal. Start moving the treasure. I’ll stay here and have a chat with your lovely stowaway.”

Captain Hawk hesitated, but there was nothing he could do without angering the Barbary pirate. He whistled for Tim and they hurried off to organize the transfer of treasure into the
Seref
’s hold.

Ammand reached into his sash and pulled out the vial of Shadow Gold. He tipped it slowly back and forth in front of Carolina’s eyes. She was mesmerized by the pale, shimmering liquid. “You seem very interested in this,” Ammand said. “What do you know about it?”

“I don’t know, sir. What do you know about it?” she asked.

Ammand laughed. “Pretty
and
amusing,” he said. His voice grew colder. “Tell me what you know.”

Well, Carolina said to herself. This is our quest…to warn the Pirate Lords about the Day of the Shadow. She decided to take a chance on honesty. With the exception of the Spanish-princess detail, of course.

“I—I know it belongs to the Shadow Lord,” she said slowly. “He’s planning something terrible. It’s called the Day of the Shadow—I don’t know what that means, but I know it’s coming soon. I heard his Shadow Army is going to rise up and try to kill as many pirates as possible. So we’ve been traveling around the world trying to warn the Brethren Court.”

She couldn’t help it. Her voice got more passionate as she spoke. This was something that she felt really strongly about. She’d seen what the Shadow Lord could do—the images of the burned village in Panama were seared into her memory. She didn’t want that to happen to anyone else. “You’re the only ones who can stop him!” she went on, looking up into Ammand’s dark eyes. “You have to be ready to fight. When the Day of the Shadow comes, you
must
fight his Shadow Army, or all of you will die.”

Ammand stared at her for a moment. Then he started laughing a deep belly laugh. His pirates paused their treasure loading to stare at him in surprise and alarm.

Carolina was rather alarmed, too. What on earth was so funny about the Shadow Army coming to kill them all?

“Oh,” Ammand said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, “what a charming story. It is like the tales my grandmother used to tell from the
Arabian Nights
. Tell me, is there a genie in a lamp as well? Perhaps a talking nightingale or herbs of immortality?”

“This is
true
!” Carolina insisted, stamping her foot. “You must believe me! The Shadow Lord is real!”

“I know the difference between what is real and what is a fairy tale, little bird,” said Ammand. “For instance, I know one real thing.” He leaned toward her. “I know that
you
are the Spanish princess everyone is looking for.”

Carolina ducked her head, but it was too late. He must have seen the flash of fear in her eyes. She’d been foolish to get so carried away—her princess side just kept popping out when she didn’t want it to.

The corsair turned to grin at the chests of gold that were being passed along a chain of men over to his ship. “Look at all that gold,” he said. “And think—the Spanish government was willing to pay that much just for information about a ship that
might
have had you aboard.” He turned and gave her a sinister smile. “Imagine how much they will pay…for the girl herself.”

“No!” Carolina protested. “Don’t take me back! I won’t go! I’m a good pirate, I can help you, I can tell you all about the Shadow Lord—”

“I do love a good fairy tale,” Ammand said. “But I love gold more.” He turned and beckoned to a couple of his pirates. They hopped over the rail and advanced toward her. They were nearly as tall as Ammand, with really thick arms and equally sharp scimitars at their waists.

“Take her to the brig,” Ammand said, turning on his heel. “The boy, too.”

Carolina tried to struggle, but Diego was too wounded to fight, and when she saw one of the men toss him over his shoulder, she gave in and followed. So much for their great escape. Now they had abandoned their captain
and
they were still going back to her father.

The iron door of the brig slammed behind her, leaving Carolina more miserable than she’d ever felt before.

“T
ook your vial of Shadow Gold?” Jack cried, aggrieved. “Well, I think you might have mentioned that earlier! What on earth are we fighting about, then?”

Chevalle shrugged. “I wanted to beat somebody.” His hands curled into fists. “The Shadow Lord just came in and
took
it from me. There was nothing I could do. His power is too great.” He dropped the mirror shard on the table and hopped down to the floor.

Fifi ran over and jumped into his arms.

“There, there,” Chevalle murmured to her. “It is all right,
ma petite
. I have won.”

“Have not!” Jack said indignantly.

“Have so!” Chevalle snapped, drawing himself up.

“Have not!”

Chevalle covered the dog’s ears and glared at Jack. “Would you stop arguing for one second and let my poor Fifi have her illusions, please?”

“Oh,” Jack said, befuddled. He nodded at the dog as Chevalle uncovered her ears again. “Uh, right. Sure he did.” As Chevalle turned away, the dog peered over his shoulder at Jack, and Jack shook his head and mouthed, “No, he didn’t.”

Fifi growled, and Jack quickly changed the subject. “Listen, mate, if the Shadow Lord was really here, how come you’re still alive? Seems like an oversight on his part, if you ask me.”

There was one patch of the wall still covered with a mirror large enough to see one’s face in. Chevalle walked slowly to this mirror and stared at his reflection as if he were also surprised to see himself still alive. Fifi tilted her head at the dog in the mirror and growled.

“He would have killed me,” Chevalle said. “He would have choked me with shadows and left me to die. But something called to him—he sensed something that made him leave in a hurry. As if he had somewhere else very urgent to be. Or someone else he wanted to kill even more badly than myself.”

Jack shuddered. He could guess who that might be. Yesterday…precisely when the
Pearl
was sliding into the harbor at Marseille. That was an unsettling thought. Did the Shadow Lord have shadow spies reporting back to him? A cold feeling ran through Jack, like icebergs sliding down his spine. Where did the Shadow Lord go? What if he were back on the
Pearl
right now…waiting for Jack?

Or perhaps he’d gone on to get the last vial from the Pirate Lord of the Black Sea instead—unless he’d done that already. It was horrible knowing for sure that the Shadow Lord really was two steps ahead of him. That meant that Jack’s nightmare in India had been all too true. The Shadow Lord knew everything. He knew who had the vials, and even worse, he knew that Jack needed them.

Jack’s original plan had been to find the vials, drink them all, and then hide in a nice corner somewhere until the Day of the Shadow was over and everyone had fought themselves out or whatever was going to happen. He had no interest in ever meeting the Shadow Lord in person. The fellow was menacing and horrid enough in dream form.

But now he had no choice. To cure his shadow-sickness, he needed those last two vials. Which meant he
had
to go looking for the Shadow Lord.

With a sigh, Jack climbed down from the table and sheathed his sword. Chevalle was rocking Fifi in his arms and muttering to himself. He didn’t look interested in dueling anymore. Jack carefully stepped over the mirror shards and headed for the door.

“Jacques.” Chevalle’s voice stopped him in his tracks. Jack looked back at the French pirate lord. Chevalle’s eyes were narrow and full of anger. ‘Tell me, Jacques…where do you go now? Are you going to seek this Shadow Lord?”

“Don’t have much choice, do I?” Jack said. “’Course, I wouldn’t have to if
somebody
had been a better guardian of their Shadow Gold, savvy?”

Chevalle either ignored or didn’t hear this insult. “That scoundrel paid me grave insult by coming in here and stealing from me. He thought he could humiliate the house of Chevalle!” He tossed his head proudly. “Nobody treats me in this fashion! I will show him how Chevalle can fight! I will give him a taste of Chevalle’s revenge.”

“Now
that
is a much better name for a ship,” Jack said sincerely. “The
Revenge
! I mean, think about it. How many ships out there are going, ‘oooh, here comes the
Fancy
—oh, no, I’m quaking in me boots’? Eh? I’ll tell you how many: none. More likely they’re thinking, what’s he going to do with a ship called the
Fancy
? Tie pretty ribbons on me and squirt me with his lavender scent?” Jack paused for a moment. “Come to think of it, that is a bit terrifying. Not as terrifying as the
Revenge
, though! Seriously, think about it. I’ll give you that idea for free.”

“Do you ever shut up?” Chevalle asked, storming past Jack. “Now hurry. We will take my carriage to Marseille and be there by midnight.”

“Oh,” Jack said, realizing that Chevalle intended to accompany him on the rest of this quest. And that he would be trapped in a carriage with that lavender scent all the way to Marseille…a much faster way to get there, but unfortunately also a much smellier one. He rolled his eyes. “Oh, fabulous.”

“T
here must be a way out of here,” Billy said, striding from one end of the narrow cell to the other. He had to step over several legs in the dark, cramped space. Barbossa, Jean, and Catastrophe Shane were all packed into the same tiny cell with him. Only a pair of candles guttering in the hallway beyond the bars cast a small glow into the room, so they could see the matching gloomy looks on each other’s faces.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jean said calmly. “Jack will come for us.”

Barbossa snorted. His voice sounded even more ominous in the dark. “Will he?” he growled. “Or will he run off to look for the Shadow Gold? You’ve seen how obsessed he is with those vials. What do you really think will happen?”

Jean shifted uncomfortably, his back scraping against the stone wall through his thin shirt. “He will come,” the Creole sailor insisted, but with less confidence in his voice this time. He kicked the broad flagstones underneath him. “I just wish they would
feed
us. I’m positively
starv
ing
. I’d eat
weevils
right now, I’m that hungry.”

“Me, too,” Catastrophe Shane moaned. He was lying prone on the floor with his arms over his face.

Billy grabbed the bars of the door and shook them, sending a rattling echo down the hall.

“Hey! Shut up down there, ye mongrels!” shouted a voice from another cell.

“
You
shut up, ye mangy bilge-rats!” Barbossa shouted back.

It did no good anyway. The iron bars were solidly buried in the stone walls around them. Nothing would make that door open except the key to the large padlock. Billy worked his hand through the bars and fingered the lock.

“Couldn’t we pick this?” he whispered to Barbossa.

The first mate got up and stumped over to the door. He peered at the lock as Billy twisted it toward him.

“Not with anything I’ve got on me,” he said. Billy’s shoulders slumped, and Barbossa patted one of them sympathetically. “Don’t you worry, lad. I’ll think of something. You stick with me and it’ll all work out, you’ll see.”

Jean gave Barbossa a confused look. Barbossa was never kind or sympathetic. What angle was he playing here?

“I want to go home,” Catastrophe Shane muttered.

“Where is home for you?” Jean asked, trying to take his mind off the roaring emptiness in his stomach.

Shane propped his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. “Uh…I’m not sure.”

“Oh, well, of course,” Jean said. “Life of a pirate, that’s how it goes. Every port is home for a little while, right? But really you just want to be on the sea…is that it?”

He could see Shane shaking his head in the dim light. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t remember where I came from. I don’t remember much before I signed on with Jack Sparrow.”

“Captain Jack Sparrow,” Jean corrected automatically, even though he rarely remembered to call him that when they were together. He squinted at Catastrophe Shane. What an odd story. How could anyone not remember where they came from?

Jean was one of the few crew members who knew about Jack’s shadow-sickness. He also knew that it had started the day Catastrophe Shane came aboard.

Was there a connection?

What if Catastrophe Shane was lying?

What if he was really working for the Shadow Lord? He certainly muttered some odd things in his sleep…things about how dangerous he was. Jean had always assumed these were normal pirate ambitions. But what if they were something more?

“Look!” Barbossa suddenly seized Billy’s arm. The first mate pointed through the bars.

A strange sight was coming down the corridor toward them. Before they could see it clearly, they could hear an approaching
jangle-jangle
.

Then a small shape emerged from the darkness…with five smaller shapes right behind it.

In the lead was a sandy-colored, scruffy-looking dog. It trotted proudly, with its head held high and its paws briskly stepping over the uneven stone floor. In its mouth the dog carried a heavy ring of iron keys, which jangled along with its movements.

This was strange enough. But to add to the strangeness, the dog was followed by a row of five puppies—all of them equally scruffy and sandy-colored. And each of them was also carrying a ring in its mouth. The only difference was that the puppies’ rings held only one key apiece. Clearly a whole ring of keys would be too heavy for them.

Billy shook his head, blinking. It sounded too crazy to believe…but it looked like the dogs were practicing. At each cell, the mother dog would sit down just outside the bars. She gave her puppies a stern look, and they all tumbled into sitting positions beside her. Then they sat there while the pirates in the cells tried to call to them.

“Here doggie! Come here! Come on! Nice doggie!” yelled the pirates in the next cell. They leaned through the bars, trying to grab the rings of keys, but the dogs had carefully put themselves just out of arm’s reach. The puppies turned up their noses and tried to imitate their mother’s proud, determined expression. None of them would let themselves be coaxed by the pirates.

Once the mother dog was satisfied with their performance, they moved on to the next cell.

“Look at the little one,” Jean whispered.

The smallest puppy seemed to be having the most trouble with the task. Instead of staring off into space like he was supposed to, he kept getting distracted by flickers of light on the floor or cockroaches darting out from cracks in the wall. His ears flapped as he whipped his head from side to side, watching for interesting things. At one point he noticed the pirates waving to him and bounced to his paws with a small yap, nearly dropping his key. His mother growled and nudged him firmly. The puppy quickly sat back down again, looking embarrassed. The other four puppies exchanged amused, knowing glances.

“Even so,” Billy murmured, realizing what Jean was thinking, “what are the chances that the little one has
our
key?”

“Let me try,” Jean said, getting up and crouching by the front of the cage. The dogs were sitting in a row against the far wall, pretending to ignore Barbossa as he tried to shove his arm out of its socket to reach the keys. The mother dog lifted her nose. The four bigger puppies lifted their noses, too.

But the littlest puppy looked at Jean. His dark eyes were curious.

“Hey,” Jean called softly. “It’s okay. Come here, puppy.” His voice was softer and more welcoming than those of the pirates in the other cells. The puppy’s ears went up a little. Its tail went
thump-thump
against the stone floor.

Rrrrrrrrrrrr
, his mother scolded.

The puppy’s head drooped. He looked down at his paws as if he was determined not to look at Jean anymore.

“If only we had some food!” said Jean.

“Aye, there you go, thinking of your stomach again—and at a time like this!” Barbossa growled.

“I meant
for the puppy
,” Jean objected.

“Oh,” Catastrophe Shane said from the floor. “Would something like this work?”

Jean turned slowly. Shane was holding out a croissant filled with bacon and cheese.

Jean’s face turned red. “Are you telling me,” he said, his voice rising, “that you’ve had
that
in your pocket this whole time? This whole time! While I was moaning about how starving I was! And you didn’t say anything! Where did you even get it?”

“Nabbed it from a street cart on the way here,” Shane said. “What? I forgot I had it. But I’m not going to eat it anyway. I’m a vegetarian.”

“A what?” Barbossa said. “Sounds like a disease. Is it contagious?”

“It just means I don’t eat meat,” Shane explained self-righteously.

Barbossa snorted. “A pretty bad disease, then.”

Jean snatched the croissant away from Shane. His hand trembled with hunger. He just wanted to stuff the food into his mouth and swallow it all before anyone else got their hands on it. But he couldn’t do that. They needed the croissant for bait.

He turned around and realized that the dogs were starting to move on to the next cell. The mother trotted off, and all the puppies smartly fell into line behind her. This was their last chance!

“Hsssssst!”
he whispered frantically.

The smallest puppy, at the very end of the line, hesitated for a moment. Then, as his brothers and sisters scampered on ahead, he turned to give Jean an apologetic look.

But then Jean tossed him a piece of bacon.

The puppy’s ears went up. His nose went
sniff, sniff, sniff
. He took a couple of cautious steps toward Jean, then dropped his key and pounced on the bacon. In half a second, it was gone. The puppy licked his chops. He glanced down the hall, where his mother was vanishing around a corner. Then he came bounding over to Jean with his tail wagging.

“Oh, well done,” Barbossa said sarcastically, pointing to the key still lying out of reach on the floor, where the puppy had dropped it.

“Wait, wait,” Jean said, holding the food away from the dog. “Go get the key. Go on! Go get it!”