Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean. Original characters and plots belong to me.

Chapter 24

Bandari

Late that night I sat on our berth racking my brain for a way to get at the Sword of Triton. Hector slowly paced the room, a dangerous lion in a cramped cage. I could sense the intensity of his mood and it strained my nerves to the breaking point. At last I abandoned my efforts.

Twisting my fingers together, I said: "Why must I be the one to get the sword from him? I don't know how to ask for it. What reason could I possibly give?"

"That be the least o' yer worries," Hector replied. "Supposin' ye get it away from him. We can't stay on the Santiago, so what's to do next? Jump ship an' fly away?" He shook his head. "Without the Berwick, we may already be as good as dead."

I closed my eyes for a moment to suppress a little frisson of panic. "Then we should devise a way to save ourselves," I said. "Let Ponce de Leon keep his damned sword."

Hector stopped pacing and made a half turn towards me. There was a long pause while he regarded me out of the corner of his eyes. Finally he said: "I ain't leavin' without the Sword."

So that was it. I resisted the urge to confront him with angry words. Propping my elbows on my knees, I cupped my chin with both hands. "Why?" I asked, keeping my voice reasonable.

"So ye really never heard of it?" He faced me, raising his eyebrows. "Forged by Triton himself, some say. A treasure more precious than gold." He resumed pacing, then suddenly said: "Did ye see him cast off the Berwick? Did ye hear the music playin' by itself? All he does is hold the Sword an' command things t' do his bidding. There be no need to speak the words"-he tapped his forehead-"the Sword knows what its master wants."

It was plain how much he wanted the Sword. I had never heard so much envy in his voice, not even for the golden tablet.

"If I were master o' that Sword," he said, "I could rule the seas – I'd be King of the Pirates."

I glanced at him sharply.

"Assumin' King Swann were to abdicate," he added.

Was there no end to his ambition? "Why stop at ruling the seas?" I asked tartly. "Why not rule the world?"

"Because the Sword must be near a ship," he explained, oblivious to my sarcasm. "Otherwise its power wanes until there be none at all." He considered for a moment, then as an afterthought, added, "They say it can call the winds as well."

"Any fool can call the wind by whistling aboard a ship," I retorted. "Surely you know that old mariner's tale?" As a child, I had personally been scolded for doing just that by Teague himself. "Even if it does call them, once the winds rise, you can't control them."

He glared, jutting his jaw. "By the powers, I ain't afraid o' the winds!"

"By the powers, I'd be confounded if you were," I said, unable to suppress a smile. The tension between us eased. I stretched out my arm. "Come here, love…please…"

I drew him to the side of the berth, then slid my arms about his waist and pressed my cheek against his stomach. He laid his hand on the crown of my head and began to toy with my tresses, gently working his fingers through them and caressing my scalp.

I sighed, recalling the soothing way he had searched for my hairpins long ago and how his tender sensuality had sparked the beginnings of my affection and trust. Why shouldn't he have the Sword? I would have given him the world if I could.

"I promise you: if I can get it, it shall be yours," I said.

"Sweetheart…" He sat on the berth and began to disorder my clothes, pausing now and then to feed my craving for him with the most sublime and intemperate kisses.

Then we fell into each other's arms and I closed my eyes, drunk on the warm, musky scent of his breath, the wiry feel of his whiskers, and the generous fullness of his mouth pressing against mine. My blood pulsed hot with longing for him, and soon our limbs were entwined and we thought no more of Ponce de Leon or the dangers circling round us.

…

The next night, I was in an anxious humour as we made our way to dinner. "There must be some way to persuade him to give me the Sword," I mused aloud.

"I hope so," Hector replied. "And we'd best think of it before we get to Whitecap Bay."

I shuddered. There would be no escape for us in the waters of that deadly bay. Even if we stole one of the Santiago's boats, the mermaids would smash it to kindling.

Upon entering the captain's quarters, we were met once more with the sounds of antique music, and our vibrant, luxurious surroundings contrasted starkly with the person presiding over them. His aged hand faltered as he lifted a jewel-encrusted goblet to his lips, and from time to time, he seemed to lose the thread of his own thoughts. But he was determined to impress and entertain us. It flashed through my mind that he must crave human companionship most desperately.

"I assure you," he said. "The Santiago seems practically alive when I have recently drunk from the Fountain. I am a young man again, strong and happy. Tonight that liveliness is a faded memory, but I assure you…I assure you..." His words trailed off. I suppose it had occurred to him that he was speaking to his victims, who would not survive to witness his rejuvenation.

Seeing our long faces, he sought to distract us. He drew the Sword and pointed it at an alcove across the room. "Have you ever danced the Pavan?" he asked me.

"I haven't had the pleasure." I turned my gaze to the alcove and saw something beginning to stir.

As I stared, a pair of very slender marionettes, worked by their strings, tiptoed out of the alcove on long, delicate legs and stood before us. They wore old-fashioned court dress, and stood a little less than three feet in height. Their faces and bodies had been stitched out of very fine silk, and their costumes were studded with tiny gems and threads of gold. Where they came from, I could not imagine.

It occurred to me that the captain of the Santiago must be the sort of person who never disposes of anything that comes into his possession. That would certainly account for the hordes of unique treasures on his ship.

Under the control of the Sword, the marionettes performed a tentative, stately dance to the music of the Spanish renaissance. Forward and back again, side to side, they bowed mechanically and pirouetted sedately with simple steps, displaying their finery.

"The Pavan, you see?" Ponce de Leon explained. "A beautiful dance, eh?"

I forced an answering smile. "Yes, and, ah…very decorous."

He sighed. "I know it is dull for young persons." His gaze drifted away, as though he was beholding a scene from many years past. "Whenever we came to Las Palmas, the girls in the harbour towns would dance El Canario—very lively! Quick music and stamping feet." He laughed and raised his arms for a moment as if holding castanets.

It may have been that one gesture that gave me the idea, but all at once I knew how I could ask for the Sword. I stole a look at Hector. He must have seen the change in my face, for he grew watchful and said not a word.

"I am very interested in these things," I said to our host, indicating the corner whence came the music. "Will you grant me a closer look?"

He was happy to indulge me, and I spent a little time admiring each reed pipe, cittern and viol. At last I unfolded an embroidered cloth and spied what I had been hoping against hope to find.

Turning to Ponce de Leon with a smile, I said: "You've travelled far, señor." I indicated two oddly-shaped instruments. "This is called a tombak and this, a nei anban. I know them from a little town on the Caspian Sea."

"But I can't command them to play," he said with an apologetic shrug. "I'm unfamiliar with their music."

As I examined the embroidered fabric, something heavy fell out of its folds and landed at my feet with a bright, jingling noise. I picked it up, and saw that it was a coin belt.

"That is worn with the gown," said Ponce de Leon.

I unfolded the fine cloth and held it up. It was a saidi-style dress-not exactly what I wanted, but it would do very nicely indeed. Fortune had dealt me a winning hand at last.

I clutched the dress to my chest and turned to Ponce de Leon.

"You must allow me to thank you for your gallant and generous hospitality," I said. "Tomorrow night, I will dance for you, in the style I learned in Baku."

"It would be an honour, señora," he replied, very pleased. I feared he might stand and attempt a bow, but he seemed aware of his own frailty. "Tomorrow night, then."

Hector was staring at me as if I had produced a live ocelot from his hat. I kept my smiling composure, but as we left, I muttered to him, "You needn't look so amazed—you don't know everything about me yet!"

"I can see that," he said with a sideways glance. "Will it work?"

With a nod, I said: "I believe it will."

…

The next afternoon, I spread out the saidi dress on our berth, and inspected it. Thin, peacock blue silk with very fine silk embroidery in ivory and rose, and a narrow border of silver threads worked into the shape of a flowering vine. Where on earth had the old conquistador acquired such a thing?

I took a breath and exhaled slowly, calming myself. Bandari. Harbour-dancing, just as Mavash had said in my dream. Could I remember the movements and perform them? A trifling, remote bit of my past had just assumed an importance I would never have credited. But I had learnt that everything that happens in our lives has its own purpose and bears fruit in its own time.

Hector stood beside me, gazing at the dress as he lightly kneaded the small of my back with his knuckles. "No shoes?"

I shook my head. "No shoes and no veil. This is all there was. I'll dance barefoot, but I think we should add some ornaments – rings and such like." I pulled a small jar from my pocket and Hector cocked an eyebrow.

"From Jack, long ago," I said, daubing my eyelids with kohl.

"Family tradition?" he asked drily. Then he turned his attention to the small heaps of valuables that filled the cabin, and took charge of selecting the best rings. After some trial and error, five were placed on my fingers and two on my toes.

As I removed my waistcoat, I had a horrid thought – would the dress be too small for me? Hector was eager to help me disrobe, but seemed far less inclined to assist me in donning the saidi dress. Instead, he ran his rough palms over my skin, turning me this way and that, until my face flushed with pleasure and my knees grew weak.

"Don't start something we haven't time to finish," I sighed as desire took hold of me. "I don't want dinner. I want an hour with you. And who knows how this night may end?"

He brushed his fingers along my neck. "We'll take the Sword," he said. Then he murmured in my ear, "I'm proud of ye."

Reluctantly, I slid the dress over my head and worked myself into it. To my immense relief, it did just fit, and I hoped the coin belt would disguise any unusual roundness that might betray my condition. My hair hung loose and wild, almost to my waist. Hector looked me up and down, and nodded his approval.

Then I thought of one last matter. "We need to get him to lower his guard." I touched the lapel of his coat. "That'll be up to you."

He grinned, his eyes lit with sly mirth. "Agreed. I'll see that he don't lack fer drink. You worry about yer dancin'."

…

It had been my naïve hope that Ponce de Leon would give me the Sword so that I could call forth the exotic music I needed for my dancing, but I was soon disabused of that notion.

"Come closer, mi vidita," the old captain said, smiling and beckoning me. I approached, obedient if not exactly eager.

He set the Sword on the table and grasped its hilt. "Now. First you think of the music. Let it run through your thoughts." He made circles with his other hand to illustrate. "Then we will both hold the hilt for an instant, and the music will flow through to the instruments because I command it."

I swallowed my disappointment, and concentrated on the music I used to hear in Baku. Then I gritted my teeth and hesitantly placed my hand on the hilt, unable to avoid contact with the ancient, wasted hand of our host.

During the instant that our hands touched, I was aware that by some means I perceived his true character, undiminished by the depredations of the Fountain. It was not a case of thought-reading, but something more mysterious. I knew for a fact that Maroto had told the truth – Ponce de Leon had been a good man, and his character was still rooted in virtue. But the Fountain had stripped him forever of his human will.

As soon as the Bandari music began, I snatched my hand back, confused and uncertain of myself. But no one, not Ponce de Leon, Maroto, or Hector seemed to notice anything unusual.

I listened to the music for a moment, and began to move sideways in quick, crossing steps to the centre of the cabin. The movements began to come back to me, and I lifted my arms, taking smaller, faster steps to match the lively music. I remembered the little shoulder quivers that had taken me many hours to learn, and how hands flutter like birds, like falling leaves, in flirtatious, graceful motions. I let the music take me where my troubles couldn't follow: unburdened, I was simply moving, exhilarated by the dance. I raked my hands through my tresses, flung my hair forward, and then shook it down my back as I shimmied.

And just then, I thought of another way-undoubtedly the last chance I would get-to take possession of the Sword. As the dance ended, it was clear that Ponce de Leon had been drinking freely all the while, and he seemed quite pleased overall. I caught Maroto's eye for a moment, and thought I saw him nod at me very slightly.

"Qué bonita! Muchos besos!" his uncle said, clapping and beckoning with both hands. "Ven aquí, ven aquí!" His words were slurred and I knew this was, in Jack's favourite words, the opportune moment.

I forced myself to smile and approach him. "I'm so happy to dance for you!" I said in Spanish, "If only I had my scimitar, I could perform the sword dance- it is so beautiful! But only the scimitar has a blunt side that can be balanced on the head."

"But let us try if this will work." He held out the Sword of Triton unsteadily. "See? This edge should suffice. Take it! Try it now, yes?"

I gingerly rested the blunt edge of the Sword on my head and slowly took my hands away.

"Yes! It balances!" I said. I glanced at the door. Too far to simply run for it. I would have to dance once more, and try to move away as I did so.

I held the sword horizontally, one hand at each end, and positioned it behind my head. Closing my eyes, I thought of the music.

The drums set a slow, hypnotic tempo, nothing like the bright, happy Bandari. I moved languidly on the balls of my feet, hesitating, dropping and lifting my hips as I moved to the centre of the room, knowing how the men would be staring at the undulations of my pelvis.

I straightened my arms, made a single turn to face them, and dropped to my knees, legs braced. I arched my torso until my head nearly touched the floor. I brushed a large circle with my hair, leaning to the side, the front, and back again. Then I leaned over and picked up the sword, turning as I rose to my feet, rippling my torso and belly with snake-like movements. And then I happened to glance at Hector. With a shock, I realised his eyes were fixed on my midsection.

He knows, I thought as my throat tightened. And he knows I'm a liar. He knows he can never trust me. But I could not stop the performance, and dancers do not shed tears.

With great ceremony, I balanced the sword on my head, extended my arms, and continued with little steps as my hips rolled sensuously. I turned my back, shaking my hips a little faster, and my steps brought me closer to Hector. He nodded. Now was the moment we could act.

I spun back to face Ponce de Leon, pointing the Sword at him. "Hold him!" I said aloud.

Before he could understand what I had done, the wooden arms of his chair folded over his wrists and trapped him. I threw the Sword to Hector. "It's yours now." He caught it with one hand and was out of the room in a single bound.

"Go now! Run!" Maroto's voice was hoarse. "Remember the Sword calls the winds!" His uncle was struggling, protesting, and the cruelty of my actions wrung my conscience. I ran from the room in utter distress.

Outside, a blast of gale force wind peppered my face with salt water that stung like needles. The wind caught at the saidi dress and almost knocked me over. I staggered back a few steps, calling Hector's name, although I couldn't even hear my own voice over the storm. We had agreed that we would use the Sword to get free in one of the ship's boats, but we hadn't imagined that the winds would be this bad.

Enormous swells were building, and I knew they would soon overwhelm the Santiago. Then I saw one of the ship's boats a short distance away, still tied to the Santiago by a long line that was fraying as I watched. Hector was already in the boat, motioning me to join him.

I seized the long line with both hands, and hung from it as I jumped off the deck. My legs dragged in the water, and I began to go hand-over-hand along the rope towards the boat. The rough seas made it seem miles away, and each time a heavy wave hit, it submerged me completely and tore at my grip on the line. My bare feet were so cold I felt no sensation in them.

At last I reached the gunwale, and saw that Hector was hanging onto the boat with one hand and holding the Sword with the other. I was about to clamber into the boat when a large wave broke directly over us, and I heard the hull crack in the middle. I lunged towards Hector as the boat was split in half by the force of the water.

The long rope snapped in my hand, but I grabbed at an oarlock and hung on for dear life, unable to get out of the waves. Hector had one hand on the wrecked boat and the other on the Sword. He had no way to pluck me from the water, and was shouting at me to grab the hem of his coat. But each time I lunged, the seas forced me back again. I was terrified of losing the strength in my arms as the cold water numbed them. If that happened, I would most certainly drown.

I tried to call out to him, but another blast of sea spray filled my throat and set me to coughing helplessly. I didn't even feel it when some piece of debris hit the back of my head, but my hands loosened and I began to slip under the water. Just before I lost consciousness, I felt a hand grip my elbow, but then the deep green of the ocean closed over me, and I knew nothing more.

Chapter 25 –The Edge of Survival – Alone.