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TWENTY-TWO

A FEVERISH DISCOVERY

Amrita was preparing a supper of porridge and kippers with a topping of dried seaweed and chili peppers in the galley when she heard a loud crash and a soft thud coming from the cabin below. It had been three days since the kiss, and neither one of them had mentioned it. They’d simply carried on as friends, acting as though it had never happened. The sound had come from Raya’s cabin. Then silence.

She covered the stew and extinguished the flame before going to investigate.

Raya lay unconscious on the cabin floor, the scroll he’d been reading still clutched tight in his hand. His hair was tangled and with his mask removed, Amrita could see the shadows around his eyes and the hollow cheekbones. His face was the same color as the bleached canvas sails, save for two bright blotches on his cheeks. A fever.

Zara, Asha and Nell were already assembled in the room. They stood in a close circle around Raya, bony elbows locked. They were all gazing down at him with what seemed like concern, but they also seemed helpless to intervene. Zara turned to Amrita as she came through the door. She pressed her free hand to her chest, long fingers tunelessly strumming the ridges of the shells cemented there.

Amrita leaned to touch Raya’s forehead. He was, as she suspected, burning up.

“Don’t just stand there! Get water!” Amrita admonished. “Cold water from the sea.” She glanced around the cabin. Then she looked at Nell. “And you, Nell, fetch some cloth and cut it into strips that I can use as compresses.” She turned to Asha last. “Surely there are medications on this boat? Bring me whatever you have.”

She was not sure how the three would respond. By now she was quite certain who and what they were. Naturally, she was wary of addressing the Fates as if they were her servants. But what choice did she have? There was no one else to ask for help.

Much to her surprise, they obeyed. Once instructed, Raya’s crew sprang into action immediately and with purpose. Amrita was grateful for it.

She managed to get Raya onto the bunk. The fever was high and still climbing. He was semi-conscious and mumbling, saying something in a language that Amrita didn’t recognize. She removed the scroll from his hand and began to undress him.

Nell appeared with a pile of clean rags, slashed to ribbons. She dumped them on the bunk beside Raya. Zara rushed in with a sloshing bucket of cold sea water, leaving puddles in her wake. Asha set down a small wooden box on the table. Then she hesitated at the door gazing out at the horizon. Amrita realized that something was different about the sky. It was clear for miles all around. The storms surrounding the ship had ceased. The night sky was speckled to the horizon, with more stars than she had ever seen in her own era. The water was calm, black and shiny as a scrying glass.

“Thank you,” Amrita said. “Asha, you should probably continue to steer the ship. Nell, Zara, do you think you could help me undress him? We need to use compresses to cool him down and to stop the fever.”

The three skeletons hesitated, exchanging a long look. What they were communicating, Amrita had no clue. She glanced impatiently at her patient who was starting to moan softly again in his delirium.

“Please, his fever is only getting worse. It’s dangerous.”

Asha nodded curtly at the other two, then turned to go.

Slowly they removed the pirate’s sandals. Zara helped to ease his arms out of his cloak. She was surprised to see that Raya’s arms were tattooed from the shoulders to the elbow with elaborate and beautiful scrolling botanical designs that reminded her of henna tattoos and fine wire-worked jewelry. Nell used her blade to carefully slash through his tunic and pulled it away.

Zara placed a hand on Amrita’s shoulder, as if to brace her for what came next.

She looked down and gasped.

Beneath the tunic, Raya was wearing a tight-fitting corselet, bound with linen. It wrapped round and round Raya Tufan’s chest, flattening and disguising the pirate’s greatest secret.

There was no time for her to react. Raya’s fever was too high. Amrita did not even pause to comment. She continued with her ministrations, dipping the fabric into the bucket and applying compresses to lower Raya’s fever.

The Fates had known. Obviously, they had. It shouldn’t have made a difference, to her but it did. A small part of her felt betrayed that even after all these weeks and their growing friendship, the pirate hadn’t trusted her with this secret.

Once the compresses had been applied, she retrieved the wooden box left by Asha.

Though she was stripped of her magic, Amrita’s training as a witch was still helpful in these sorts of situations. Like most witches she was quite knowledgeable about the manufacture of common herbal remedies. Inside the roughly hewn box she was happy to find several useful ingredients that she recognized. Willow bark and henbane, licorice root and camphor, lemon grass and chamomile. She pulled the ingredients to brew a fever-reducing tea and a cooling tonic and handed them to Zara and Nell with her instructions. And then she returned to Raya’s side to remain vigil.

Amrita worked tirelessly through the night. She continued to change the cold compresses, sponging Raya with the camphor tonic when it was done steeping. Little by little she spooned the willow bark tea and honey into her mouth. And slowly but surely the fever began to abate. The ship was steady in the water, and the full moon shone bright in the cabin’s windows.

The Fates took turns seated in the doorway. They were motionless but Amrita knew they did not sleep. They waited. Once, sometime after midnight, Asha crossed the room. She reached out and touched Raya’s forehead, then laid her hand on Amrita’s shoulder. She patted it gently and then withdrew.

“You’re welcome,” Amrita whispered.

As dawn began breaking, so too did Raya’s fever. Raya slept more peacefully now and Amrita sat and dozed in the chair she’d pulled up beside the bunk.

How wrong the history books and legends had gotten this story.

Raya Tufan, the dreaded bloodthirsty and cruel pirate of antiquity, was nothing at all like the man in the legend. Not only was he a learned bookworm, and, most likely, a witch like herself. He was a she. And she felt sure of it now, The Tufan’s hold was full of many more secrets that had been long lost to time.