Sinbad ducked low, so the house-guard’s scimitar shattered only a man-high wine jar. The sailor hooked the man’s feet out from under him, sending him toppling down the staircase onto the other soldiers that followed after. To add to the confusion, Sinbad shouldered the other liquor containers down the steps too, toppling guards down into the courtyard beyond, setting the wine merchant screaming as his wares were wasted.
Sinbad sprinted along the balcony
and leapt onto the roof. The varnished tiles were slippery but his bare feet
found purchase enough to scramble to the apex. An arrow whirred past him. He
made a deep elaborate bow at the archer before sliding down the other side and
tumbling across to the adjacent flat roof.
“That way!” someone below shouted.
“He’s on the spice vendor’s house!”
Sinbad grinned and leaped the ten
feet onto the carpet-seller’s mansion, and from there vaulted over to the
jeweler’s roof. He heard a yelp from behind as the first soldier to try and
follow him misjudged the distance. He turned and saw the hapless guard clinging
to the ledge above the precarious drop by one hand.
“You need to be more careful,” the
sailor warned the man as he hauled him back onto the balcony. A roundhouse left
felled the guard before he could think of thanks or belligerence. “It’s really
not your day, is it?”
More arrows rattled across the
distance between the buildings – and a pitchfork, for some reason. Sinbad waved
at his pursuers and hauled the rope off a flagpole so he could loop it onto a
crenulation of the next dwelling. By the time the soldiers had forced their way
into the jeweler’s house, the sailor was already hauling himself onto the tower
of the armoire’s guild.
Someone had been clever. A couple of
guards were already waiting there for him.
Sinbad rolled, slid between the legs
of the nearest soldier, and hauled hard at the man’s sash. The guard spun
round, dizzied. Sinbad claimed the red cloth and used it to leap onto the washing
line between the armoires’ roof and the courtesan house next door. He suspected
it was a regular route.
“Sinbad!” one of the lovely young
women in the compound below recognized him. She rose from her bathing pool to
wave.
“Hello, ladies!” he called back as
he balanced along the high wall around their seraglio. “I’m afraid I can’t stop
and chat just now. People trying to kill me.”
“People are always trying to kill
you,” one perfumed beauty complained with a pout.
“What can I say? I have that kind of
life!”
The sailor reached the far corner of
the perimeter wall, from whence he could hook his way across to the silk
merchant’s apartment. That had a helpful decorative ridge running all the way
around it and from there it was only one long jump onto the pan-tiles of the
domed temple.
A trio of hopeful guards had come
that way too, hoping to cut him off. Sinbad avoided a crude amateur
spear-thrust and relieved the youngster of his weapon to fend off the fat older
guard with the scimitar. It was easy to tangle both men with the polearm and
leave them caught in the net in which they’d hoped to snare him.
That left only the archer. Sinbad
downed the man with a precise belly-punch and borrowed his bow and quiver.
Sinbad fired arrows into the high
palace wall twenty feet away from the temple’s edge. The glazed blue bricks
formed the newest part of the Caliph’s fortress. Sinbad embedded a dozen shafts
in what he hoped might be secure strongpoints between the stones, clenched the
archer’s twin belt knives in his teeth, and leaped for the distant wall.
The first arrow he caught snapped,
and so did the second. For a moment it looked like the agile sailor would
plunge down to the crowded marketplace below and end his adventures in a
bone-shattering splat. But the third shaft held long enough for him to snatch a
fourth and fifth. Before they too could splinter, Sinbad had the knives dug
into the mortar between the blue bricks.
A shout from the temple roof warned
him that the guards were up again. He was glad he’d removed the bow.
He began to climb, upwards and round
the curve of the blue tower, out of sight of the men on the temple. He plunged
the daggers into the gaps between stones, hoping that the cheap metal was
sufficient to sustain his weight. Even his limber arms were beginning to ache
when he reached the keyhole-shaped window beneath the topping minaret.
He climbed into a silk-swathed room
and looked around.
A beautiful woman in gauze veils
noticed a man had climbed through into her boudoir. “Well now,” she said, “This
is unexpected.”
Sinbad gave a courtly bow. “I
apologies for the intrusion. I was just passing and decided to pay a visit.”
The woman advanced boldly. She had
oiled skin the color of creamed coffee and long raven hair filleted with
pearls. Her yashmak was translucent, offering a glimpse of full red lips curved
into an intrigued smile. “Did you forget something?” she suggested, gesturing
to the sailor’s current attire.
Sinbad was naked. His only clothing
was a silver sapphire amulet around his neck.
“Alas, I had to leave my things
behind when I needed to make a hasty departure,” the sailor admitted. “I doubt
the wine merchant will return them to me now. Shame, because I had that tunic from
Byzantium.”
“Do you know the penalty for
intruding on a princess’ bedchamber?” the woman enquired.
“Do I have to eat sherbet and drink
a cup of cool wine with her while I tell her my story?” Sinbad ventured. He
grinned a winning smile. “Why not let me tell you? As you see, I have nothing
to hide.”
The princess’ own smile broadened.
“Who are you?” she demanded. She examined the dark-skinned intruder carefully,
noting his handsome, mischievous face, his tight-muscled body, his
white-toothed smile, his confident pose.
“O fair moon of desire, they call me
Sinbad the Sailor. I hope you might call me friend and darling. And what might
I call you?”
“You are Sinbad? I have heard of a
rogue and adventurer who sails on voyages of discovery and trade, then returns
to Baghdad with fabulous riches only to squander them and vanish again in
search of more.”
“Squander is a strong word. Say
rather that I have lots of friends who need my support. And I happen to like
sailing strange seas and discovering things. I have a knack for it.”
“Many in the city think you a liar,
a mere pirate who loots other ships and spins fantastic stories of how he came
by his wealth to hide his crimes.”
Sinbad shook his head. “I never lie
except when I need to. I might boast occasionally, but only to impress the
fairest of ladies. Did I mention that my father was a Nubian prince and my
mother a Moorish princess?”
The beautiful maiden decided that
she wouldn’t summon the guard yet. She tossed her visitor a linen burnoose to
cover himself and poured him a goblet of chilled white wine. “I am Ayisha, a
daughter of the Caliph of Baghdad. It is death for a man to speak with me
alone.”
“I’d better make the most of it,
then,” Sinbad grinned. “Why are you locked in a tower, beautiful Ayisha?”
“My father is dying. My suitors are
persistent.” She glanced at the window. “Not usually that persistent, I admit.”
Sinbad sipped his drink, wrapped
himself in his gown, and settled on the princess’ bed. “If I were your suitor,
no wall or tower would stay me from your side.”
“I imagine not. So why are you here,
Sinbad the Sailor?”
“Ah, you do want the story!
Excellent. I love telling stories.”
“I will hear your tale, in payment
for your intrusion.”
Sinbad shook his head. “I’m a merchant
as well as a sailor, great lady. I know a bad bargain when I hear it. My
stories are especially fine, guaranteed to enthrall and enchant, to make your
heart pound and your skin tingle. They’re worth far more than just the use of a
convenient window.”
“Are they now?” The princess tilted
her head. “What are they worth, then?”
“Well, I think they deserve an
attentive audience. Come and sit here on these cushions with me, dawn of all
desire, where you can be comfortable as I talk. And if you think the tale worth
it at the end, pay me the surplus in sweet kisses.”
Ayisha raised one perfect painted
eyebrow. “Does that work on ladies of your acquaintance?” she wondered.
“Almost always,” Sinbad confessed.
“Please don’t spoil my average.”
The princess glided over and folded
her legs under her at the far edge of her bed. “Proceed, Sinbad the Sailor,”
she commanded.
Sinbad nodded and spoke: “Praise be
to Allah, the beneficent king, creator of the universe, who set up the
firmament without pillars and who stretched out the earth below. Know, O
princess, that there was once a humble sailor who journeyed far from home and
returned with fabulous treasures and wondrous companions. And lo, one day, once
such companion spake unto Sinbad and said…”
Continued in "Sinbad: The New
Voyages"
ISBN 10: 0615695892 ISBN 13:
978-0615695891
Release date: 14th September 2012
Published by Airship 27
Purchase from Amazon Retail Price:
$16.99
Kindle e-version available at here
e-version also available at The
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