Between Two Ends (21 page)

Skin stepped away and said, “I've seen that look before!”

Shari's gaze shifted from Yeats to Mohassin, trussed and immobile on the bed. Then she turned her attention to the Persian carpet beneath her and ran her palm along the decorated patterns. She put the bell to her ear again. Confusion filled her face. But it was a different sort of expression than when she had questioned Yeats earlier. This
was something deeper, so deep that she could not manage to find her way out of it on her own. She gasped.

Yeats sat up in a hurry and offered his hand. She took it and startled him by bringing her face so close to his own that their noses touched.

“William?” she whispered. He could feel the fear and uncertainty in her grasp. But he could not stop a smile from spreading across his face. The truth was dawning!

“I'm his son. My name is Yeats. And you are Shari.”

Her brows knitted.

“Not Shaharazad?”

“No. You are Shari.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I can't even imagine what you are feeling right now. But I can tell you that my father, William, was terribly confused as well. He still is, and always will be unless we get you home.”

Her hands shook. “I don't know what to think.”

Yeats nodded. He forced himself to speak slowly, purposefully. “Will you trust me? It is dangerous for us here.”

She studied his face. “You're not William. Although I can see him in you. Your eyes! How is that?”

Still keeping his voice controlled and very aware of the pirates' impatient tapping swords, Yeats said, “There is so much to tell you that it would take a week to catch you up. I wish my father were here. I'm so proud of him. He knew the necklace was important. And it was the key to everything!” He stopped and looked at the door. “Your grandfather is here too. Do you remember him?”

She stifled a cry. “Yes, I do, I do. Where is he?”

“All right, lad,” Bones interrupted. “Now's the time—if ye plan on leaving.”

Yeats nodded. “Come with me … please.”

The girl shivered. “My name is Shari. Shari Sutcliff.”

“Yes, it is,” Yeats affirmed.

She surveyed the luxurious room. “But I have lived here for so long,” she murmured.

“You have been in a story,” Yeats said gently.

“And will continue to be if we don't weigh anchor!” grumbled Skin.

“Come on,” Yeats said and tugged at her sleeve.

Shari nodded and then froze when she saw poor Mohassin. “Don't hurt him,” she said to the pirates. “He risked his life to save me. Other than my grandfather I've never met a more noble man.”

Bones shook his head. “Not a scratch.” Skin fingered his knife but grumbled in agreement. “We'd best be off,” Bones added.

“Must we go so quickly?” Shari said. “I feel like I've just woken up from such a sleep. I need to think.”

Catching her hand, Yeats said, “Please, we've got to go. We have to find your grandfather. And my father—William—is waiting.”

“I will go with you,” she said. “I must see my grandfather. I trust William … and I trust you too.”

Yeats grinned.

Then she added, “But give me one moment.” She walked to the bed and leaned toward the old man. “Mohassin,” she said softly. “I will go with these rogues so that no further harm is done. Be at
peace! I will be quite safe. And so will the people. Shaharazad will save her people yet!” She winked at Yeats.

As Yeats made for the door, Shari held him back. “Is William really there, beyond that door?”

“No,” he said. “He's at the end of the journey. If we make it.”

“I'd like to see him,” she added. “I feel like I'm caught between waking and sleeping and can't decide which one is real.”

“That's the way of it,” Bones affirmed. Then he added with chilly calm, “But ye'd better make certain ye know which ye want most.”

Yeats felt a cold shiver down his back. “What did you say?”

The pirate hefted his sword. “She's got to undo her wish. It's not good enough to remember. I told ye that.”

“What do you mean?” yelled Yeats. “Look at her. We did it. We rescued her.”

“Rats and ropes, lad! Ye call this rescued? There's no wish broken here.”

“And we're not out of the palace yet,” added
Skin. “We've a long way to the boat and who knows how many guards to fight.”

Yeats stared, flabbergasted. “We might be stuck?”

Bones stamped his foot. “The deal was to rescue ye both. If one of ye chooses not to go home, then both of ye stay behind.”

“What does he mean?” Shari asked quietly.

Yeats turned away. “It means we may be marooned. And my family is on the other side not knowing anything that's happened. Not only will they have lost you, they'll lose me too.”

He regretted his words immediately. For Shari put her hands to her head. “My parents … an accident! They are gone.” Her face paled.

“Easy now.” Skin perked up. “Let's not bring foul weather before the sun's gone! Let's try one thing at a time.” Then to Yeats, he added, “If we can win our way to the boat, ye'll have yer moment to convince the lass.”

“Convince me of what?” asked Shari.

Yeats ran his fingers through his hair. He was trying to be so careful, so gentle with her, but
now could not disguise his disappointment. “I guess it's not enough that you trust me,” he said. “You've got to choose to come with me. With all your heart. I was so excited that you remembered that I forgot what it takes to get us back.”

She studied him thoughtfully, her eyes a little more clear than a few moments before. “I'll try! But you've no idea what it feels like to be part of two places at once. Of course I want to go with you. It's an adventure. But when I look around I see everything I've ever known. And your news about the people here … Oh my poor people!” She brought her hands to her mouth. Then she looked at Yeats and said, “William!” She burst into tears. Confusion filled her face again. “What is happening to me?” she cried.

Yeats cast a glance helplessly at the pirates, but they would not meet his eyes. “It's not your fault,” he said to Shari. “Let's get to the boat. I'll think of something!” He picked up the scimitar and turned it experimentally in his hand.

“Do you know how to use that?” Shari asked, snuffling.

Yeats swiped the air experimentally with the blade. “Not yet.”

“You'd better give it to me,” she said. She gazed over the room one last time, slowly, as if memorizing every carpet, every tassel, every candlestick. Then abruptly she turned and pulled Yeats to the door.

he crunch of marching feet reverberated through the stone corridor. Shoulder to shoulder Yeats and Shari peered out. Moments before, Bones had extinguished the oil lamps, leaving them in semidarkness. Smoke from Shari's diversion fire still hung in the air. Despite the absence of Khan, the garden felt hostile. The ocean breeze made the branches lurch and imaginary guards lunged from every shadow.

“They've reached the near lawn now,” Shari whispered in his ear. “Tell Skin to veer to the left and find the trees.” After he delivered her message he felt her shiver through their clasped hands.

“It's so strange to be stealing away,” she said,
ducking behind a bush. “I've spent many a night in these gardens. It was the only place I could be alone without Rawiya.”

“Quiet!” snapped Skin.

Shari swung around to face the pirate. “And I'm not used to being spoken to in such a manner.”

The pirate snarled and said, “Get used to it.”

Yeats caught her slap in midswing. “He's a pirate, Shari!” he whispered vehemently. “He says very rude things all the time. And remember, you're not royalty.”

The girl's eyes flamed. “I am here.”

“He's very good with a sword,” Yeats added quickly. “And probably our best chance of getting to your grandfather and my father.”

Seconds later, Bones started forward. They slipped as four shadows across the lawn. Torches bobbed ahead and they could hear the jingle of armor and weapons. Behind them, they heard the sound of thudding and wood splintering as the guards launched an attack against Shaharazad's door. Mohassin would soon be free.

Skin waited for the guards to pass, then bolted
for the cover of the trees. Still hand in hand, Yeats and Shari hurried after him.

Someone shouted.

“They've seen us!” Yeats said.

“Hush up! We're nearly at the gate!” Bones answered from behind.

Shari gave a little squeal. “Gran. Is Gran all right? I haven't thought of her in oh so long!” She shook the little bell.

Bones waved frantically. “Keep her quiet!”

“Please, Shari!” Yeats implored. “You've got to stop talking. I'm sure you're remembering everything … and it's wonderful and all, but this is hardly the time and place. They'll kill us if we're caught. At least, they'll kill me.”

She sobered instantly. “They will not! I'll have their houses turned into rubble if they try such a thing!”

“No, ye won't!” Skin whispered furiously. “Yer Mr. Sutcliff's granddaughter. The moment ye picked up that bell and remembered ye changed. Now those gents out there”—he indicated to the garden—“they may or may not believe yer the
real Shaharazad. I'd rather not take the chance to find out.”

Yeats squeezed her hand encouragingly. “When we get you home everything will seem right again,” he said.

Shari said uncertainly, “I'm not sure where home is.”

“Quiet!” Bones hissed.

They were hunkered in the same little woods in which Khan had tracked down Yeats. How long ago it felt! The gate to the beach was in sight. Guards were everywhere, thrashing the bushes with their spears and stabbing behind trees. Some carried torches and the light spread dangerously close to their hiding place. Yeats gulped. The guards would not wait to hang him this time.

“There's the gate!” Bones whispered. His sword glinted dully. “The scalawags behind us will take no prisoners, save perhaps the girl. Keep that in mind if yer legs are tired. Now, run for it!”

Something whistled through the bushes and stuck in a trunk near their heads. Skin touched the
arrow embedded in the splintered bark. “Pieces of eight!” he muttered. “Half an inch from Davy Jones's locker.” Yeats swallowed hard. He had an answer to his earlier question. Anyone can die in a story—even bookends.

“Through the gate!” Bones interrupted his thoughts with a shout. There was no need for silence now. Their pursuers had found them. Yeats pulled Shari along and fled after the pirates, down the darkened slope toward the water. As they ran Shari suddenly faltered.

“What is it?” asked Yeats, worried that she had been hit by an arrow.

“I can't see,” she gasped.

“What do you mean?”

“I can't see anything.”

“Skin and Bones!” Yeats hollered, and wrapped his arm around the girl's waist. They stumbled to the waiting pirates.

“Plagues of scurvy! What is it now?”

“It's Shari. She can't see!” Without a word Bones leaned forward, hoisted Shari over his shoulder, and whirled around again for the beach.

“Put me down, you buccaneer!” Shari said. “I can run.”

“Sorry, missy. No time.”

“Yeats!” Shari pleaded.

“Why can't she see?” Yeats puffed beside Skin.

“Story blindness,” he said gruffly. “Seen it before. Very rare. The story's breaking down for her. It all starts to blur and fade, like empty end pages of a book. It's bad news for ye. Means she hasn't broken her wish. Ye better pray for a miracle.”

“Will she be all right?”

“Does it matter?” came the reply. “We're likely all dead anyway if Sutcliff doesn't have the boat ready.”

The moon lit the beach like a ghostly sunset. The salt breeze swept away the pungent aroma of the garden. Wisps of mist curled along the surface of the water. In a glimmer of moonlight Yeats spotted the figure of a man standing on the beach.