Someone taped lightly against my shoulder, catching me as I returned back to the ship. I turned to see a face and name I didn't recognize–a quick glance at my companions on the ship told me they were as confused as I was. Curious, I paused, waiting for the young man, John Smith, to speak.
"Hayden?" He asked, doubt and confusion coloring his voice.
"Yes. And you are…?" The text above his head gave me his name [John Smith], but that didn't tell me much.
Confusion turned to relief, his face crumbling and a bright smile taking its place. He lifted his hands as if to salute before remembering himself and aborting the movement. "A friend of a friend," he stuck his hand out toward me, leaving it in the air between us as Cove approached, looking over my shoulder. "Name's John Smith." His grip was firm, and he shook exactly twice before withdrawing. "Our mutual friend wanted me to give you something."
He must be referring to Shahrazad, I thought.
"Do you want to sea the ship?" Cove interrupted, pointing at where Eliza and Sinbad stood, waiting impatiently for us to return. The pun was subtle enough that it went over the poor man's head as I resisted the urge to groan. They were predictable and tiresome.
"That would be for the best," John said, giving a sharp nod. Without a further word, he moved forward, walking in the direction of the ship. His steps were precise and military-like; people flowed around him like water. If he was supposed to be undercover, he was doing a horrendous job.
We led him into Sinbad's office, Eliza locking the door behind us with a loud and obvious click. John nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around to find the source of the noise. If anything, discovering the source made him feel worse, not better, and he gaped at her. This spurred Eliza on. She gave him a little wink and said, "Don't worry, hun. You'll leave here alive and with your virtue intact. My husband is very satisfying."
John swallowed audibly, his eyes meeting mine, Cove's, then Sinbad's as he begged us for help. Sinbad sighed, the sudden draping of authority on his shoulders aging him a decade in a second. "Eliza, stop teasing him."
Immediately, she dropped her teasing attitude, moving to stand on Sinbad's left, her entire attention focused on John like a guard dog ready to protect his owner. John settled slightly at this, presumably finding familiar ground with such an attitude. His spine straightened, his hands moving to clasp behind his back. "May I speak?"
Sinbad gave him a go-ahead. Although Sinbad was clearly the captain of the ship, the soldier turned his full attention to me, treating the others like furniture in a room.
"She wants to thank you for your efforts in defeating the troublesome rook and inform you that in order to receive your reward, you must accomplish one more task," he said, the words crisp and practiced.
Irritating but expected. "And what's that?"
"As you know, she will not give your reward to you until she feels it is safe to do so. So long as the king is around, that will never happen."
"We are not assassins," Sinbad interrupted, placing a white-knuckled hand on the table and speaking with all the authority and wisdom of a captain of his renowned.
John glanced at Sinbad over his shoulder for the first time since they'd been introduced, scorn written all over his face. It was a large contrast to his demeanor outside. "As if my queen would trust any outsider with that. No," he continued, facing me once more, "she has something different in mind." He went silent then and just stood there. Staring.
Behind him, Eliza crossed her arms. "Annndd that is…."
"The king has grown paranoid."
Eliza and Sinbad both scoffed, and I wasn't far behind them. A scowl passed across John's face, his forehead wrinkling with frustration. "The king has grown paranoid," he repeated, "and in his wisdom, ordered rooks to be placed all around the castle towers, causing problems with our attack. As you just dealt with a rook, your task is to defeat the King's new pets and prevent them from interfering during our attack. You'll receive your reward after that."
Cove picked up on the phrasing like a bloodhound to a scent. "When?"
John shrugged, his hands still clasped tightly behind his back. "Whenever she decides is best."