Liesl Shurtliff - Time Castaways #2: The Obsidian Compass

Belamie, Age 515

17621772

Asilah, Morocco

It was a perfect day. At least in the beginning.

It began with blue skies, not a cloud in sight, and a calm, glassy sea.

No one understood where the storm came from, not even the old fortune-teller, who for decades had been a reliable source for most impending tragedies and doom. Stories abounded of course, as people will always search for answers and reasons. Perhaps some thoughtless sailor had whistled in the wind or stirred his tea with a knife, or maybe an ignorant passenger on a ship had unwittingly cut their nails. Reason or not, the storm blew in, quick and relentless.

The clouds rolled and rumbled into a dark foreboding mass. The first lightning bolt struck just before midday. The wind grew savage and the rain burst from the sky, pelting the water like a thousand arrows every second. The waves swelled to the size of small mountains, rising up and slapping down with brute, merciless force.

The little merchant ship did not stand a chance. The sailors did all they could, followed every order from their captain at the helm, but they knew there was no hope. In less than an hour the ship was sunk and every soul on board was drowned.

All but one.

A tiny girl, no more than five years old, miraculously survived the storm without so much as a scratch. She bobbed along the ocean in a small skiff, wearing only a thin nightgown, soaked and sticking to her like a second skin. The only other possession she had was a small dagger, which she held close to her chest like a talisman. She stared out at the water, now still and calm, as though waiting for something to rise from its depths.

A young sailor on a ship found the girl, floating among the wreckage. He spoke to her in English and then French, and when she didnt respond either time he assumed she couldnt understand him, but she could. The sailor argued with his companions over whether or not to rescue the girl. They seemed to be afraid of her for some reason. Perhaps they thought she had been the cause of the storm, that she would bring them bad luck. She had often heard sailors say that a female, even a little one, was bad luck on board a ship.

They left her in her skiff, lashed it to their ship, and tugged her all the way to the shores of Asilah, where the sunken ship had sailed from the day before. The girl did not speak or cry the entire way. She did not move.

When they had tugged the little skiff onto the beach, the sailors again argued over her, where they should take her, how she would survive. The girl didnt even register their words. She only watched the waves, now calm and gentle, roll upon the shore.

The young sailor gave the girl what little food he had on him, some biscuits and dried fish. He gave her a final look of sympathy and left her on the beach, still sitting inside her little boat, clutching the dagger.

The girls name was Belamie Rubi Bonnaire. She knew her name as well as she knew that she was now alone in the world. Her parents were gone. Her papa, a French merchant with gentle hands, and her mama, a Moroccan beauty with a quick wit and captivating charm.

Though Belamie had been born in Morocco, her mothers country, she had spent most of her life at sea, sailing the world with her parents and their crew. There was no one to take care of her now. She knew of no other family or friends, no one who cared or even knew of her existence. She once overheard a member of her papas crew say that her parents marriage had been a crime, that theyd been disowned by both their families and lived on the sea because no place else would have them. At the time Belamie thought that was just fine. She preferred the sea to land anyway, and she didnt need anyone besides her parents. And now they were gone. Theyd been swallowed by the angry sea, and they would not come back.

Belamie stayed with the boat. It was all she had left, and it would be her home and family now. She slept curled up inside of it that night, then sat in its shade all the next day. She didnt leave the boat until her food was gone and survival instincts kicked in and forced her to get up and seek food and water.

Belamie determined she would not steal. Her religious education had been spotty and vague, but once, when theyd gone to Paris, Belamie had tried to steal a doll from the fancy shop where her father had been doing business. Shed tried to hide it behind her back, but her father had caught her and gave her a long lecture. Stealing was a sin, he had said. It might bring some fleeting pleasure, but then damnation and hellfire. Her mother told her that those who steal get their hands cut off. This frightened Belamie so much she vowed to never steal again. But after a week of eating little more than the dust kicked in her mouth by unsympathetic passersby, she decided a radical change was in order. Damnation be damned, it was steal or starve.

It was painful at first. She got a stomachache after eating her first stolen melon, but eventually she developed a callus on her conscience, and it got easier. By the age of ten she wasnt ashamed to admit she found thieving to be quite fun, though she was always cautious. She learned it was best to steal from foreigners. Not only was it easier, it was safer too. The guards and soldiers were not concerned with protecting visitors. Even if she were caught, shed likely only be made to give back what shed stolen, perhaps spend a night or two in jail. That was far preferable to getting her hands chopped off. Shed seen it happen to thieves younger than her. She didnt relish the idea of eating like a dog.

Day after day, year after year, she carved out a meager existence as a thief. She slept and ate and lived in her little boat on the beach. Occasionally thieves tried to steal her boat, but Belamie had her dagger and, despite her smallness, she was alarmingly dexterous and skilled with a blade. Thieves soon learned to leave her and her little boat alone, and Belamie was quite content to remain alone, a petty thief until the end of her days. But fate, as it seemed, had other ideas, as it often does.

She was about fifteen when the strange man who would change the course of her life came to Asilah. The whole village was talking about him. The guard keeping watch from the ramparts (the great white wall that bordered the city along the sea) reported that hed appeared on the beach out of thin air. They all swore it was true.

The man was a spirit, everyone said. One of the mysterious and powerful jinn. Some said he was a good jinni come to grant wishes. Others said he was evil, come to possess their spirits. Good or evil, there was one thing everyone could agree upon. The man was rich as a king. Gold and silver seemed to flow from his fingers.

That got Belamies attention more than anything. She had little interest in the jinn, good or evil. Even if they were real, they would not fill her belly. But gold and silver could, and Belamie could steal from anyone.

She found him the next market day. He stood out like a fish on land. He was very different, even from all the sailors and foreigners she saw year after year. Belamie could not confidently discern where he was from. He wore loose trousers and a shirt with many buttons, and nothing around his neck. His head was bare, revealing dark hair streaked with silver. His back was to her, so she couldnt see his face.

Belamie moved a little closer, just enough to hear the man speak. Shed know where he was from based on his accent. Shed traveled the world with her parents before theyd died, and after so many years stealing from foreigners she could accurately detect most accents.