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words. “You have told Captain Sinbad of our misfortune?”
    Before she could answer, Sinbad, still doubting, spoke a question. “Is it true, Excellency?”
    The Vizier nodded. “Tragically . . . horribly . . .” He twitched with revulsion and fear. “We have consulted all the wisest men and skilled doctors from here to Alexandria . . .” His shoulders drooped in resignation. “They . . . they can do nothing . . .”
    The Regent turned away, tears in his eyes. Farah comforted him and Sinbad bridged an awkward moment by calling to the cabin boy who stood nearby with wide eyes. “Boucheri! Food and drink! The best we have . . . for our guests.” He turned toward the mast. “Hassan! Maroof!”
    Sinbad’s men were already moving. As Sinbad led the Regent and Farah to a sheltered part of the deck, Maroof was already unrolling a colorful carpet. Hassan came with an armload of bright cushions, gathered from Sinbad’s cabin. In moments there was a comfortable spot in the shade and Farah helped her uncle settle down against the cushions. Maroof quickly rigged a small sail to give added shade against the fierce sun as the cabin boy brought a beaten brass tray of wine and cheese.
    Balsora had recovered himself and spoke to Sinbad with a measured tone. “Sinbad, you have traveled to many foreign lands . . . Help us . . .” He gestured at the ocean. “Perhaps there is someone . . . somewhere . . .” His hand went limp, as if in doubt there was really anything to be done.
    Sinbad sat cross-legged on the deck before the Regent of Charak. “Truly, my lord, I will do all in my power to help. But what has happened to Kassim requires skills far greater than mine.” He shrugged. “It needs an understanding of the Black Arts . . . a great alchemist . . . a magician . . .” Suddenly his expression changed to great delight. “I have heard of such a man—if he still lives!”
    Farah leaned forward excitedly. “Who? Where can he be found?”
    Sinbad gestured toward the distant horizon. “A Greek . . . some say the wisest man in the world . . . His name is . . . ah . . .” He paused, his brow creased in thought. He snapped his fingers at Hassan. “You remember . . . !”
    Hassan’s brow also furrowed in thought. Boucheri returned with a samovar of tea, cups, and a plate of Persian sweets. Maroof helped to serve, as did Hassan, still thinking hard.
    “Melanius . . . Melanus . . .”
    Sinbad’s voice was loud with discovery. “Melanthius—that’s it!” He clapped Hassan on the leg.
    Hassan peered sightlessly out to sea, trying to remember more. “The Hermit of . . . of . . .”
    “Casgar!” Maroof exploded. “The Hermit of Casgar!”
    “Casgar, yes!” Sinbad said. He looked at Vizier Balsora eagerly. “A remote haunted island off the coast of Phrygia,” he explained.
    Balsora spoke quickly, leaning forward toward the ship’s captain. “Have you been there?”
    Farah added, “Have you met him?”
    Sinbad shook his head. “No . . . nor have I met anyone who has.” He looked for confirmation from Hassan and Maroof. “His deeds are legendary,” he said to the two noble Charakians, “but . . . like many legends . . . he may not even exist.”
    Hassan grunted ominously. “The island is ringed with dangerous reefs and whirlpools—always shrouded in mist . . .” He made a gesture that indicated his concern that the island could even be approached safely.
    Farah touched Sinbad’s arm and got his attention. “You must take us to him.”
    Sinbad exchanged a look with Hassan. “It could be a dangerous voyage,” he said to the beautiful princess.
    “I will risk it,” Farah said, straightening her soft shoulders.
    Balsora put out a hand. “No, my child, I cannot allow you to go.” He turned to Sinbad with a serious expression. “Unless Prince Kassim is crowned before the passing of seven moons, he will lose his right forever to be Caliph.”
    The princess spoke out boldly. “This Melanthius is our only