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at a distance. Up this close, the warrior was just as likely to hurt himself while trying to cut Jack.
    Of course, this kind of combat wasn’t exactly Jack’s forte, either.
    The strange weapon clattered to the floor, sending a ripple along the long flexible blades. Jack felt the warrior’s knee drive into his chest and he staggered back with an “oof!” The warrior spun around to kick Jack in the head, but Jack grabbed his foot before it connected and threw the warrior backward onto Jean’s bed.
    “Aaaaaah!” Jean yelped, trying to roll out of the way. For a moment Jean and the warrior were tangled together, rugs and limbs waving madly. Finally Jean struggled free and the warrior leaped to his feet, panting angrily. Jean glanced down at his hand and realized he had seized the warrior’s hood by accident while they were entangled. He looked up at the warrior and gasped.
    It wasn’t a strangely tiny man after all. The warrior set to guard them was, in fact, the most beautiful woman Jean had ever seen.

C HAPTER F IVE
    T he women’s quarters were cool and quiet, with tall columns of white marble and tiny fragments of mirrors glittering from the ceilings and walls. The tranquil gardens were dotted with the bright colors of the flowers and the elegant silk outfits of the women strolling their narrow paths.
    These very outfits were currently the subject of a heated argument.
    “No!” Carolina protested. “I’m perfectly happy with what I’m wearing! I’m not changing!”
    “Can mine be pink?” Marcella asked. “I want a pink one!”
    The woman in lavender, who had introduced herself as Parvati, closed her eyes and sighed heavily. “It is only for a short while,” she said to Carolina. “We must present you well at the banquet tonight. Please. I am asking you nicely.”
    “Yeah, Carolina,” Marcella sniped. “Why do you have to be so rude all the time? And how come you don’t ever want to be pretty? I mean, I know it’ll be extrahard for you, but you could at least try .”
    Carolina noticed a young boy watching them from the top of a wall a few feet away. He looked about seven years old, with tousled black hair and bare brown feet. His small face was cunning and curious.
    “There’s a boy in here,” Marcella said to Parvati, pointing.
    “But of course,” the Indian woman said. “We raise all the children in the women’s quarters, boys and girls, until the boys are old enough to cross over to the men’s side. That is Toolajee, Sri Sumbhajee’s brother.”
    “Brother!” Carolina said in surprise. “But he’s so young.”
    “Half-brother,” Parvati amended. “Sri Sumbhajee’s father died just before Toolajee was born. He was quite old. Believe me, we were all surprised, too.”
    “Does Sri Sumbhajee have any children?” Carolina asked.
    “Not yet,” Parvati said. “His brother Mannajee is his heir for the moment. You see, our great and wondrous Sri Sumbhajee devoted much of his life to learning the serene and simple ways of the priesthood.”
    “Until he became a pirate,” said Carolina.
    “Well, yes,” Parvati said. “That’s what his father always wanted for him. Excuse me.” She beckoned to a young girl who was hovering nearby. “Veena, take Marcella and help her into her sari.”
    “Um, I think I know how to put on a pretty dress!” Marcella said.
    Parvati and Veena both hid smiles. “This is a little more complicated than a dress,” Veena said politely. She took Marcella’s hand and led her behind a screen.
    Carolina could still hear her complaining. “I hate this color! Why can’t I have pink? Oooh, do I get jewelry, too?”
    The Spanish princess felt guilty. Parvati did seem nice, and Carolina didn’t want her to think that Carolina was as horrible as Marcella. But on the other hand, Carolina had spent her whole life being told what to wear and how to behave and what to do every moment of the day. The whole point of being a pirate was freedom, wasn’t