The night fell on the captured city, lit here and there by the flames of a house on fire. While the pirates gave in to a reckless, frantic looting, Laventry gathered the fleet captains. He appointed Hinault to gather the plunder and the important prisoners in the Governor's palace, sent Charron with a hundred men to keep the castle and he went back to the harbor with Harry.
At the pleasure house, he met with the owner and dropped before her on the table a bag overflowing golden coins and jewels. The house became his headquarters, but the access was heavily restricted. Only him and Harry, Marina's companions and a group of trusted men, to keep the house secure and carry messages. And the women, of course, who took care of them with their usual diligence. The doctor was accommodated in a service room. He got a handful of golden coins and the warning that if Marina's health didn't improve soon, his wouldn't either.
Marina fell in a light, upset sleep. Captive of the laudanum, tears kept rolling down her pale cheeks and her lips trembled in words from which they couldn't understand only one: Lion.
"We need to get her out of here," Morris repeated, oblivious to the echoes of violent chaos coming from the street. "This damned city makes her sick." He refreshed the cloth in the washbasin on the nightstand and stretched it again on Marina's forehead.
"What do you mean?" asked Harry, standing by the foot of the bed with Laventry.
"She needs to go back to the sea," De Neill replied.
Morris nodded, grimacing. "If only we had a ship. But your men set on fire all the boats they found in the harbor."
Laventry raised his eyebrows. "The Phantom is waiting in Willemstad," he said. The others turned to him in surprise. "Aren't you slow. Why do you think we let the others take the castle and hurried ahead?"
"We found the Phantom north of Curaçao," said Harry. "In bad shape, hardly crewed, but still kicking."
"It was heading to Willemstad to replace the masts and patch the hull up enough to go back to Tortuga with us. Jean La Ville told me about your crazy stunt, and that our pearl was captive here."
"I'm going to get it," said Maxó.
"I'm going with you," said De Neill. "Let's size a fishing boat like we'd planned."
"Two days to get there, another to get back here. We can have dinner so you leave with the midnight tide," said Laventry.
"Meanwhile, there's somebody who could calm our friend down with only the sound of his voice."
They all turned to Dolores. She'd accepted the clothes the women of the house had lent her. But nor her simple attire, nor being surrounded by the worst, most dangerous corsairs of the Caribbean, lessened her regal ways.
"Somebody?" Laventry repeated. "What are you saying, ma'am? Do you know a wizard or a better doctor than the one we brought?"
Morris sighed. "She's talking about Castillano."
Laventry and Harry were so baffled that they stepped back.
"The women told us that when he brought her here, the pearl wouldn't allow anybody else to touch her, and only his voice calmed her down," said Oliver.
"Touch her?"
Dolores chuckled at that gang of unscrupulous lowlifes at the brink of a heart attack out of horrified shock because a man might have touched their pearl. Her reaction was enough to let them breathe again.
"And where the hell is that bastard, that he's not here with her?" asked Laventry.
"How would we know?" De Neill shrugged. "Maybe he's already dead. He doesn't look like one to surrender."
"Tell me about it," Maxó grunted.
"Then we'll sent for him," said Harry. "Maybe he's not dead and we'll find him among the prisoners, here in town or at the castle."
"Don't do it, please," said Dolores. "Going among your prisoners asking about him would be his death sentence." She told them about the accusation hanging over them. "As soon as you leave Maracaibo, word that you set him free would get to Veracruz in a few days. They'll hunt him down all over the Caribbean Sea to hang him for treason."
Laventry snorted. "Who among us can recognize him? Save Your Grace, of course." Marina's companions raised their hands. "Me too, I think. Short, sturdy, blond, right?"
"And with a temper that makes me look like a damned lamb," said Maxó.
"Then please, let's have dinner, for my stomach is roaring. Then you two will set sail to Curaçao, and we'll go looking for that bloody Lion." Laventry headed out, shaking his head. "Finding a Castillano for a Velazquez! Again! I'll be damned!"
"The story repeats itself, but all the way around," said Harry, following him.
"Tell me about ironies," said Maxó.
The men walked out, leaving Dolores to watch over Marina. However, she headed downstairs soon after to get warm water, intending to wash the girl and change the dressings of her legs and hands.
The only window in the room was over the nightstand by Marina's head, and it opened to the back alley that ran behind the house. As soon as the door clicked closed, it opened with a soft squeal.
Two dirty, scratched hands grabbed the windowsill and a man in a ripped, muddy uniform climbed into the room noiselessly. He looked around to make sure there was nobody else in the room and looked down at Marina, a pistol and a misericorde in his hands. The blade slid across the girl's throat, like marking where it'd cut. Marina stirred and tried to open her eyes.
"Don't bother. I'm closing them for good soon enough," the man grunted in Spanish.
Her eyelids came up and her blurry look moved over the man in uniform standing by her. "Lion?" she mumbled, reaching out to him.
He leaned forward over Marina, his blade nearly drawing blood from her throat. "The Lion is no more! You've destroyed him, damn you!"
Her tears took him aback as she nodded. "It's my fault," she murmured. "They took him away. The Lion... I must go for him... My fault... Lion..."
The man stepped back when her bandaged hand grabbed his coat, his face reflecting rejection and incredulity.
"And how would you know that?" he asked in an outraged whisper.
But Marina closed her eyes, repeating the same words over and over. The man rested the tip of his knife on her chest, on her heart. He raised it for a mortal blow he never delivered.
Dolores had tiptoed back in and found the man there, ready to kill Marina. She dropped the jug full of water she carried.
"No!"
That single word and the noise of the shattering china caused a commotion downstairs.
"Please, Captain! Stop!" Dolores cried.
The intruder pointed his knife at her as he rested the barrel of his gun on Marina's head. And his eyes showed he was more eager than ready to pull the trigger.
The door slammed open and half a dozen guns pointed at him. The man faced the pirates without the slightest trace of fear.
"Think it over, boy," Laventry said, serious but calm. "If you as much as move your finger, you'll end up like a cheese."
The Spaniard flashed a scornful smirk. "Do you think I'd be here if I were afraid of what you may do to me?"
"Captain Alonso, please," Dolores begged.
Morris frowned. "Wait. I know you. You're the one who let us out."
Laventry and Harry turned to him, baffled.
Dolores nodded. "He's Captain Luis Alberto Alonso, with the Windward Fleet and close friends with Captain Castillano."
"It's been an interesting week," Maxó whispered.
"Tell me about it!" Harry replied.
"And what the hell are you doing here?" asked De Neill, puzzled.
Alonso looked down at Marina. The girl struggled to keep her eyes open, never caring about the gun to her head.
"I came to avenge my friend!" he snarled.
While the room was filled with exclamations and questions, Marina tugged at the bottoms of his coat.
"No, no... the Lion is not dead... They took him away... He's alive... They took him..." A fit of cough cut her off, but she didn't let go of the Spaniard's coat, as he listened to her in utter disbelief. "I'm coming for him... I swear... on this life he saved... I swear... I'm coming for him..."
To everybody's surprise, Morris lowered his pistol. "You sure he's dead?" he asked.
Alonso shook his head. Marina did too.
"I don't know," Alonso grunted. "They charged him with treason for helping the lot of you and took him away. The punishment for treason is death."
"If you didn't see his dead body, you should trust the pearl," said Morris.
He traded a look with Maxó and De Neill, who lowered their guns too.
"Let's go, mate," said Maxó. "We better hurry to get to Curaçao."
Alonso studied them, split between fury and doubt. Laventry saw the other two leave and turned to Morris with a questioning scowl.
"How do you know? Do you have spies among us?" Alonso asked, his finger back to the trigger. "They kept it a secret. I myself found out not an hour ago."
"We didn't," Morris replied, at the brink of a smile. "But the pearl always knows when the Lion lurks around, even from miles away. If she says he's still alive, he most likely is."
Harry lowered his gun. "I really need somebody to explain to me what the hell is going on here. But first I need a drink."
He spun around and left the room. Gerrit and Oliver saw Morris' sign and followed the corsair. Marina had mustered all her strength to tug at Alonso's coat once more, and looked up at him with her fevered eyes.
"I'll get him," she mumbled. "I'll get him."
Finally Laventry lowered the last pistol still pointing at the Spaniard. "Believe her, boy," he said. "If one of her blood promises something, be sure they'll keep their word. No matter what. So step back, cause you don't want to kill the only person in the whole world interested in helping your friend."
Alonso's fingers loosened and he dropped his weapons, which Morris hurried to pick up. He stepped back until he hit the wall and slid to sit on the floor in the corner, his head sunk between his shoulders. His eyes were still fixed on Marina, his face a clear reflection of the mixed emotions battling inside of him.