"Excuse me?"
"You're surprised," the man named Kidd responded. "Certainly, I understand how you must feel."
"I doubt that very much."
They were alone inside the squalid hut that served as Stacy's prison cell. The other three young women had been sent outside when he arrived demanding privacy. At first Stacy feared she was about to be assaulted, but the truth was even more bizarre, more frightening.
The pirate captain was proposing marriage.
No, that wasn't right. He wasn't asking her to marry him. Rather, he was informing her of his decision, standing back and smiling at her with his yellow teeth, as if she ought to be delighted by the news. He plainly viewed the prospect of their marriage as an honor that should be apparent to the most thickheaded woman on the planet.
"Married?" She repeated it as if the word were foreign to her, not a part of her vocabulary.
"That's the ticket," Kidd replied, still beaming at her with discolored teeth. "You're prob'ly wondering about the service."
"Well-"
"I grant you, we don't have a rightful preacher," he continued, "but we have our differences with Mother Church."
"I can imagine," Stacy said.
Kidd chuckled to himself, appreciating her wit, but it was artificial, like stage laughter, there and gone. He still had more to say, and while he hadn't exactly rehearsed the speech, he still seemed bent on making certain points.
"The good news," Kidd continued, "is that I'm the captain of this scurvy lot, and maritime law gives me the authority to pronounce nuptials."
"So, you can marry yourself?"
Kidd blinked at that idea, as if confused, then frowned slightly. "Perform the rights, you mean? Of course. I grant you, it may not be strictly legal on the mainland, but I've long since given up on courting the opinion of landlubbers."
"This is so sudden," Stacy said. It was the ultimate cliche, but she could think of nothing else to say. Her mind was racing, jumbled thoughts colliding, jostling one another, but she had a feeling that it would be foolish-maybe even fatal-to show weakness in the presence of this man.
"You'll get used to the notion," Kidd replied, "once we've been rightly hitched. You'll be my queen."
The final comment was so serious that Stacy almost laughed out loud. She bit her tongue instead and stood with eyes downcast, considering the best response.
"What sort of an engagement period were you considering?" she asked at last.
"Engagement?" Once again Kidd seemed confused. "To hell with that nonsense! Tonight's the night, my love. Your Chinky friend's already working on the menu."
"He's Korean," Stacy said, stalling for time.
"It's all the same," Kidd said. "You rest now. Get yourself shipshape for the big event."
"I don't have anything to wear!" she blurted out, the sheer absurdity of it all twitching the corners of her mouth into a near-hysterical smile that could just as easily have been a rictus of pain.
"No matter," Kidd replied. "We'll fix you up with something for the ceremony. Later on, of course, you won't need anything to wear."
He left her with a wink and leer in parting. Stacy stared after him until she was alone and fairly certain he wouldn't duck back to add some new announcement. She stiffened at the sound of shuffling footsteps, but it was her fellow captives returning. Megan came forward, while Robin and Felicia hung back, near the curtained entrance to the hut.
"I hear we're going to be bridesmaids," Megan said.
At that, a dam burst inside Stacy, and she stepped into the younger woman's arms, dissolving into tears.
CHIUN WAS WORKING ON A culinary masterpiece. It was to be a wedding feast, as he had been informed, and the ridiculous young men who thought he was their prisoner demanded "something special for the bride and groom."
Chiun intended to oblige.
The one-eyed cretin charged with guarding Chiun lurched to his feet as the Master Emeritus of Sinanju approached. "Need sumpthin', Chinaman?"
Chiun considered pulling off the pirate's arm and using it to rearrange his grubby features. It would be so easy. Once that simple chore was done, he could proceed to take the others as they came, one at a time, or in whatever combinations they preferred. There were no more than sixty-five or seventy in all. It would be child's play. If not for the prisoners. Surely the rabble would resort to using hostages once it became apparent that they were being picked off by an invisible killer.
How important, he wondered for the tenth time, were the prisoners, really?
Important enough to Emperor Smith, Chiun decided. He would be upset. As would Remo-and the bigmouthed boy would never let the subject rest. He would go on and on for weeks. Chiun would be in misery. He sighed mentally. He would have to wait. But the waiting wouldn't be wasted time.
"Your captain wants a special feast," Chiun said, making his voice higher and slightly squeaky.
"Our cap'n?" parroted the goon behind the crusty eye patch.
"As I said." Chiun could be obsequious when circumstances called for it, though it would never cease to gall him. "I require some spices."
"We got salt," said the pirate, swinging at the single wooden shelf in the cooking sty. "And we got pepper."
"Not enough," Chiun replied, gesturing toward the forest that surrounded the encampment. "I must go and look for other things."
"Like hell," the pirate snarled. "Nobody tole me nothin' 'bout you leavin' camp. Forget about it, Slant-eyes."
This time, Chiun imagined reaching deep inside the pirate's chest and ripping out the withered lump of gristle that sufficed him for a heart. Perhaps, on second thought, it would be more instructive to crack open his skull and examine the tiny husk of his brain.
Both prospects made Chiun smile, an uncharacteristic expression on his ancient face, but the pirate didn't know him well enough to realize that death was near.
"I cannot argue with such evident intelligence," he said. "No doubt, you will explain to Captain Kidd why his instructions for the wedding feast have been ignored. He will, of course, be sympathetic to your reasoning."
"You tellin' me the cap' n ordered this?"
"His excellency's order is for me to fix the ultimate gourmet repast. I have little to work with. Producing a special feast from this miserable larder will demand, at the very least, some distinctive seasonings."
The pirate tried to wrap his mind around Chiun's statement, which had an awful lot of long words in it, then snorted. "Where in hell you think you're livin', Chinaman? These ain't the goddamn spice islands, for Neptune's sake!"
"I have some knowledge of these things," Chiun replied. "There is no doubt the jungle, there, will yield surprises for the palate."
Chiun's watchdog glared at the forest with his one eye, finally turning back to face the Master Emeritus of Sinanju. "I don't like the jungle," he declared.
"By all means, then, stay here," Chiun offered. "After all, how can I run away?"
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" The pirate sneered. "Get me in trouble with the cap'n, jus' so you can go off playin' in the woods. No way you're gettin' off that easy, Slant-eyes."