Pirates of the Caribbean:The Spanish Prisoner (Book 2 King's Messenger Series)

The Minories

Although I had long been haunted by a singular dream, I never thought it portended disaster. In fact, I blamed it all on Jack and the tales he told me when we were growing up.

On this particular night, the dream began as it always did.

I was floating languidly in the midnight blue ether above the earth. Around me were countless stars, each a tiny orb of brilliant white, surrounded by a nimbus of ever-shifting colours. They appeared close enough to touch, but I merely gazed at them contentedly, knowing they were far beyond my reach.

Directly overhead was a constellation I knew well - Orion the Hunter. Seen from earth, he appeared no larger than any other group of stars; but here in the heavens, Orion was a colossus.

According to Jack, the legendary Hunter is holding up his sword to defend against the sharp horns of angry Taurus. Sirius, his faithful dog, rushes to his master's side, but who will triumph?

The final outcome can never be known, for constellations are fixed. Orion is frozen forever and the battle will never be fought.

I drifted onward, like a swimmer in placid waters, but the stars around me began to move and darken, and I was seized with a violent, ominous intuition. I tried to shout a warning, but no sound came from my throat. The Great Dog was barking wildly, and I struggled in the heavy ether, unable to reach Orion.

In the midst of this turmoil, Hector spoke, his voice close at hand, calming me. "Nina," he said distinctly, almost in my ear.

I awoke with a start and reached for him---but then, of course, I remembered.

Amsterdam. I was in the port of Amsterdam by my own choice, miserable and alone. 

The morning air in my room was frigid. It had blown through the open window all night, carried on the same unseasonable winds that were sweeping the North Sea. 

And outside, a dog was barking insistently.

On a table near my bed lay the terse royal summons to London, but at the moment I was powerless to obey it. The Dutch merchantman I travelled on had been damaged in a storm and put into port for repairs. For three days, I had been waiting impatiently to board a dispatch boat - a fast Bermuda sloop which would put to sea as soon as possible.

Shivering, I pulled the bedclothes up to my nose. The mattress might as well have been an ice floe. I curled up, craving the shelter of Hector's warm embrace. But the barking continued, making my head throb.

"How can it be so blessed cold in here?" I complained to the empty room. After testing the icy floor with my foot, I made my way to the window.

I reached out to pull down the window sash, and saw the source of the barking: a wretched little dog in the street below, thin and solitary. There was a half-eaten hard roll left from supper, and I tossed it down to him.

A disapproving cough came from the doorway as someone entered the room.

"You should not feed him, Mistress Bitter, it gives encouragement," said Mrs Geel, looking at me with a long face. The innkeeper's tall, angular wife had come to start the fire.

I turned back to the window just in time for the roll to strike me full in the face. The monkey who had thrown it screamed and scampered up to the roof.

I spat out the crumbs, wiping butter off my nose. "Devil rot you!"

A muffled laugh told me Mistress Geel was secretly enjoying the spectacle. "If you mind their pranks, you might have been happier at another inn. We're not called het Aepjen for nothing."