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

Havana

Ponce de Leon was alive.

In the silence of Maroto's cabin, those words sounded again and again in my mind, like the tolling of a bell. He was alive, though he should have died two centuries ago. He was alive, and his stolen journals were in my possession. And if Jack got to the Fountain, a living ghoul would be there to welcome him.

I wondered whether the famous conquistador still hunted for victims, and whether his crew was with him. How could Maroto hope to get hold of the log book? I hardly knew where to begin with my questions.

"Then - who is buried in Havana? What of the tombs in Spain and the other places?" I finally stammered.

Maroto shrugged. "I can only tell you who is not buried there."

"I'm sure you can tell me a deal more than that." Frustration edged my voice, and I studied his face for signs of madness or deceit--any reason to disbelieve him. But his steady gaze was honest and thoughtful.

Suddenly I despised Ponce de Leon. "Only a monster would use his family so ill! If he truly wanted the Fountain destroyed, he should have done it himself--and then fallen on his own sword."

Maroto gazed down at his hands for a moment. "We must try to show him mercy, as we hope to receive it ourselves. Perhaps his will was not strong enough. Perhaps he did what he could by writing the journal."

He was right. I knew little of Ponce de Leon, certainly not enough to condemn him. It was the dark power of the Fountain and Jack's fascination with it that terrified me. I hesitated.

"Supper awaits you, señora," said Maroto, and I heard Hector's footsteps as he walked past Maroto's cabin and on into the captain's quarters. "There will be time for us to speak of this in Havana."

At supper, I sat musing over my part in Maroto's design. Tomorrow evening, I would go ashore at the Pantano, leaving Jack and Hector to sail on to Havana. I would make my way on land, arriving on the other side of the city, and present a letter from Maroto to the abbess of a hermitage there.

The sisters would disguise me as one of their order and send me on to the University of Havana. Maroto would meet me there and arrange a visit to El Morro to bring spiritual comfort and medical care to the prisoners.

That would be my chance to find out where they were keeping the King's agent.

"What be on yer mind, lass?" Hector's voice startled me out of my reverie.

"Oh . . . pondering what to take with me," I replied, as if I had trunks full of gowns to consider.

"I may be addin' one or two trifles." His half-closed eyes gave him a secretive air and I frowned.

"Don't trouble yerself," he added, leaning back in his chair. "'Twill be dealt with tomorrow."

The cabin door creaked open. "Oh!" cried Elizabeth, as soon as she saw me. "I do beg your pardon!" She made haste to withdraw, but Hector stopped her.

"Wait!" Then he glanced at me. "'Tis a matter o' no concern to ye," he said, rising from the table. He followed Elizabeth out of the cabin, and his voice floated back to me. "Over here," I heard him say to her.

He didn't return, and at last I retired to sleep, though curiosity burned in my breast. I invented reasons for Hector wanting to speak with Elizabeth alone, but to no avail.

Eventually I fell asleep. Sometime later, I was half-awakened when Hector returned and lay down beside me. After that, I slept until morning.

That day, I busied myself packing all my belongings, save one. It would be safer to leave the journal's little map on the Medusa. Should I be robbed on the road to Havana, few could decipher the journal's medieval text, but I feared that anyone might read the map.