only by a red-orange glow from a few paper lanterns, and none of the men they passed looked like real men anymore. Most were covered in thin blankets, their faces turned to the wall as if they had given up on the real world.
Of the few Carolina and Diego could see clearly, long pipes attached to their mouths made them look like curious tentacled monsters, not human at all. A couple men muttered faint curses as a whisper of a breeze came in with the pirates, but they settled back to their pipes and lamps as soon as the door closed behind them again.
In the smoky dimness, it was hard to tell how many people were in the room. It was much bigger than it looked from the outside, so Carolina guessed that there could easily be a hundred men, sprawled on top of each other and pressed close around each lamp, waiting glassy-eyed for their next mouthful of poisonous smoke.
All the pirates, even the fearsome warriors of Mistress Ching’s troop, stayed to the center path through the room as if they wanted to keep as far away as possible from the addicts. They avoided brushing against the couches and dirty bare feet that came too close, and most of them stared straight ahead, refusing even to look at the shadowy huddled figures around them. The high tension prickled through the space, and Jack had the distinct feeling that one wrong word might set someone screaming or shooting at any moment. For once, even he kept his mouth shut.
At the far back of the room was a step down into another room. This one was empty of addicts and pipes. The wooden walls were bare, lit by a couple of guttering candles up near the low ceiling. The room contained just two plain wooden chairs. Mistress Ching sat down regally on one of them and arranged her thick robes around her. From her demeanor, it might as well have been a throne.
Jack darted around Sao Feng and sat in the other chair as the pirates filed in and stood around the outer edges of the empty room. Jack crossed his ankles, leaned back, and pronounced, “Well, this is cozy. Who brought the rum?”
Sao Feng loomed over him, glaring. “That is my seat, Sparrow.”
“Oh, really?” Jack said. “I thought the chairs were for the Pirate Lords—and since I’m clearly a more senior Pirate Lord than you, what with you being new to the job and all…”
Sao Feng seized a handful of cloth at the back of Jack’s jacket and lifted him bodily out of the chair.
“I say!” Jack protested, flailing furiously. Sao Feng deposited him on the floor and sat down. Ruffled, Jack brushed off his clothes and stood with his arms crossed between the two Pirate Lords as if that’s where he’d meant to be all along. He peeked over at Mistress Ching. The vial glinted in a fold of dark fabric at her throat. If he could sneak it off her neck while she was distracted…Suddenly, he realized that she was glowering at him.
“Why is Jack Sparrow here?” Mistress Ching asked Sao Feng, pointing to Jack.
“Is this safe?” Sao Feng asked instead of answering her. He nodded at the opium den. “What if one of them overhears?”
“You saw their condition,” said Mistress Ching. “They barely even know they’re here. They are the safest men to tell a secret to, because they cannot remember what is real and what is not. We might as well be speaking in front of pigs.”
Carolina winced. They were still men—very sick men who needed help and care, not callous indifference. She wished there was something she could do to save them, but the opium trade was a much bigger, more virulent problem than one pirate could solve.
“So tell me,” Sao Feng said, folding his hands and leaning forward, “what do you think we can do for each other? I understand your assassins are unparalleled. Why not kill this Benedict Huntington in his own home? Surely the East India Trading Company cannot have too many men like him. If he is replaced with one who might be more easily bribed, one we could reason with…”
“‘Reason
Of the few Carolina and Diego could see clearly, long pipes attached to their mouths made them look like curious tentacled monsters, not human at all. A couple men muttered faint curses as a whisper of a breeze came in with the pirates, but they settled back to their pipes and lamps as soon as the door closed behind them again.
In the smoky dimness, it was hard to tell how many people were in the room. It was much bigger than it looked from the outside, so Carolina guessed that there could easily be a hundred men, sprawled on top of each other and pressed close around each lamp, waiting glassy-eyed for their next mouthful of poisonous smoke.
All the pirates, even the fearsome warriors of Mistress Ching’s troop, stayed to the center path through the room as if they wanted to keep as far away as possible from the addicts. They avoided brushing against the couches and dirty bare feet that came too close, and most of them stared straight ahead, refusing even to look at the shadowy huddled figures around them. The high tension prickled through the space, and Jack had the distinct feeling that one wrong word might set someone screaming or shooting at any moment. For once, even he kept his mouth shut.
At the far back of the room was a step down into another room. This one was empty of addicts and pipes. The wooden walls were bare, lit by a couple of guttering candles up near the low ceiling. The room contained just two plain wooden chairs. Mistress Ching sat down regally on one of them and arranged her thick robes around her. From her demeanor, it might as well have been a throne.
Jack darted around Sao Feng and sat in the other chair as the pirates filed in and stood around the outer edges of the empty room. Jack crossed his ankles, leaned back, and pronounced, “Well, this is cozy. Who brought the rum?”
Sao Feng loomed over him, glaring. “That is my seat, Sparrow.”
“Oh, really?” Jack said. “I thought the chairs were for the Pirate Lords—and since I’m clearly a more senior Pirate Lord than you, what with you being new to the job and all…”
Sao Feng seized a handful of cloth at the back of Jack’s jacket and lifted him bodily out of the chair.
“I say!” Jack protested, flailing furiously. Sao Feng deposited him on the floor and sat down. Ruffled, Jack brushed off his clothes and stood with his arms crossed between the two Pirate Lords as if that’s where he’d meant to be all along. He peeked over at Mistress Ching. The vial glinted in a fold of dark fabric at her throat. If he could sneak it off her neck while she was distracted…Suddenly, he realized that she was glowering at him.
“Why is Jack Sparrow here?” Mistress Ching asked Sao Feng, pointing to Jack.
“Is this safe?” Sao Feng asked instead of answering her. He nodded at the opium den. “What if one of them overhears?”
“You saw their condition,” said Mistress Ching. “They barely even know they’re here. They are the safest men to tell a secret to, because they cannot remember what is real and what is not. We might as well be speaking in front of pigs.”
Carolina winced. They were still men—very sick men who needed help and care, not callous indifference. She wished there was something she could do to save them, but the opium trade was a much bigger, more virulent problem than one pirate could solve.
“So tell me,” Sao Feng said, folding his hands and leaning forward, “what do you think we can do for each other? I understand your assassins are unparalleled. Why not kill this Benedict Huntington in his own home? Surely the East India Trading Company cannot have too many men like him. If he is replaced with one who might be more easily bribed, one we could reason with…”
“‘Reason
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