haharazad reached for the bell. Skin made to stop her, but Yeats called, “No! Let her see it.”

The girl lifted the bell and turned it, listening intently to the jingle. Her gaze fell on Yeats, eyes troubled. He removed the gag from her mouth.

Skin stepped away and said, “I’ve seen that look before!”

Shari’s gaze shifted from Yeats to Mohassin, trussed and immobile on the bed. Then she turned her attention to the Persian carpet beneath her and ran her palm along the decorated patterns. She put the bell to her ear again. Confusion filled her face. But it was a different sort of expression than when she had questioned Yeats earlier. This was something deeper, so deep that she could not manage to find her way out of it on her own. She gasped.

Yeats sat up in a hurry and offered his hand. She took it and startled him by bringing her face so close to his own that their noses touched.

“William?” she whispered. He could feel the fear and uncertainty in her grasp. But he could not stop a smile from spreading across his face. The truth was dawning!

“I’m his son. My name is Yeats. And you are Shari.”

Her brows knitted.

“Not Shaharazad?”

“No. You are Shari.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “I can’t even imagine what you are feeling right now. But I can tell you that my father, William, was terribly confused as well. He still is, and always will be unless we get you home.”

Her hands shook. “I don’t know what to think.”

Yeats nodded. He forced himself to speak slowly, purposefully. “Will you trust me? It is dangerous for us here.”

She studied his face. “You’re not William. Although I can see him in you. Your eyes! How is that?”

Still keeping his voice controlled and very aware of the pirates’ impatient tapping swords, Yeats said, “There is so much to tell you that it would take a week to catch you up. I wish my father were here. I’m so proud of him. He knew the necklace was important. And it was the key to everything!” He stopped and looked at the door. “Your grandfather is here too. Do you remember him?”

She stifled a cry. “Yes, I do, I do. Where is he?”

“All right, lad,” Bones interrupted. “Now’s the time—if ye plan on leaving.”

Yeats nodded. “Come with me … please.”

The girl shivered. “My name is Shari. Shari Sutcliff.”

“Yes, it is,” Yeats affirmed.

She surveyed the luxurious room. “But I have lived here for so long,” she murmured.

“You have been in a story,” Yeats said gently.

“And will continue to be if we don’t weigh anchor!” grumbled Skin.

“Come on,” Yeats said and tugged at her sleeve.

Shari nodded and then froze when she saw poor Mohassin. “Don’t hurt him,” she said to the pirates. “He risked his life to save me. Other than my grandfather I’ve never met a more noble man.”

Bones shook his head. “Not a scratch.” Skin fingered his knife but grumbled in agreement. “We’d best be off,” Bones added.

“Must we go so quickly?” Shari said. “I feel like I’ve just woken up from such a sleep. I need to think.”

Catching her hand, Yeats said, “Please, we’ve got to go. We have to find your grandfather. And my father—William—is waiting.”

“I will go with you,” she said. “I must see my grandfather. I trust William … and I trust you too.”

Yeats grinned.

Then she added, “But give me one moment.” She walked to the bed and leaned toward the old man. “Mohassin,” she said softly. “I will go with these rogues so that no further harm is done. Be at peace! I will be quite safe. And so will the people. Shaharazad will save her people yet!” She winked at Yeats.

As Yeats made for the door, Shari held him back. “Is William really there, beyond that door?”

“No,” he said. “He’s at the end of the journey. If we make it.”

“I’d like to see him,” she added. “I feel like I’m caught between waking and sleeping and can’t decide which one is real.”

“That’s the way of it,” Bones affirmed. Then he added with chilly calm, “But ye’d better make certain ye know which ye want most.”

Yeats felt a cold shiver down his back. “What did you say?”

The pirate hefted his sword. “She’s got to undo her wish. It’s not good enough to remember. I told ye that.”

“What do you mean?” yelled Yeats. “Look at her. We did it. We rescued her.”

“Rats and ropes, lad! Ye call this rescued? There’s no wish broken here.”

“And we’re not out of the palace yet,” added Skin. “We’ve a long way to the boat and who knows how many guards to fight.”

Yeats stared, flabbergasted. “We might be stuck?”

Bones stamped his foot. “The deal was to rescue ye both. If one of ye chooses not to go home, then both of ye stay behind.”

“What does he mean?” Shari asked quietly.

Yeats turned away. “It means we may be marooned. And my family is on the other side not knowing anything that’s happened. Not only will they have lost you, they’ll lose me too.”

He regretted his words immediately. For Shari put her hands to her head. “My parents … an accident! They are gone.” Her face paled.

“Easy now.” Skin perked up. “Let’s not bring foul weather before the sun’s gone! Let’s try one thing at a time.” Then to Yeats, he added, “If we can win our way to the boat, ye’ll have yer moment to convince the lass.”

“Convince me of what?” asked Shari.

Yeats ran his fingers through his hair. He was trying to be so careful, so gentle with her, but now could not disguise his disappointment. “I guess it’s not enough that you trust me,” he said. “You’ve got to choose to come with me. With all your heart. I was so excited that you remembered that I forgot what it takes to get us back.”

She studied him thoughtfully, her eyes a little more clear than a few moments before. “I’ll try! But you’ve no idea what it feels like to be part of two places at once. Of course I want to go with you. It’s an adventure. But when I look around I see everything I’ve ever known. And your news about the people here … Oh my poor people!” She brought her hands to her mouth. Then she looked at Yeats and said, “William!” She burst into tears. Confusion filled her face again. “What is happening to me?” she cried.

Yeats cast a glance helplessly at the pirates, but they would not meet his eyes. “It’s not your fault,” he said to Shari. “Let’s get to the boat. I’ll think of something!” He picked up the scimitar and turned it experimentally in his hand.

“Do you know how to use that?” Shari asked, snuffling.

Yeats swiped the air experimentally with the blade. “Not yet.”

“You’d better give it to me,” she said. She gazed over the room one last time, slowly, as if memorizing every carpet, every tassel, every candlestick. Then abruptly she turned and pulled Yeats to the door.