The gardens were uncharacteristically lush compared to what the pirate had expected. He could tell the pasha siphoned many tons of precious water from the city to this place in order to keep it as alive and vibrant as it appeared. Large hedges had buffeted into the sky, immaculately cut in the fashion of mythic beasts and great works of architecture, whilst feral wildflowers had been planted along their bases to keep anyone from getting too close. As Markus crept, he drew out a knife and hid it beneath his closed hand and wrist to keep it on hand, hearing the spring water grow louder and louder as he approached. It was good he was so cautious, for he nearly stepped out of the hedgeline and into the spring 'area' just in front of a lovely young Arabyan woman. Her bedlah pants and crochet top were indigo, hugging her dark skin as she sat bored, although she wasn't alone. 

A hairless fellow stood before her, bedecked in robes that denoted he had a trusted status amongst Mavikim's court, Markus had to guess. The pirate had knelt down and watched through a small opening of one of the great walls of foliage that towers across the grounds. The man seemed to be lecturing the woman over some slight, or perhaps warning her. He unwound clothed helmet upon his head and pressed his ear to the hole, closing his eyes. 

"-before you are disciplined as the others. You may be the chief wife, but he does not look kindly upon women who disobey him." The man, possibly a Eunuch of Markus had to guess, berated to the woman. He spoke like he took great pride in making demure servants scared, likely because he used to be just as powerless. 

"It will not happen again. Please, lord Khazeem, I simply wish to be left alone." She explained, but it was followed by a small gasp and a brief struggle. Bits of water could be heard splashing, though he spoke before Markus would remove his ear to see with his eyes. 

"That is good to hear, princess. Even now he makes a foreign whore his plaything. Once he is finished with her you will be his only means of...expunging his wickedness. I doubt today's session will not end in her life." He gloated, chortling by the end. Markus's heart skipped a beat, realizing he might have made a mistake if this pasha was particularly cruel. Once again he mused if it was not better for Emmaline to be gone from the ship, but almost immediately that thought was purged. Merely a runoff notion from back when he considered her a liability. The captain had already come to terms with their mutual feelings and desire for one another, and soon a fear gripped him when he thought of her safety. He decided it was time to move a bit quicker than usual.  

As the princess began to cry, she placed her face in her hands. It came as a shock to her when the steward's chastisement suddenly ceased, and she poked her eyes up to see a rakish northman with a knife to Khazeem's throat. Her mouth opened and closed, but before she could scream for help, the northman placed a finger to his lips. "If you want to be freed of this place, keep yourself quiet." He told her. He didn't expect she was totally convinced, but it kept her silent for the moment, which was truly all he needed. Markus moved the knife from Khazeem's throat to let him speak, but he put a hand around his throat and the knife next to his fingers. 

"There is a magic lamp with a Djinn inside this palace. Where is it?" Markus asked, not in the mood to mince words. 

"Ha! A lone man here, chasing after rumors and legends?" Khazeem chuckled as if he were control of the entire situation. "There is no Djinn here, fool. You've resigned your fate to a lie. You'll not leave this place alive, even if you kidnap me or h-" He suddenly gave a hoarse cry of pain, luckily blocked by the gardens around him so the guards at the wall were as of yet, unalerted. Khazeem began to whimper, and the princess saw a stubby appendage fall to the ground amidst a stream of blood. It was his finger. 

"Do say something I wish to hear, next time." Markus remarked simply. "Where is the magic lamp?" 

The princess covered her ears and closed her eyes, counting to fifty and shaking with fear. She yelped when something poked her shoulder, the woman slowly opening her eyes to see the handsome foreigner standing before her. Behind him, Khazeem bled into the dirt, his body like an ever reddening sack of flesh. 

"You want to be rid of this Mavikim, yes? ... [i]Yes[/i]?" 

She gulped and nodded, dark hair bouncing from the movement. She looked mortified, but simply for her life and not Khazeem's it seemed. Markus stepped back a bit, but offered her his hand. She hesitated like a nervous fawn, but reached out to accept it after a moment's hesitation. To her surprise, he did not begin to cut off her fingers. He merely helped her up and let her go, sheathing his knife back into its small, hidden scabbard. 

"You will take me to this Mavikim's chambers. I am your guard and you are to go and see him. Do this, and I'll kill him and set you free."