Sinbad and the Minotaur Page #2

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scratches to me.

Are you sure Nestor

can decipher it?

Well, the Chronicles are in Old

Greek. Nestor is an old Greek.

Well, he's old but

he's not ancient. -Details.

What about Luna?

Daresh is a place of

opportunity. She'll be fine.

Sinbad, do... do you...?

Watch the horses.

Can I help you? -We're

looking for this man.

Oh, shifty-looking

fellow, isn't he?

Can't say I've

seen him, though.

I thought you

killed him. -I did.

Impressive.

In case you do, be sure to leave

word at the gates of Daresh.

I can assure you our

master is beyond generous

when it comes to this matter.

Who is he?

- A dead man.

Hold.

Where's your companion?

- Companion?

Oh. Uh... they're both mine.

I'm a courier.

My master is quite

the man with letters.

Keeps me so busy,

I practically live in the saddle.

Move out, men.

Yah!

This is bad. With the

amount of coin that

Al-Jibar's dogs are throwing around

the whole of Daresh would have

turned spy by nightfall. -I want you

to go to Daresh, rouse the crew.

Tell Boz to sail to

Prophet's Cove.

I'm going to cut across inland

and meet you there. -Yes, sir.

Excuse me! Al-Jibar's after

me too in case you forgot.

He's not after you.

He's after this.

Well, I don't see him

making that distinction.

Besides, I helped you get that.

And I saved your life.

So you owe me.

I'm a part of this now,

whether you like it or not.

I'm beginning to like this one.

- Speak for yourself.

Is that your ship?

- Beautiful, isn't she?

Akoom!

Looks like hunting is good.

- This? It's only a snack.

So, it's another voyage

again? -Certainly.

Do we get to fight?

- Possibly.

What about wenches?

Definitely not.

And gold? -There'll be

mountains of it.

I'm in! -I thought

you would be.

We'll see you back at

camp for the feast. -Feast?

What feast?

Get your own dinner!

There!

There!

Hey!

Stop!

- Get her!

Now, my little dancer.

It's all about the belly,

isn't it? -What do you want?

I've got no money and

you can have my horse.

Take my horse.

- Where is he?

Who is he? -I don't know

what you're talking about.

He paid you to dance.

- No.

I dance all around the region.

The people who watch me pay me.

Liar!

- I swear!

No, please don't! No!

On your feet, you miserable pack

of bow-legged whoresons!

Can't you see your

captain's approaching?

Stop sunning your bellies

pink and move your asses.

Look! It's Sinbad!

She looks good,

but can she cook, Sinbad?

Boz? How's the crew?

- Well enough, Captain.

Though, I dare say, most be bitter

and blue-balled over all the time.

That is to say, the men

be all frustrated like,

over their shore

leave being cut.

Maybe this will lift

their spirits.

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