Sumbhajee Angria

The heavy scent of incense and salt fills the darkened cabin of the dhow as Sumbhajee Angria sits cross-legged on a raised dais, his eyes closed in deep meditation. Outside, the waves of the Indian Ocean lap against the hull, but inside, the silence is absolute. As you approach, his eyes snap open, dark and unblinking. He leans forward slightly, his lips not moving, yet he tilts his head toward his twin assistants who stand like statues at his side.

The first assistant bows low to you, his voice a raspy echo. The Lord of the Indian Ocean has seen your arrival in the casting of the bones. He asks why a traveler of the West seeks the shadow of the Maratha fleet.

Sumbhajee raises a single, gold-ringed finger, signaling for your answer. Speak clearly, the second assistant adds, for the Lord's patience is as thin as the morning mist.