Barefoot Pirate (8 page)

“We cut loose all the horses in the garrison, and stampeded
them through the execution square,” Sarilda exclaimed, chortling. “Blackeye
thought that one up. What fun it was! The vultures who gathered to watch the
hanging all screaming and running, and Nitre and the warts cursing and
scrambling out of the way. It was a, uh, an
okay
sight.”

Everybody laughed.

“Wow,” Joe said admiringly. “Wish we coulda seen that. What
other things have you done?”

Blackeye shrugged. “Tell you what. Let’s get some rest now,
and we can trade stories to while away the long ride through the islands, day
after next. You must be tired.”

Joe started to shake his head—then was caught by a yawn.
“Guess so,” he said sheepishly. “But hey, at least I’m not falling asleep right
on my plate anymore.”

The others laughed, but not meanly. Most went off to bed.

Nan lingered, hoping to hear more talk. She was content to
sit in the background and listen; therefore she was surprised when Blackeye
turned to her and said with a smile, “Interested in a little night run?”

“Uh, what kind of run?” Nan asked cautiously.

“Just a spy-run,” Blackeye said. “Other side of the island.
See what those Lorjee toffs in the yacht are up to at the outpost.”

“Oh.” Nan’s heart began to thump warningly. “Okay,” she
said, trying to sound cool.

Blackeye gave her a grin, and reached down to slap her
shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Nan stood up. Her tiredness had disappeared—replaced by
nervousness.

“Got something dark to put on?” Sarilda spoke softly behind
her.

Nan shook her head. “I didn’t bring much.”

“Well, I have an extra tunic, and you aren’t much taller.
Your hose will do quite nicely. So thick,” Sarilda added, leading the way to
the girls’ room. “And sturdy.”

“They’re called jeans,” Nan said. The word didn’t translate.

“A strange word!” Sarilda laughed.

Nothing more was said as Sarilda opened her trunk and drew
out two garments. Nan changed quickly, then followed Sarilda back up the
tunnel, rejoicing in the heavy tunic of unfamiliar fabric, and the belt with a
knife attached around her waist.

Mican and Warron waited, Mican with a sort of skeptical
watchfulness on his face and a twist to his smile that cut into Nan’s joy and
made her feel a twinge of warning.

Blackeye joined them from another direction, saying,
“Tarsen?”

“Bunked out,” Mican answered. “He’s still getting up early
to give Joe extra practice with the blades.”

Blackeye nodded. “Right. Let’s go.”

She and Warron led the way out of the cave.

The night air was balmy, and Nan smelled the same sharp tang
of saltwater mixed with of herbs that she remembered from her arrival.

“Wait here,” Sarilda murmured when they reached the sand.

The others disappeared briefly, then reappeared carrying a
long, narrow boat. Like a canoe, Nan thought.

“Here. You paddle this way.” Sarilda demonstrated with her
hands, just barely visible in the weak light of a low moon. “And you ship it
like this when we’re still moving.” She balanced her pretend paddle across her
knees. “So it doesn’t make any noise. Water carries noises real far, and we
don’t know who might be out patrolling.”

Nan’s heart thumped in warning again, but she only nodded.

The other three expertly flipped the canoe, which they’d
been carrying upside down, and set it gliding in the low surf. “You get in
first, Princess Nan,” Blackeye said.

“Just Nan.” Though Nan secretly loved being called
Princess
.
She could get used to that, but she didn’t want Joe hearing it.

Besides, the others seemed to respect her more, the way they
nodded as if her opinion mattered. Imagine McKynzi seeing this!

Nan climbed in carefully, holding on when the canoe rocked. One
by one the others climbed in, rocking it much less. Nan watched the way they
stepped right into the middle—she was determined not to rock it again. Mican
passed out paddles, and she gripped hers and made practice movements through
the air.

Warron, the tallest, was last. As soon as he was in the kids
rowed together. Mican stayed in back, steering with curious swooping motions to
his paddling.

Nan pulled hard, noticing that the others kept the arm at
the top of the paddle stiff. Though this felt awkward, it gave her strokes more
power. Grunting with effort, she tried to do her part in sending the silent
boat skimming over the rippling waves.

When she got used to the rhythm, she looked about curiously.
Her eyes were completely adjusted to the darkness now. Wisps of fog drifted
over the water here and there. Once they paddled straight through a patch of
fog and she shivered in the sudden chill. When they emerged again, she saw that
they were hugging close to a mighty rock cliff. Way in the distance she could
barely make out the black line of the other end of the island against the
star-studded indigo sky.

They glided silently round the cliff, then curved into a
small inlet. Instead of pulling out again when they neared the opposite side,
they kept moving through increasingly shallow water until Blackeye said, “Now.”

The others quietly shipped their paddles along the bottom of
the canoe and jumped out. Nan made haste to follow, splashing into the cool
sea.

The others picked the boat out of the surging tide and
carried it ashore, setting it down behind a narrow outcropping of rock so that
it was not visible from the water.

“This way,” Sarilda whispered to Nan.

They scrambled up the side of a brush-covered hill. Near the
top they passed into the darkness of thick forest, but Warron, who was in the
lead, scarcely abated his pace. Two different-feeling hands took hold of Nan’s,
guiding her silently. She moved as quickly as she could, her other senses
sharpening to make up for her lack of vision.

They reached the top of a rise, then started down a winding,
narrow path until they emerged from the forest. Outlined in the moonslight
about a quarter of a mile away was a castle built on a high cliff. The lower
walls seemed to be made of some dark stone; the long narrow windows all glowed
with golden light. Far below, a sheer drop of maybe a thousand feet, Nan
guessed, waves crashed against the rocks with a distant hiss and roar.

“Ivy,” Sarilda said, pointing at the bulk of the castle.
“Those walls are covered with a few hundred years’ growth. That’s how we got up
and down the time we pretended we were ghosts, and scared them.” She laughed.
“What fun that was!”

Nan couldn’t hide a shiver. She wasn’t about say what she
really thought about climbing on thousand-foot walls—but she couldn’t bring
herself to lie and say it sounded great. So she forced herself to give Sarilda
a princess grin, because a princess wouldn’t be a chicken.

“No ghosts,” Blackeye said. “We’re here to listen this run.
See how many of ’em you can identify. When the big moon touches the promontory—”
She pointed to the opposite cliff “—meet right here again.”

“Yeagh,” Mican said with a heavy, disappointed-sounding
sigh. “Who’s going where?”

“We’ll take the company rooms,” Blackeye said. “Nan and I. I
want to show her around.”

“Ballroom,” Warron said quietly.

“I’ll go with him.” Mican sounded resigned.

“Sarilda?” Blackeye asked.

“Kitchen!” Sarilda said with a soft laugh.

They parted, Warron, Sarilda and Mican treading single file
up a narrow path scratched into the side of a mighty rock cliff. Nan turned to
follow Blackeye—and the quiet air carried Mican’s voice back clearly:

“If I’d known this was nothing but a baby-walk for a
prin-cess
,
I’d have stayed home and slept.”

The words, and Warron’s snort of laughter afterward, shot a
jet of all the old hateful acid through Nan.
It’s no different than home.
Everyone hates me
.

“This way.”

Blackeye touched her arm, and led the way straight up the
side of the cliff for several yards. Nan struggled against sliding rocks and
gravel, catching hold of bushes and trying to place her feet where Blackeye
stepped.

Blackeye shoved her way past a thick, prickly bush and
disappeared. Nan followed, then found herself in total blackness. The familiar
cool-dirt smell of a cave met her nose. She stood there breathing it in,
fighting against the old bad feelings.

“Foogh.” Blackeye’s voice came out of the dark. “I had a
notion we’d forgotten to leave candles last time we were here, and I was right.
Here.” Fingers bumped Nan’s shoulder, and fumbled down her arm to her hand. “I
know the way.”

Nan walked where she was tugged.

The ground was smooth, at least, though it led steadily
uphill. After a short time, Blackeye said, “Mican is sour on anyone high-born.
He even gave Bron trouble when he and Shor first came—as if anyone couldn’t
tell at first look that Bron’s life’s been no better than his own despite his
exalted birth.”

Nan gulped. “I didn’t—I’m sorry if I—”

“It’s your breathing,” Blackeye interrupted, her voice mild.
“Sounds just like Bron’s did after one of Mican’s better tongue-scorchings. But
Mican’s, ah, okay. You know, I do like that word! He’ll ease up on the helm,
after he sees that you act like everyone else. Don’t expect to be treated
better. Don’t hand out commands to the rest of us. You’ll see.”

“How did you get them to be friends?” Nan asked, glad her
voice was under control. She scrubbed her free hand over her eyes again.

“Didn’t. They had to do it themselves. Here. We have to go
up somewhere here... Ah. Kevriac used his magic to make the two tunnels meet.
Almost went awry, we know, though he won’t tell us anything more about what
happened.”

Blackeye’s tug on her hand pulled her up to a rock wall. A
kind of ladder had been carved, or blasted, into the stone. Nan fingered her
way carefully, her heart beating in her ear. It must have been about forty feet
they’d climbed—she was glad she wasn’t able to look behind her.

At last they reached a shelf and crawled onto it. Nan,
gasping, sank back gratefully.

“We’ll rest here a mite,” Blackeye said. “Me, I’m glad to
have you here. Also glad you are who you are. I’ve got some questions I’ve
wanted to talk out, and haven’t had much chance. Kings and queens not coming my
way much.” She chuckled. “What kind of queen was your mother?”

“Huh?” Nan coughed, startled.

“Seems to me there’s two kinds of leading. Either Todan’s,
where everyone fears you, and you force obedience, or the way my parents ran
the
Falcon
. Crew was free to come and go, and they didn’t have too many
rules. But maybe it’s just my good memories making them out to be right, and
they were really wrong—which is why old Mursid sold them out. So which was
hers?”

Nan had only one memory of her mother’s face, but it was a
vivid one. She looked back at that terrible day she’d been abandoned in the
park, still saw the stark blue eyes and the mouth pressed in rage and fear,
even if she could not remember the words her mother had said at the time. “The
fear kind,” Nan whispered.

“You think it best?” Blackeye asked.

“No.” The word came out sounding flat and hard.

Nan heard cloth shifting, and Blackeye sighed. “Maybe you’ve
more reason than one for leaving your story behind. I won’t ask more. Ready to
walk?”

Nan got to her feet, reaching cautiously. She did not want
to miss her step and fall down that long stone ladder, and she knew it was
nearby.

If it hadn’t been dark, she wouldn’t have dared to ask next:
“You aren’t angry with me?”

“Why?” Blackeye sounded genuinely surprised. “Here’s my
hand, and we go this way.”

“Because—I’d rather my story stay behind.”

“A person has a right to let her past stay past, if you
follow what I’m saying. I just like to air my ideas on captaincy when I get a
chance. I’ve done stupid things I’d thought out in advance, and I’ve
accidentally done good things. Still, I like to try to plan ahead.”

“Seems to me you’re doing good here,” Nan said, glad she
hadn’t alienated the leader, at least. “I mean, everyone seems to get along.”

“Started that way,” Blackeye said. Nan could hear a grin in
her voice. “Changed when Warron came, I’ll admit.”

“How?”

“Tried to take over.”

“What? That’s rotten! When you’d rescued him and
everything?”

“Well, it wasn’t right away. Mostly during training
sessions, he’d ride me. It was like he couldn’t help himself. He was so much
better than any of us, and here we were, trying to train ourselves for action.
So I gave over the training to him, and it still wasn’t enough.”

“What happened?”

Blackeye laughed. “We had a fight, and he whupped me. I
coulda foreseen that outcome—I’m good, but he’s better. He’s bigger, stronger,
and faster. Then I saw that the others were dividing up into two groups of
enemies, so I said I’d step aside. He could run the group—only the
Falcon
was mine. Huh! Here we are. Now, quiet. This opens right into one of the castle
storerooms. We’ve got to listen, make sure no one’s about.”

Nan heard Blackeye’s hands scrabbling at something, and then
a wash of cold air swept across her face.

“False stone here,” Blackeye breathed. “Careful.”

Nan followed Blackeye through the low hole into another dark
space, this one with a flat stone floor. Nan stood quietly, her heart banging
again, while Blackeye moved away.

“We’re fine,” Blackeye said after a long pause. “Door’s this
way.”

Nan heard a faint creak of wood, and a thin shaft of yellow
light stabbed into the dark.

Nan’s eyes took in a shadowy storeroom with a jumble of
furniture, and a stone hallway just behind. A torch set in a sconce high on a
wall at the end of the hall gave the light. It seemed as bright as a beacon
after all that darkness.