Barefoot Pirate (19 page)

“She has tried four times to run away. Since the last one
they’ve had her surrounded by almost as many guards as the prince is supposed
to have.”

“I’m surprised Todan doesn’t just kill her,” Blackeye said. “He
certainly hasn’t stopped at killing other people.”

“If Todan does that,” Liav said, “he’ll touch off a war with
every single ducal family. The truce is uneasy as it is—he’s got the power, and
he holds family members as hostages. Everyone has always known about the
marriage. The Great Families take turns, and it’s Senna’s turn to ally with the
royal House. Lorjee has been working on Alitra to go through with it for the
good of the people. She kept saying she wouldn’t marry anyone who had not the
will to choose.”

“So what does forcing her to marry him do?”

“It means, as near as we can figure, they can kill the
prince and force her to rule. They grabbed me to make her marry the prince. If
she refuses when the time comes, then I am to suffer a fatal illness,” Liav
said. “As for the prince, Alitra told me that this new sorcerer can make him
stand up and walk about and there’s even a voice that seems to come from him,
but it’s all a terrible kind of magic. And she knows as soon as she marries
him, she’ll probably get the same spell. Then, when she’s princess, someone can
marry her and really rule. All of it legal—on the surface.”

“Lorjee.” Blackeye slapped her hands together. “That must be
the plan we overheard last month.”

“And Todan probably thinks one of his people will be
marrying the princess,” Sarilda exclaimed. “Double cross!”

“When is all this to happen?” Blackeye asked.

“On the day of the Feast of Heroes.”

“That’s less than three weeks off,” Warron said.

Liav rubbed his eyes again. “Am I dreaming? Who are you, and
why did you come after me?”

“Oh, it was a game to make Lorjee angry,” Sarilda said with
her flashing smile, and as Tarly came in bearing a heavy tray, she jumped up to
pass out mugs of steaming drink.

Liav whistled. “I was afraid I was dreaming—at least until I
found myself climbing down that ivy outside the tower window. Whew! I think
I’ll have nightmares about that for the rest of my life. I kept wondering just
how long it would take me to fall before I smashed on the rocks, but you two
climbed around like it was an apple tree, and a young one at that.” He pointed
to Blackeye and Sarilda.

Tarsen then started asking questions about his stay in the
castle, and for a few seconds Joe listened in. Liav tried to make it all sound
like no big deal, but Joe knew it had to have been pretty nasty.

He was distracted by the sight of Blackeye motioning to
Bron.

“Can we trust him?” she asked softly.

Warron drifted up on her other side and murmured, “Could be
a plant. Lorjee might suspect someone on this island. He’s had cause.” He gave
a wry grin.

“I think he’s been too busy to suspect,” Kevriac said. “Or
we’d have had more searches. I feel that Liav is speaking truth—but should we
trust him with our plans?”

“We’re going to have to make some decisions and act fast,”
Blackeye said, “or we’re going to lose our chance forever if what he says is
true.”

Bron nodded slowly. “I trusted him when we were small.”

Blackeye pursed her lips. “We don’t have time for the spy
run then, or at least, it’ll have to be done when we go back to Fortanya—which
we’d better do right away. We’ve got to get the
Falcon
back.”

Tarsen and Liav laughed suddenly.

“Stench puffs?” Tarsen yelped.

Liav grinned. “In every single lamp. Then we stood back,
held our noses, and waited for the candles to burn down. Peeeee-
yew
! What
an incredible stink! Olucar was screaming, the servants running around yelling
and trying to put out the candles, and then my cousin Mora had a brilliant idea—she
grabbed up handfuls of the food and flung them. It was too dark to see who was
doing it.”

“What’s this?” Warron asked.

“Party. For Nitre and Olucar’s stick of a son. Made us all
attend. Last time they tried it,” Liav added smugly.

Blackeye leaned forward. “I take it you do not care for Lady
Olucar?”

“About as much as I care for swallowing broken glass,” Liav
said grimly.

“Want to do something about Todan, Nitre, Olucar, and the
rest? Or would you rather we just take you back to Fortanya and set you free to
go where you want?”

Liav looked from one to another, frowning. “What—is there
something you want me to do?”

“If you like,” Warron said, hefting a whetstone. With
deliberate strokes he began sharpening a knife.

Blackeye leaned back on her pillow, grinning. “Help us
rescue the prince.”

o0o

Nan peeked around a corner, saw no one, and slid out, her
bare feet silent on the rough floor. The cold gray-stone corridor was softly
lit by magical glowglobes. Still no one in sight. Grabbing her skirt and apron
in both hands she ran as hard as she could, not stopping even when she reached
the narrow staircase.

She had gotten really good at traveling on stairs. Now she
leaped down four at a time, paused outside the wooden door to the kitchen wing,
and, heart pounding, slipped through.

A quick look—she heard voices coming, the nasal whine of
Ilda, and with her Giula. Nan skipped quickly to the kitchen’s back entrance,
and picked up a bag of potatoes. When the two girls appeared, Nan was just
going into the kitchen, moving in a slow shuffle like she’d been carrying bags
for a while.

“Oh, Nan,” Giula said brightly, flipping her hair back. “Did
you hear? Maris got into trouble last night. Something about damp sheets on the
beds. Now, everyone knows I try to be friends with each creature, but really,
she is
such
a snob. I can’t help but laugh. She has stairs now for a
month—won’t she be sick of running up and down! Too sick to stick her nose up
at us.”

“We’ll have to see if we can think of a few extra errands,”
Ilda said nastily, and both girls giggled.

Nan gave them an absent smile, and busied herself with her
potatoes. The girls passed on by, and Ilda didn’t trouble to lower her voice as
she said, “Ugh, she’s dull. Good company for carrots and potatoes, isn’t she?”

“Dull but harmless,” came Giula’s condescending reply.

Nan set the sack down by her stool and picked up her carving
tool. The potatoes weren’t really needed yet—she had baskets of vegetables to
do first, but no one would bother to remember, or ask her about them.

The other girls ignored her as they took their places and
started on the day’s work. No one had noticed Nan slipping out of the dorm room
just a little early, and no one had noticed her being gone.

She smiled to herself as she started on a beetroot.
All
right, then, I now have five separate ways to get up to the tower wing
. And
she reviewed each one, right down to how many stairways and where the guards
were. Only one of these routes was direct, but she knew it would the hardest to
use. It certainly had the most guards—two at every single stair landing.

The thing that really worried her—besides getting caught
spying—was how to let Blackeye know where she was, and that she was getting
ready for her part in the plan.

Nan frowned down at her bowl of beetroots. What was the name
of that girl who Blackeye said was employed at the palace? She wasn’t one of
the bond girls, that was all Nan could remember. If only there was some way to
find her! Nan didn’t dare ask anyone. She’d have to figure out some other way
to find out.

With a sigh she lifted her bowl and carried it down the long
length of the kitchen to the preparation area. Light was just beginning to glow
in the narrow slits they had for windows. Sometimes the cook let the girls
glance out the windows if the work was momentarily all caught up, but going to
a window and looking out without permission was a sure way to get the attention
of Olucar’s many toadies.

The best she could do was alter her steps a little, so she
passed close to the one window without a table or storage below it, and turn
her head a little, and peek out. She saw in the strengthening light the mighty
cliffs below the castle, and the city in a little crescent round the harbor. Golden
lights still glowed in the jumble of tiny houses.

Nearer, the service road to the castle zigzagged its way up
to the back. Visible far below was the cart that brought the daily supplies,
pulled by a patient donkey. What a horrible job! No matter what the weather,
that cart came up every day—sometimes two or three times a day, if Todan and
Olucar wanted extra things. And if the load was too heavy for the donkey, the
kids who tended it got to carry the extras. Of course it was kids who got stuck
with that job, Nan thought sourly. No one else would want it.

Only the toffs got to use the more gradual, pleasant road
directly below the castle—a road very heavily guarded. Nan couldn’t see that
road from the kitchen, but she didn’t need to. Joe would never be able to come
up that road...

She realized her steps had slowed, and she turned away
before someone noticed, set her peeled beetroots next to the appropriate prep
table, and returned to her seat.

The morning light was stronger when she finished her second
basket. She glanced out the window again, but this time the cart was hidden by
a curve, though she could hear the creak of the wheels and the slow plodding of
the donkey. The air outside was still and she knew it had to be hot. At least
the castle stayed cool inside, though the nights were damp and cold.

She had just started on the potatoes when one of the girls
in charge of deliveries came toward her. “They want you to check these potatoes
before they offload,” she said in a quiet voice.

“What’s the problem?” Nan asked. “If they’re rotten, we
can’t take them.”

“They might be too small,” the girl said woodenly.

Nan opened her mouth to say that was stupid, and they should
just leave the potatoes, as by the time they were cooked no one would know if
they’d been the size of marbles or watermelons. She drew in a breath to
speak—and caught a faint whiff of something pleasant: an apple tart.

No bondservants ever got apple tarts, unless someone had
stolen leftovers from a plate, or had gotten one in trade.

Or in bribery.

Nan looked up at the girl’s face. She was one of the older
girls, a quiet, plain person who never spoken unless she had to. Bribed with
food?

Something was going on, and Nan wouldn’t find out unless she
did as she was told. So she walked back toward the delivery door. The girl went
back to her station without another word or look Nan’s way.

The delivery platform was drenched in strong sunlight. For a
moment Nan’s eyes were dazzled. She stood blinking, then she heard a vaguely
familiar voice.

“Can you look at these spuds?”

She opened her eyes.

Standing by the cart were Mican and Shor.

Nan stared, horrified. Were they about to expose her to
Olucar?

Shor held up her hands. “We’re here to help,” she whispered.

Mican frowned. “The spuds,” he said loudly. “They want to
know down below if these are too small.”

Nan knew someone was behind her, listening. She stepped down
the stairs to the cart and started rummaging through the potatoes, but her mind
whizzed with questions and she scarcely heeded what she was doing.

“Meet us at midnight?” Shor murmured, so low Nan barely
heard it.

Nan held up two small potatoes, then shook her head. “Can’t
get out. Before dawn—”

“Quiet.”

Nan knew without looking that Ilda had stepped out onto the
platform, her long nose twitching suspiciously.

“I’ll have to take them,” Nan said in a loud voice, sounding
as irritable as possible. “But tell Master Rompol we can’t have these small
ones next time. There’s more peel than potato, and I don’t think the flavor is
as good.”

“They’re afraid of pirates.” Shor gestured toward the bay,
her skinny fingers trembling. “Master Rompol is afraid the pirates will get our
goods next. He’s especially afraid at night.”

“Can’t be helped,” Nan said, hoping she understood what Shor
was hinting at. “Pirates always sail around at night when everyone else is
locked up in bed.”

Shor bit her lip.

“Hurry along there, Nan,” came Ilda’s unpleasant voice from
behind. “Unless you’d like to explain to the Mistress why you need to stand
about all day chattering?”

Nan hefted the heavy sack of potatoes and climbed back up
onto the landing. She passed by Ilda, not daring to glance back.

For the rest of the long, tedious day she puzzled over the
conversation. Shor had said they wanted to get her out. At midnight, was that
what they meant? Did they understand when she tried to hint about how the bond
servants were locked up at night? More important, did they understand her when
she said the only time she could safely try to meet them was just before the
day’s work began, when everyone was still sleepy and cold? That was the time
she’d done her explorations of the upper levels, just a few minutes each day.

By afternoon Ilda appeared to have forgotten about the
potato delivery, because when Mistress Olucar came in, Ilda tattled on one of
the older girls who (she said) was hoarding sugar. Nan kept her head low during
the ensuing terrible scene. Her hands were busy with their job.

When the Beast had rewarded Ilda with a month off her
bond-time (and had give the girl she accused an extra three years) she swept
out again, yelling at them all to get busy—she was entertaining important
people, and dinner had better not be late.

Nan slept badly. She kept dreaming of escape, of being
caught, of those endless bags of vegetables. She finally gave up trying to
sleep, and lay awake listening to the breathing of the other girls, the creak
of the beds as someone turned over, the patter of rain on the roof.