Sweet Nothings

by Daria Doshrelli

  James frowned. “My ship’s full at the moment.”

  “Mine, too,” John said.

  “I’m sure there’s a place here in port to store your goods.” Avery put on his most daring and adventurous pose. “For my part, I’ve received fencing instruction since I was a boy and am eager to put it to good use.” He held out his fist and made swashbuckling motions with an imaginary sword.

  John’s face brightened. “Might take a couple of days, but we could use my ship.”

  “I have some crewmen who might like to join,” James said.

  Avery saluted them with his mug of ale. “Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a quest, gentlemen.”

  “Though I was planning to get myself a different treasure. But this sounds less perilous than sailing around the Aeorus.” John tipped his head back and downed the rest of his beverage.

  Avery observed his tipsy movements. “What’s that? Why would you go there?”

  “Didn’t you hear?” James slurred his words. “It’s where the Sea Fox has been stowing his loot all these years. And I think that’s exactly where they’ve taken the princess.” He pointed an unsteady hand at Avery. “Now if you ask me, it’s a fool’s errand. But the king’s offering a share of the lost treasure and a full pardon to any man, pirate or otherwise, who brings Princess Arabella back in one piece. I’d just take all of the treasure if it was me.”

  Part of what he said made sense. Only a madman would set foot on any of those islands. But they were wrong about who had pillaged the Lumares loot. When anything important happened at sea, people blamed the Sea Fox, whose reputation was more legend than deed. And yet a full pardon from the king wasn’t an offer that was made every day. A fresh start was a luxury for any man, plus a great treasure. Still, only a desperate soul would go sailing around in the Aeorus on an impossible hunt. That was sure to get a man killed.

  Avery searched each of the drunken faces in front of him. “But how do you know where to go, if, say, you were fool enough to go looking for the treasure?”

  “His first mate tried to mutiny but the old fox outwitted him. He barely escaped with his life.” John’s head tipped from side to side. “Then he bragged to everybody that he knew where the treasure was hidden with nobody to guard it properly, and how one day he would get back at his old captain. But he gambled one time too many and had to part with this.” John’s eyes closed. His left hand fumbled for his jacket pocket while his right clenched his empty mug. At length he withdrew a scrap of parchment and slapped it down on the table. “And here’s the princess, I’ll wager.”

  Avery’s eyes darted around the tavern before his hand reached out and snatched the scrap from beneath John’s fingers. The thing was little more than a charcoal drawing that might have been scratched out by a child, but the markings were clear enough. Somebody familiar with the Aeorus must have made it. “I know this island,” he whispered. “Between the realm of the giants and the desert sea. It is in the Aeorus, but not too far into the thick of things.”

  James stared at the wall behind Avery. “Think of all that treasure…mountains and mountains…” He took a swig and belched. “I’d like to lay claim to a share in it, load my ship down until gems spill out of the cannons.” He jabbed a finger at the table. “Now what would my father have to say about that?”

  James continued to mutter something about his father not appreciating him or trusting him to run the estate, but Avery was too deep in his own thoughts to feign commiseration with the troubles of the dandy crowd. A spark of hope lit within him. The vessel of his life had gotten a bit off course of late and this might be just the opportunity he had been waiting to seize.

  He shoved the map into John’s hand and strode out of the tavern, replacing his top hat on his head as his eyes met with the late morning sun. There were no accidents, and though his deeds had not merited any favor from a higher power, Avery was not fool enough to squander such a stroke of luck. Being in Shub-Haramb this morning, finding the gents at the Crazed Heifer, them being foolish enough to tell all their business. It was definitely a sign.

  “Change of plan,” he said to the stunned faces that awaited him upon his return to the ship fully an hour early. “We are not doing the pygmy savage bamboozle. We’re on to bigger and shinier things than a few idiot gentlefolk with too much leisure and too little sense.”

  “What’s this?” Basset’s displeasure made his eyes look rather serpentine. “T’was an easy mark, that.”

  Avery waved him off. “I’m talking about treasure, gentlemen, enough for each of us to retire in the lap of luxury. Stock the ship, get your fill of port and turn loose of your spare coin. But keep hold of your sea legs. Tomorrow morning we sail for the Aeorus.”

  Chapter 3

  Tad stood in front of Claire’s front door in his best suit, a bouquet of roses clutched in one hand. The other hand reached out to sound a gentlemanly rap on the orange barrier that separated him from his new little helper. Today she would come in very handy indeed.

  The door swung open. Tad’s heart stopped for a moment, just before two blue-green eyes and a grimace greeted him.

  “Oh…it’s you.”

  He swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat. “I thought I would offer to take you to lunch. What do you say to a picnic?” He held out the roses and tried to steady his hand. The lesser of the two evils that resided here may have answered the door but the other one no doubt lurked inside.

  Claire’s lips tightened. “I suppose you’re here to apologize for your rude behavior to me?”

  “Uh…” The door began to close. “Yes, exactly. I apologize that we have differences of opinion.”

  The door widened just a little, but the blue-green eyes remained hidden. “That wasn’t a real apology.”

  “Is it for me?” a childlike voice called out.

  Lightning struck Tad’s heart. The roses trembled in his grasp.

  A female face appeared above Claire’s head—Tante Iezavel, a lady hardly more than a girl, hardly less than a dragon. Her name slithered and hissed its way out of your mouth. But if you called her by any other, terrible luck followed you around forever. Possibly longer. Her foul mood produced tempests and droughts. If you looked at her sideways, a pox upon you and your children. Nobody knew what had become of the antiquated specimen she referred to as her mother, only that it was something peculiar.

  “Greetings, drabling,” Tante Iezavel said. She moved to Claire’s side, pushed the door open and ran her gray eyes down Tad’s frame. The necklace she bore always made him cringe. Craggy beads fashioned indiscriminately of paste, crystal and earthen stone dangled along a rather suspicious-looking cord of some sort of beastly hair. At the end of this a rabbit’s foot twisted and clawed at a silken tunic done in such a strange arrangement of color that Tad’s eyes crossed each time he tried to untangle it. “Have you at last come to inquire about your future? First time gets a special rate.”

  “Oh, Imogene, will you stop with that nonsense,” Claire said.

  Tad gasped. “You said her name…” His mouth hung open.

  Claire looked sideways at Tante Iezavel. “As she is not my aunt and is several years my junior, I refuse to call her by that silly nickname.”

  “It’s good for business,” Tante Iezavel replied in an elfin voice.

  Tad’s stomach twisted as he once again imagined the she-thing’s origin. He blinked at Claire repeatedly and drew in a deep breath to harden his nerves. “Lunch?” He held out the roses to her again.

  Tante Iezavel shooed Claire with her knobby fingers. “Yes, do go so that I may conduct my experiments in peace.”

  Experiments?

  “Yes, a fellow scientist…sort of,” Claire said to Tad’s horrified expression. “Sadly, she deals in magical things.”

  Tad tried real hard not to think about what might be going on within the walls of the blue house with the orange door. He needed to focus on the mission at hand. “Might we go on our picnic now?” He sniffed at th
e roses he had purposefully chosen to be less beautiful than what he would have given Roselle.

  Claire heaved a tremendous sigh. “I suppose I ought to give you an opportunity to redeem yourself. I’ll be right out.” She snatched the roses and closed the door.

  Tad picked up the picnic basket at his feet and stood there twiddling his thumbs and refusing to meet any of the curious looks the passersby tossed his way. Minutes later Claire’s face reappeared.

  She breezed right past him, head held high, hands drawing an emerald cloak tighter around her neck. Though it was early spring, the late morning air might give a body a slight chill, yet by luncheon the sun would be almost too hot to bear. Roselle had often complained of the inconvenience this time of year brought, a cloak at dawn only to be cast off after noon. Ladies were such a delicate lot.

  Tad scampered alongside Claire, picnic basket swinging at his side, its contents clanking with each long stride. “I was thinking a picnic with sandwiches and…” He lifted the woven basket in his right hand. “…my best ginger ale. It’s been aging since last summer and I believe it’s finally ready to sample.” He searched her face for some sign of gratitude and found none. “We can eat under a nice shady tree in the north field. I can tell you about magic and you can tell me about your scientific things.”

  “Since when are you interested in science?”

  “Since we’re going to be working together I thought my little helper might like…”

  Claire whirled around and stomped back toward Tante Iezavel’s lair.

  “Wait, where are you going?”

  She flung a grimace over her shoulder. “I told you I’m not a child.”

  “All right, I apologize. You’re not my little helper. You’re…an agent in training. How’s that?”

  Claire spun around. “Better.”

  Tad started to say something about her attitude, but he couldn’t afford to waste any more time appeasing her. If he tarried, he would miss his opportunity to woo the love of his life. “And now, agent in training, I will show you my favorite place to get a piping hot sandwich. The braised beef is particularly delicious this time of year, although I fancy the pork myself. It has the most delectable butter spread.” He rubbed his tummy.

  Claire shrugged, but Tad detected an eye sparkle behind the sourpuss mood she was putting on. An appreciation of good food was the one thing she had in common with him, though she insisted on ruining most meals with her analysis of the ingredients and the preparation techniques. But today would be different. Tad had already chosen the topic of conversation, one no lady could resist.

  They entered the square where he spied the merchant who customarily set up a food cart near the shops Roselle frequented. His eyes sifted through the bustle of bodies and at last made their way up to the late-morning sun. The lady herself must have already come and gone. He bought two sandwiches, both the same, tucked them into his picnic basket, and pointed out to Claire the field where there was an especially fine spot to have a luncheon on a beautiful, sunny day.

  Everything was going according to plan as the two of them strolled into the field just north of town. Roselle had installed herself under her favorite oak where she and her companions sat talking of lady things, no doubt. Tad spread out his own picnic blanket in the sun next to a shady tree near Roselle’s and laid out the rest of the contents of his basket, two bottles of ginger ale and cups of plum pudding. Once he and Claire had seated themselves and he had a few mouthfuls in to suppress the ache of hunger, he cleared his throat to set his grand scheme in motion.

  “Your hair is very beautiful today,” he said in his magical big voice with a smile at Claire.

  The conversation under Roselle’s tree paused for a moment, then continued as before.

  “And that is an especially nice dress…goes very well with your shoes.” He tried to discern out of the corners of his eyes if this remark had gotten him noticed. “And such a sweet voice.”

  “Thank you,” Claire might have said.

  Tad wasn’t really paying any attention to her. He heaved out a throaty laugh. “Ha! You are so clever.”

  Claire drew back. Her mouth popped open as she stared at him. Her eyes flashed to Roselle’s party, then back to him again. “You…” She flung the sandwich into her lap.

  Tad eyed the discarded morsel. “What? It’s pork roast and butter sauce.” Nobody could object to that.

  “You’re trying to make that girl jealous.” She pointed at the place where Roselle and her companions were having their lunch.

  Tad fingered the edge of the blanket. “What makes you say that?”

  “Hmf.” Claire picked up her sandwich. “I take it the very pretty one is the famous Roselle?” Her teeth gnawed off a hunk of buttery bread and pork.

  Tad raised a finger to object that the accusation of his scheming, though entirely true, was absurdly false, and that this chance encounter and the sweet nothings that had just poured from his lips had not been premeditated to provoke Roselle’s envy in the least.

  “Hello,” a voice squawked out overhead.

  Tad groaned and closed his eyes. “No, you cannot have any of our food, so unless you are here on official Lady Love business, go away.”

  “I am bored without a case,” Pip chirped from the tree next to them. “I came to see what you’re up to. Still can’t get the girl?”

  Tad flung his pudding dish into the basket. “That’s it. I’m moving to another town.”

  “It hardly matters,” Pip replied.

  “You can have some of this sandwich and pudding,” Claire said.

  Pip swooped onto the blanket. His spindly feet hopped toward Claire. “I don’t eat pork but I’ll have pudding and bread.”

  Tad’s lip curled up as he watched the pigeon peck apart what remained of Claire’s food and gobble it down. “I think I’m done eating.” He started to get up.

  “But what about making your lady friend jealous?” Pip asked between mouthfuls.

  “Shhh.” Tad glared at the bird.

  “We could get Wiggy to help,” Pip said.

  Tad thought for a moment. He sank back down onto the blanket.

  “But if he gives her a love potion, things may get a bit out of hand.” Pip scooped up another beakful of pudding.

  “True love does not require a potion,” Tad replied.

  Pip stopped gobbling and looked at him in a solemn manner. “But all of your other sneaky business is necessary?”

  “He has a point,” Claire said. “Besides, you ought to know jealousy is something you don’t want to trifle with. Women are especially put out when they are scorned, not that I care in the least if you prefer that lady’s company to mine. Your sentiments are lost on her, though, I think.”

  Tad shoved a breath out through his nostrils. “What does a scientist know of the heart?”

  “Enough to know that nothing good comes from what you were attempting…and failing at, by the way. Your scheming was so obvious I could see it without the assistance of a scientific inquiry or instrument, as is the fact that she is simply not interested in your romantic drivel.” Claire wiped her mouth with her cloth napkin. “Lunch was good, though. Maybe you ought to try cooking for her instead.”

  Tad had already thought of this. “She’s very delicate. Her constitution cannot tolerate more than the scantiest quantities of delicious food.”

  “You mean she doesn’t want to eat anything that might make her put on weight?” Her eyes moved to his belly. “Seems like the two of you wouldn’t be very happy together.”

  Tad’s fingers tugged at his vest where the buttons had become a little tight. “True love overcomes all.” He knew he had squandered his breath on these words even before Claire’s face bestowed on him a dubious look. “I suppose it’s a good thing you have become my little…my important assistant in training. Seeing true love at work will no doubt conquer your many unromantic notions.”

  Claire snorted but not at his speech. Pip was tossing a hunk of br
ead into the air with his beak and trying to catch it again before it hit the ground. Tad was no longer surprised that Lady Love had not given him a special name for his own role. His gaze moved from the idiot pigeon to the giggling Claire. Apparently she let any old body in her club.

  But then his gaze found Roselle. She was watching Claire laugh. Her eyes met Tad’s and they locked in wedded bliss.

  “Your eyes are higher than the stars, deeper than the call of moonlight to tides, my love,” he sang out without knowing what he did.

  Roselle smiled at him.

  A flurry of black feathers interrupted the moment. Pip’s morsel had gotten away from him and he collided with Tad’s face while endeavoring to catch it. Tad slapped at the bird, sending him hurling onto the ground. Feathers flew.

  Claire’s mouth popped open. On hands and knees she snatched up Pip and stroked his mangy head. “You poor thing.”

  Pip turned a pair of quivering eyes up at her.

  Tad snubbed the ill looks his assistant fired in his direction. “I’ll just leave the two of you to entertain each other.” He rose, jaunted across the field, through the shortcut in the woods, and back to his cottage. His hand turned the knob and gave the door an enthusiastic shove. He stood there recalling those magical moments in the field.

  Roselle had definitely noticed him, smiled at him, too. He didn’t care at all that his picnic basket was in the clutches of Claire, or that his best ginger ale was no doubt being poured down Pip’s gullet at this very moment. His scheme had worked, no matter what Claire said. Pretty words were indeed the way to a woman’s heart. Now he just had to find the perfect ones to make his true love tumble into this arms forever.

  And that meant he had a heap of work to do before Claire figured out what he was up to.