by Geoff Rodkey
He was handsome. Ridiculously handsome.
And tall. It was absurd how tall he was.
His arm’s around her. Like she belongs to him.
I looked back at Millicent, at those deep brown eyes that until a moment ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see again.
There was guilt in them.
She could have stabbed me in the chest right then and it would have hurt less than seeing that guilt.
I pulled my hand away from hers. She winced—more guilt—then sort of wriggled out from under the pretty-haired tall boy’s arm, and he let her go.
But it was too late. I’d seen what I’d seen.
Now he was holding his own hand out toward me, grinning with those big teeth like a handsome ape.
“You must be the lad from Deadweather. Cyril Whitmore. Pleasure to meet you.”
I didn’t want to touch his stupid hand. But he kept sticking it out there, and everyone was staring at me, and it seemed like they weren’t going to quit staring until I shook it.
So I did—but I didn’t come in hard and fast enough, and he wound up gripping my fingers instead of my palm, scrunching them together in a way that stopped just short of being painful.
Then he dropped my hand with what I’d swear was a smirk.
It was a good thing the jailer had taken my pistol away.
“How did you find us?” Millicent asked, wiping the wetness from her eyes.
“Didn’t mean to,” I said in a sharp voice. Her head drew back, confused—and maybe even a little hurt.
Good.
Kira jumped in. “We heard that teenagers from Sunrise had gone to the Governor-General about the slaves in the silver mine.”
Millicent gave a snort of disgust. “It’s madness! They’re all rotten to the core. Slavery’s illegal! King Frederick himself declared it! But we go to the Governor—ready to prove it—and he has us hauled off before we’ve even gotten the words out!”
“No surprise,” said the handsome ape, with a surly toss of his pretty hair. “Can’t expect a regime like this to reform itself. Whole power structure’s got to be overthrown.”
“I’m so glad you’re here!” said Millicent, glancing at me but mostly talking to Kira and Guts now. “We can stop it! I know we can.”
“Stop wot?” Guts asked.
“The slavery! In the silver mine!” She looked down the corridor to make sure the soldiers weren’t in the room, then lowered her voice. “They’re vulnerable now, because most of the soldiers went off to the New Lands with him.” She spat the last word out, and nobody needed to be told that him meant Pembroke. “If we can move quickly—”
Cyril chuckled. “First things first, darling—”
Darling??!!
As my stomach churned, he put his hand on her shoulder again. “We’ve got to get ourselves sprung from this little mousetrap.” He smirked through the bars at us. “Any of you got pull within the regime?”
Guts wrinkled his nose. “Wot’s a regime?”
“Powers that be, my friend. The local despot.” He stuck his free hand out toward Guts. “Cyril Whitmore. Pleasure to meet you.”
Guts shook his hand with a wary look. “Wot’s a despot?”
“A dictator. Or in this case—the Governor-General,” Cyril said, adding a wink to his stupid smirk. Guts’s eyes narrowed, like he wasn’t sure if the wink was meant to be friendly or insulting.
Kira turned to me. “Can your uncle get them out?”
Millicent turned back in my direction. The ape’s hand was still on her shoulder. “Who’s your uncle?”
“It’s not impor—”
“Burn Healy,” Guts blurted out.
“What?!” Millicent stared at me, stunned.
She wasn’t even trying to brush Cyril’s hand off this time.
If I stayed in that room any longer, I was going to explode.
“But how—” Millicent began.
“I have to go,” I said, turning toward the door.
“Egg! Where are you going?” Millicent sounded upset.
Good.
“Are you getting your uncle?” Kira asked.
I stopped and looked back at them.
“No. My uncle’s not helping. I’m not, either. They can rot in here.”
They were still calling after me when I slammed the iron door shut behind me.
The soldier in the entry room wouldn’t give me back my pistol.
In the mood I was in, I guess I couldn’t blame him.
I STORMED DOWN THE STREET, my brain running hot with thoughts of violence and revenge as I listened for the sound of Kira and Guts running after me.
But by the time I reached the end of the block, they hadn’t even left the jail yet.
That just made me angrier. I thought about disappearing on them, but it wasn’t like I had anywhere to go. I could find my uncle, but I didn’t want him asking me why I was boiling over with fury.
Her head was on his lap . . .
His arm was around her . . .
He called her “darling” . . .
I paced back and forth at the end of the block for a while. I got a few strange looks from passing townspeople, but there weren’t many of them around—most of Edgartown seemed to have gone into hiding from the pirates, even though I suspected the Grift’s crew weren’t doing anything more dastardly than soaking in warm baths.
After five minutes of angry pacing, Kira and Guts still hadn’t shown up. I went back to the jail and paced in front of the door.
By now, I was furious with them, too.
Millicent betrayed me. Now Guts and Kira are, too. Probably sucking up to that Cyril ape like some . . . something . . .
I was so mad I couldn’t even come up with words for it.
Finally, Kira and Guts emerged from the jail.
Kira looked furious as she walked toward me.
At least she’s angry, too.
“Can you believe her?” I waited for Kira to agree with me.
Instead, she shoved me so hard I almost fell over.
“What is the matter with you?!”
“Me?!”
“Why did you treat her like that?!” She looked like she might slug me. Guts was keeping his distance from both of us.
“Because she—are you seriously—did you see them? They were snuggled up together!”
“They’re in jail!”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Everything! And so what? She thought you were dead!”
“Didn’t waste much time!”
Kira shook her head in a kind of amazed disgust. “At a moment like this, are you truly so selfish . . . ? My people are in chains in that mine! And Millicent’s trying to help! She is in prison for trying to free them! And you run away, and suck your fingers like a baby, because two people were sitting too close to each other? In a jail cell?”
“He was petting her hair!”
It sounded so ridiculous coming out of my mouth that my face went hot with shame.
Kira’s eyes narrowed. I hung my head so I didn’t have to look at her.
“My father died for this cause,” she said. “It is your cause, too. This is Roger Pembroke’s silver mine she wants to make free. And you refuse to help because you’re jealous of that man in there?”
“He’s not a man!” I spat. “Just because he’s tall doesn’t mean he’s a man.”
“A boy, then. What are you going to be? A boy as well? A little boy? Who pouts? Or a man?”
I wanted to scream and pull my hair out and stomp on things. Because I knew she was right.
“This is really complicated—”
“It is not, Egg. It is very simple.”
I looked at Guts for support.
“Do you understand? W
hy I’m so angry?”
He nodded. “Course. Bein’ an idiot, tho’.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t want him near Millicent, yeh? So why leave ’em sittin’ in jail together?”
If there was any part of me that didn’t already want to crawl under a rock and never come out again . . . well, that took care of it.
I wasn’t just being a selfish idiot—I was being a self-defeating selfish idiot.
Kira’s attitude changed as soon as mine did. She spent the next ten minutes speaking softly to me, trying to make me feel better by telling me what a good person I was, and how much Millicent cared for me, and how this was all a big misunderstanding that was going to work itself out as soon as we’d gotten her out of jail. Kira even hugged me once to get her point across, which made Guts growl in his throat even though he knew it wasn’t that kind of hug.
In the end, I was still mad—mad at myself, mad at Millicent, and mad at that stupid, tall, handsome Cyril with the pretty hair.
But I knew if I wanted to be the kind of person who was worth the ten million gold my uncle had paid for my life, I had to figure out how to ignore all of that and do what was right.
I had to get Millicent out of jail. And worse—I had to get Cyril out, too, if I could.
It felt awful. Even so, I eventually got it together to march back into the jail and tell the soldiers that Commodore Longtrousers had ordered the two teenagers from Sunrise to be freed immediately.
Half a minute later, I marched right back out again.
“What happened?” Kira asked.
“They said their orders are to release the prisoners only to their fathers. And if Commodore Longtrousers feels differently, he’ll have to come down to the jail himself.”
CHAPTER 19
The Meeting
I WENT TO SEE Burn Healy alone. Kira preferred to go back up the hill, catch up with Mr. Dalrymple, and await the Okalu elder who could translate the Fire King’s map. And Guts decided he’d rather spend the rest of the morning with Kira and her kindly old tutor than a couple hundred pirates on their way to getting dangerously drunk.
Which was fine—I was so used to begging my uncle for help that by now, I didn’t need any moral support.
I found Healy sitting with half a dozen of his crew at a back table in the crowded dining room of the Four Winds Hotel. If there were any non-pirates left among the hotel guests, they were keeping to their rooms. Healy’s men had the run of the place, and—I guess because there wasn’t enough hot water for them to all bathe at once—they’d unofficially divided the dining room into clean and smelly sides.
Fortunately, my uncle was on the clean side. His hair was damp and freshly combed, and he had on a white shirt that was so crisp and new it practically glowed. He’d rolled up the sleeves, and his muscular arms hovered over a large plate of grungy-looking shells, split open to reveal some kind of slimy gray seafood.
Although to be honest, if it hadn’t been for the plate, the dining room, and the fact that my uncle was tipping the slippery hunks of muck into his mouth, I never would have guessed it was food.
“Hello, Egg. Just in time for lunch. Have a seat.”
The pirate next to him moved over, and I sat down between them.
“Thank you.”
“Can’t let you stay long without a bath, though. No offense, but you’re quite rank. Have you gotten a room yet?”
“Not yet, no.”
“Better snap one up before all the good ones are taken. Probably aren’t any harbor views left. Are you feeling all right? You look a little flattened out.”
I felt more than a little flattened out. But I didn’t want to get into why.
“Just a bit, uh . . . tired, I guess.”
Healy picked up one of the grungy shells and offered it to me.
“Here. Try an oyster. Perk you right up. They’re delicious.”
“Are you sure?”
“Oh, quite. I’m on my second dozen. Try it with the horseradish.”
“No offense, but . . . eegh.”
Healy leaned back and stared at me with what I hoped was fake disgust. “You are not my nephew. There’s no nephew of mine doesn’t like oysters. Ridiculous.”
He sighed and took the oyster back from me.
“What do you want, then? Ham sandwich? Cup of soup?”
“A favor, actually.”
“Again? Savior’s sake. Is this what parenting’s like? Children pestering you all the time, never taking no for an answer?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m not a parent.”
He looked around the table. “Well, who is?”
“I am,” piped up one of the pirates.
“Really, Dobbs? Never knew that about you. How many kids you got?”
“Dunno. Never met one.”
“Well, how do you know you’re a parent?”
Dobbs shrugged. “Just a guess. Been around a while. Odds are. Y’know.”
“I don’t think that counts. Oyster?”
“Don’t mind if I do.”
Healy passed the plate to Dobbs, and I was just about to get back to asking for the favor when the Governor-General appeared. He was slightly less red in the face than before, but there were deep worry lines across his forehead.
“Mr. Longtrousers—”
“Commodore.”
“I’m sorry. Commodore Longtrousers—”
“So thrilled you’re joining us for lunch. Make room, brothers. What are you drinking, Governor?”
“Thank you, but I’m . . . not actually hungry. May I speak with you privately?”
“That depends. Can you put a smile on your face?”
The Governor-General tried to smile. He was unsuccessful.
Healy shrugged. “Points for effort.” He got up from the table. “Come along, Egg.”
THE THREE OF US sat down in a small private dining room. I wasn’t sure why I was there. Neither was the Governor-General.
“Does the boy need to be here?”
“Oh, quite. He plays a critical role in my organization.”
“How so?”
“He’s my gardener. What can I do for you?”
The Governor-General took a deep breath. “While I recognize that you have every right to request as much currency as you have on deposit, you need to know—”
“How a bank works? I’m well aware, thanks. And not terribly sympathetic. If I were Smith-Jones, I’d be spending my day calling in loans.”
“Captain Healy—”
“Oh, is this that kind of meeting? Well! I’ll put my other hat on.”
“The hard truth, Captain, is that we could call in every coin on this island, and we’d still be several million short of ten.”
“It’d be a start, though. Why don’t you do that, and we’ll see where we are?”
“Because doing it will create a currency crisis!” The Governor-General’s face was turning red. “Our whole economy will go to pieces!”
“Sounds like a real test of your leadership. But I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re very capable.”
The Governor-General shut his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. Healy gave him a supportive smile.
“Buck up, my friend. A pirate in port spends freely. Any coin I put in my crew’s hands will eventually wind up back with your merchants. Seems to me that’d be quite good for your economy.”
“Not if my people are afraid to walk the streets! The presence of your crew has reduced this town to a state of terror!”
“I can’t imagine why,” said Healy. “We have an agreement, you and I. One of which my men are well aware and have no intention of breaching. Treat us square, and you have nothing to fear.”
“Try explaining that to the public. It�
�s not as if our agreement’s common knowledge.”
“I’m afraid that’s your problem.”
They were both quiet for a while. I wondered what their agreement was. Healy scratched his cheek thoughtfully.
“If you’re truly strapped, why not take the ten million out of Sunrise? Hasn’t been a silver ship in five months—that mine must have produced at least ten million by now.”
The Governor-General stared at a spot on the table for a long moment.
“No . . . We shipped the silver out before the invasion.”
Healy raised his eyebrows.
“Without an escort?”
“It went on the ship that took the Earthly Pleasure refugees home. She had a naval escort. We thought it best to . . . empty the pantry, if you will. In the event that the invasion of Pella led to any unanticipated consequences.”
“Funny, you didn’t consult me about that.”
“It was none of your business,” the Governor snapped.
“No need to get upset. I’m only trying to be helpful.”
“You want to be helpful? Get these pirates out of my town.”
“Not without my ten million.”
“This is extortion!” The Governor’s eyes were burning.
“Funny word to use for a man who only wants his own money back.” Healy’s smile was gone, and his own eyes had turned dark and cold.
My palms were starting to sweat just listening to them.
“You have no right to do this!” The Governor spoke through gritted teeth. “Our agreement does not include your marching into my city with a pack of wolves—”
“Our agreement”—Healy’s tone shut the governor up in an instant—“did not include a lot of things that wound up happening.”
Silence. The Governor took a couple of deep breaths to compose himself.
“The agreement, Captain Healy . . . is based on mutual interest. If those interests diverge, I will be forced to dissolve it—and seek a military solution to the problem of piracy.”
“With the forty men you’ve got left in that garrison? Best of luck, sport. Or have you forgotten that you lent all your muscle out to Roger Pembroke and he hasn’t gotten around to giving it back?”
The Governor’s eyes narrowed. His temper was rising again. “You set me up! Didn’t you? You planned all along to march in here the moment I—”