Miya stood at the bow of her ship, feeling the wind on her skin and the ocean spray on her face, the clean, strong smell of the sea filling her head as they sailed forth through the night ocean. She wore her father’s sword at her side, hanging from a light leather belt that just barely fit her, a long length sticking out from the buckle. Her trousers were dark brown and sturdy, and her shirt was white, strong and unrestrictive. On her head she wore a bandanna in her family colours of green and black, in her favourite ‘headband’ style—tied at the back, peaking up at the front, leaving her hair mostly uncovered. She’d spent some time the night before fashioning her birthday coin into an earring, which she wore in her left ear. The knife Lars had given her hung from her belt, and she wore a simple copper bracelet on her right wrist, from which dangled a tiny horseshoe carved of wood, a small blue stone, and a tiny shell that shone blue and green in the moonlight. On her feet were good, strong, tall boots of dark brown leather, well-suited to the rigours of sailing. It was a good few hours before first light, the winds were favourable, the sails were full, and Clover Island had been left well behind.
Miya jumped down to the main deck, then up to the stern, where Sola was still at the wheel.
“Did you really figure that out from just reading a book?” she asked, watching him adjust the ship’s course to catch better wind. He nodded.
“It was explained clearly,” he said.
“And navigation, you’re like an expert now just from reading that book?” Miya sat down with her back up against the rails, closed her eyes for a moment—she hadn’t slept that night, and excitement was beginning to give way to fatigue.
“Not an expert, but the basics are clear. Much of what was in the book was an explanation of what I already knew. The stars are constant; they show the way.”
A few peaceful minutes passed. Miya smiled as a night breeze blew through her hair, making her bandanna flutter just slightly.
“I have an important question,” said Sola, after a time. Miya opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.
“Hm,” said Miya. She stood. “That IS an important question. I think there’s some food in the galley, go and have a rummage around. I’ll take the wheel for a bit.”
Sola went below to check the galley. Miya smiled, then grinned as she slid her hands over the wood of her ship’s wheel. She’d taken the Black Swan out into the open ocean before, of course, but never like this. They’d never gone on an adventure together, and in a little romantic part of her mind Miya felt that her ship was just as excited as she was.
“Any luck?” Miya asked, as Sola emerged from below.
“There are some biscuits and a few bananas and apples, as well as some limes,” he said. “Perhaps enough for a day or two.”
“Oh, throw me up an apple!”
Sola did so, Miya catching and biting into it almost in one motion.
“They’re not super-fresh but not bad either,” she said, through her mouthful. “I’ve been meaning to stock up a bit.”
“There are several small barrels of water, fortunately.”
“Of course! You can’t sail without lots of water!” said Miya, neglecting to mention that the main reason for the water had been to wash the salt out of her hair after swimming. “So, we probably need to take on supplies, right? Or, oh, hey, why don’t you fish?”
“Fish?”
“Yeah! Catch us some breakfast! You’re great at fishing, right?”
“I don’t know these waters. What kind of fish are there?”
“Oh, sweetfish and nunfish and yellowspots, and canary blues, maybe even duckfins if we’re lucky,” said Miya, starting to feel hungry as she thought of her father’s fried lemon duckfin.
“I don’t know those names. How are they called?”
“Called?”
“Brought to the surface.”
“Huh?”
Sola frowned a moment. “Around my village there are fish called oashi. To catch them, you wait in your canoe and touch the surface of the water very gently, like so.”
Sola made a very precise, light gesture, tapping rhythmically with two fingers.
“And that makes the fish come to you?”
“Yes. They think it’s insects walking on the surface of the water.”
“Oh, so this is like in lagoons or something, where the water’s calm?”
“Yes.”
“How about in the ocean?”
“Usually I catch some oashi, cut them open, and use them as bait.”
“So you use your spear to catch fish? Just your spear?”
“Yes.”
“It kind of sounds like it might take a long time.”
“Fishing is no pastime for those without patience.”
“Tell me about it,” said Miya, who’d never had much love for fishing, to her mother’s disappointment.
“If we could stop for several days then perhaps I could learn the habits and calls of fish around here. But we don’t have the time.”
“No … huh. I guess we have to stop somewhere and get supplies, then.”
They looked at each other, then Miya locked the wheel and they went into her cabin. She lit a lamp while Sola spread a chart onto her desk, then they studied it together.
“Here,” said Miya, after a moment. “Biscuit Cove on Biscuit Island, I’ve heard it’s a busy port where a lot of ships from outside the archipelago stop, so it must be perfect for resupplying. Plus it’s not totally out of our way … heading there might add half a day to our travel time, but that’s fine.”
Sola was silent, frowning slightly.
“What? Something wrong?” Miya asked.
“I know of this island,” he said, after a moment. “Not by name, but as an ‘outside place’.”
“So what, is it bad or something?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never been there and have never met anyone who has.” Sola shook his head. “Perhaps this is a bad habit of mine. To distrust anywhere outside of the islands.”
“But you trust Clover Island, right?”
Sola nodded. “As I said, a bad habit.”
“Well, anyway,” said Miya, tapping Biscuit Island on the chart, “I think this is our best … although wait a second …” Miya looked at the chart for a few moments, then up at Sola. “What if we just made a break for the Diamond Isles? It’s not that far, even if we had to eat just biscuits for a few days I’m sure we could make it!”
“With that plan we would run out of supplies here,” said Sola, indicating a point on the map, “and then starve to death here,” he said, indicating a point a little further on, around halfway to the Diamond Isles.
“Oh,” said Miya. “Well … harrumph. Really?”
“No. I was exaggerating. We would probably make it to the isles. But we would be hungry and thirsty and not in good shape.”
“Right … and we need to be in our best condition in case we get into a fight,” said Miya, eyes gleaming. “Okay, Biscuit Cove it is!”
“I do have one concern,” said Sola. “This island is not so far from my home, from the northern islands. If Badger Pete—”
Miya was shaking her head. “No, it’s on the other side of the Trinket Chain. Pete’d never get his warships through there, the water’s too shallow. Only something like a sloop could get through safely.”
“You’ve been there?”
“I’ve been around that area,” Miya said. She huffed a bit. “Dad never let me actually sail into the chain itself, he said there was too big a risk of hitting a rock.”
Sola nodded. He was looking at the chart again.
“Is it possible that Badger Pete took his ships around the chain?” he asked. “It ends not far north of Na’alofa—”
“No,” said Miya firmly. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have. The only islands on the eastern side of the chain are Biscuit and Paradise, and I’m pretty sure no one lives on Paradise Island. Biscuit Cove is meant to be a pretty busy port, too, so it’d probably cause him some trouble to capture it.” Miya thought for a moment. “I’m trying to think of the right term to use here, Mum taught me—oh, risk-reward ratio! The risk-reward ratio isn’t favourable.”
“Your reasoning is remarkably sound,” said Sola.
“Hey, I can be sensible sometimes! I’m allowed to be sensible!”
Sola smiled. “I’ll chart the course.”
“Miya. Ship.”
Miya snorted and woke, blinking.
“Huh?”
“There’s a ship to the north. Perhaps one of Badger Pete’s.”
Miya jumped out of bed and grabbed her sword belt, buckling it on as she followed Sola to the deck. He handed her the spyglass and pointed, and she quickly found the ship, which was anchored off a tiny island. It was a frigate, but a small one—not much bigger than a brig. The flag it flew was a muted yellow.
“It’s flying Highland colours,” she said. “Hmm.”
“Some of the ships that attacked my home flew that flag.”
“Yes, I remember you telling Dad.”
Miya chewed her lip as she examined the distant frigate.
“There’s no reason for a Highland ship to be here,” she said, after a moment. “The only place in the archipelago they trade with is Star Island, and that’s way down south. If it was flying Algernian or free colours then maybe, but Highland? That’s really suspicious.” Miya thought for a few seconds, then shook her head. “It’s gotta be one of Pete’s ships, sailing under false colours. But what’s it doing out here on its own?”
“Perhaps a scout?” Sola suggested.
“But why send such a big, slow ship to act as a scout? It doesn’t make sense.” Miya’s frown grew deeper and deeper as she stared at the ship and tried to figure out what it was doing here, until finally she growled in frustration. “Well, who cares, anyway! That’s the enemy out there, Sola. That’s the important thing. It doesn’t matter why they’re here, just that they’re here.”
“Do you think they’ve spotted us?”
“I’m pretty sure they haven’t,” said Miya. “I mean they’re not attacking us, right?”
“That’s good. Let’s change course and avoid them,” said Sola. Miya was looking through the spyglass, examining the distant ship once more.
“Yeah, that is good,” she said, as she lowered the spyglass and handed it to Sola. “This is a chance to stick a thorn in Badger Pete’s side.”
“I thought we were trying to get to the Diamond Isles as quickly as possible?” said Sola, as Miya went and put down the anchor. “Also, sneaking aboard an enemy ship is very dangerous.”
“You did it. And on a bigger ship than that, I bet.”
“It was about the same size.”
“Well, whatever … listen, that ship has twelve cannons on this side, at least two at the front, more than likely twelve on the other side. That means a big powder keg. If I sneak aboard and blow that keg it’d almost certainly sink it.”
“That seems needlessly destructive.”
“Sola, these are the bad guys! If I can sink that ship that means one less frigate for the Black Navy to take care of!”
“What of those aboard? There may be northern islanders imprisoned on that ship.”
“Oh. Oh, yeah.”
Miya took the spyglass from Sola and raised it again.
“Well,” she said, as she examined the ship, “maybe I could free them. Put them aboard the lifeboats, we’re pretty close to Ta’asi, right? It’s just on the other side of the chain, right? To the north-west? Do you think we’re close enough for lifeboats to get there?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then, good.”
Miya handed the spyglass back to Sola.
“Furl the sails and mind the ship while I’m gone,” she said, as she unhooked the dinghy and let it drop into the water. “Maybe keep an eye on me with the spyglass.”
“Miya—”
Miya turned to fix Sola with a hard eye.
“Yes?” she said.
Sola looked at a sister for a moment, then down at her wrist.
“If you get into trouble, blow into the shell I gave you. It makes a loud noise.”
“Really?” Miya stood up and flicked the shell into her hand, raised it to her mouth.
“Don’t!” Sola stepped forward and grabbed Miya’s wrist, gently but firmly pushing her hand down. “It’s loud. They would hear us.”
“Wow. Okay. Um, thanks,” said Miya.
“Ula Se means ‘noisy shell’. It is an accurate name.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Hopefully I won’t need it.”
“Yes. But if I hear the shell, I will come as quickly as I can.”
Miya checked her sword and knife, then jumped down into the dinghy.
“Thank you,” she said, looking up at Sola. “I’ll be back.”
“I’ll be here.”
Miya paused a moment, then said, “Why aren’t you doing more to try to convince me not to go? You don’t think it’s a good idea, right?”
“I do not.”
“Then why aren’t you trying to stop me?”
“Is there anything I could say?” Sola asked. “Anything that would stop you from going?”
“No,” said Miya. “Probably not.”
Sola shrugged. Miya smiled reassuringly at him, then pushed off against the side of the Swan, took up the oars, and started paddling towards the distant ship.
Propelled by excited anticipation and focused on making her oar strokes as quiet and efficient as possible, it seemed like no time at all before Miya found herself nearing the ship. She brought herself in as fast as she could, braking hard as she neared the hull, bringing the dinghy to a stop with just a slight bump against the side of the ship, just under the lifeboats at the stern. Although she could hear voices coming from the main deck, she guessed (and hoped) that she could climb up here without being seen.
After waiting for a few seconds, listening carefully for footsteps on the deck above and hearing none, Miya retrieved a small grappling hook and rope from the storage box under her seat. She looked up, swung the hook in a tight circle, judged the distance then let it loose. Miya flinched as the hook clattered against the ship’s rails but pulled it tight, feeling a little thrill as it caught. She tied the end of the rope to the dinghy, made sure the hook was securely jammed against the ship’s railings, took a quick, deep breath, then gripped the rope and pulled herself up. Bracing her feet against the side of the ship, being careful not to disturb the nearby lifeboats, Miya easily climbed up and pulled herself over the railing, dropping onto the deck in a low crouch. She took a breath, then tied the hook around the railing using a quick, strong knot her father had taught her when she was six. That done, she took stock of her surroundings. She was on the stern deck, near the wheel. There was nobody around, but the voices on the main deck were clear. Eyes wide, breathing measured, and listening for anything the slightest bit out of place, Miya lowered herself to her stomach and crawled slowly to the edge of the deck.
“—not your turn. Peebo, you ain’t thrown for a bit, take ‘em up.”
“Nah.”
“G’wan with ye, think ye’re cursed or some nonsense?”
“Nah.”
“Jake then, throw us a good’un.”
Miya risked peering over the edge of the deck to get a look at the crew. There were five of them sat in a circle, perched on crates or barrels, all intently focused on some kind of dice game. None of them were northern islanders—Miya guessed them to be either Highlanders or Algernian, or maybe from the Diamond Isles. She watched them a moment, then looked past them. There was a large hatch just behind where they were sitting, which would lead to the ship’s hold. Beyond that was a staircase leading up to the forecastle deck, and beside that a door. Pushing her luck a little and counting on the crew’s focus on their game, Miya poked her head out further, looking down. Aside from the staircase leading down to the main deck, there was a door—that’ll lead below, Miya thought.
Very aware of the beating of her heart, Miya shuffled back again, hiding herself once more. She listened to the conversation below for a few moments, hoping to hear something useful, but all she learned was that Peebo was down two and six and not happy about it, and that Jake was the dirty bilge rat son of a scum-eating scurvy dog. Suddenly a roar went up from the pirates—a particularly good throw, Miya thought, as she took advantage of the noise and distraction to pull herself forward, swinging over the edge of the deck, hanging by her fingers for just an instant before dropping to the deck below, the thud of her boots against the wood drowned by the pirates’ laughing and cheering. The door leading below was directly in front of Miya, and she held her breath as she tried it. Relief flooded through her as it opened easily and quietly—she slipped into the internal corridor quickly and closed the door behind, then allowed herself to breathe again.
That, she thought, was really exciting. Now, where am I?
The light here was dim, a single hooded lamp providing the only light, and Miya gave her eyes a few seconds to adjust. She was standing in a narrow corridor, with closed doors on either side and a steep staircase leading down at the end. Miya crept past the closed doors, listening for any movement or voices as she made her way to the stairs. As she’d expected, these led down to the gun deck, which was split into two wide corridors on either side of the ship, cannons stowed and hatches closed for now, cannonballs and canisters stacked neatly and secured well. Miya found herself impressed by the state of the guns and the deck; obviously the captain of this ship maintained good discipline. In between the two ‘gun alley’ corridors was a long, thin room, with no obvious doors on this deck; part of the ship’s hold, Miya figured. She took another staircase down and was greeted with the sounds of sleep—snoring, snorting, and the creaking of hammocks. The crew deck. From the stairs was a long corridor that seemed to open up at the end (from where she was standing the light was too dim to see clearly), with many doors set on either side along its length. Crew cabins, Miya thought. And at the end there’ll be hammocks and lots of sleeping crew. Where’s the powder keg? Did I miss a staircase? Miya made her way along the corridor, down as far as she dared, confirming her guess that it opened out into a larger area containing a lot of hammocks and a lot of snoring pirates.
No, Miya thought, as she looked closer, those aren’t pirates.
“Rats,” she said, very quietly. Most of the people sleeping in the hammocks were northern islanders—dozens of them. What had seemed to be a simple plan when she was back on her ship talking with Sola now seemed more like an impossibility. Even if I find the keg, she thought, I can’t blow it up with these northern islanders on board, and I don’t think I can rescue them all without alerting the ‘real’ crew—
Miya started a little. The real crew. Of course, they’re on board as well. If I blow the keg they could go down with the ship, I’d have to make sure they could escape too …
With a sigh, Miya realised that she hadn’t thought this one through at all. Probably Sola COULD have talked me out of it, she thought, as she started towards the steep staircase once more. Well, no sense in crying about it now, maybe I could sabotage something instead. If I could get to the rudder or maybe the masts—
Miya nearly yelped out loud when she almost walked into someone, putting her own hand over her mouth to stop herself. Panic turned to relief when she realised it was a northern islander.
“Oh thank goodness,” she whispered, lowering her hand. “I didn’t see you there for a moment—oh, so you all do that you-can’t-see-me-I’m-standing-still thing? I thought it was just Sola’s trick. Huh. Oh, anyway, I’m not here to attack you or anything, I’m a friend. Well, I was planning on blowing the powder keg, but then I realised there are like heaps of northern islanders on the ship, like too many to rescue, and also even though the ‘real’ crew are pirates I don’t actually want to put them in any danger either, so I kind of figured that wouldn’t be such a good thing to do. Oh, my name’s Miya Black, by the way, I’m from Clover Island.”
The northern islander stared at her a moment, then opened his mouth to shout:
“INTRUDER! INTRUDER ON BOARD!”
Miya’s jaw dropped. She was too shocked to do anything for a second, then her survival instincts noticed she wasn’t giving any instructions and told her legs to start working. She ran past the northern islander and towards the stairs as doors started to open around her and sleepy crew emerged, weapons at the ready. Miya dodged around one pirate and ducked under the clumsy grab of another before making it to the stairs, taking them two at a time and emerging onto the gun deck. She headed for the next set of stairs going up but was met with five pirates coming down, so she turned tail and ran for the stairs on the other end of the gun deck. These were clear and she flew up them, grabbing a lamp as she passed and throwing it down hard behind herself. It smashed and spread flaming oil onto the stairs, black smoke following Miya as she rounded the corner and came face-to-face with a pirate who looked almost as surprised as she was.
It was Miya who got the first hit in, kicking hard at the pirate with a defiant yell, catching him in the stomach. He grunted and swung his fist at Miya, but she swiftly leant back to dodge it.
“Bendy little wench,” he growled as he pulled a knife out—which Miya promptly kicked out of his hand. His focus went to the flying weapon, allowing Miya to plant the heel of her boot squarely and solidly in his knee, sending him crashing to the deck howling in pain. She pushed past him, avoiding the grab he made for her leg and giving him a kick in the head for his pains, then charged through the door leading to the main deck.
These were Miya Black’s thoughts immediately following this:
First: Wow, I just took down that guy in like three seconds without him even touching me.
Second: You idiot, don’t think about the guy you just beat, focus on the guy you have to beat NEXT.
Third: What guy?
Fourth: Well, you can maybe take your pick from the dozen or so coming out of that door over there.
Fifth: Rats.
Miya drew her sword and gripped it tightly, looking around quickly as the massed pirates advanced on her. She figured she had three seconds, maybe four before they were on her, so she turned and ran up the stairs to the forecastle deck, which would at least mean they’d only be able to come at her two or three at a time. Ahead of her, at the prow, there was a direct, sharp drop to the ocean below, but even in the light of dawn it looked very cold and very uninviting. Miya looked back, saw that the pirates were at the base of the stairs now, looked down at the ocean again, sheathed her sword, then ran and jumped.
Shouts of surprise and anger rang out as Miya landed on the main deck, rolling with the impact, her scabbard poking into her ribs quite painfully. She forced herself onto her feet as quickly as she could, side aching, her head light. The pirates were behind her now but already coming at her again so she ran, stumbling just a little, leaping for the mast and scrabbling up, making it to the first crossbeam within seconds and pulling herself onto it, straightening and keeping her balance easily.
Miya took a breath.
Below the pirates were still coming at her, shouting and jeering. She noticed a few northern islanders at the back, weapons ready but obviously not eager to fight. For a moment Miya reconsidered aborting her mission—maybe I can’t blow the keg but I can at least rescue some islanders!—but then her survival instincts kicked her in the head with an emphatic “What are you thinking, you fool, just worry about getting YOURSELF out of here!”.
A couple of the pirates were climbing the mast now, but Miya politely discouraged them with a few well-aimed kicks. Not for the first time she silently thanked her father for her boots; they were steel-capped, and the heels were also lined with the metal, giving them that extra bit of weight that she physically lacked. However, as good as her boots were, Miya didn’t think they’d be any help in getting out of her current situation; in effect she’d trapped herself, as climbing up here had given the pirates below time to surround her. She couldn’t climb down and climbing up higher just meant further to jump down from. Even at this height she wasn’t certain about landing without spraining something, or worse.
Well, anyway, no sense wasting an opportunity, she thought, as she kicked another climbing pirate in the head. She drew her knife and quickly cut a few nearby ropes, paused to discourage another pirate from climbing up with a kick to the cheek, then dragged the knife through a furled sail, putting a long tear in it. She was looking around for something else to wreck when a clear, strong voice called out:
“Just what do you think you’re doing to my ship?”
The jeering and shouting from the pirates below stopped, all eyes turning to the owner of the voice, Miya no exception. It was a girl, maybe a little older than Miya, certainly taller, wearing black silk trousers and a white silk shirt, over which was a black sleeveless vest. She had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes, and wore a wide-brimmed black hat with a white feather stuck in it. At her side was an ornate cutlass scabbard, bejewelled and glittering in the early dawn light. She was, and Miya could barely force herself to admit this even within her own head, fairly beautiful. (Although if you were being very strictly critical you might say that her nose was a little—and just a little—on the large side.)
“Coming aboard without an invitation is hardly proper behaviour, but this savagery? One might believe you to be some manner of beast, rather than … well, whatever you normally call yourself.”
“I’m Miya Black of Clover Island,” said Miya, drawing herself up proudly. “Princess Miya Black, actually.”
“Oh, a PRINCESS! That’s funny, I thought you had to have a kingdom to be a princess—these modern times, it’s so difficult to keep up, don’t you find?” The girl addressed the question to a big, bald, ridiculously scarred pirate nearby, who grunted in agreement. “You see? Devon agrees, and he’s Algernian. You can’t argue with an Algernian when it comes to fashions and trends. Of course, you do tend to find a lot of girls these days calling themselves ‘princess’ without any claim to that title at all, rather sad really.”
“Clover Island IS a kingdom! My father is King Tomas Black, and my mother is Queen Lilith Black! You should remember those names well, because we’re the ones that are going to beat you and your boss!”
“My ‘boss’? And who would that be?”
“Badger Pete!” yelled Miya, drawing some laughter from the pirates below. “What’s so funny?” she demanded.
“You said, what was it? ‘King’ Tomas? That would be your father?” the girl asked.
“Of course!”
“And he is your boss?”
“Of course not, no one’s the boss of me!”
“Is that so? Well, no one’s the boss of me, either,” said the girl. “Oh, how rude, I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Grace Morgon.” She bowed elegantly. “You seem to know my father already, or of him at least, although I’ve been trying to get him to drop this ridiculous ‘Badger Pete’ moniker for some time. His real name is Peter Morgon.”
“You’re his daughter? He has a daughter?”
“Goodness, don’t you catch on fast?” said Grace. She cocked her head to one side. “Clover Island, you said?”
“What of it?”
“Oh, nothing. It just has a nice ring, ‘Clover Island’. Once all this is over, I may get Daddy to give it to me. Does it have any beaches?”
Miya remained silent, quietly fuming.
“Well, anyway, I must ask, what is royalty such as yourself doing all the way out here?” Grace’s patronising tone took on a sharper edge: “How did you get aboard? Where’s your ship?”
“No sign of anything out to sea,” said one of the pirates, holding a spyglass to his eye. Miya smiled; thanks Mum, thanks Dad, great present.
“She must have anchored on the other side of the island and rowed around in a dinghy. Quite resourceful for a pretend princess from a no-name island in the middle of nowhere.” Grace looked up at Miya a moment, her expression amused, then she smiled. “Why don’t you come down?”
“Hah! Not bloody likely!”
“Perhaps I won’t hurt you. Perhaps I’ll invite you to tea.”
“Perhaps you’ll trip and fall upon your sword, and do the world a favour,” said Miya. Grace’s expression didn’t change.
“I was just thinking,” she said, that sharp edge from before returning to her voice, “that we have a lot in common, perhaps a lot to talk about. You know, in a way, I’m a princess as well. My father is a pirate king, after all. Well,” said Grace, with a little laugh that set Miya’s teeth on edge, “I suppose you could call me a ‘pirate princess’.”
“Girl,” said Miya, forcing all the contempt she could muster into her words, “you don’t even know what a princess is. My mother would chew you up and spit you out, and she’d do it so nicely you probably wouldn’t even realise what a fool she’d made of you.”
“Oh your mother. Your mother would deal with me. Well, little lost no-name princess, out here in the real world we don’t go crying to our mothers. We deal with things ourselves.”
“Believe me,” said Miya, “I would love to deal with you myself.”
Grace and Miya glared at each other for a long moment, then Grace laughed again.
“Oh, but let’s not be silly,” she said. “After all, you’re my guest! This is MY ship, after all. Quite nice, isn’t she? Would you like to know her name?”
“Would you like to know what my boot tastes like?”
“The Boundaries None. Quite poetic, no?”
“The Boundaries None,” Miya repeated. “Does that refer to … to your lack of boundaries regarding … uh …”
“Should we all go away, come back once you’ve thought of some suitably biting repartee?” Grace asked, drawing laughter from her crew. Miya scowled at her. What made it worse is that privately, very privately, she thought it was a good name for a ship.
“And the name of YOUR ship? Assuming, of course, that you have one.”
“The Black Swan,” said Miya proudly.
“Oh, the Black Swan, how … nice. Did you name it yourself? Or did your mother help you think of that?”
Grace laughed once more—Miya couldn’t quite put her finger on it, it seemed like it should be a pretty laugh, a pleasant laugh, the kind of laugh you hear and think “That must be a lovely girl, to have such a nice laugh”, but every time Miya heard it her palms itched and she longed to slug Grace’s smug little smile right off her face. Miya watched as one of Grace’s crew approached her, telling her something in a low voice. Grace frowned.
“Well now THIS is interesting,” she said. “I’ve just been told that you came aboard with the intention of sinking my ship. Something about blowing the powder keg? Well, I’m not sure what passes for civilised behaviour in the odd little backwater you come from, but in the circles I frequent we would consider that something of a faux pas.”
“I wasn’t going to blow the powder keg,” said Miya.
“Weren’t you? Then why come aboard? Simply to gaze upon the most beautiful and splendid captain in these waters? One couldn’t blame you, after all I have many admirers and you’re at such an impressionable
age—”
“Oh, my first intentions were to sink this ship. But you have northern islanders, captured slaves amongst your crew, and likely their families secured somewhere on board too.”
“Ah, and so you decided, no, I cannot sink this ship, I would not have the blood of innocents on my hands. For myself and my crew, of course, you spared not a thought.”
“I did so! Of course I wouldn’t want … shut up!”
“Oh, so you WERE concerned about myself and my fellow pirates? Goodness, how noble of you. I assume that the wretched little dinghy we found clinging to the side of my beautiful ship like a sea louse is yours? No need to answer, after all, who else could it belong to?”
Grace looked up at Miya, amused, as Miya scowled down at her.
“I’m a great believer in fairness,” Grace said, after a moment. “Fairness, and balance—two rather important concepts, don’t you agree?”
Miya was silent, glaring down at Grace, who smiled sweetly back at her.
“And I think it would be both fair and balanced that since your intention was to sink MY ship, that I should sink yours.”
Grace nodded to one of her crew, who gave a signal to someone Miya couldn’t see. Miya ran along the crossbeam to see two of Grace’s crew standing on the stern deck, hacking at her dinghy with axes, quickly tearing a large hole in the bottom. Miya gritted her teeth and tried to stop the tears from coming to her eyes, but she felt her cheeks become wet as Grace’s crew tossed the boat she’d learned to row in into the ocean, watched them laugh as it spun madly in the water, like final pathetic death throes before it sank beneath the surface and disappeared from sight.
“Oh my … oh, this is too good. Are you crying? Are you actually crying, my poor lost little princess? Over a wretched, worn-out dinghy?” Grace laughed again, this time not prettily at all, a long, deep, mean laugh, her crew joining in. Miya stared at her, watched her laughing, wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed, just once.
“Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon.”
Grace stopped laughing and looked up sharply, as Miya repeated her name flatly:
“Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon.”
“What are you doing?” Grace demanded, her voice low, almost a growl.
“Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon.”
Grace glared up at Miya, who gazed impassively back.
“Grace Morgon. Grace Morgon.”
Miya paused for just a moment. Then, “Grace—”
“Stop that!”
Miya smiled, a small, thin, entirely humourless smile.
“Just making sure I remember your name, Grace Morgon.”
Grace drew her cutlass, slowly, making the blade scrape against the scabbard as she did so, the loud, ugly noise this produced cutting through the stillness of dawn.
“Get her down here,” she growled.
Miya gripped her knife tightly as several of Grace’s crew begin clambering up the mast. She took a step towards them, kicked the first pirate in the head, then turned and sheathed her knife in one movement, running along the crossbeam, focusing on the end, counting her steps; judged, breathed, and then leapt.
Time seemed to slow as Miya launched herself through the air, arms and legs flailing, flashes of the deck below, angry faces, the ocean coming up to meet her fast, too fast, and then a sharp, painful impact as she hit the surface at a bad angle, and then weightlessness, the grey-green of water all around her, that instant of panicked disorientation, then Miya breathed out and followed the bubbles up, breaking the surface of the water and gulping in a lungful of air as time began to flow normally once more, a dull roar in Miya’s ears almost drowning out the shouts and jeers and yelled commands from the ship above. She didn’t wait around to see what Grace’s response to her action would be, instead dived back underwater and swam for as long as she could, away from the ship, breaking the surface only for air, her boots slowing her down but she was a good swimmer, a great swimmer, and then for a while there was nothing but swimming and the ocean around her and remembering to come up for air, and then she broke the surface and Sola’s voice pierced the roaring in her head, even if she couldn’t make out any actual words, and she bobbed there for a moment, looking for him, shouting “Move, Sola, so I can see you!”, then strong hands had her and she was being lifted, dripping and cold, teeth chattering, onto the deck of her beloved ship, and a thick blanket was being placed around her shoulders which she clutched at gratefully, and she said, quite clearly, “I think I may be in shock, my Dad told me about this but it’s never happened to me before,” and then, for a little while at least, there was nothing.
Miya’s mother was trying to wake her. It must be a book lesson day, Miya thought. But it’s still too early!
“What are you doing,” she murmured, turning over in her bed, pulling the blanket in tighter. “It’s too early for books.”
“Miya, I don’t understand the rigging.”
“You don’t study rigging in books,” muttered Miya.
“We’re not going fast enough, the other ship will catch us.”
“Whose? Dad’s?”
“The other ship! Miya, wake!”
All of a sudden Miya realised that she wasn’t lying in her bed, in her bedroom, on Clover Island, and that her mother wasn’t here, and that she was very cold and quite wet, and her boots were filled with water (which she hated), and Sola was saying something about another ship chasing them.
“We have to get away!” Miya shouted, staggering to her feet and then losing her balance, Sola catching her and putting her upright again before she could fall.
“Thanks,” she said. “Phew. Wow. Gosh, that water was cold!”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. Well, no, I’m cold and wet and kind of dizzy—”
“Can you set the sails?”
“Of course, I could sail the Black Swan in my sleep. Just point me towards the right mast,” said Miya.
“There’s only one.”
“I knew that,” she snapped. “Okay. Let’s try to focus or something here.”
Miya rubbed her forehead, then cried out in protest as Sola picked her up and put her on his shoulder, turned towards the pursuing ship.
“Hey! Don’t just—wow, that’s really close,” said Miya. “Is this what it’s like to be tall? Dad used to put me on his shoulder when I was littler but I haven’t—wait, isn’t that Grace Morgon’s ship?”
“It’s the ship you just escaped from,” said Sola, his usually calm voice just a little strained.
“That’s Grace Morgon’s ship! The Boundaries None!” Miya cried. She jumped down from Sola’s shoulder and turned to face him. “Sola, we have to get away, why aren’t we getting away? That fat old frigate shouldn’t be able to catch us!”
“The rigging on this ship is complicated, it’s not like the book said—”
“Of course it’s not!” yelled Miya, heading for the mast and starting to climb. “It’s MY ship! No one can sail her but ME! Man the wheel, Sola, and look sharp!”
Miya tied ropes and adjusted sails, let some out and pulled others in, climbing quickly amidst the rigging, calling out to Sola as she did so.
“Hard to port! HARD! Hard as you can! Now straighten her out a bit, don’t let her list!”
She glared at the pursuing ship. “Trying to catch me with that fat pig of a frigate? I don’t think so. See you later, Grace Morgon.”
Miya untied a rope and let it loose, feeling a thrill as the main sail filled with wind.
“Sola, let go of the wheel a moment, let her find the way! Now hold, hold it tight, tight as you can!”
Sola gripped the wheel and held it steady, his strong hands not letting it move an inch.
“Good! Let’s see that phoney little madam catch us now! Hah!”
Miya climbed further up the mast, into the little crow’s nest, shouting and shaking her fist at the pursuing vessel:
“You’ll never catch me! I’m Miya Black of Clover Island, and there’s not a ship built that can outsail the Swan!”
The bow of the Black Swan began to lift from the water as it picked up speed, the sails full, Miya dancing in the crow’s nest as they began outrunning the Boundaries None.
“Sola, adjust to starboard, just a little! We’re away now, oh, we’re SO away now! Haha!”
Miya grabbed a rope and swung down from the crow’s nest, letting go of the rope to grab at the netting on the mast, then climbing quickly down to the deck. She jumped on Sola at the wheel and hugged him, grinning wildly.
“What a team!” she said, releasing him. “She’ll never catch us now! Okay, let me have the wheel a moment.”
Sola smiled and stepped back, letting Miya take the wheel in her hands.
“You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” she said, squeezing the wheel. “Yeah, me too. Woo! Okay. That was fun. Right, now all that excitement’s over with I’d better change out of these wet clothes.”
“Do you need help?”
“Um, I think I can probably manage to change by myself.”
“No, I didn’t mean …” Sola trailed off, obviously embarrassed.
“I’m just kidding with ya, see you in a bit.”
Miya disappeared into her cabin and emerged a few minutes later, wearing a white woollen jersey and black trousers, and leather sandals instead of her wet boots. She tied a thin rope to one of the railings on the stern deck, then tied the other end to the mast. Then she spent a few minutes hanging up her wet clothes, whistling happily, using wooden pegs to make sure they wouldn’t fly off the line.
“Grace won’t even be a sail on the horizon soon,” Miya said, as she pegged her bandanna to the line. “Well done us. Well done, my loving ship.”
“I have a question,” said Sola. Miya hung her wet boots upside down on two of the mast’s climbing pegs, then skipped up to Sola and grinned at him, hands on hips.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Were there islanders on that ship?”
Miya’s grin disappeared. “Yes,” she said. “A lot.”
Sola made a short, low, discontented noise. “As crew?”
Miya nodded. “I didn’t see any prisoners. But I didn’t get the chance to explore all the ship. Actually I couldn’t even find the powder keg before I, y’know, got spotted.” Miya pursed her lips. “It was one of the islanders that did it. I ran into them on the crew deck and they ratted me out. I thought they’d be happy to see me! I mean, I tried to explain why I was there, but …”
Sola nodded. “Think of what they have at risk—”
“I know, I know … all their families … I probably would’ve raised the alarm too. I … this is going to be harder than we thought, isn’t it?”
Sola didn’t move or speak for a moment, then he grunted. “I never thought it would be easy.”
“I guess I had kind of an unrealistic idea of how things would go. And, oh … my dinghy,” said Miya, suddenly remembering what had happened. “I learnt to row in that. Mum and Dad used to take me out in it, we’d row around the island and look for nice picnic spots … what a thing to do, hacking up a person’s beloved dinghy and sinking it! What kind of a person does that, I ask you? That Grace Morgon … I’m gonna meet her again.”
“The captain of that ship?”
“Yes. She said she was Badger Pete’s daughter.”
“Do you believe her?”
Miya narrowed her eyes.
“Absolutely,” she said.
They sailed on, leaving Grace’s ship behind—within an hour they couldn’t see it even with Miya’s spyglass. Sola found a sextant in Miya’s cabin she hadn’t even known was there, and after experimenting with it for half an hour he figured out where they were. He and Miya studied the chart together, and after some calculations (well, Sola had done the calculations, Miya had watched) they figured they were around a day and a half away from Biscuit Cove.
“Grace is probably still following us,” Miya said, as she looked at the chart. “We’re faster than she is, but I don’t think we can risk stopping. Not with her behind us.”
“If we continue on our present course, with the wind we have enjoyed so far, we should reach Biscuit Cove shortly before tomorrow morning—that is if we continue sailing throughout the day and through the night.”
Miya chewed her lip. The escape from Grace’s ship had taken a lot out of her, although she didn’t want to admit that out loud. Sailing through the night held very little appeal.
“Change course,” she said, after a moment. “We’ll head into the Trinket Chain. It should throw Grace off our trail, although we’ll have to be careful not to hit anything.”
“I travelled along the western edge of this chain on my journey to Clover Island. It did not seem particularly dangerous.”
“We should still be careful. Dad never let me sail into the chain before, even though technically we kind of own part of it.”
Sola frowned. “How can you ‘own’ it?”
“I know, it’s weird. Mum forced me to study the whole thing, quite frankly it seems ridiculous and COMPLETELY unnecessary to me.”
Sola made a kind of annoyed grunt. “This kind of idea … I don’t like it,” he said.
“I don’t either. But I guess it doesn’t really change anything, us owning it, I mean it’s not like anyone wants to live there, and even if they did … oh, wait a minute, maybe that’s part of the reason … actually I’m kind of remembering some stuff now.” Miya frowned for a moment as she tried to remember what her mother had painstakingly taught her. “It’s like … we’re not going to do anything there, with the islands I mean. But unless we ‘own’ them, then someone else, someone bad—someone like the Highland—could come along and take them? It’s something like that, it’s like … like protection.”
Sola considered this. “I suppose if I had to entrust these islands to anyone, it would be to people such as your parents.” He thought for a moment longer, then shook his head. “Even so.”
“I know, I guess it’s one of those ‘this is how the world works’ things. You can’t just leave an island uninhabited without saying something like ‘by the way this is ours’, because otherwise bad guys could come along and grab it, like ‘just because nobody’s using this doesn’t mean you can use it for something bad’.” Miya let out an irritated breath. “Anyway, let’s stop talking about that, it’s starting to make me annoyed.”
Sola nodded. “We should consider our course through the chain—”
“Oh yeah! Okay, so, I figure we can head through like this,” Miya said, tracing a route on the chart, “then pop out here, head north-east for a bit, and we should reach Biscuit Cove without any problems. Sound good?”
Sola nodded. “I’ll chart the course,” he said. Miya beamed.
“You’re so useful,” she said. “I’m gonna head up to the crow’s nest and play with my spyglass for a while.”
Sola nodded, already measuring and writing coordinates in a notebook. Miya paused in the doorway, her hand on the frame.
“Do you, y’know, actually enjoy all this kind of stuff?”
Sola paused and raised his head. “It’s … satisfying,” he said, after a moment. “Yes, I enjoy it.”
Miya nodded, then pointed out to the deck. “Be out here. Just call when you need me.”
“I will.”
Sola returned to his calculations as Miya walked out onto the deck of her ship. It had turned into a fine, clear day, the sun shining brightly across the deep blue ocean, the waves high but even, a strong wind blowing from the south. Above there was barely a cloud to be seen, although a few seagulls cried in the distance. Miya looked at them.
“Hm,” she said, before slipping the spyglass’s strap over her shoulder. She climbed easily to the crow’s nest then extended the spyglass and raised it to her eye, looking in the direction of the gulls. The small black speck of an island in the distance confirmed her guess; they were already near the Trinket Chain. She smiled and looked in other directions, but didn’t see anything interesting. After spending a while trying to track the seagulls as they flew, with varying degrees of success, Miya lowered the spyglass and leaned against the mast with a happy sigh, then hugged herself, grinning.
“Adventure!”
As Sola finished plotting their new course, Miya sailed the ship into the Trinket Chain. The islands here were small but beautiful, formed of light grey rock and covered in lush green foliage, the water around them a brilliant blue, lighter than it had been outside of the chain. Although the ocean was fairly shallow, only a few metres deep in some places, the Black Swan had a small draft and there didn’t seem to be any danger of grounding—there were no sand bars or submerged rocks, the only ‘obstacles’ being the islands themselves, which were well-spaced and easily avoided with a minimum of vigilance.
“It’s so beautiful here,” Miya said, gazing somewhat longingly at a golden beach on one of the larger islands. “From the outside you can’t even tell how pretty it all is. It’s really a shame we’re in a hurry, I’d love to stop and explore, maybe find some fruit, go for a swim, have a picnic—go fishing, even.”
“It would be interesting to spend some time observing the fish here, certainly,” said Sola.
“Yeah, that sounds fascinating,” said Miya, her face straight.
By the time the sun was setting they’d nearly made it through the chain, ready to head out for the open ocean once more, towards Biscuit Cove.
“It’s getting dark,” Miya said, looking up at the sky. “And we definitely deserve a proper break after all that excitement this morning … what do you say, Sola? Let’s drop anchor by the island over there and rest for the night.”
Sola nodded, and they prepared to anchor off the island, which was one of the larger they’d seen, large enough to have a small beach and even a bay of sorts. After dropping anchor and preparing the ship for rest, Miya borrowed Sola’s canoe and had a little paddle around. At first she had some difficulty, being used to rowing squat, stable dinghies, but after a while she got the hang of it.
“This is pretty good!” Miya called to Sola, who was sitting cross-legged on the deck, using Miya’s knife to sharpen his spear. “I think I prefer a dinghy but still, pretty fun! And you can get it really moving!”
Miya zipped around the little bay for a while before landing on the beach, running barefoot on the sand for a few minutes before putting her sandals back on and exploring the thick foliage beyond, dozens of bright red butterflies cascading out of the narrow trees as she crashed between them. Miya stopped to gaze up at the butterflies as they fluttered away, the fading sun making them glow like lanterns against the pale blue of the dusk sky.
It was starting to get properly dark by the time Miya made her way back to the beach, a string bag filled with wild banana passionfruit tied to her belt. She smiled as she saw a dim glow coming from her ship—Sola must have lit a hooded lantern on the deck, she thought. The sky beyond the ship was a dark grey-blue, the moon shining bright in the sky, dozens of stars already visible. For a moment Miya just stood there, on the sandy beach, an immense feeling of rightness inside her—never mind all the troubles of the world, in this moment, in this perfect moment, everything was fine.
“Wow, you’ve already got dinner all ready!” Miya said, after pulling herself onto the main deck. “Is that a fish?”
“I scattered some biscuits into the water to test, and this one came to feed,” Sola said. “But only this one. Perhaps you could call it luck, or a gift from the ocean.”
“In any case, well done!” said Miya, as she finished tying up Sola’s canoe. “Canary blues are pretty good fried, or you can stew them up … although without any spices or stuff it’d be kind of bland. How do you normally cook your fish?”
Sola shrugged. “Some lime juice.”
“Like … fried with lime juice?”
“Just lime juice.”
“You mean raw?”
Sola smiled. “I had a similar reaction when I first learned about ‘fish stew’.”
“Well … maybe if I get a bit hungrier,” said Miya. “For now, we’ve got delicious bananas—and look, fresh banana passionfruit! And, um, ship’s biscuits!” She paused, trying to think of something positive to say about ship’s biscuits. “They’re … they’ve been properly stored and aren’t full of bugs!”
The two of them ate together as the sky darkened further, feeling full at the end of the meal but not quite satisfied. Miya tried a small strip of raw fish and admitted that it wasn’t quite as gross as she’d expected, but that she was probably fine not having any more right now, thank you.
They talked, as they sat and gazed up at the starry sky, about their homes and more innocent days; Sola laughed deep and long as Miya told him about the time Lars and her father had attempted to ‘liberate’ Lars’s dog Sam from the Blackport pound, an incident that had ended with the two of them being lightly trampled by a dozen dogs of various breeds, and Miya giggled through Sola’s recounting of the time he and his cousins had ‘borrowed’ a rather large aunt’s dress to use as the sail for their raft—his description of the dress as it “instantly filled with wind and sent the raft down the river faster than we could chase” had Miya snorting with laughter in a very unladylike manner.
“Mum tells me all the time about how there are so many more stars out here than where she grew up,” Miya said, as she sat gazing up at them alongside her brother. “Really, I can’t imagine there being any less than this … what would that even be like? Just a big black sky? Just thinking about it makes me feel a bit weird. The night sky, but with no stars …”
There was silence for a moment. Then Sola cleared his throat:
“You mean like a cloudy night?”
“No! Sola, where is your sense of romance? I’m sure it’d be different, somehow it’d be different. I’d really like to see it, even if it was just
once—I wonder if you could still see the moon? That’d be weird, huh? No stars but just a big moon hanging there …”
Miya thought about this for a moment, then shivered, then yawned hugely.
“Oh, excuse me,” she said. “Maybe I should get to bed, we’ll have another busy day tomorrow.”
Sola nodded as Miya stood, although he remained sitting, gazing out at the moonlit islands.
“How about you? Are you going to bed? Do you sleep, ever?” Miya asked. Sola laughed.
“Yes, I’m tired,” he said. “I was just enjoying the view. I never knew that there were sights such as this.”
“You’ve never come into the Trinket Chain before? But it’s so close to your island!”
Sola shrugged. “Perhaps my home is too sheltered. When everything you need is at hand, there is little reason to travel far.”
“Huh. I can see heaps of things wrong with THAT way of thinking. Although actually I can’t talk since I’ve never been here either. The islands are pretty, though.”
“And such difference, so close. I’d never seen a fish like I caught this evening. What else is there in the world?”
“Aha!” said Miya. She grinned and punched her brother on the shoulder. “You’re getting a taste for adventure! The thirst for exploration, the burning desire to know what’s over the next horizon, knowing there’ll always be another horizon, ah …” Miya gave a happy sigh. “Adventure.”
Sola nodded. “Maybe so.”
“Anyway, I’m gonna get some sleep. See you tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow.”
Miya stretched again, took a deep breath of the night air, spun around once, then went off to bed, falling asleep almost as soon as she lay down.
Miya woke early the next morning, before sunrise, and after eating a breakfast of banana passionfruit and ship’s biscuit with Sola they had set out. It was another clear day, the winds constant and the waters calm, the Black Swan skimming along steadily as they left the Trinket Chain behind and headed into the open ocean.
Miya spotted a sail in the far distance just before noon; a big, heavy merchantman. It was flying a green flag.
“Independent trader,” she said to Sola. “Coming up from the southern islands. Maybe stopping at Biscuit Cove for supplies or trading—headed for Algernon, I bet. I hope they don’t run into any of Badger Pete’s lot.”
“It seems as though Badger Pete doesn’t have a presence in this area,” said Sola. Miya shrugged.
“Too many ships from outside the archipelago, maybe. He doesn’t want to risk running into a decently armed trader.”
They spotted a few more ships as the day went on, the frequency increasing as they neared Biscuit Cove.
“There goes a fast one,” said Miya, looking through the spyglass. “It’s a sloop, heading south-east by the looks of it. Maybe headed for the Highland.”
“We should be near Biscuit Cove now. Maybe I’ll perform another check, to make sure.”
“Another one? You’ve done, what, two in the last hour?”
“Three,” Sola admitted.
“Do you like doing them or something?”
“It’s not a chore,” he said, after thinking about it for a moment. Miya shook her head, smiling.
“You’re kind of odd in some ways, you know,” she said.
The sun had just touched the horizon when Miya first spotted their destination, and by the time they could see it properly it was truly dusk. Biscuit Island turned out to be a rocky, rather uninviting place, but as they rounded it and saw Biscuit Cove the reason for having a port here became obvious; the cove was a natural crescent moon shape, with craggy rock walls surrounding a squat, sprawling town that crouched against the island. The docks themselves seemed fairly informal, half a dozen reaching out into the ocean, no two the same length—it looked like they’d been built to accommodate the flow of sea traffic, more length added as and when it was needed. Dozens of long, tall torches provided light along the piers, thin spirals of black smoke vanishing into the night.
“Oh my goodness,” said Miya, standing at the front of the ship, alternately looking through her spyglass to get a close look and lowering it to get a wider view, trying to see everything at once. “Do you see this, Sola? Are you looking?”
“I’m looking,” said Sola, his tone lacking in enthusiasm.
“So am I,” breathed Miya. “What a port … it’s exactly how I imagined it. Well, not exactly exactly. But it’s as good as I imagined it.”
“Miya, I … I will stay with the ship. I don’t trust this place.”
“I know! It’s SO untrustworthy!”
They brought the Black Swan in smoothly, Miya jumping off onto the dock far earlier than she should have, clearing a three-metre gap with her enthusiastic leap. She tied the Swan to the front cleat while Sola did the same with the rear, then she approached a dock worker loitering nearby.
“What do you want, girl?” he asked.
“Princess,” Miya said, automatically.
“Eh?”
“Sorry, force of habit. I am a princess but you’re not my subject, so don’t worry about it. I’ve just brought my ship in, it’s that one there. The Black Swan.”
The dock worker looked at Miya’s ship, then spat on the dock.
“So what?” he said.
“Isn’t there a signing in procedure? Register my name and ship and place on the docks?”
“Heh. You’re a fish, ain’t ya darling?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your man there minding it for ya?”
Miya looked back at Sola, who was standing on the deck, arms crossed.
“My ‘man’? Well, I guess so, but—”
“So what are ye bothering me for? He looks big enough.”
“I just thought—”
“Can’t see anyone stealing a ship that ugly anyway.”
Miya bristled.
“What? Did you just say ‘ugly’?”
“Eh, don’t take it personal, fish. Heading into town?”
“Yes, I need to take on supplies. We have a long journey ahead of us,” said Miya.
“Huh. Mind yerself, then. Not everyone’s friendly as me.”
The dock worker sniffed and spat again, then lit a smelly cigarette and leant against a pile of crates.
“Well … okay. Whatever.”
Miya turned and waved to Sola, who nodded back at her, then she made her way up the pier, looking at the ships as she passed them, trying to guess what kind of person might be captain of each, and looking out for any that seemed like they might belong to Badger Pete or his gang. There were dozens of ships docked here, mostly sloops, flat and sleek, with a few merchantmen and trade frigates mixed in, as well as a couple of fat old galleons.
Traders, thought Miya. Just traders. If Badger Pete’s gang are here then they’re hiding well.
The docks were quiet, and the people around barely even glanced at Miya as she marched by. Neither the people nor the docks were particularly clean, but then they’re docks, Miya thought, they’re not supposed to be clean. The water around here smells weird, though, kind of sour.
Miya made her way off the docks and climbed the steps into town, looking around with shining eyes. People were everywhere—here, near the docks, it seemed like it was packed to overflowing. She counted five pubs on the dock front alone, the patrons spilling out onto the streets, drunkards singing and shouting and fighting noisily. It smelled awful, like garbage on a hot day mixed with the reek of cheap alcohol and stale sweat, but Miya ignored this (as best she could, at least).
“Girl! Hey, fancy girl! Better turn back now!” came a call from a tall man wearing a greasy overcoat, this drawing howls of laughter from those he sat with. “It only gets worse the deeper you dig!”
Drunk, thought Miya, ignoring him as she walked past the pub, heading further into town. She looked around for a place to buy supplies as she made her way along the busy street, but it seemed like they only had two kinds of building here—pubs, taverns, bars or otherwise ‘places to get drunk’, and those unmarked. What people that weren’t staggering around in the streets drunk were mostly sat on crates or barrels or leaning against walls, talking in hushed tones or staring at her—in fact, now that Miya was further away from the docks, almost everyone not rendered senseless by drink seemed to be paying an awful lot of attention to her. Well, Miya reasoned, it’s not every day a pirate as young as me walks into town, I bet. And, the thought struck her, these ARE pirates! My parents LIED to me! Pirates don’t just live in stories or in distant, savage lands, here they are, right here, just a couple of days sailing from home! There’s no way you could just call these guys ‘raiders’ or ‘smugglers’, these are genuine pirates! Dozens of them, hundreds of them, a whole town FULL of them! ‘There might be a couple still around, I suppose’, hah!
It took everything Miya had to keep herself from smiling happily as she walked through the streets (she figured wandering around grinning at everything wasn’t really a very good pirate-y look).
“Oops,” she said, as she almost walked into the back of a tall man with no hair. He was shirtless, with a large, complicated sea-dragon tattoo on his back. Miya quickly looked away as he turned—then she steeled herself and looked right back at him.
“Hello,” she said. “Excuse me for nearly bumping into you.”
He looked back, his cold blue eyes fixed on her, then he smiled, showing broken and blackened teeth.
“No problem,” he said, his voice not nearly as rough or threatening as Miya had imagined it would be. She nodded to him and walked past, and he turned to watch her as she walked up the street.
“Trader, trader, trader.” Miya muttered to herself as she walked, turning several corners in her search for a place to buy supplies, making her way down street after dirty street. “You’d think they’d make it easy, for goodness sake, it’s like they don’t WANT you to spend money.”
Maybe one of these unmarked buildings is actually a trader, she thought, trying to surreptitiously peer inside them as she walked along. But then what kind of sense would that make, to be a trader without a sign? How is a captain supposed to—
“Ah,” she said, as she finally spotted something that wasn’t a pub—a small shop entrance with ‘SUPLIES’ written above it. The streets were clearer here, just a few dozen people, mostly sat against walls or in alley entrances.
“Finally,” Miya muttered, as she strode over to the shop. Inside was dingy and dim, a large, open room filled with crates and barrels, lit by a single dull lantern. It didn’t smell entirely wholesome, but Miya figured you took what you could get in this kind of place.
“Hello,” she said to the man sitting in a corner. “I’d like to buy some supplies, please. By the way, there are two ‘p’s in ‘supplies’, I thought you might like to know.”
The man was tall and skinny, bald on top but with scraggly brown hair down past his shoulders, wearing a stained vest that might once have been white and brown trousers tied up by a bit of rope. He smiled at Miya (she assumed it was a smile, he opened his mouth and showed some teeth at least) and stood up.
“Much obliged,” he said, his voice deep and raspy. “You’re a smart one, I can see that straight off. Can’t try to cheat you, I’d say.”
“I should think not,” said Miya, privately thinking that this probably wasn’t a very nice person.
“What kind of supplies you after?” he asked.
“Water, dried meat, dried fruit, and some limes or lemons.”
“Ship’s biscuit?”
“No … no, I have enough of that,” said Miya.
“Let’s see then,” said the man. He pulled a dirty old blanket off a stack of crates, pulled out a dry, shrivelled lime. “This what you after?”
“Not really, but I supposed it’ll have to do.”
“Eight bits a crate.”
“Eight bits? Am I hearing you correctly? Eight bits for a tiny crate of those sorry excuses for limes?”
“Them’s lemons.”
“Lemons are yellow,” said Miya.
“These were too, last month.”
“Ugh. Maybe I’ll pass on those. Um, what else do you have?”
“Dried meat?”
Miya inspected the tough-looking scrap the man held up.
“What kind of meat is it?”
“Dog, mostly. Some cat.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nuh.”
“Don’t you have real supplies here? Show me the good stuff,” said Miya. “I can pay.”
“You are a smart one, ain’t ya?” said the trader. “Seems I can’t get anything past you.”
“Just show me the real supplies,” said Miya. “I don’t have all night.”
“Neither do I. All right, come into the back here.”
“I don’t mean to tell you how to run things, but you’d probably do better business if you didn’t make it so difficult for people to organise supplies,” said Miya, as she followed the man through a curtain made of knobbly white beads threaded on string, to a slightly cleaner, slightly more organised section of the shop. He grunted as he indicated a stack of crates.
“Take a look at these,” he said. “Might find something more to your liking.”
“Good,” said Miya, inspecting a crate of slightly fresher lemons. “These will do. Eight bits a crate, you said?”
“Two and eight for these.”
“Two and eight? Are you crazy?”
“Supply and demand, love. Prices getting drived up what with this mess over the other side of the chain. People stocking up, lot of blood leaving for quieter parts.”
“Mess?”
“Ol’ Badger Pete stomping his way down the islands. Bad for business.”
“Huh. Well, anyway, Two and eight is ridiculous. I’ll give you half that.”
“Make it seventeen bits.”
“Fourteen seems fairer.”
“Fairer, yeah. But seventeen is what I’m offering.”
“Fine then, fifteen,” said Miya. “Now let’s see about your other supplies.”
After some further haggling and hard pushing, Miya eventually negotiated a decent deal on the supplies she needed.
“Far as I figure,” said the trader, “you owes me eight clear.”
“More like six and eight, for those of us that can count.”
“Call it seven and everyone’s happy,” said the trader.
“Call it six and eight and I’m happy,” said Miya. The trader thought for a moment, then shrugged.
“Sucker for a pretty face, that’s all I am,” he said, as Miya paid him. He dropped the money into his pouch, then nodded at the stack of crates Miya had just bought. “How you getting all that to your ship?”
“Oh. Right,” said Miya. “Good question.”
“You ain’t got someone to help you out?”
“Not really,” said Miya.
“So you’re in town all on your lonesome? Wee girl like you?”
“Yes,” said Miya, annoyed at the ‘wee’ part. “Do you have any men I could hire to help me?”
“I’ve got men,” said the trader, and Miya saw two figures enter from the front. “Although they ain’t much for helping. Now, I said eight clear before, didn’t I? But let’s be fair and call it … everything ye’ve got.”
Miya’s eyes narrowed. She glanced back at the two men that had just entered, saw the glint of steel in their hands.
“Do you have any idea who I am?” she said, quietly.
“Some rich little runaway thought she could play at being pirate, that close to the truth?” said the trader. “Come on, darling, this don’t have to go hard. We don’t want to hurt ye, just trying to make a living.”
” ‘Play at being pirate’? Do you know who my father is?”
“Some rich trader or another, who cares?”
Miya shook her head slowly. “Black Boots himself, one of the most feared pirates ever to sail the Necessary Ocean.”
“Never ‘eard of ‘im,” said the trader. “And even if I had I wouldn’t believe you. Heh, you might as well say Heartless Jon’s your father.”
“No,” said Miya. “He’s my grandfather.”
The trader laughed harshly, and the two thugs behind Miya joined him.
“Yeah, right. Come on, girl, give us yer money. Don’t make me get impatient.”
“Don’t make YOU get impatient? I’m the one waiting here, for you to realise your mistake and apologise. And it had better be a good one, too,” said Miya.
“Now, now, girl,” said the trader. He reached out to grab Miya’s shoulder, but she darted to the side.
“Don’t you DARE touch me!” she cried, outraged. This drew another laugh from the three men surrounding her.
“Oh, quite the princess we got here, eh?” said the trader. Miya drew herself up proudly.
“Yes, actually. You see, perhaps the reason you’ve not heard of Black Boots is that he retired some time ago. These days he goes by Tomas Black—KING Tomas Black, of Clover Island.”
The trader eyed Miya a moment. “Ah,” he said. “King Tomas, ye say? And you’re his daughter, ye say?”
“I certainly am,” said Miya.
“Well, that’s a different story then, ain’t it?”
“I should think it is.”
“Reckon a king’d pay handsomely to get his beloved daughter back safe and sound, right lads?”
“What?”
“Sorry darlin’, game just changed. We was planning on robbing ye and sending ye back home with yer bottom spanked, but if yer father’s a king, well … kings got money, see. We’re gonna have to ransom ye.”
Next:
6
Not Just A Princess
