They laughed a bit more, then walked on quietly for a few more minutes. The magical vial of raven blood then felt Luther stop walking and heard knocking.
Hinges creaked and someone said, “Password?”
“Seriously, Dustin?” asked Luther.
“Password,” Dustin repeated firmly. “The rules are the rules, Luther.”
“Whatever. Commune,” Luther said.
“That was last week’s,” Dustin said.
“Oh, thanks. Um…” Luther thought.
The lady Luther had met up with said, “Equality.”
“Right-o,” Dustin said. “Come on in. Steph is just about to get started.”
And into the meeting they went. It sounded like this Steph character was already being introduced. “—straight from a strategy meeting with our comrades in Masonville, one of the best revolution strategists in the kingdom: our own Stephanie Collins!”
Roars and cheers!
Hoots and hollers!
Once the ruckus died down a bit, a strident voice cut through what remained of the talking, “Friends! Silence!”
All promptly complied.
“Thank you, members of Chapter 8 of the Orange Star, for gathering on such short notice! The news I have was so important it couldn’t wait until your usual Thursday evening potluck. By now, you’ve probably heard rumors—”
Here someone cut in, “Pirates! Someone said it was something about pirates!”
“Yep,” Steph answered. “And please don’t interrupt, Shaunn. Who’s behind the podium? You? Or me?”
“You are,” mumbled a contrite Shaunn.
“Right you are. Now shut your trap and listen up. Yes, pirates. You may know the name of Captain Maximus McManlyman—”
There were gasps and a few comments that Steph didn’t bother silencing because the name of the pirate captain was a fairly intense bit of information to spring on them.
So, the crowd did its hubbub for a bit, and when she felt they’d done all the gasping and gossiping that the situation warranted, she continued, “Right, right. The evil Captain Maximus McManlyman. You’re wondering how pacifists such as ourselves could be considering any sort of association with him. Well, you remember how Jane disappeared? And how her parents said she’d been kidnapped by pirates?”
She paused to let them murmur and whisper some more.
“Well, I just got a note from Jane. I brought it along in case those of you who are literate want to give it a look-see. But for now, let me sum up: she’s been captured by McManlyman. While being held prisoner, she’s been talking to him about the revolution, and apparently her words have gotten through to him. You know how eloquent our Jane can be.”
Steph paused again for everyone to murmur to their neighbors about what a great lady Jane was and how they were glad that, though she was a captive on a pirate ship, at least she was doing well enough that the Captain was allowing her to send letters.
“So anyways,” Steph said at length. “Jane said in her letter that the Captain wants to help us out. Which is pretty cool because, up until this point, the revolution hasn’t been able to get control of any ships, since the King seems to think it necessary to have a few soldiers on board every vessel capable of traveling any appreciable distance.” She paused and said, “Hey, could I get a cup of water?”
While someone rustled up some water for their prestigious visitor all the way from distant Masonville, the magical vial of raven blood heard Luther ask someone, “Hey, is Ross here?”
“The wizard? Yeah, I think I saw him around somewhere.”
Luther spun around, presumably scanning the place for Ross the Wizard, then began to walk. Steph started talking again, but the magical vial of raven blood couldn’t hear what she said because Luther started to talk too. “Hey Ross. Stick around after the meeting, would ya? I’ve got something that may be of interest to you.”
“Sure. What’s going on?” Ross whispered.
“Quiet!” Steph barked. “Seriously, guys. This is important.”
“Sorry!” Ross and Luther chorused.
Steph continued, “So, yes, McManlyman is not to be trusted. He’s a pirate, after all. But, still, I agree with Jane that it is worth a try. He told her he wants to help. And if she’s willing to take the risk—which she says she is—then why not give it a whirl? Her plan is essentially this: the pirates sail north, and Jane seeks the help of our neighbors in Apamea.”
“Why Apamea?” asked a lady. “They’re so far away! What about Inachis?”
Steph sighed, “Shannon. Inachis is closer, yes, but they’re jerks—and a monarchy. If they decided to help us, it would only be so that they could take over once King Conroy was overthrown. Apameans are much nicer. And since they only overthrew their king a few years back, they’re not likely to want to take over Fritillary since they still have their hands full rearranging their whole government. Make sense?”
Shannon must have made some sort of non-verbal response, because after a pause the magical vial of raven blood heard Steph talk on:
“So, if Apamea is willing to help us on the road to the same sort of government they’re trying out, then we may have a chance. Our mysterious benefactor with the silver boxes has been supplying our chapters with a lot of stuff, but not enough for a full-on revolution. Yet. But, with Apamea on board, we could be ready to go in as little as a year!”
Stunned silence. Perhaps not everyone in the room was prepared to have their lives upended quite so soon.
“Can I get a ‘huzzah’?” Steph persisted.
Once they’d had a few moments to let this development soak in, there were a few hearty huzzahs from the braver members. Soon their enthusiasm spread about the room until even the wimpier members of the Order of the Orange Star were giving a hoot or two.
“That’s more like it,” Steph yelled energetically. “But now simmer down!”
They did.
“I’ll write Jane back and tell her to go for it. From there, we wait for word from her. Any questions?”
Someone asked something, but Ross the Wizard said to Luther, “Wanna step out into the street and talk?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Luther agreed and began to walk.
There was the sound of a creaking door. It slammed shut a moment later, silencing the chatter from the meeting place. The city at that time of night was relatively quiet, so the magical vial of raven blood had no trouble hearing when Luther said, “So, I’ve got some raven blood. It says it’s a good ingredient.”
There was a big pause. “It said it’s a good ingredient?” Ross responded excitedly.
“Yeah…” Luther answered.
“Talking raven blood?”
“Yeah…”
“Wow! No way! Where’d you—how—”
“I found it in the trash. Or it found me, I guess.”
“Sweet! No way!”
“It told me to give it to you.”
“Awesome! Can I see it?”
The magical vial of raven blood was grabbed out of Luther’s pocket and handed over to the wizard.
“Ooh!” Ross breathed. “Wendell—you know, the Royal Wizard—he has some of this stuff.” Then he grumbled, “But he won’t let me touch it yet. Says it’s not for interns. Too powerful.”
“Well, you’ve got some now,” Luther said.
“Yeah. Yeah, I sure do. You said it talks?”
“Yep. I don’t know how to make it work, though.”
The magical vial of raven blood felt itself being shaken. “Umm. I wonder—do I need a spell?”
“Nope. If you did, I wouldn’t have been able to make it talk,” Luther pointed out.
The magical vial of raven blood would have rolled its eyes if only it had eyes to roll. And if ravens did things like roll their eyes. Seriously, an intern wizard? Ah well, it was better th
an nothing. And, if Ross was one of Wendell’s interns, that meant he had to be pretty good. Tired of being shaken and examined, the magical vial of raven blood finally entered Ross’s mind and squawked, Hey bro.
Ross gasped, then said gleefully, “Hi, vial of raven blood!”
Hi.
“So, um, thanks for having Luther give you to me! This is so cool.”
Yes, son, I am a good ingredient. And I’d like to help you. All of you. You revolutionaries.
“For real?”
Totally.
“Why?”
Farland Phelps created me, the raven blood admitted. I want to help fight the evil he did using me as an ingredient.
“Cool, man. That’s totally honorable and stuff. Steph’s going to be so happy!”
In the Bay of Fritillary, Dr. Jane was leaning against the rail of the pirate ship, staring out at the little dots of light of the distant city. Somewhere out there, her parents were fretting about her, Warren and his family were running from a crazy wizard, and her friends were—maybe that very moment—meeting and discussing the whole McManlyman thing.
Jane felt conflicted about accepting his help, since he had clearly only offered because he had a crush on her. But an offer for help was, after all, an offer for help, and she’d be silly to turn down something that could potentially be a very good thing for the resistance. It wasn’t as though she’d agreed to go on a date with him in return or anything like that. The attached strings were all in the subtext, which meant she could pretend she hadn’t noticed. It was a low and tacky move, but if a heart was going to be broken in the name of the greater good, at least it was a murderous, greedy, vain heart. The revolutionaries needed help, McManlyman was offering help, end of story. All they needed was to get the okay from her friends in the Order of the Orange Star, and then the pirates would be setting out on their first philanthropic voyage of their entire career.
Jane looked down, watched some waves sloshing about for a bit, and then redirected her gaze to the lights of the city. She hoped she’d see it again. Soon.
Suddenly, from behind her, heavy, piratical footsteps sounded on the deck. She didn’t even bother turning to see who it was. It had to be the Captain. None of the other pirates ever bothered talking to her, except her assistant, Brock. But Brock was currently keeping watch over some pirates who’d been slashed up while raiding a cruise ship that morning.
The captain joined her at the railing, standing a bit closer than she was comfortable with.
She kept staring at the city, not giving him a smile or a greeting. Ever since she’d become aware that he liked her, she’d been hyper-conscious about not doing anything that could come across as flirty. The result was lots of awkward silences.
“Hi, Doctor,” he said uncertainly, wondering whether he’d done something to make her mad. She had barely spoken to him all day long, except when she’d met with him and his first mate, Biggby, to discuss how he wanted to help out the revolutionaries. “Having a nice night?”
“Just taking in a last look at the city,” she responded.
“Mmm. Yeah,” he said, staring out at lights, trying to think of something to say. “Looks a lot better at night, eh? Can’t tell it’s a huge mess of falling apart buildings. Can’t see all the coal smoke either.”
“True enough, I guess. But that’s my home,” she said, though she wasn’t able to summon up too much defensiveness. If not for her parents, she’d have left ages ago. She conceded, “The fresh air out here on the ocean is a nice change.”
“Why aren’t you asleep?” he asked.
“Not tired. I’m too anxious. I can’t sleep until I get word from my friends about Apamea.”
“Same here. I’m anxious too,” he answered, then cleared his throat. “Perhaps we could—er—keep each other company this evening. To keep our minds off our anxieties.”
Jane shot him a look. “What do you mean?”
McManlyman chickened out and changed directions. “You know, checkers, cards, backgammon. Or we could see if anyone wants to play some blind-man’s-bluff or charades or something.”
“Oh,” she said, exhaling a relieved breath. That had sounded perilously close to a come-on. She was living in constant (though low-grade) fear that he might do something stereotypically piratical that would force her to attempt to use the sharp and shiny dagger she had strapped to her ankle. “Um, I guess so. How about backgammon? I’d hate to wake up a bunch of pirates just so we can play a parlor game in the middle of the night.”
“Great. I’ll have Biggby fetch it from the games closet,” McManlyman said and strode off to awaken his first mate. “Meet you in the galley?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Sure,” Jane said and watched him, feeling guilty. He had sounded so happy when she’d consented to play a game with him. Poor guy. There was no chance of anything between them. Not even friendship. But, still, she had to be nice to him, otherwise he might get disheartened and decide that helping out the revolutionaries in order to impress her wasn’t worth the bother.
So off Jane went to play some backgammon with Captain McManlyman.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Julianna, Warren, Copernicus, and Phil were all creeping through the dark forest on their way back to the cave.
After waking up from his nap, Warren had felt not better but about ten times worse—his voice was now slightly slurred, and he kept getting confused about very basic things. (Sleeping after an untreated concussion is a bad idea.)
They were trotting along with Phil in front of them and Copernicus behind them. Trailing behind Copernicus were four pals of Phil’s from his gang. They’d been interested enough in the story to come along but had made no promises about sticking with them if things got tough. They were pretty scared of Mirabella. Most dudes in the Forest were. Since she was a woman who didn’t adhere to Fritillary’s notions of what a woman should be, the guys thought she was a witch.
Julianna, who had been filled in on the events of the day by Phil and Copernicus while Warren slept, said to Warren, “Are you sure you’re okay? Your hair is positively caked with blood. And so’s your sleeve and the back of your shirt.”
“I’m fine,” he mumbled.
Julianna persisted, “Can you go?”
Warren glanced at their guides and said quietly, as though he didn’t want them to overhear, “What choice do I have?”
“Well hopefully we’ll get there in time for you to get a bit of a rest,” Julianna said, then sighed when she saw yet another hoard of attackers looming on the path up ahead of them. These accursed attackers were wasting their time.
The threatening silhouettes advanced.
Dexter floated up to Julianna and said, “Reason with them.”
She whispered with annoyance, “I know!” to him, causing her companions who weren’t in-the-know about the ghosts to exchange confused looks. “Come on, guys,” Julianna called in her fake guy voice to the menacing forms. “We’re in a hurry. Just come on over and we’ll give you the gold. Please, please don’t take up our time by attacking us.”
The silhouettes halted and conversed for a few moments, then began moving toward them again, but this time with a bit less menace. The two groups converged, and the spokesman for the bad guys stepped forward and said, “So, uh, what’s the hurry? These fights are sort of standard protocol, you know.”
“We need to rescue my sister,” Warren slurred distractedly and stumbled a bit, then brought his hand to the back of his head.
Julianna watched him with mounting concern.
“It’s a time-sensitive mission,” Phil explained, “so we’d appreciate it if you’d just let us go.”
One of the thugs tapped his cudgel restlessly against the palm of his hand, while the group all waited for their leader to come to a decision as to whether they were going to dole out some beatings or not.
&n
bsp; Warren had more than enough time to survey the group and begin to get nervous, because they were more well-equipped than most of the groups he’d run up against, and there were seven of them; Warren had the uneasy feeling that he was just one more blow to the head away from a world of trouble.
The guy with the cudgel met Warren’s eyes and gave him an evil smile.
Warren swallowed heavily and looked down at his boots.
The long pause finally was broken by the leader saying, “Okay, we’ll let you go without a fight for six gold coins for each of us.”
Julianna readily agreed and grabbed the coin purse from Warren, then doled out the gold to the greedy hands that presented themselves before her.
One of the thugs even said politely, “Thanks, Miss.”
It was only after they’d been walking for a few more minutes that Julianna realized she’d been called ‘Miss’. “Hey, that guy knew I’m a lady!” she said.
Phil responded, “That’s because your disguise is rotten.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she growled.
Phil shrugged. “It didn’t occur to me, I guess.”
Julianna looked at Copernicus next.
“I thought it was so transparent to me because I already knew you’re a lady,” he explained.
She shot Copernicus a glare and then looked at Warren but didn’t demand an explanation of him because he looked so pathetic as he trudged on, staring blankly into the trees with his eyes all unfocused and concussed.
She sighed, put aside her annoyance about finding she’d been traipsing about the Forest in a horrible disguise, and fell into step beside Warren. She said, “Corrine’s lucky to have you. Not every sibling would go to so much trouble and put themselves in so much danger.”
He waved a hand dismissively, which was enough to make him stumble. She grabbed his arm to steady him and he mumbled his thanks, then slurred, “You’d do the same for Conroy Jr. if he was in danger.”
“Sure, in theory,” Julianna said. “But he’s got armies to take care of him.”
Warren was quiet for a few moments, his eyes narrowed as though pondering something weighty. Then he cleared his throat and said, “What were we talking about?”
How to Break an Evil Curse Page 32
