“I’m so sorry,” Grace said. “The last thing I wanted to do was upset you.”
He sighed. “How did you think I’d feel, having you spy into my private thoughts like that? How would you like it if someone did that to you?”
“I was only trying to help,” she said. “I know I did a bad thing. But I was only trying to help you get better.”
“Better?” he said.
“Mosh Zu said that your wounds are only partly physical,” she said. “That your deeper wound is mental, emotional. I thought if I read your ribbon, I could help you to pinpoint whatever the block is.”
“The block . . . ?”
“Yes,” she said, feeling on more solid ground again. “If we know what’s holding you back, we can break down the block.”
“Can we now?” he said. There was a trace of bitterness in his voice.
“We can try,” she said.
“Grace, I’ve told you before, warned you. This is not your world. There is so much here you don’t understand.”
“Yes,” she said. “And I’m new to this world. But I want to understand it.” She paused. “I want to understand you. Perhaps that’s what I want most of all.”
“I see that,” he said. “I do see that, but there are things I cannot tell you.”
“About yourself?” she asked. “Or about me? Or about you and me?”
He paused. “About all of those.”
She felt deeply frustrated at the way he was closing down again, shutting her out.
“But Lorcan, if it’s about me — at least some of it — don’t I have the right to know it? I have so many questions.”
“Yes, I know. But here’s the thing, Grace. I’m not ready to answer them. I was getting there in my own way, in my own time, but now you go and do this.” He shook his head.
“You knew me.” She couldn’t keep this inside her any more. “When you rescued me, when you saw who I was. It wasn’t the first time we’d met. You knew who I was. And Connor, too. You’d seen us as babies. But how can that be?”
Her question hung in the air.
“Please, Lorcan, I have to know.”
He shook his head. “Not from me. Not now.”
Grace felt as if her head was splitting. “Please,” she repeated.
“I know what it must feel like, Grace,” he said. “I know how your mind works. These questions are like an itch to you and you have to scratch it. That’s why you took my ribbon in the first place. But don’t you see? It’s like Pandora’s Box. You’ve begun something now that cannot be stopped. And it will have a terrible end for all of us.”
She contemplated his words. What did he mean? Everything he said only prompted more questions. Bigger questions.
“Please, Grace,” he said. “Please leave me.”
“I can’t,” she said. “I can’t leave now. You have to talk to me.”
“No,” he said. “No, I don’t. Just leave.”
“Don’t shut me out like this.”
“I have to,” he said. “For both our sakes.”
She was shaking as she stood up and began walking to the door. But she couldn’t bear to leave without one last try. “But I know how much you care for me. I read it in the ribbon.”
Lorcan sighed. “Did you really need to read the ribbon to know that I cared for you?” he said. “Really, Grace, don’t you know me at all?”
“I thought I did,” she said, turning and pushing open the door. She rushed out into the corridor to spare him the sound of her sobs.
“Hey.” Johnny glanced up from the chessboard as Grace hovered at the door of the rec room.
Seeing her tear-stained face, he immediately stood and went over to her. He reached out his arms and hugged her, pushing the door closed behind them.
Grace felt better from the hug, but as her tears stopped, she realized the irony of the situation. Johnny was the one who had pushed her to read Lorcan’s ribbon, and now he was the one she was turning to for comfort.
“You did it?” he said, pulling away from her. “And it went badly, didn’t it? I’m so sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t have suggested . . .”
She shook her head. “No, it didn’t go badly exactly. But I found things out. And I went to talk to Lorcan about it and he’s angry with me.”
“I guess we might have expected that,” Johnny said. “I know it’s hard, but I don’t think you should have told him just yet.”
“I had to,” she said. “The stuff I read in the ribbon . . . it was so personal. About him and me.”
“Ah,” Johnny said.
“It’s complicated,” she said. “I don’t think I should talk about it with you.”
Johnny nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I respect that. But if you change your mind, you can always come and find ol’ Johnny. You know that, right?”
She nodded.
“Let’s dry your eyes,” he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a red polka-dot handkerchief. Grace couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it.
“There,” he said. “See how ol’ Johnny’s already brought a smile to your face?” He put the handkerchief in her hand. “Why don’t you hang onto that for now? Just in case you make any more face rain tonight.”
She slipped the handkerchief in her pocket. He pulled out a chair for her and sat down alongside her.
“You were right about one thing,” she said.
“Yes?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Reading that ribbon told me why Lorcan’s not healing. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” She felt the tears prick her eyes again and hastily lifted the handkerchief to mop them up. Johnny waited patiently. She took a deep breath, then continued.
“Lorcan’s blindness can’t be cured by physical healing alone. Mosh Zu told me that there’s another element to it, if anything the stronger part. He says that it’s psychosomatic — that it’s brought on by stress and fear and that, on a certain level, it’s self-inflicted.”
Johnny frowned. “He’s choosing not to see?”
“Well, not consciously. It’s not like he just thought to himself ‘I’d rather be blind,’ but on some level, yes, he’s blocking his body from healing.”
Johnny shook his head. “I’ve never heard nothing like that before.”
“Mosh Zu says it’s not unheard of,” said Grace. “He says that he can work with Lorcan on whatever it is that’s holding him back.”
“Well, that’s good news,” Johnny said.
Grace shook her head. She hardly knew what to think anymore.
“Grace, I know you want him to heal fast, but I reckon that you have to give something like this time. Remember, on this side of the fence, we got a whole lotta time to play with.”
“It’s me,” she said. “I’m responsible for Lorcan’s blindness. He wouldn’t have gone into the daylight if it wasn’t to protect me. I always knew I was responsible for his physical blindness . . .”
Johnny gently interrupted her. “Even if there’s a kernel of truth in that, you said yourself that his physical wound was healing.”
She nodded. “Yes, but now I know I’m also the cause of the deeper wound. I had my suspicions before. But now I’ve read the ribbon, I’m sure of it. The reason he’s refusing to get better — the block — is connected to me.” There, she had said it. It felt better to have given voice to the dark thought. It still felt bad, but better.
“Like I say,” Johnny answered, “you’ve just gotta give this whole situation time. Lorcan couldn’t be in better hands than Mosh Zu. I mean, he’s the Vampirate guru! He’s the man! If anyone can get Lorcan through this, it’s him.”
“But what if he can’t?” Grace said, feeling the icy waters of her fear rising up again. “What if Lorcan chooses to stay blind? You should have heard him, Johnny. He’s pushing me away now. What if I’ve wrecked everything by doing what I did?”
“Hey,” said Johnny, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Hey, hey, you just gotta take a piece of advice from ol’ John
ny. Something I learned on those long cattle drives. Grace, you gotta learn to cross one river at a time.”
32
THE PASSAGE TO INDIA
Connor watched with some sadness as the familiar skull and bones flag was lowered from the mast of The Diablo. The mast looked naked without it.
“It’s only temporary,” Cate said, as Gonzalez folded the flag away and sent a different one up the ropes. “It’s all part of our disguise, Connor. We can’t allow the Emperor or any of his team to think, for one moment, that this is a pirate ship. They’re doing the same over on The Typhon right now. There’ll be a few other changes too — cosmetic of course, nothing that will impede our usual operations. And the captains will be barred from the operation. Their faces are too well-known!”
Connor looked up again as Bart, high in the crow’s nest, lifted the new flag into position. It was deep blue with a white logo on it — a pair of outstretched hands carrying a ship. Beneath the picture were three letters — O.R.C.
“Do you like it?” Cate asked.
“What is it?”
“It’s supposed to suggest security and safety. It’s the logo of the Oceanic Removal Company.” She turned to Connor once more. “Us!”
She gave Bart the thumbs-up. “Good work, Bart. Now hurry on down and we’ll begin our combat training session.”
In the buildup to the raid, Cate had increased the level of combat training onboard. There were daily practices. Such was Cate’s reputation that Barbarro and Trofie had sent their crew members over to The Diablo for the duration.
“It’s important that, for the purposes of this attack, our two crews are one,” Barbarro had said, when they’d announced the news.
So now there were, temporarily, twenty-five extra crew members on The Diablo. They trained together, ate together in the same mess hall, and bunked down in the same dormitories. Mostly, they were good guys, thought Connor as he arrived on deck, ready for the day’s combat session.
“Hey, Tempest! How’s it goin’?” Two of his new mates high-fived him as he joined them to begin the warm-up.
Bart arrived just ahead of Cate. It was good, in the midst of all the current changes, to have his best buddy at his side.
“Okay,” Cate announced. “Let’s begin with a physical warm-up. Keep your weapons on you and we’ll do three circuits of the deck.”
Connor heard someone laugh behind him. “I mean, really,” he heard a dark murmur. “Could she be any more like a gym teacher?”
Connor glanced over his shoulder and saw Moonshine Wrathe sniggering away with one of his flunkies. He gave Connor a malicious glance before turning and setting off on Cate’s warm-up jog. Connor ran off alongside Bart.
“I gather little Moonshine is in top form again today,” Bart said as they ran.
“Oh, yeah,” Connor agreed. “Remind me, exactly how did he make the attack squad?”
Bart laughed. “I don’t think there was ever much doubt that he’d be given the nod. But did I tell ya what I overheard Barbarro tell Molucco?”
“No.” Connor shook his head.
“Just that he wished Moonshine was a bit more like you — that he needed toughening up if he was ever going to be a real pirate.”
“Wow!” Connor said, flattered and a little surprised that Barbarro Wrathe had made such a comparison.
“Of course,” said Bart as they pounded across the foredeck, “I’m sure Trofie Wrathe has very different reasons for putting mummy’s little darling in the squad. No doubt she sees it as his rightful place as heir to the kingdom.”
“Yeah,” Connor agreed. “It’s just a shame that he isn’t a bit more reliable with his sword.”
Bart nodded. “You’re not wrong there, Tempest. Vicious? Yes! Reliable? No!”
“Okay, everyone, great stuff!” Cate said as the last of the crew made it back to the central portion of the deck. “Now, let’s break into our pairs and work on some attack sequences.”
This was the point in the day that Connor dreaded. Because, of course, they had paired him up with Moonshine. “But why?” Connor had pleaded with Cate after the first grueling workout. “Just because we’re the youngest? I’m taller than him, and way more experienced.”
“I know, Connor,” Cate had said. “But my hands are tied. The request, or should I say command, came from on high. Very specific instructions from Barbarro Wrathe that you and Moonshine should be paired up together.”
As Connor had walked off, shaking his head, Cate had called after him. “You should be flattered by this. Evidently Captain Wrathe thinks his son has something to learn from you.”
That was all well and good, but the reality of his day-to-day sparring with Moonshine was that the pirate prince wasn’t open to learning anything from anyone. Instead he was intent on doing it all in his own unique and unpredictable fashion.
“Right,” Cate said, clapping her hands. “Let’s pick up from the maneuver we began working on yesterday. I hope you’ve all put in some extra practice hours between duty shifts!”
Connor and Bart had worked on the maneuver together long into the early hours. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bart and his partner from The Typhon execute a step-perfect sequence of attack and defence plays.
“A-hem! A-hem!” he heard Moonshine’s plaintive cry. “Any chance you could peel your eyes off your beloved Bart for just a moment so that we can get down to this?”
Connor turned to him. “Ready when you are!”
Moonshine lunged at Connor with his sword and Connor effortlessly positioned his blade to repel the attack. They managed a few basic parries but it was soon clear that, as usual, Moonshine was hopelessly out of his depth.
“You haven’t practiced this at all, have you?” Connor said as they tried to begin the sequence for the fourth time.
“I would have,” Moonshine said. “Naval Scout’s honor and all that. But, the thing is, I had a really busy evening.”
Connor could imagine. Moonshine, alone of the guest crew, was allowed to return home to The Typhon at night. Clearly the thought of sharing a cabin was a step too far for the pirate prince. So instead . . . a nice five-course dinner with Mater and Pater, then off to his dungeon to play Pirate Pinball and have quality time with his beloved pet rats.
“Besides,” Moonshine said now. “It’s weeks until the raid! There’s plenty of time to practice.”
But as the days and weeks went past, Moonshine’s swordplay showed little sign of improvement. Some days, he was all right. But on other days, it was as if he were starting from the beginning again. There was no denying, when it came to vicious instinct, that he was right at the front of the line. Connor had the scrapes and scars of varying vintages to prove that. But in a complex team attack, vicious could only carry you so far. Connor knew from his experiences with his mates on The Diablo that working as a team was vital to success in the heat of battle when the deck was crowded. You could certainly improvise to a degree but you had to keep rigorously focused on your own piece of the jigsaw, otherwise — with fifty men and women on your team — it was all too easy to descend into utter chaos.
He voiced his ongoing fears one night during dinner to Bart.
“He’s a loose cannon,” Connor said. “There’s just no telling what he’ll do next.”
“I know, buddy,” said Bart. “I hear you. But when we’re actually engaged in the raid, it won’t matter. If the operation goes to plan, we won’t have to draw our swords at all. It’s more of a hustle than a rumble, when you think about it. We’ll only have to draw our swords if our cover is blown. And so much time and effort has gone into planning this, that I really can’t see that happening.”
Connor shook his head. “I know all that. But what does Cate always say? Expect the unexpected! I’m not just worried about Moonshine. I’m losing the edge on my own technique because I’m not getting any decent practice with him.”
“Is that your way of saying you’d like an extra sparring session with yours truly la
ter?”
Connor nodded. “That would be great! If you don’t mind.”
Bart shook his head. “Just get me another beer and I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Connor frowned. “You really shouldn’t drink and draw,” he said, thinking of Cate’s rules.
Bart laughed. “I’m way under the limit, buddy. Just need a little tonsillary lubrication and I’ll be fine!”
Later, they spent another forty-five minutes up on deck, sparring as the sun set around them — a raging fire of orange and red. It ended with Connor throwing himself from the mast into Bart’s general direction. In an attack situation, he would have winded Bart, but he signaled his intent so that his friend could dive away. As they both dusted themselves down, Bart slapped Connor on the back.
“You have zero to worry about!” he said. “There’s nothing wrong with your technique. Nothing wrong at all.”
With just a few days to go until the raid, the biggest challenge became seamanship. As the twin galleons plowed across the waters toward the Sunset Fort, they encountered the roughest sailing conditions Connor had ever experienced on The Diablo. Combat training had to be set aside as all crew members worked together to navigate through the turbulent waters.
Belowdecks, there was a lot of throwing up and dark murmurings about whether they’d actually reach their destination before the ocean just swallowed them up.
Cate called Connor to her cabin. He found her sitting at her desk, calmly drinking a glass of milk and nibbling a cheese sandwich.
“Aren’t you feeling just the least bit queasy?” he inquired.
Cate shook her head. “I never get seasick,” she said. “I’m lucky that way.”
As she spoke, they heard a chorus of moans on the other side of the cabin wall, indicating that others were not so lucky.
“So,” Cate said. “How are you feeling about the attack? Ready to rock?”
Connor nodded. He and Bart had managed a few further bouts before the seas became too unruly. His confidence in his own abilities had returned. Now he was pumped with adrenaline and keen to get on with things. He told Cate so.
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