Although a good deal of the Enchantress’s treasure had already made its way into the cupboards and pockets of the kingdom’s citizens, the storeroom was still filled with piles of golden coins, crochet hooks, and other magical odds and ends that glinted in the morning light. Hilary plucked something that looked like a golden porridge bowl from the top of the nearest pile and scooped up a few handfuls of coins for good measure. Then she gathered them all in her pirate coat and clutched the bundle to her chest as she hurried back up to the deck. Miss Greyson would be awake soon, and she certainly wouldn’t approve of Hilary’s plan.
The gargoyle had been keeping a lookout for villains and scoundrels from his Nest, but he turned around and stared at Hilary as she unrolled her bundle on the deck. “What are you doing with all that magic?” he cried. “Just looking at it is enough to make my ears twitch!”
“There’s no need to shout,” Hilary whispered. “This is going to help me with Blacktooth’s bold and daring task. I’ve got to slay a sea monster or defeat a pirate king before I get another one of those blasted warnings, so I thought I’d better get started.”
The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “You’re going to whack the sea monster over the head with a magical porridge bowl?”
“Not exactly.” Hilary sat back on her heels. Truthfully, she wasn’t quite sure how to accomplish either of Captain Blacktooth’s tasks on her own—but that, of course, was why magic was so useful. She placed the coins inside the porridge bowl, where they began to jitter and twitch.
“Um, Hilary?” The gargoyle peered into the bowl. “Are you sure you’re strong enough to use all that?”
“Of course,” said Hilary. “At least, I’m nearly sure.” She’d never used more than one magic coin before, and even that could be difficult to control, but a single coin was nowhere near powerful enough to accomplish what she had in mind. And anyway, hadn’t Captain Blacktooth told her to be bold and daring? She picked up the porridge bowl in both hands and tried to ignore the gargoyle, who was covering his eyes with his tail. “Magic,” she said, addressing the bowl, “I wish for the fastest pirate ship you can manage, and a crew of scallywags to help me sail it. Please,” she added, because the magic seemed to appreciate good manners. “Oh, and could you arrange for the scallywags to be excellent sword fighters?”
As Hilary spoke, the familiar thrill of magic tugged at her lungs and tingled along her arms. She held the golden porridge bowl as tightly as she could. For a moment she thought the enchantment had worked, and the gargoyle peeked out from under his tail. Then, too soon, the tug of magic stopped, the tingling ceased, and the coins flew out of the bowl and clattered to the deck.
“Oh, blast!” Hilary rubbed her sore arms and scanned the harbor, but no pirate ship had appeared. “I didn’t even conjure up a single scallywag.”
The gargoyle lowered his tail and looked around. “Cheer up,” he said; “it could have been worse. You could have turned yourself into a wheel of cheese.”
Hilary blinked. “Did someone do that?”
“A week ago, in Pemberton. I heard Jasper say so. Besides, if you’d really made a mess of things, you would have gotten a scolding from the Enchant—”
But the gargoyle was interrupted by a prim and proper voice that rang out from the air directly above Hilary’s head:
To use your magic, you must be stronger!
Don’t attempt it any longer.
Hilary groaned and covered her ears, but there was no use in trying to shut out the Enchantress’s reprimands, for the less eager one was to hear them, the louder they became. The gargoyle tilted his head to one side. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before,” he said when the Enchantress’s voice had faded away at last. “She must be trying out a new batch of rhymes.”
“Yes,” said Hilary, “and she’s probably woken half of Otterpool in the process.” She started to gather the spilled coins together. “Blasted magic.”
The prim and proper voice cleared its throat.
Be polite, and pleasant too,
or you can bid your coins adieu!
Hilary and the gargoyle exchanged a look. “Sorry, Miss Pimm,” Hilary said into the air.
The voice seemed satisfied with this, for it didn’t return again. At the stern of the ship, however, a cabin door squeaked open, and Charlie stumbled out in his nightclothes.
Hilary scrambled to bundle up the magic in her pirate coat, but she could tell from the way Charlie rolled his eyes that he had already spotted it. “I thought I heard the Enchantress out here,” he said. He nudged the bundle of magic with his foot. “You’re lucky you didn’t wake Miss Greyson as well. What have you two been up to?”
“I,” said the gargoyle, “have been sitting quietly in my Nest.”
“And what has the Terror been doing?”
“It’s a long story,” said Hilary. A magic coin still glinted on the deck, and she stepped on it. “Long and terribly boring. You wouldn’t like it one bit.”
“Let me guess.” Charlie leaned against the Pigeon’s starboard rail. “This has something to do with Blacktooth.”
The gargoyle coughed, and Hilary did her best to count the stripes on Charlie’s nightclothes.
Charlie laughed. “You both look so guilty that I know I’m right,” he said. “I didn’t attend the League holiday ball either, and no one’s sailed halfway around the kingdom to chide me for it. What really happened? Was Blacktooth cross with you?”
“I suppose ‘cross’ is one way of putting it,” said Hilary. “He says it’s been far too long since I’ve done anything to impress the League. I’ve been given a warning, and Blacktooth’s ordered me to perform a bold and daring task to prove that I’m a good pirate.”
“But of course you’re a good pirate! In a year or two, if you set your mind to it, you might even be as good as me.” Charlie grinned and dodged the glare that Hilary aimed in his direction. “Anyway, I like the bit about the bold and daring task. It’s been ages since we’ve had an adventure.”
“Exactly,” said Hilary. “I’d hoped to set off this morning to slay a sea monster or defeat a pirate king in battle, but since I couldn’t manage to magic up a ship or a crew—”
“Wait a moment,” said Charlie. “You can’t truly mean to suggest that you were about to sail off on a voyage without your first mate.” He crossed his arms. “That’s me, by the way.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you’d be busy. And I know you don’t care for magic.”
Charlie’s parents had died when their pirate ship was sunk and their magic treasure stolen, and ever since, he’d wanted very little to do with magic of any sort, though at least he seemed to enjoy the gargoyle’s company. “That’s true enough,” he said, “which is why going on an adventure sounds heaps better than helping Jasper cart wagonloads of magic all over the kingdom for the rest of the year.” He shoved the bundle of magic off to one side. “We’ll get the ship and crew sorted out later, but for now it seems to me that you’d better decide which of Blacktooth’s tasks is less likely to send you to the bottom of the sea. How’s your swordplay coming along?”
All through the morning and into the afternoon, Hilary and Charlie practiced every dueling drill they knew. Hilary’s swordplay had improved quite a bit since her first days on the Pigeon, but Charlie still bested her in more than half their matches, and she suspected that the undefeated pirate king from the southern kingdoms was a good deal more talented than Charlie was. “I suppose it’ll have to be the sea monster, then,” she said, fanning herself with her hat.
“Are you sure?” the gargoyle asked. His Nest was stacked high with reference volumes about sea monsters that Hilary had borrowed from the bookshop when Miss Greyson wasn’t looking. “Half these books say that sea monsters don’t even exist, and the other half say that the monster who lives near Summerstead is particularly nasty. His teeth are as sharp as a thousand cutlasses, and he can destroy an entire village with one swish of his tail.” The gargoyle used his snout t
o turn a page. “It says here that he likes to eat pirates as snacks.”
“That doesn’t sound pleasant,” said Hilary. “Do you think all piratical adventures are required to end in being run through or eaten?”
The gargoyle began to say that he certainly hoped not, but he was interrupted by a series of loud, impatient knocks on the Pigeon’s hull. Hilary leaned over the rail to see the postal courier’s boat bobbing on the waves, while the postal courier himself rapped a stick against the ship. “Urgent delivery for the Pigeon!” he called.
“Just a moment!” Miss Greyson hurried up the deck. “Welcome to the floating bookshop and magic dispensary! Would you care for some hot chocolate?”
“No time for that, ma’am,” said the postal courier. He pocketed his stick, handed a cream-colored envelope up to Miss Greyson, and sailed away as rapidly as he’d arrived.
Miss Greyson frowned down at the envelope. “Oh dear,” she said, “it’s addressed to Jasper. Shall I call the postal courier back?”
“He said it was urgent.” Hilary looked over Miss Greyson’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’d better open it and see what it’s about.”
“I suppose that wouldn’t be too improper under the circumstances,” said Miss Greyson. She turned the envelope over and slid her finger under the blob of purple sealing wax that had been stamped quite clearly with a figure eight.
Hilary drew in her breath. “It’s from Miss Pimm.”
* * *
Dear Mr. Fletcher (Miss Greyson read aloud),
I hope that this note finds you well and that your distribution of my treasure is proceeding smoothly. I was pleased to receive last month’s update on your progress, but I shall take this opportunity to remind you that eating jam while addressing one’s correspondence is not entirely proper. (Perhaps you thought I would not notice the sticky smudge that adorned your envelope, but I assure you: I notice everything.)
I am writing not to scold you, however, but to ask for your assistance. Mr. Fletcher, I have reason to believe that our beloved kingdom is under threat—and that I myself may be in peril. As the queen and her royal inspectors have shrugged off my suspicions, and I am not certain which of my friends can be trusted, I find myself with no other choice: I shall need the services of the most fearsome pirate in Augusta to help me address the matter.
I dare not say more in this letter, but I hope you will travel to my school in Pemberton immediately so we may talk further. Since I know your crew is occupied with treasure distribution and bookselling, I shall arrange for my private carriage to meet you in Otterpool on the morning after you receive this letter. Do not be late, and bring your sharpest sword.
Yours in haste,
Eugenia Pimm
ENCHANTRESS OF THE NORTHLANDS
* * *
By the time she finished reading, Miss Greyson had gone very pale indeed. “Jasper will be leagues away by now,” she said. “Do you suppose I should send the letter along to him?”
“It won’t reach him for days,” Charlie pointed out. “And Miss Pimm says she needs to see him immediately.”
“Oh dear, you’re quite right.” Miss Greyson rubbed her forehead and frowned. “Shall I write to Miss Pimm? Whatever shall I say?” She stared at the letter and began to read it again.
Hilary took Charlie by the elbow and tugged him over to the Gargoyle’s Nest. “We’ve got to do something!” she whispered. “Miss Greyson is very sweet, but writing Miss Pimm a letter won’t save the kingdom from peril. She says she needs help from the most fearsome pirate in Augusta, and aren’t I the Terror of the Southlands? If Jasper can’t help her, I’ve got to go instead.”
Charlie looked worried. “But what about Blacktooth’s tasks? We’re supposed to stay on his good side, remember? If he finds out you’ve been helping the Enchantress instead of doing something piratical, he’s sure to kick you out of the League for good. I don’t think it says anything about helping Enchantresses in the VNHLP handbook.”
Hilary’s spirits sank, for Charlie was almost certainly right. A dutiful pirate would follow Blacktooth’s orders, choose one of his bold and daring tasks, and do her best to forget about Miss Pimm’s letter altogether. Then again, hadn’t Blacktooth himself said that piracy often required a certain disregard for good behavior? And what if Miss Pimm was really in danger? She could be terribly bossy and more than a bit stubborn, and Hilary couldn’t honestly say she cared for her rhymes. Still, she had always treated Hilary kindly, not even raising a finger in protest when Hilary withdrew from finishing school to sail the High Seas. In fact, she had been a great deal more understanding than Hilary’s own mother had been. She never disapproved of Hilary’s breeches or tried to send her off to High Society balls, and whenever the Pigeon docked in Pemberton, Miss Pimm invited Hilary and the gargoyle over for tea and spiders.
“Oh, blast the handbook!” Hilary said. “Perhaps helping Enchantresses isn’t a traditional pirate activity, but Miss Pimm is my friend, and a true pirate assists her mates in storms and battles. It says so right in the VNHLP Rules of Conduct. Helping a friend in peril is far more piratical than getting sliced to bits by a scallywag or eaten as a snack, and I’m sure Captain Blacktooth knows that as well as anyone.” She crossed her arms. “So should you, Pirate Dove.”
Charlie looked down at his boots. “You’re right,” he said at last. “And I suppose saving the kingdom will be loads more interesting than sitting around Otterpool Harbor.”
“We’ll be bold and daring!” the gargoyle cried. “Just like Captain Blacktooth wanted us to be.”
Hilary grinned. “Then it’s settled. We’ll help Miss Pimm, we’ll have a grand adventure, and we’ll make Blacktooth impressed in spite of himself.”
* * *
From
The Picaroon
BEIN’ THE OFFICIAL NEWSLETTER OF THE VERY NEARLY HONORABLE LEAGUE OF PIRATES
VNHLP MIDSUMMER’S EVE PICNIC. All pirates are reminded that the annual League picnic on Gunpowder Island is only a few days away. Spots are still available in the hardtack-eatin’ contest, the swimmin’ relay, and the one-legged race (peg-legged pirates only, please). Come sing sea chanteys round the bonfire, blast cannons over the bay, and catch up with your mates.
TERROR IN TROUBLE. Miss Hilary Westfield, former High Society girl and current Terror of the Southlands, has earned her first reprimand for unpiratical behavior. This news is sure to be received with pleasure by those scallywags who have protested Pirate Westfield’s membership in the League. VNHLP president Rupert Blacktooth assures us, however, that she is willing and eager to mend her ways. We at the Picaroon wish Pirate Westfield the best of luck during this difficult time.
SCANDAL IN THE RANKS? An anonymous source tells the Picaroon that a pirate of some repute has been seen in the company of a certain government official, one Miss E— P—. Rumor has it that the two dine together often and once spent an afternoon playing croquet. The pirate in question is warned that befriending members of the government is frowned upon, and that sharing League secrets outside the pirate community is strictly forbidden.
MISSING. One eye patch, best quality, with green silk ribbon ties. Believed to be lost near Pemberton. If found, please return to Cannonball Jack on his houseboat, the Blunderbuss, in Pemberton Bay.
* * *
* * *
Mrs. Ophelia Westfield
cordially invites her daughter,
Miss Hilary Westfield
to a midsummer’s masquerade ball.
Saturday at seven o’clock
Westfield House, Queensport, Augusta.
Respond promptly, please.
* * *
* * *
WESTFIELD HOUSE
QUEENSPORT, AUGUSTA
Hilary,
I do hope you will attend my masquerade. Are you still flitting about on that pirate ship? I shall remind you once again of the damage you continue to inflict on the Westfield name. Due to your reputation for piracy and your father’s reputation for vi
llainy, I must work twice as hard to convince the finest High Society families to set foot on the grounds of Westfield House. I fear, however, that my plight will not convince you to change your ways. If you will not attend my ball, please pay me the courtesy of visiting me in Queensport. We shall have lunch! I shall ask my dressmaker to fit you for a new gown! What do you think of that?
And dear, wouldn’t it be nice for you to visit your father? My High Society friends have persuaded me that even the most notorious villain in Augusta might be reformed through the attentions of a loving wife, so I have begun to travel to the Dungeons every fourth Tuesday. Despite my efforts to make polite conversation, your father remains rather cheerless, but I am sure a pleasant smile from his daughter would help to mend the rift between you.
Your loving
Mother
* * *
* * *
PIRATE HILARY WESTFIELD
TERROR OF THE SOUTHLANDS
Dear Mother,
I am sorry to say that I cannot attend your masquerade ball. I’ve told you a thousand times that I don’t care for dancing or for gowns, and on top of it all, I have to admit that I find the idea of High Society guests clad in masks to be slightly alarming. If I must be in the company of dull and self-absorbed young lords and ladies, I prefer to know exactly who is boring me to tears.
In any case, I hope you will not send me any more invitations, for I am about to set off on a piratical adventure, and I expect that I shall be rather busy in the future. I am sorry to upset you, Mother—for I know you are upset—but you mustn’t overreact and lock yourself in your wardrobe again. You know how it distresses the maids.
The Terror of the Southlands Page 3
