Barefoot Pirate (6 page)

“No matter,” Blackeye put in. “We can discuss the mysteries
of other worlds after we have begun our work here. Our first job was to be the
recovery of our ship. Before that, I think, we must train you two a little.”

Joe saw her exchange a look, difficult to interpret, with
Warron.

“But first food, and maybe some sleep? Are you two as tired
as you look?” Sarilda put in briskly.

Joe grinned. “Try a couple nights without sleep, and see how
you feel. When we left our world, it was well past midnight.” He noticed that
word came through the translation all right.

“Then come with me, Joe-roblas,” Tarsen said.

“Here,” Sarilda added, throwing a wad of netting at Tarsen.
“This is a draw, I think you’ll agree.” She laughed.

“A draw, a draw,” Tarsen exclaimed, throwing up his hands.
“I agree!”

Blackeye snorted. “You’d better.” She waved at Nan. “We
thought to have one visitor. Truth to tell, we were wondering if we’d get that,
for it’s been some weeks. Anyway, you can use Elan’s bunk.”

Nan followed Blackeye down an adjacent tunnel.

“We had a wager,” Tarsen said. “Whether we’d get a girl or
boy. The losers to do a half-season’s housekeeping chores for the others.”

As he spoke, he led Joe down a short tunnel to a smaller
room, also lit by round glowglobes. He saw hammocks strung at various levels on
one side, and chests lining the other side. Various weapons of the sword and
knife variety hung neatly from a plainly made rack.

“Stow your gear in that chest there. The empty one. Shall I
string this for you?” Tarsen asked. “Or would you rather?”

“I don’t think I know how,” Joe said. “I mean, we have
hammocks at home, but I’ve never put one up.” He looked around again, thinking
joyfully:
I’m here. I’m really here
.

“Then I’ll do it, and show you anon,” Tarsen said. “Go
ahead, that chest is for you. We thought we’d have a boy, see.”

“And the girls thought a girl would come?” Joe asked, taking
off his backpack and lowering it into the chest.

“To be expected, don’t you think?” Tarsen said cheerfully.
“There. Now, what is it you brought? Anything good for smiting Regents?” He
reached out to touch Joe’s scruffy school backpack. “This is a fine thing.
What’s that?” He pointed to a zipper.

Joe showed him how the zippers worked, then unloaded his
stuff. Tarsen seemed very taken with the cans and the can opener (which he’d
first thought was a weapon of some kind) and with how strange Joe’s clothes looked,
especially the jeans. The flashlight, though, amazed him the most. He wanted to
know how they got the magic into the little cylinder. Joe tried to explain
about electricity, but as he’d only paid half-attention to Mr. Guevara droning
away about electrons in science, he finally stopped—his audience was as
confused as he was.

“Batt-ery?” Tarsen repeated finally. “And you say your world
has no magic?”

“No magic. Electricity, we got lots of.” Joe grinned. “Maybe
Nan can give you a better explanation. She might be better at science.”

Tarsen showed him the spring-room, which was a bare room
below all the others with a streaming running the length. The water was
shocking cold, but it tasted wonderful. They also used it for baths, Tarsen
explained—something Joe was not ready for yet. His fingers felt numb from just
cupping the water for a drink.

Tarsen took him back to the hammocks, and Joe relaxed into
his as they talked about various things. He’d thought it would be impossible to
sleep, but once he was lying in the gently swinging hammock, he found it nearly
impossible not to shut his eyes...

o0o

“Joe-roblas is asleep,” Tarsen reported, appearing at the
opening to the girls’ room.

Nan watched Kevriac look up, then back at Sarilda, who had
been explaining the watch and chore systems to Nan. Nan had readily agreed to
job-assignments for both herself and Joe. Her stuff was stowed in the space the
girls had had waiting, and she had a place to sleep.

What she was waiting for now was a chance to talk to Kevriac
about magic. Not necessarily to start learning it right away. That had been her
first idea. As soon as Blackeye had asked that stuff about what could they do,
though, she was glad she’d kept her mouth shut.

They probably think we’re a couple of useless nerds, she
thought grimly. So I’ll ask for lessons as soon as we’ve found and freed their
prince. But before then it should be okay to just ASK about magic...

When Sarilda started her description of their chore system
Blackeye left on some errand, but Kevriac, who had asked if he could come in
with them, stayed. When Sarilda was done, she offered to get Nan something hot
to drink, and Nan said yes—just to get rid of her.

Kevriac got up to go with her.

Nan, who never talked to anybody if she could help it,
forced herself to say, “I’ve got a question—”

Both kids stopped and turned.

“Uh, about magic. The uh, token-thing you made.”

Sarilda flipped her hand up airily. “Oh, he knows about that
stuff. He can tell you whatever you need to know. I’ll get the chocolate.”

Kevriac grinned and sat down cross-legged on the smooth dirt
floor. “Maybe we can trade questions? I want to know about your world.”

At the reminder of Earth, Nan felt a hot wave of hatred
inside, but she did not show it.
This is a new beginning
, she thought.
Nobody
has to know I’m a total reject. And nobody IS going to know it
.

Out loud, she said: “Sure,” and shrugged.

“You must begin,” Kevriac said with a friendly gesture.

“Did you have to learn our language in order to write it?
And how did you manage to pick our school library to put your book—your
token—in?” Both words translated, so they had to have schools and libraries.

“I don’t know your language,” Kevriac said. “That’s why I
wanted to see the token.” He smiled as he rubbed his eyes. “The script looked
very strange to me. Anyway, the one who arranged the Gate-magic must have
either translated it, or caused it to be translated.”

“So you didn’t, like, learn about our school and pick it for
some reason.”

Kevriac gave his head a vigorous shake. “I wrote out our
story, and I gave it into the hands of a powerful sorcerer. I was told that a
world with humans not unlike us would be found, and the token would be tried
for a certain amount of time in a number of places. If no one heeded our call,
it would be put somewhere else. We asked only that, if possible, helpers our
own age be located.”

“Of course,” Nan said. “Adults would play head-games with
you.” As she spoke the words, she felt a strange hesitation in the
translation—then they came out, but they felt wrong.

Sure enough. “Head? Games?” Kevriac repeated carefully.

“They’d bully you,” Nan said.

His pale eyebrows slanted up. “Ah. Yes, that’s a thought,
though I’d like to see anybody try to bully Warron. Or Blackeye. Or Tarsen—any
of us, I guess. Not anymore.”

“That Workhouse,” Nan said in a hard voice.

“You have them too?” Kevriac asked.

“Oh yes. I’ve seen a lot of them—” Nan started, then she
stopped. He knew nothing about her background. Why come out and tell everyone?

Kevriac scratched his head, then said, “So to continue.
Blackeye has a notion that Todan will pay no attention to anyone our age who
might be seen in the Palace, whereas strange adults would be arrested on
sight.” Smiling, he added, “And besides, we thought it would be more fun this
way.”

So he doesn’t know as much magic as I’d thought, but then
he doesn’t know anything about Earth. He knows nothing about us—about ME.

This realization sent a vast sense of freedom through Nan.

“So what can you tell me about your world?” Kevriac asked.
“I confess a boundless curiosity about such things. You have Workhouses like we
do, and you know what they are like. That gives us something in common. Were
you in one? If so, how did you arrive at that fate?”

Nan looked down at her hands. Here it comes, she thought.
Either she told them that neither of her parents—who were both petty crooks and
creeps—had wanted her, or she gave herself an entirely new background, one she
could be proud of.

One that would give her a good start, for the very first
time in her life.

And it’s not breaking the promise, she argued inside her
head. This lie won’t hurt anyone, and it’s not like I’m trying to get out of
anything unfairly.

She said cautiously, “It’s true I have been in our kind of
Workhouses. That’s because my mother, the Queen, was deposed by a wicked
Adviser.” As she spoke the words, fear mixed with a kind of thrill ran through
her. The thrill was much stronger—especially when Kevriac’s eyes widened in
amazement.

“You are a princess? But you came here,” he said. “You did
not stay to fight to rescue your mother?”

A flare of warning flashed in Nan’s brain. They’re fighting
to save their deposed Prince—idiot!

She said, “There’s no chance. To keep my life—and my little
sister’s—I had to promise never to return. She’s with someone good now.”

Kevriac gave a sigh of empathy. “A hard choice,” he said.
“But the right one, if you could not save a young sister else. So you came to
help us instead. I honor you for that. And so will the others when I tell
them.”

“Oh please don’t,” Nan said quickly. “At least, not in front
of Joe.” When Kevriac gazed at her in silent question, she said, “I don’t want
him to feel bad.”

“Then he does not know you? You did not read the book
together? You came together, most certainly,” Kevriac said wonderingly. And—was
that a tiny line of doubt between his eyebrows?

“We found the book at the same time, but we did not know one
another. I am—was—a new arrival at that Workhouse, like I said. But we are
allowed to read. Anyway, because we were both reaching for the book at the same
time we decided to trade it, and after we read it, we decided to come here.”

“That is understandable,” Kevriac said, nodding. “Well I
honor you doubly for the confidence.” Kevriac got to his feet and bowed.

Nan felt a little uncomfortable, but a lot more pleased. The
admiration in his tone, and in his smile, was something she had never seen
before in her life.

In fact, it felt great.

Joe was having a wonderful dream...a blue sea...underground
caves...

pirates...

Pirates?

He opened his eyes, and saw rough gray rock curving
overhead.

It’s true! he thought joyfully, sitting up and swinging his
legs over the side of the hammock. Taking a deep breath, he made another
wonderful discovery: he smelled chocolate.

Unless this world had chocolate as glue and glue as
chocolate, he was in for one of his favorite foods.

He had fallen asleep in his clothes, which he now just
dusted off. No reason to waste time changing into the extra shirt he’d brought;
he shoved his feet into his sneakers, then he looked around, wondering where
the bathroom was.

“Choe-roblas,” Tarsen hailed him from across the room.
“Hungry?”

“You can call me Joe. Robles is my last name,” Joe said.
“Um...where’s the facilities?” The word came out strange.

Tarsen wrinkled his brows. “Fass—what?”

“Bathroom.” But that came out sounding like the word they’d
used for the stream for bathing in. “Place to take a whiz,” Joe said, his face
reddening as he pantomimed the action.

Tarsen stared in blank surprise. “You—want to make water?”

“Don’t you?” Joe demanded, exasperated.

“For a deadly insult, perhaps,” Tarsen said slowly. “But
you’d leave evidence...”

“Huh?”

“Well we usually use The Spell,” Tarsen said. Then his jaw
dropped. “You said there is no magic on your world—could it be you have not The
Spell?”

Joe shook his head.

Tarsen looked astonished, and then he shook his head. “When
we are very young, we are taught this spell...”

It took a couple of minutes, and a few tries, but Joe
finally got the idea—and the hang of saying magic and letting go at the same
time. It worked great.

Tarsen was still shaking his head over it when they started
up the tunnel. “It was one of the first gifts the great magicians gave to the
world,” he said.

“Practical,” Joe said, trying not to laugh as he thought,
at
least I won’t have to worry about where to take a dump in the middle of an
adventure
. “Is that chocolate I smell?” he added as they joined the others.

“Want some?” Sarilda asked, pointing to a ceramic tureen on
a low table. “The cups are on the hooks.”

“And here’s something to eat,” Kevriac added, bringing in a
platter piled high with round, toasted bread. Joe saw what looked like melted
cheese on the bread, over something lumpy that he couldn’t identify.

The pirates’ hands reached out to grab a bread. Joe plucked
a cup from a hook on the wooden buffet beside the table, and lifted the dipper
in the tureen. Thick, foamy chocolate poured into the cup. He tasted it
cautiously—and then took a more enthusiastic swallow.

“Wow this is good stuff,” he said. “Now I know I’m gonna
like it here.”

Tarsen laughed.

Joe went on, “I was all set to tough out some weird foods,
but I never expected I’d get hot chocolate.”

“I don’t think our foods can be vastly different,” Kevriac
said. “I was told that travel between our worlds, and between other worlds on
which humankind lives, has happened more than you’d think. That would mean the
travelers must have brought and shared all kinds of things. Perhaps chocolate
is one. It’s grown in the Summer Islands not very far from our islands. They
use it for trade all over the world.”

“Eat up,” Blackeye said, waving a bread. “‘Tis already
gold-two, and Warron is waiting to get you started.”

Nan appeared, her thin cheeks glowing and her red hair damp.
Joe figured she’d tackled that ice-bath, and he mentally gave her points for
sheer guts. Likewise for the way she just marched up and grabbed a bread and
bit into it, without first testing out those lumps.
Ghack—what if it’s
mushrooms, or something even nastier
, he thought, swallowing more
chocolate.