Barefoot Pirate (23 page)

Kevriac looked around the hall, and Nan and Joe did also. No
one coming. Nan said, “We only have one more corridor, then we’re at the tower,
and I don’t know what to do—” She stopped.

Joe turned. A tall man approached with quick strides, his
boots noiseless on the carpeting. A few seconds more, and he would have been
there to overhear.

The kids were already at the window, but they hastily
assumed their servant stance, and waited for the man to pass by.

Except he didn’t pass by. His steps slowed, and then he
stopped.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

Nan curtseyed. “Sir, orders from Lady Alessa. Wants these
sweets.” She indicated the trays.

The man lifted a hand and rubbed his jaw. Joe dared a quick
glance. The man was tall, about his dad’s age, with a pleasant face. He was dressed
in blue and silver. The sword at his side had jewels along the ornate hilt.

Joe started to look down, glanced over at Kevriac, and felt
a pang of alarm when he saw the weird look in the boy’s eyes. He was staring at
the man’s hand. On it was a ring with a blue stone that glittered and gleamed.

“I don’t want to get anyone into trouble,” the man said
slowly. “But I just now came from the ballroom, and Lady Alessa was dancing the
taltan.”

Nan looked up at him, her face pale.

“Wants these for when she comes back, sir,” Joe said quickly
in the voice he reserved for addressing teachers and vice-principals.

“I see,” the man said, and smiled. “Well then, carry on.” He
gave a lazy wave of his hand, and Nan curtseyed again. Then she sent a sharp
look at Joe, who saw Kevriac give a short bow, and Joe hastily copied.

The man waited as the kids moved on. Joe felt his gaze on
their backs, and he was glad when they turned a corner—and no one came after.

“Ugh,” Nan breathed, sagging against a wall. “I thought I
was going to barf.”

“Good thinking,” Kevriac said to Joe. “About her wanting
them. My mind went blank, soon’s I saw that ring.”

“Ring?” Nan and Joe said at the same time.

Joe gave a faint grin, but Nan didn’t even seem to notice. Joe
saw her fingers trembling, and realized she was at least as scared as he was.

“The starstone ring,” Kevriac said quietly. “That’s the one
who’s plotting with the Duke of Lorjee.”

“You sure?” Joe asked. “I mean, most of these guys wear a
bunch of rings.”

“Didn’t you see the carving on it? There aren’t many rings
like that one.”

“Do you think he believed us?” Nan asked.

“I don’t know,” Kevriac said, “but if we see him again, I
think there’s going to be trouble. There’s just no reason why he should have
talked to us like that. Toffs don’t. They ignore servants, unless the servants
are doing something they shouldn’t be.”

Joe sighed—and just then the midnight bells tolled, sending
echoes clanging off the mountain cliffs.

“Our signal,” Kevriac said.

“The doors are down there, around that corner,” Nan said,
whispering. “There are four guards—but I don’t know what to do now. Those
guards will never believe us.”

Kevriac smiled. “Now it’s my turn.” He handed his tray to
Nan, slid his hand beneath his apron, and came out a moment later with a glass
ball. Kevriac had put his knapsack on under his clothes—though the huge,
shapeless tunic he habitually wore had hidden it.

“My turn, and Elan’s,” Kevriac said. “Quiet while I scry
her.”

For a long moment the two kids stood there watching, but nothing
seemed to be happening. Nan thought she saw a faint glow in the crystal resting
on Kevriac’s palm, but it could easily have been reflected light from one of
the lamps.

Then Joe said, “Look!” He pointed at another of the big
windows. This one looked out over the bay at an angle. “That’s got to be the
Falcon.
”
He grinned.

“What’s going on?” Nan asked.

“Warron is kidnapping the bride—Liav’s sister—oh yeah, you
don’t know him. Anyway, Sarilda and Warron snuck into the Lorjee house today,
dressed like servants. Sarilda was going to do that magic of hers and take on
Alitra’s face to fool her guards. Warron and some of Noss’s kids will sneak the
real Alitra out, and take her to the Falcon. Look! Something’s happening on the
wharf.”

Nan looked down at where tiny orange lights moved around,
like sluggish fireflies. Torches!

“That’s the wharf rats,” Joe said. “They’re causing some
kind of ruckus so that Blackeye can get the
Falcon
and throw that guy
Mursid and his jerks overboard.”

“And Bron’s mastered the spell-stone I made for him,”
Kevriac said from behind. He was grinning happily. “Look at that fog!”

Nan squinted out at the sea, which was partially obscured by
mist. A strange, glowing fog snaked out over the water. Ships slowly moved into
it and out of it. Everything was slow motion—the ships, the fog, the
torches—but she could imagine the shouting and screaming going on below.

“Elan said to hide,” Kevriac added. “Here.”

He pointed at one of the big carved tables.

“But they’ll see us,” Nan said, pointing to the bare space
below them.

“Not if we pull our aprons over our knees,” Joe said. “All
they’d see is feet, and if those are covered by aprons, maybe they’ll think
we’re packages or something.”

Kevriac shrugged. “It’ll have to do. Come on—she says
messages don’t take long. They have some kind of magic signals, and that
sorcerer below can also scry.”

Hastily the three got under the big carved table. Nan
grabbed the apple tarts and the pastries, eating them quickly.

“Geez,” Joe whispered. “They starve you up here?”

“Yes.” She braced, feeling defensive. But when she looked at
his face, she saw only sympathy there.

“Mmmm,” Nan said softly a few moments later, and licked her
fingers. Her stomach felt really full for the first time in ages, and the
lovely taste of fresh pastry, of apple, of spices, lingered on her tongue.

There was a loud bang from somewhere not too distant, and
running footsteps. They trampled by—without pausing—and went straight to the
doors that Nan already knew led to the prince’s tower.

A loud rap sounded, and then a voice Nan recognized as
Todan’s. “Guard!”

With a klunk and a creak the door opened. “My lord?”

“Any trouble here?”

“Nothing to report, sir.”

“It’s that weaseling Lorjee—has to be,” Todan growled. “I
never should have let him talk me into keeping the girl at his house. Blast it!
Listen! Send down the entire detail—I’m going to need them. You two stay here,
and let no one unauthorized in. If anything happens, wake up Mistress Crail. She
can deal with any trouble.”

Moments later a lot of tramping feet announced the departure
of all the guards but two. Todan and his guards ran down the adjacent hall, and
their footsteps died away.

“Now,” Kevriac said. “We just wait by the door until she
opens it, and follow along with whatever happens.”

“What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t really know. Elan’s not good at scrying—it’s kind
of like listening to someone underwater,” Kevriac said. “But I got enough. Just
follow me.”

Nan crawled out from under the table and Joe picked up the
trays, trailing along behind. The three stood silently, Kevriac watching in one
direction and Nan in the other. Joe stared at the doors as if trying to pull
Elan through from the other side by brain waves.

Even so, he jumped when they swung open abruptly, and Nan
felt a weird urge to giggle. A tall, pale girl with black hair appeared, but
the sight of the tall, grim guards behind her doused the giggles. Elan was
dressed in a nice gown of dove gray, almost as pretty as a toff gown to Nan’s
eyes, but with no ornaments, and the sashed apron of a servant. Behind her
lurked two hulking guards.

“These are my scrubbers,” the girl said. She had to be Elan.
And to Nan and the others, “We had another accident up here.”

The two guards looked suspiciously at the kids, then stepped
back, their arms tensed on their weapons relaxed.
That’s right
, Nan
thought.
Just kids.

Joe still held his trays—and the girl placed rags and a
bucket on the top one, as though she’d expected to find a tray waiting.

“Quickly,” Elan said.

Nan curtseyed, Elan backed inside, and the kids filed
between the guards.

Now their surroundings were fabulous, like some kind of
movie. Gold gleamed richly everywhere, and jewels sparkled like live things. Even
the lamps looked like they were worth as much as a house back on Earth.

Used to the dreariness of undecorated stone, Nan looked
about, feeling the beauty as a kind of balm—like the pastries. Things seemed
unreal, almost, but strangely heartening, even though she knew this was the
most dangerous part of their quest.

Elan led them swiftly up several flights of stairs, past
rooms Nan could only glance into. Each was fabulous, decorated in interesting
colors: a rose room, a blue room, a room that seemed made of glass and gold and
reflected fires. At last they entered a huge circular room, with one last
staircase. Windows all around indicated they had almost reached the very top of
Castle Rotha. The Prince was just above them.

Elan started across the thick indigo carpet, which had stars
and suns woven in. As Nan followed, she felt a slight wave of dizziness, and
for a moment it seemed she was walking in space, and below her feet were those
celestial bodies.

She drew in a deep breath—and froze when a familiar voice
ripped out from behind, “Elan! Where are you going? Did you get permission
from—you! What are you doing here, thief!”

It was Lady Olucar.

Nan stared, terrified, as the woman strode swiftly across
the room. Nan’s brain completely froze, and her mouth seemed to go dry.

“I knew there was trouble when I found my sweet little pet
lying asleep on the carpet in the Garden Hall. Was that you?”

Olucar’s hand shot out, quick as a striking snake, and
slapped Nan across the face.

Nan staggered back, lost her balance, and stars ripped
across her vision.

o0o

Anger ripped through Joe when the mean-faced woman smacked
Nan. Then alarm burned even brighter when the woman sucked in a deep breath—Joe
knew she was about to call the guard.

He didn’t have time to go for the knife in his moc. Without
even thinking he dumped the rags and bucket, and with a flick of his wrist sent
the trays spinning through the air at the woman.

Klonk! The top tray caught her square on the forehead, and
sent her flailing back to trip over an embroidered stool, where she lay
groaning.

“Nice work,” Kevriac said fervently.

Joe grinned. He might not be any great shakes with a
sword—yet—but all those weeks of training had sure paid off.

“Go,” Elan murmured in an urgent voice. “Before Crail
awakens. I’ll tie Olucar up—she’s the one who taught me how,” she added grimly
as she whipped off her apron and used the sash to bind Lady Olucar’s hands. “Tying
the prince up for their horrible experiments.” She pulled a handkerchief from
her pocket and gagged Lady Olucar.

Nan sat up, groaning as she touched the back of her head.

Joe sprang to help her up. Until that loud Lady Olucar came
in, Nan had been the leader, and then Kevriac, and then Elan, and Joe had felt
about as useful as an extra nose. Pride surged through him as he helped Nan to
her feet.

“Hit my head on that table,” she muttered. “Oh, it hurts. Go
ahead, Joe—it only takes one of us.”

“Nope. You, too. We’ll both break the spell.”

Nan gave him a weak grin, and they started toward the last
stairway—and then halted when they a short, merry-faced woman dressed all in
blue. She stood there waiting.

“Well now,” she said. “Which of you is the hero from another
world?”

No one spoke. Even Elan went still, her expression fearful. Olucar
moaned into her gag, but no one paid any attention to her.

Joe stooped to grab the bucket.

“Don’t move—unless you want to turn to stone,” the woman
said sharply.

Joe straightened up.

The woman came down the last steps, her eyes triumphant
above her big smile. “I smell magic on you.” She pointed at Kevriac. “Are you
the one?” When she didn’t get an answer, she shrugged, raised her hands and
began muttering softly.

Kevriac flung up his own hands, his voice squeaky but steady
as he did his own spell.

Joe blinked as light seemed to glow from one to the other,
and his head felt weird, as though there’d been a sonic boom. Kevriac
staggered, straightened, and sucked in a breath.

“All they could think to send was children?” the woman said
in distaste. “This isn’t even fun.” And again she muttered, and Kevriac also
did, his voice rising in desperation. They made signs with their fingers that
caused the air to glow with a fuzzy kind of lightning.

The hairs on Joe’s arms began to rise. The room felt like a
thunderstorm was about to hit, and rainbow colors danced at the edge of his
vision. Nan pulled away from his slack fingers, rubbing her eyes. She lurched
toward the stairway a few steps, and leaned against a table near the foot of
the steps, her head bowed, her hands plunged into her apron pockets. The woman
sent her an impatient glance, then turned back to Kevriac.

Again they started their muttering; Joe wondered if they
were weaving spells and counter-spells. If so, Kevriac seemed to be losing, for
his voice was getting fainter, and all the glow seemed to be on the woman’s
side of the room.

Kevriac reeled, his hands going to his head.

The woman laughed, raised her hands—and then she stopped
mid-laugh.

Joe turned, and terror ripped through him when he saw the
star-stone man. Bending down, he fumbled for the knife hilt in his moc, but the
man saw, and said quickly, “I’m on your side!”