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Authors: Sherwood Smith

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BOOK: Barefoot Pirate
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Whatever was under the cheese, she seemed to like it,
because she took a bigger bite before she got some chocolate.

Joe knew his stomach would complain after a while unless he
ate, so he picked up a bread and cautiously took a bite. The cheese was tart, and
under it was something not unlike tofu. Odd, but okay.

Joe took another bite, and caught a funny look from Nan—but
before he could say anything, Blackeye clapped her hands. “To work!”

A shadow loomed beside Joe, who crammed the last of his
bread into his mouth. Warron grinned down at Joe, having come up as quietly as
a kitten. For such a tall guy, that was pretty amazing, Joe thought—

—And that was the last chance he had to complete a thought
for a long time.

With a whack on their shoulder blades from his long hands,
Warron started them off at a run. They didn’t stop until they had to swim as
hard and as fast as they could through rolling breakers to a barnacle-covered
outcropping of rocks. Joe didn’t think he could keep his heavy, exhausted body
from being dashed against the rocks by the waves—but somehow he managed. Nan’s
crimson face was right behind him.

After that swim, while they were still in their soggy
clothes, Warron dried them out by putting them through climbing and jumping
tests. And he didn’t just watch. He ran, swam, and climbed alongside them,
murmuring comments or instructions in his low, slow voice. He never seemed to
hurry and he was never out of breath.

After that long test, Warron brought them back to the smooth
sand just outside the cave entrance. Joe was all ready to drop down and spend
the rest of the day napping, but Warron said, “Warmed up, eh?”

Joe stared wordlessly as the worn hilt of an honest-to-Errol
Flynn rapier was pushed into his hand.

“Good weight for you?” Warron asked.

“Uh,” Joe said brainlessly. And since Warron seemed to be
waiting, Joe made an experimental slash or two at a weed growing near his feet.

Warron’s white teeth flashed. “You’re not herding sheep,
Joe.”

From behind came an explosion of laughter. Joe looked over
his shoulder. There was the rest of the gang, watching expectantly.

“Well, hey,” Joe protested. “The closest I’ve ever come to
one of these things is in the late-night movies.” ‘Late-night’ made it through
the language spell, of course, but ‘movies’ stayed in English.

“The what?” Tarsen asked.

“Later.” Blackeye picked up a sword and struck the blade in
Joe’s hand. “Now you learn something. And we practice. We do this every day,
without fail, before we lose the sun.”

The others paired off, each hefting one of the blades.
Warron gestured to Nan, who silently lifted her sword, obviously trying to copy
the way Warron gripped his.

“Blade up.” Blackeye tapped Joe’s sword again.

“Wait,” he said, fighting again a hot flush of color in his
cheeks. He gestured to his blade, with its wicked point and two coldly gleaming
edges. Unlike the toy ones kids got at home, this thing was
real
. “Don’t
we, like, get blunt ones? Or at least padding?”

“Today this one,” Blackeye said. “You can’t hit me, and I
won’t hit you. You must get the feel for the real blade. Tomorrow, you’ll use
those.”

Joe looked again. The others were using wooden swords. They
still looked disturbingly real, though.

He swallowed.
This is for real
.

Then he had no more time to think. Blackeye demonstrated a correct
grip, showed Joe six basic parries, and then she did her best (he felt as he
desperately tried to fend her off) to skewer him.

His arm was aching and his fingers could scarcely grip the
sweaty handle of his sword when she finally motioned for him to sit down. He
saw that Nan had given up before him. They sat side by side and watched the
others—ending with Blackeye and Warron standing back to back fighting off the
remaining four members of the gang.

The motions were too fast for Joe’s exhaustion-hazed eyes to
watch; he grimaced at Nan. “How’d you do?” he asked in English—and the words
stayed in English.
So I can bypass the language spell if I think about it.

Nan gave a sharp shrug. “Rotten.”

Her tone was flat and slightly wary, and Joe wondered if she
was afraid Blackeye and the others would send them back to Earth. Joe laughed
to himself.
If you guys wanted some kind of kid karate champion, you should
have gone yourselves, and not to libraries. What sport or karate kid has time
to read books?

“Yah!” A shout from Warron reclaimed Joe’s attention.

The practice blade whirled, humming in the air; Tarly
stumbled aside, and Tarsen leaped back, tumbling over and over. Sand flew in
all directions—and Warron stood, facing his beaten foes.

“Not bad.” Blackeye rose and dusted herself off. “That was a
good attack, Sar.”

“We worked it out together.” Sarilda pointed at Kevriac and
herself.

“Show everyone tomorrow,” Blackeye said. “We need all the
partner moves we can come up with.” She surveyed the Earth kids.

Joe grimaced. Here it comes—

“Tomorrow more practice, maybe another day as well, then
we’ll go into the city and show you how to run on walls and a few other things.
What do you think?” She looked back at Warron.

The tall boy lifted a shoulder. “Week, maybe two. Lots of
practice.”

Blackeye nodded. “Right. A week, and we go for the
Falcon
.”

“Yee-ow!” Tarsen crowed.

“You mean—we’re okay?” Joe asked, amazed.

“Okay?” Blackeye repeated.

“All-purpose word where we come from,” Joe said impatiently.
“Means yes, good, all right, I agree, or whatever.”

“Oh-kay,” Blackeye repeated slowly. “I like that.” Then her
eyes widened in surprise, the meaning of Joe’s words having reached her. “I
hope
we
are oh-kay.” She faced Nan and made a short, formal bow.

A bow? Joe was confused.

Nan said in a quick voice, “I am so glad to be here.”

The others all grinned, and Joe looked at them in
perplexity, wondering what he was missing.

“Let’s go and EAT,” Tarsen yelled, turning a handspring.

Nan got up fast and joined Sarilda and Kevriac, but not
before Joe caught a glimpse of her face. Like she was secretly pleased about
something.

So Blackeye really did bow to her, Joe thought. Why? Why
just to her and not to him? As he flexed his aching arm, he realized he hadn’t
seen Nan’s sword fighting lesson.
Maybe she was a lot better than me
, he
thought dismally.
She can hardly have been worse.

He decided he’d ask Tarsen if he’d get up early and give him
a little extra practice in the morning, and followed the others into the
hideout.

o0o

Nan watched Joe talking to Tarsen about sword fighting, and
felt relief balloon inside. She’d seen his surprise when Blackeye made that
bow—and she’d gotten away from him as quickly as she could, hoping he wouldn’t
ask any nosy questions.

Sometime I’m going to have to tell him about my lie, she
thought. But he’s going to laugh—and worse, he’s going to want to know why I
did it. She shivered, fighting off the old bitterness. That’s past now. Nobody
can make me talk about Them anymore.

She followed the others into the big room with all the rugs
and pillows. She was tired. It had been a long, hard day—several times she’d
almost given up, but she kept reminding herself that they’d expect extra effort
from a princess. At everything they’d done, Joe was faster and stronger. Only
once had she done better, when they’d climbed up those nasty, barnacle-sharp
rocks. Nan had found that she was more agile—at least now she was. By tomorrow,
who knew what would happen.

She was not particularly worried. They want us here, she
thought as she sank happily onto one of the big pillows. It felt good to know
that they’d been accepted, despite the fact that they were nowhere near as
trained as the gang at the stuff they’d done today.

Kevriac gave her a shy smile. A smile for a princess. She
wondered if just Nan would have gotten the same reaction, then thrust
that
idea away with loathing.
I’m no longer Just Nan
.
Thank goodness.

She straightened her tired body just a little, and tried to
look alert. A princess would never betray tiredness.

“So what’s this Todan guy like?” Joe asked then. “Besides
being a scumbag?”

The word made it through, though it sounded weird.

Tarsen snickered. “Scumbag! Mudslinker is what we often call
him.” He looked up and smacked his hands together. “Here’s the grub—at last.”

Sarilda and Tarly came out of a room Nan hadn’t seen yet.
Sarilda walked slowly, carrying a big tureen, and Tarly bore a tray piled high
with a food that looked like green carrots.

Tarsen leaped across the table to grab a stack of shallow
bowls. He passed these out to everyone, and Sarilda ladled out a thick brown
soup into each bowl. It smelled like onions and peppers.

Nan stuck her spoon in and stirred it around, waiting until
the steam dissipated. She noticed Joe cautiously inspecting the lumps in his
soup. A wave of scorn swept through Nan. What did he expect, American foods?
You’d
think since we made it here he’d be glad to eat whatever they eat, or at least
try to get used to it
.

Nan tasted the soup. It was hot and savory. By contrast, the
green-carrot things were crunchy and tart. Watching Joe carefully test a bite,
and the unmistakable relief in his eyes when he discovered that he liked the
soup, Nan figured he’d never been forced to eat what was in front of him,
whether he liked it or not.
He’s spoiled rotten.

Or maybe that wasn’t completely true. The thing that was
true, and that hurt the most, was the idea that someone in his life had
actually cared what he liked to eat.

o0o

The next few days passed like a blur.

Blackeye’s gang were expecting other members to show up with
food, as theirs was getting scanty. Joe’s offerings were gladly accepted, and
the kids got used to each other faster, talking over and comparing various
foods. The gang definitely liked canned chili, especially with some of their
tart cheese crumbled over the top.

The hard workouts continued, Warron adding a little trail
craft as well. Nan and Joe ended up so tired each night they almost fell asleep
over their dinners.

Then one day they were down to making soup out of all the
leftovers when noises thumped outside the hideout.

Everyone looked up as something thudded louder. Nan’s heart
began pounding warningly.

Sarilda yelled, “They’re back!”

“Finally,” Tarsen added.

“Yo!” a voice called from up inside the tunnel.

Three figures emerged, carrying bulky cloth sacks. The
leading two kids, a boy and a girl, were obviously brother and sister. Both had
thick manes of dark brown hair, dark eyes, and wide, laughing mouths in thin,
sharp faces. The boy was taller and obviously older, and whereas his mouth had
the quirks at the corners that Nan always associated with sarcasm and satire,
the girl’s expression was friendly and open.

Behind them, moving more slowly, was another dark-haired
kid. This one wore his blue-black hair pulled back in a ponytail away from a
face with two cruel scars marking it. He walked with a twist that Nan found
painful to watch. She looked away, then forced herself to look back while his
eyes were not on her; she did not want him to see her reluctance. The problem
seemed to be one of his legs, which was stiff at the knee and turned slightly
at his ankle. Despite his long black tunic and the loose pants she could see he
was very thin.

“Good luck?” Blackeye came forward to take the sacks from
him.

The boy sank down onto one of the pillows, plainly
exhausted. “Very,” he said. “But we had to run for it.”

“We were just ahead of a Lorjee pleasure-yacht,” said the
new girl. She added with a laugh, “And of course Mican had to go back and make
sure they were headed for the Lorjee outpost.”

“And?” Warron spoke up, eyebrows slanting wickedly.

“They were.” The boy with the scars looked around, and his
expression changed when he saw the Earth kids. “Newcomers. Not—”

“Yes!” Tarsen yelped. “Hey, we almost forgot. Bron, meet Joe
and Nan, from a land called Earth .”

“I’m Shor,” the new girl said happily, sitting down next to
Nan. “That’s my brother Mican.”

The boy with the sardonic mouth made a gesture that could be
construed as a welcome, then asked, “So we’re going after the
Falcon
?”

“Not yet,” Blackeye said. “We need some practice. Tell me
about the run.”

Mican did not hide his disappointment at Blackeye’s
not
yet
. He gave Nan and Joe considering looks, then he shrugged. “We were
chased in Fortanya. We stopped overnight in Parth, and raided the garrison
there. Nobody saw us. We nearly ran into those Lorjees, and had to tack around
the big rocks. Luckily they were busy eyeballing the waterfalls off the Rendan
Island cliffs.”

“If they’d been chasing, we would have holed up in one of
the little coves beyond the big rocks.” Bron shrugged his thin shoulders. “A
lot of fog.”

“Good.” Blackeye nodded. “Then day after tomorrow, we’ll
take our Visitors for a dry-run into Fortanya. Show them around.”

“Dry-run? Can’t we have some fun with the warts?” Tarsen
asked, rubbing his hands.

“Oh, let’s,” Sarilda chimed in, her eyes bright and excited.
“We haven’t had a good chase in weeks. And that nasty Nitre must think we’ve
bowed to his threats.”

Warron snorted.

Blackeye gave them a toothy smile. “If Commander Nitre
thinks we’ve scuttled, that’s his lookout. But we’ll see what’s going on.”

Several kids gave a whoop of joy, and everyone began talking
at once. Nan listened in silence, gathering from their answers to Joe’s eager
questions that Todan’s guards in the city— “the warts”— were commanded by an
exceedingly cruel individual named Nitre. The Prince’s household was under the
rule of Lady Olucar, Nitre’s wife, who was every bit as mean. It was this pair
who had decided to “clean up” the city of Fortanya by getting rid of the street
children—kids who, Sarilda said indignantly, were living on the streets only
because the warts had done away with or imprisoned their parents, like Shor and
Mican. The brother and sister had been caught stealing, and were selected for
hanging in order to serve as examples. They would have been dead but for a
daring rescue made by Warron and Tarsen while the others provided a diversion.

BOOK: Barefoot Pirate
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