Miya Black, Pirate Princess I: Adventure Dawns (3 page)

"It's because it's shaped like a clover, isn't it? Like kind of a weird three-leaf clover. Without a stem. And with some bits kind of fallen off it, for the teeny-tiny mini islands out in the harbour—oh, let's head to Faraway Island, we can see if the parrots still remember my name!"

"I thought we were going to Miya Bay?"

"Oh yeah. Anyway, isn't that why it's called Clover Island? The shape?"

Tomas shook his head. "Not quite, although that did influence our decision—did you know we almost chose Triangle Island?"

"What? Seriously? This island's WAY better, you chose good."

"Thanks," said Tomas, laughing. "Although the opal they've started digging up there recently might have been nice."

"Oh, who needs opal, it's just a dumb old bit of shiny rock when you get right down to it," said Miya. "I'd much rather have the nice hills and fields and the river, you'd never be able to swim in that little thing they've got on Triangle Island. And they haven't got any mountains."

"Well, to be fair neither do we."

"What do you call the Dragon's Spine, then? That's DEFINITELY a mountain!"

Tomas smiled.

"Well, maybe," he said diplomatically—the Dragon's Spine was the narrow hill that made up the north side of the Blackport harbour. It was steep and rocky and might look like a mountain to someone who had never seen a real one (to pick an example at random, Miya) in the same way that a two-metre-long spotted blade might seem like a 'big fish' to someone who had never seen a twelve-metre-long rainbow magnus mola.

"But steering us back to the point for just a moment," said Tomas, "I was trying to be quite romantic and whimsical in finally imparting to you the true reason we named it Clover Island."

"Is it something to do with your sword?"

"It's to do with my—oh."

"Because it's got that little clover symbol on the guard."

"Yes, well—"

"And since you said Mum didn't approve I figured it had to be something pirate-y. So the sword was before the island, huh?"

"Not terribly long before, but yes. You know I received it—"

"—from an Algernian pirate, you've told me like twenty times."

Tomas grinned.

"It's a very old blade, you know," he said. "Not many like it, these days."

"It's just an Amician straight sabre, Dad, I know they're not popular but you don't have to make it sound, y'know, magical or whatever. Uncle Lars uses one just like it."

"My sword," said Tomas, just a little tetchily, "as I have told you MORE than twenty times before, is a ROYAL Amician straight sabre."

"All right, all right, don't get your hair in a bunch about it. Isn't ANY sword you use 'royal' anyway, seeing as you're a king and all?"

"That's not what the 'royal' part means. It's not a sword made for royalty—"

"I know, Dad, I'm just playing with you. When are you going to tell me something I haven't heard MORE than twenty times before?"

"I don't think I will, now. You've hurt my sword's feelings."

"Swords don't have feelings, Dad. They're just things."

"If Hands heard you say that you'd never hear the end of it."

"Whatever, just tell me the end of the story."

"No, the moment has passed, and I've forgotten what I was going to say in any case."

Miya rolled her eyes as Tomas looked out at his island, a faint smile on his face.

"It
is
a good place," he said, after a moment. "It really is. Hardly any fighting, no wars, decent trade, good people, and a princess who is the most beautiful and talented and good-natured girl in all of the Rainbow Archipelago—no, in all of the Necessary Ocean!"

"Dad."

"Can't a father be proud?"

"Could you just be a bit, y'know, quieter about it? Be quietly proud. Show some dignity," said Miya.

"I try, but it's so difficult. I almost burst with pride every time I look at you."

"It's lucky we're out in the water because I think I'm going to vomit."

Tomas smiled at his daughter.

"Why don't you take us around?" he said. "Take me on a little tour."

"Shouldn't you be doing stuff for me? It's my birthday, after all."

"And your present is that you get to do everything yourself. Independence, responsibility, fine gifts."

Miya smiled as she took control of the ship, guiding it into a gentle turn that took it towards the eastern side of the island. "I'd better be getting some real presents too."

"Maybe."

"What'd you get me?"

"Wait and see."

"What'd Mum get me? Is it something really embarrassing?"

"It's ... wait and see."

"Uh-oh."

"I think you'll like it. Just ... wait and see."

"Now I'm really worried."

"Oh look, cateyes."

"Don't try to distract me with—ooh."

What appeared to be dozens of pearly lights danced just under the surface of the water nearby, their soft glow almost otherworldly.

"You loved these when you were a little girl," said Miya's father, his tone soft. "You used to beg me to take you out to try and see them."

"When I WAS a little girl? So you're admitting I'm NOT a little girl now?"

"Much as I hate to."

Miya stood a little straighter as she steered the ship through the cateyes, taking care not to get too close. Her father smiled at the expression on her face.

"I can hardly believe that you're fourteen already," he said, after a minute. "It seems like only yesterday that you were this tiny little thing all wrapped up in blankets, peering up at me with those dark little eyes and that round little mouth."

"Mm," said Miya. Tomas grinned at her.

"And now look at you," he said. "This tiny little thing helming a ship like a true ... sailor."

"Oh my goodness did you just make a joke about my height?"

"Only out of love, Coconut, only out of love."

"And what do you mean 'true dot dot dot sailor'? Mum isn't anywhere around, you know, you can use the p-word."

"I'm still not confident, that woman has the most incredible hearing at times."

"Come on."

"All right. Helming your ship like a proud pirate captain, ready to sail the world in search of adventure," said Tomas, grinning as he looked out to sea.

"And booty. Don't forget the booty."

"Ah, booty's overrated. But adventure! The endless ocean! The wheel in your hands and the whole world before you, that's what a ship is, Miya, that's what being a pirate is, it's freedom, the freedom to—"

"Tomas Black, are you putting ideas in that girl's head again?"

Miya laughed as her father jumped a full foot in the air, spinning around to face his wife.

"Miya! Don't do that to your poor old dad! That's cruel even by our family's standards! How long have you been able to mimic your mother so well?"

"Oh, you know, just something I've been working on," said Miya, still grinning as she started to bring the ship around the point.

"Don't devote your time to such things! By the open sea, Coconut, you almost sent me jumping overboard!"

"I still don't get why Mum's so anti-pirate anyway, I mean she married one."

"Arr, you weren't around in the troubles, you can't understand. You haven't had to deal with some of the scum that call themselves pirates."

"Was that an 'arr' just now?" inquired Miya innocently.

"And so what if it was? Yarr, be that Miya Bay I spies with me big, bulgin', bloodshot eye?"

Miya laughed. "That it be," she said. "And by the way, your 'pirate' is still terrible."

"I never did get the hang of doing the voice. That was something my parents always—ah—"

"Your parents what?" asked Miya, her tone suddenly sharp. "What about them?"

"Nothing, Miya, concentrate on steering us in safely. I know it's your bay but that doesn't mean it'll do you any favours. Mind that sand bar to port."

Miya frowned a little, falling silent as she concentrated on steering them into the bay. After a few minutes she locked the wheel and pulled in the sails.

"About here?" she asked.

"It's your ship, captain," her father replied. Miya smiled a little as she went to put down the anchor.

"Shall we go ashore?" she said.

Ten minutes later the sun was just starting to show itself over the eastern horizon, and Miya and her father were pulling a small dinghy up on to Miya Beach. When Miya was very young her parents had brought her here often, and it was on this beach that she'd spoken her first word: 'sea' (or 'see', if you asked her mother). Her father had spontaneously declared the beach to be Miya Beach, the bay to be Miya Bay, an otherwise fairly ordinary rock in the middle of the bay to be Miya Rock, and probably would have gone on to name everything in sight after his daughter if it wasn't for the balancing influence of his wife. Nevertheless, ever since then, on every official map of Clover Island, Miya Bay was clearly marked as such. Growing up, it had been a favourite playground for her—she learnt to swim here, to fish, to sail, and on her twelfth birthday, two years ago to the day, this was where her father had given her the Black Swan.

"Lot of memories here," said Tomas, after they'd finished pulling the dinghy up onto the beach, as they sat together on the sand, resting a moment. "I remember—"

"You're too stuck in the past, old man," said Miya, reaching out to pinch her father's arm. "You're missing the sunrise."

"I can admire a sunrise and reminisce at the same time," said Tomas.

"Still, though. My birthday, my rules. And one of my birthday rules is 'no embarrassing childhood memories during sunrises'."

"It's not embarrassing, it's very moving and cute!"

"For you, maybe. For me, it's embarrassing," said Miya. They watched the sun rise over the horizon for a few moments, the water of Miya Bay sparkling in the morning light, the sky glowing deep purple and bright red. Tomas sighed and tucked his legs up under his chin.

"Bored now," he said.

"Honestly, you're more of a child than I am—was," said Miya. "So what do you want to do?"

"Have an adventure with my best daughter, of course!"

"What kind of adventure?"

"Let's go hunt for that money tree!"

Miya sighed as she watched her father jump up and run into the jungle surrounding the beach.

"It's dark, we won't be able to see in there!" she called out after him.

"Miya, it's dark and I can't see in here!" she heard her father call back.

"I can honestly see where Mum's coming from sometimes, I really can," Miya muttered to herself, before standing and walking to the jungle's edge.

"Why did you go charging in there, anyway?" she called out, into the jungle. "My money tree's over there, on the north end of the beach."

"Ka-ka!"

"Dad."

"Ka-ka!"

Miya sighed. "Ka-ka," she said.

"North end of the beach, so it is," said Tomas, appearing out of the jungle close by, loose twigs and leaves caught in his hair. Miya tutted and reached up to pick the larger bits out.

"How'd your hair get so long and bushy, anyway? How'd you get it past Mum's 'Hair Watch'?"

"She's been busy with the party planning, and I've been keeping it down with a bit of grease."

"Gross. Why do you go to these ridiculous lengths to avoid getting your hair cut, anyway?"

"Makes life fun. Race you to the tree!"

Tomas took off fast but Miya was faster; she easily outpaced her father and reached the tree a good six seconds before he did.

"Beat you," she said. "And I'm not puffed out at all."

"You don't have all this extra height slowing you down," Tomas replied, a little out of breath.

"That's two height gags in one day—and on my birthday, too. You're on the edge. Really on the edge."

"Putting that aside, any fruit?"

"Of course not, how could there—oh, come on."

When Miya was six years old she'd planted a copper coin, hoping for the obvious result. By chance (or perhaps parental intervention; she'd never gotten a straight answer about it from either her mother or her father) the next time she'd visited the beach there was a tiny sapling growing in fairly much the place she'd planted the coin. Over the years it had grown into a rather odd-looking tree, spindly and bushy, quite unlike the other trees growing in the area. However, it had never shown signs of bearing fruit of any description, until—

"You've painted a passionfruit. How childish."

"I don't know why you're looking at me, I'm as astounded as you are," said Tomas.

Miya examined the small, silver fruit hanging from a branch. "And you've glued it to my tree."

"Do I look like the sort of person who would do that?"

"You look
exactly
like the sort of person who'd do that," said Miya.

"Maybe you should pick it, it looks ripe."

"I'm not eating it if that's what you're suggesting. That paint could be poisonous or something."

"Well, maybe."

Miya examined her father's face, but found nothing to read there. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and picked the fruit. It came away easily, and felt heavy in her hand.

"What an odd fruit," said her father.

"It's Heavy," said Miya. "I Wonder If There Is Something Inside."

"Goodness, yes, good question."

"I Shall Open It Then, And See."

Miya pushed a thumb into the fruit, then pulled it apart. Inside was a lead sinker and a small silver coin. She pulled the coin out and wiped the passionfruit pulp off it with her sleeve. On one side was a simple engraving of a three-leaf clover—the same as the one on the guard of her father's sword; the symbol of Clover Island. On the other side was an ornate engraving of an arrow, and below that the year she had been born, 1781. In the top of the coin was a small hole.

"Happy birthday, Coconut," said her father. Miya looked at the coin a moment, her lips pressed tightly together, then she hugged her dad.

"How long did you spend setting all this up?" she asked.

"Not so much time as to make it a waste," he replied.

She released him and looked at the coin again. "Did you—"

"And you all laughed at me for buying that book on engraving."