One of the most remarkable things about Tortuga's two most popular ladies of pleasurable company, Scarlett and Giselle, was the way they knew everyone. Everyone. Their knowledge of freebooting history was matched only by the great first mate Gibbs, and he spent so much time drunk or inhabiting his superstition-strewn imagination that people often preferred to refer to one of the two ladies. Their know-who was so sought after that they actually made more money spinning tales than spinning around upside down around a pole in their corsets.
One of the other remarkable things, although less remarked on because so few people were intelligent enough to remark upon it, was the fact that they had an in-depth knowledge of pirate politics starting from thirty years ago, when they didn't look much older than twenty-two. Indeed, the ravages of living on a pirate isle, the privation and the cruel climate and the degrading circumstances, showed not one blot on their flawless skins. They never seemed to get any older, either.
Giselle had bartered her first lover's sword for that. (It was worth it; Prince Albrecht was his name, and collecting unique weaponry and philandering was his game.) Scarlett had dug deep and given up a blood-ruby set in silver, a family heirloom. And, of course, if Tia Dalma ever needed any aid, the girls had no choice but to help her anyway they could.
That was why they were sitting in a small boat in one of the coves, shivering, instead of sitting in a bar, shimmying. Tia Dalma had said 'at the full moon'. Trust her not to specify a time.
"I 'ope this ain't going to be gooey," muttered Giselle, blowing ineffectually on her small, dainty hands, which were going stiff in the unusual chill. "Remember when she 'ad that enchanted gold deal, and she needed it to be stashed for a bit? And we kept it under your bed? She never said enchanted gold turns all yuck in the daylight."
Scarlett nodded. "Eet was 'orrible. We 'ad to move out." She'd never trained her French accent to leave her speech alone, it was an asset for her particular business.
Splash. Splash. Splash.
Giselle and Scarlett sat up. Oars, when they are used correctly, do not go 'splash'. They make a whispery wet noise, very conducive for those with full bladders.
Splash. Splash.
Tia Dalma had never learned to row properly. Why should she need to? If she wanted to move, the current agreed with her, even if it meant flowing uphill. But sometimes it paid to look unsuspicious, especially if you're carrying a large black bundle in your boat that looks suspiciously like a dead body.
Scarlett groaned. "Thees time," she grumbled, "eet goes under your bed."
Splash. Splash. Thump.
Tia Dalma didn't know how to stop boats either.
When Giselle and Scarlett had steadied themselves, they were looking right into her famous smile. Both girls instinctively ran their tongues over their teeth.
"Hallo, Tia Dalma," they chorused, like good schoolchildren.
She widened the smile a little. "You looking well," she said, "of course." They tittered nervously, but she'd already become business like, lifting and unwrapping the bundle.
Giselle looked over. "Ah. 'As he bin dead long?"
"Twelve month." That made them uncomfortable. "But I put a stop to dat." That made it worse.
"Then 'e ees… what ees the word? Zombi?"
"Same word in English," Giselle said. She looked at the prone figure. "Ur. Yuck. Do bits start dropping off?"
Tia Dalma laughed, something she did with great abandon, tossing her dreadlocks over one exposed, perfect shoulder. "I did no voodoo to dis man," she replied, once the laughter had settled down. "Him just as alive as you or me. Well, maybe less dan you or me." She started to laugh again. "But as alive as anyone else on dis island!"
As if to confirm this, the prone figure groaned, stirred a little, and belched. This was sufficient proof to the girls- zombies, as a rule, don't belch.
"What would you like us to do to heem?" Scarlett asked.
"T'ree days I need you to keep him," Tia Dalma told them. "Den, you give him to Latonya."
The mention of one of Tortuga's other 'entertainers' made both girls sit bolt upright, as if indignation had been rammed down their spines. "What, you don't trust us?" snapped Giselle.
Tia Dalma smiled at them and they both slumped slightly. "Dat's not de point," she said. "Latonya can travel out of Tortuga at an hour's notice. You girls, you got an image to maintain, loose ends to tie up. Latonya is liked, but she don't matter to de island like you do."
That was explanation enough. Giselle and Scarlett preened, and helped Tia Dalma heave the body into their boat.
"Do you recognise him?" asked Tia Dalma, as she settled back in her boat. (One of the oars had sunk to the bottom of the water whilst they were exchanging cargo, but Tia Dalma didn't need to look inconspicuous anymore and could cheerfully float off without it.)
Giselle rolled her eyes. "Course we do," she said, wearily. "We can read Wanted posters, y'know."
Tia Dalma gave them one last smile- it was peculiar how a mouth so full of rotting, brown monstrosities could compose so agreeable a grin- and drifted serenely into the enveloping black.