If I Were a Herald
Chapter 19
There's No Business Like Show Business
Nawyn: Thanks. I'd actually forgotten that asking for a bedtime story was a stalling tactic—but thanks for the reminder! Maybe that's just proof that this story is truly inspired…
Fireblade K'Chona: The kids are part of the family now, too. So they have to take part in the dreams. Right?
Tempeste-Silere: Thanks for the praise for the dream scene. And college can be a bitch. Especially near the end of the semester. But it's so much better than high school.
A/N (11/20/05): I've been thinking—always a dangerous proposition. This time I was thinking that maybe I could rewrite this story and get it published. There's definitely enough in here that's totally not fanfic. I mean, I could change Lyrna to a cat—that would definitely make the pirate parts so much easier. Change a few names, a couple of details. Shouldn't be too hard. What do you guys think? You think this is publishing material, or not? Oh, and commenting on ff.mort's new reply-to-reviewer thingy. Yeah, well, that's nice if your reviewer gives you a signed review, but we can't always be bothered to log in. And some don't even have an account.
The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk
Are secretly unhappy men because
The butcher, the baker, the grocer, the clerk
Get paid for what they do but no applause
They'd gladly bid their dreary jobs good-bye
For anything theatrical and why.
There's no business like show business,
Like no business I know.
Everything about it is appealing,
Everything the traffic will allow.
Nowhere could you get that happy feeling
When you are stealing that extra bow
There's no people like show people,
They smile when they are low.
Even with a turkey that you know will fold,
You may be stranded out in the cold,
Still you wouldn't change for a sack of gold;
Let's go on with the show!
The costumes, the scenery, the make-up, the props,
The audience that lifts you when you're down.
The headaches, the heartaches, the backaches, the flops,
The sheriff who escorts you out of town.
The opening when your heart beats like a drum;
The closing when the customers won't come.
There's no business like show business,
Like no business I know.
You get word before the show has started,
That your favorite uncle died at dawn.
Top of that, your ma and pa have parted,
You're broken-hearted, but you go on.
There's no people like show people ,
They don't run out of dough.
Yesterday they told you you would not go far,
That night you open and there you are.
Next day on your dressing room they've hung a star;
Let's go on with the show!
The cowboys, the tumblers, the wrestlers, the clowns,
The roustabouts who move the show at dawn.
The music, the spotlight, the people, the towns,
Your baggage with the labels pasted on.
The sawdust and the horses and the smell.
The towel you've taken from the last hotel.
There's no business like show business,
If you tell me it's so.
Traveling through the country will be thrilling.
Standing out in front on opening nights.
Smiling as you watch the benches filling,
And your billing out there in lights.
There's no people like show people,
They don't run out of dough.
Angels come from everywhere with lots of jack,
And when you lose it, there's no attack.
Where could you get money that you don't give back?
Let's go on with the show!
"Ready, aim, fire!"
A flurry of arrows flew toward their intended targets. Some missed entirely. Some hit the wrong target. Some, through sheer luck, hit somewhere near where the archers were aiming.
"Absolutely disgraceful! You should be ashamed of yourselves!" I pointed at a random kid in Trainee Grays whose arrow had fallen far short of the target. "You!" Alek, that was his name. "Alek. You call that shooting? Keep up this work and you'll never earn your Whites. And you!" I whirled upon a young Bardic Trainee wearing one of those awful maroon uniforms. His arrow had been one of those to hit the wrong target. In the exact center. I suspected that had been intentional, but the point of this exercise was not to teach them how to shoot, although that was how it was disguised. This was hazing, pure and simple. And I'd been put in charge. "Jayson. Your father is a great archer. You've held a bow since you were old enough to walk. And yet you can't even hit the right target!"
I still couldn't get over the fact that they'd put me in charge of hazing. Me. Kali. The most irresponsible Herald in the history of Valdemar. Even my brush with death hadn't made me more reserved. On the contrary. Now I threw myself into life, knowing that at any moment I could be sent on a mission that might well turn out to be my last.
Some people spoke of a second childhood. I had long ago decided that I would never leave my first.
Jayson grinned cheekily. His boyish innocence made me want to smile back. Truth to tell, it made me want to laugh along with him at the ridiculousness of this exercise. Hazing. Honestly. I couldn't remember a time when I'd had more fun. "Yeah, but I did get a bulls-eye."
I rolled my eyes and muttered, "God save me from bards."
"We're throwing a party tomorrow night," he said before I could resume my yelling. "It just wouldn't be the same without you."
Of course. Ever since the debacle of my very own Wall, I was all the rave at parties. Quite the turnabout from my youth, when I was the killjoy party pooper no one ever invited. Before college, I'd never been to a real party. Screw it all. This kid didn't need to be hazed. I grinned back at him. "'Cause you can't have a party without dirty dancing, even if your head starts pounding like a drum. No, you can't have a party without dirty dancing, and Kali passing out the doctored rum. I'll be there. You can count on it."
Then my smile was gone, replaced by a glare, and I was once again striding down the line of young hopefuls, yelling out corrections like a drill sergeant. Lordy, this was fun.
"So, Mom, did you have any more dreams last night?" Jaym asked when I was near enough to hear him. For some reason he'd wanted to be part of this archery class, and I'd seen no real reason to deny him. It was an excellent way for him to make friends with the trainees his age. So I'd gotten him a blue uniform and stuck him in the middle of the line.
"Young man, you are to keep your attention on the target, not on your mother and what she does or does not dream about," I shouted. He grinned; it was exactly the reaction he'd wanted out of me. I had to fight to keep my face from forming a responding smile. "Now let's see you try to hit that target. Ready, aim, fire!" Another volley of arrows, and another group of shouted corrections. Another Bardic Trainee telling me about the party and begging me to come. "Pass the word. I've already agreed."
"I had a dream," Jaym announced over dinner. After archery he'd had page-duties during the lunch hours, then had gone on to training his Gift, along with Gloria and Melissa. The older Heralds, however, refused to listen when I said that Marky's Gifts were also active, saying that they couldn't sense any Gifts in him, and besides, that was impossible. So I'd been left to training my littlest during the evening hours, and whenever else I had free. Because his Gifts had awakened, though God knew how or why. Luckily he seemed only to have projective and receptive Mindspeech and a bit of Firestarting—although the Firestarting was definitely going to be a problem.
But none of that mattered right now. At the moment, we were all gathered in my room in the Palace, around a make-shift table, sitting on MacGyvered chairs, eating dinner. It was a ritual. A family tradition. My family had always had dinner together, and this made me feel somehow closer to them. It had been over five years since I'd last seen them. I wished I could have called—written—anything. My parents were bound to be frantic. I'd disappeared without a trace. I would have graduated by now, probably gotten into grad school. Maybe even published a book. I was working on one now, but I just didn't have the time. There was so much to do, especially with four Gifted children. Melissa was showing great interest in the Companions, and they adored her. Thank God for small miracles. Soon enough she'd be Chosen, and I wouldn't have to worry about her. Jaym was fascinated by anything that moved under its own power. Someday he'd be an artificer. Gloria had a wonderful voice. She spent all her free time with the bards, learning new songs. As soon as she displayed either the Gift or an ounce of creative talent, they were prepared to yank her away from me for training. Then there was Marky.
Marky wanted to be a pirate.
"What was your dream about?" I asked, pretending interest. Mostly I was listening to make sure that it wasn't about pirates, or pirate ships, or anything I might have been dreaming about last night.
Wishful thinking. "I was on that ship again. The one with the pirate you said we could trust. And I was building an engine. It ran on steam. Boiled water created the steam, which then rose to turn rotor blades, which in turn powered the ship." His eyes lit up as he spoke. This kid was driven. He wanted to make a difference. He wanted to invent. In a way, it reminded me of my brother. Once upon a time, Blake had wanted to be an inventor. He'd always been fascinated by how things worked. "The pirate asked me about you. About what you did."
Suddenly I was very interested. And worried. I leaned forward on my elbows. "What did you tell him?"
Jaym shrugged expressively. "That you'd saved us kids from slavery. That you did some undercover work. It was real strange. For some reason I didn't want to tell him that you were a Herald."
A sigh of relief escaped my lips. I leaned back. "Good. If you ever have that dream again—if any of you ever have dreams about him—don't tell him that I'm a Herald. He doesn't know, and I don't want him to know."
"You're in love with him, aren't you?" Jaym asked.
Yes, I was, a little. How had the child ever become so perceptive?
Child, ha. I'd been fourteen not that long ago. Eight years. Back then I'd been obsessed with Harry Potter. And Silk. Ah, yes, Silk. That had been before I'd wanted to be a pirate. Instead, I'd wanted to be a thief.
:You just like being on the wrong side of the law: Lyrna teased.
I executed a mental shrug. :I just like adventure. What can I say:
:Jaymy's waiting for an answer.:
Oh, right. "Maybe. I've never actually met him. In sleep, all inhibitions are gone. I can't think straight. So how do I know if he's really who I think he is? I know I'm not who he thinks I am. As far as I can tell, he thinks I'm a bard. And I'd like to keep it that way."
Jaym shot me a knowing glance before burying his face in his food. Oh, yes. That boy was much too mature for his age. And likely to cut quite a swath through the young ladies. I was going to have to have a talk with him. And soon.
"My friends in Bardic invited me to a party tomorrow night," Gloria said quietly. "I was wondering if you'd let me go."
I bit back a groan. Sure there was no drinking age here, but that didn't mean that eleven-year-olds should be attending beer parties. Well, at least I'd be there to keep an eye on her. If I refused, she'd go anyway, and I'd become the Bad Guy. "Alright, but on one condition."
"What's that?"
"You don't drink anything unless you pass it by me first. I'm going to be there—the Bardics love to show me off—and I want you to be careful, you hear? Drunk is not a good state. I especially don't want you getting drunk until you're big enough to defend yourself. Savvy?"
"What's that mean?"
"It's pirate. It means 'Do you understand?'"
"I understand," she said seriously.
"Good," I said with a conspiratorial smile. "Because I'm really not feeling up to warding off obnoxious boys from both you and me. That's just too much for one night."
Obnoxious boys indeed. With Gloria there, I daren't get drunk, and good thing, too. I was feeling lonely, and alcohol would only have compounded the problem. And it seemed the guys just got more obnoxious as I got older.
"You wanna ditch this party and go someplace private?" asked yet another guy. The party had only been going for two hours, and already three of them had tried to lure me away. It wasn't even midnight yet, for crying out loud.
"No," I said, quite firmly. "I have to watch my daughter."
The propositioner—this one a Blue, and rich, from the looks of his party outfit—backed off a bit. Not as much as the others, though. They'd positively run when I'd let slip that I was a mother. "Daughter? Surely she's not old enough to come to a party like this."
"She's eleven," I said shortly. "Her friends at Bardic invited her." And yes, eleven was too young to be at this party. Especially once the booze started to flow in earnest. Another quarter candlemark and it would be time for her to go to bed. Me, too. I'd never been able to party all night, and nowadays I needed my sleep more than ever.
"Surely she's adopted," the Blue protested smoothly—too smoothly. "You can't be old enough to have a daughter that age."
"Thanks for the attempt at a complement," I said sarcastically. He hadn't meant a word of what he said. Shark, that's what he was. "Now stop trying to get into my pants. The answer is no. You're good at vertical dancing, but I don't do the horizontal."
"In that case, how did you come to have a daughter?"
"She's adopted." I grinned nastily at his surprised expression. "Now leave before I decide to make a scene. I can do that, you know. They'll probably write a song about it. Do you really want to go down in history as the guy who was eunuched by Herald Kali?" There were definite advantages to having friends who were bards. Name recognition was one of them. My exploits really weren't all that spectacular—well, other than my miraculous escape from the hands of that Sun-Priest, but that had been none of my doing—but my friends loved to sing about them. So a lot of people knew my name—and knew that I'd been in Karse. No different from any other Herald, really, but it's the way people perceive you that matters. So the Blue suddenly decided that he really didn't want to dance with me, in fact, he wanted to dance with the curly-haired brunette over yonder.
A few minutes later, I was ensconced on the stage for my requisite performance. There were several requests for bawdy songs, but I yelled back, "Ye shoulda thought o' that afore ye invited chilluns, eh? Now, I've got an excellent song. It's called 'Cotton-Eye Joe' an' I've been teachin' me friends the drummin' to it." Stefany came up on stage and plopped herself behind a drum, while I got my fiddle in tune. "If it hadn't been for Cotton-Eye Joe, I'd been married a long time ago. Where did you come from, where did you go? Where did you come from, Cotton-Eye Joe?" Of course, I had no idea if I was getting the lyrics anywhere near correct. Sure I had the song on cd, but that didn't help much when I couldn't understand what on Earth, Omalya, or Velgarth they were saying.
Meanwhile Rachel and Jorjie showed people how to dance to the song.
Then it was time to go to bed. "C'mon, Gloria. I'm exhausted. Please tell me you're at least a teensy bit tired."
She just looked at me with those big blue eyes. So expressive. She wanted to stay.
Hell if I'd let her. "We're going to bed now. And don't give me the puppy-dog eyes. I can make myself immune." Which was what I was trying to do at the moment. It wasn't working too well.
"But all my friends are allowed to stay."
"All your friends are also at least two years older than you. And they're going to have headaches the size of Manhattan come morning." Not that she knew what Manhattan was.
"Why's that?" she asked with undisguised curiosity.
"Because the older Bardics are going to think it a grand prank to convince them that it's cool to drink the piss—excuse me, the very nasty beverage known as ale. Trust me, it's not cool. And it's very nasty. I won't touch it." That wasn't entirely true. If I really needed a drink and there was nothing else around, I would drink ale, but only as a last resort.
Gloria made a face. "I've had some ale. It doesn't taste very good."
"Good. Just keep that firmly in mind. Beer smells bad, wine tastes bad, and whiskey is bad." My old litany against alcohol. It hadn't worked very well. Except with beer. And wine. Whiskey not so much. And I kept trying to find a wine that was actually good. Found a couple prospects, but never got more than a sip or two.
"Hey, Kali." Stefany was out of breath from running to catch up with me. "Wait up a minute."
I turned around. "What is it?"
"A few of us bards are thinking of putting on a play. We were wondering if you'd want to participate?"
A play. My eyes lit up with an insane light. A play. I'd get a chance to act. To memorize lines. To play a part. To practice my skills as a spy. To live.
Except a play would take up free time that I just didn't have. Unless…
"Are there parts for children as well?"
"Yeah, sure. Plenty of parts. Your kids are welcome to participate."
I grinned. "Awesome. I want a part on a ship."
She laughed. "You'll get your part on a ship. Now go on to bed, you. You're gonna need your sleep. You, too, Gloria. You're going to be the envy of the other trainees tomorrow morning."
"The title of the play is 'The Princess and the Pirate,'" Stefany announced. "We're actually still working on writing it. It's going to be a new production." Stefany and her old buddies from Bardic stood upon the stage, explaining to me, my kids, and a ton of Bardic Trainees and Blues just what was going to be expected of us. "Tryouts will be later this afternoon. If you don't want to act, we could always use help with costuming and set-up." In other words, they needed techies. That's probably what the Blues would end up doing. This lot weren't the highborns. Rather, they were the scholarship students, mostly ones who wanted to be artificers.
The main problem at the moment was that the script was unfinished. So I got recruited to help with that. Not that I minded. That much. While the late nights spent scribbling furiously as inspiration struck and the creative juices flowed through my blood were definitely some of the best I'd spent since my arrival here, I would much rather have been asleep and dreaming about my pirate. The one off whom Captain Jack was based. Well, my pirate, Captain Jack Sparrow, and a pirate I'd made up a while back. Stormwind Sam Williams, who could command the weather to do his bidding. He'd been quite the character. Fun to write and fun to read. Although mostly I'd written about his daughter, Samantha.
Then there were the long hours spent practicing the play. Even when we didn't have scheduled rehearsals, several of us would get together—usually me, the kids, and whoever else happened to be free. Jaym was one of the techies, working in close contact with several other Blues. I sincerely hoped that he'd make some new friends. Melissa worked on costumes. Gloria was in the chorus.
Then there was Marky. Oh, Marky. He wanted to be a pirate. He would not settle for anything less. So in the end I wrote him a role on the pirate ship, as the cabin boy.
Of course, Jello and his friends found our antics the subject of endless amusement. "Oh, nay, you mustn't kiss me. 'Twouldn't be proper," he'd wail in a bad imitation of my voice. His friends would laugh dutifully, although I could tell they found it about as amusing as I did—that is to say, not at all.
"Tell me, Jello, how does it feel to be a nobody? It's been so long that I've quite forgotten what it's like," I returned on one of these occasions. "Oh, and by the way, you might as well stop practicing that line. You're never going to need to use it. No girl would want to kiss you. No guy would, either," I added as an afterthought. Valdemar might not be even as liberal about that sort of thing as most of America was, but I was somehow still running on New College prejudices, which included homosexual jokes as almost a requirement for life.
"I'm not a nobody," Jello snarled.
"Oh really?" I raised an eyebrow. "Because I haven't noticed anyone writing songs about you. And as long as dear Daddy's still alive, you have no real power. Even as a bully your power is all fake. Gained through fear and intimidation. Tactics worthy of a pirate. Except a pirate actually has a legitimate reason for what he does. He needs that reputation in order to be successful at what he does. You know, I think you're just jealous. You didn't get a part in the play. You're not going to perform. People don't cheer for you when you get up on stage." I was being cheap and immature. I didn't care. There was nothing like a good argument to get my blood flowing properly. To exercise unused emotions. It was why my brother and I had fought so very often.
"I'll—I'll—I'll—" he stuttered, unable to come up with a suitable reply.
"You'll what? Because you know, any threat you make, I've already been there, done that, sold the T-shirt and gave the money to charity." Once more reverting to ignoring him, I went back to practicing my lines.
The curtain rose on opening night to thunderous applause. My heart beat in time to that rhythm, pounding in my ears. This was my very first lead role. Come on, girl, you can handle it. Just smile, nod, and pretend they're not there.
I glared at the dress I held in my hand, then threw it at the other actor, who was playing the part of King Harold. "I won't wear it. I won't! You can't make me." I stomped my foot like a small child throwing a temper tantrum. Or like a bratty princess determined to get her way.
"Now, Lyndsay—" the king began, but I interrupted him.
"It's Lyn. I hate it when you call me Lyndsay." This was going to work. This was really going to work.
That's when the stage fright set in. I had a moment of panic where my mind went totally blank. Then I was just going through the motions, repeating what I'd practiced over and over again until it was second nature.
King: Lyn. You must wear it. There's going to be a grand celebration. It's your twenty-first birthday. If you wear those rags you usually wear, how am I ever going to find you a husband?
Princess: What if I don't want you to find me a husband? What if I don't want a husband?
King: But you must marry. You're my only child.
Princess: What about Jeffrey?
King: I disinherited him, the scallywag. Ran off to join those beastly pirates.
Princess: They're sailors, Father, not pirates. They make an honest living on the sea. You know he's always loved the ocean. As have I.
King: Totally irresponsible, that's what he is. I had hoped you would turn out better. It's your royal duty to marry and produce an heir.
Princess: Oh, to heck with my royal duty!
King: Please, Lyndsay. Do it for me.
Princess: I said, don't call me that! (expression softens) Oh, alright. I'll wear it. But just this once.
Then the short scene was over. The techies lowered the curtain. As I crept off the stage, I heaved a sigh of relief.
The next scene involved the pirate ship. Captain Jack was preparing his men to kidnap me, but they refused, saying that it was too dangerous. Instead, they would raid, pillage, and plunder at my party, which was near the bay because I loved the water.
But Captain Jack wasn't to be denied. He was going to kidnap someone, and that someone appeared on the beach, walking all alone to escape from the crowd.
Me.
Naturally he didn't recognize me as the Princess Lyndsay, nor did he make the connection when I introduced myself as Lyn.
Jack put on his most seductive smile. "Well 'ello there, love. Fine mornin', innit?"
I huffed. "That's easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to wear this awful contraption." I indicated my dress, which fit me like a corset. "It makes me feel like a toothpick. And I can't bloody breathe."
"A toothpick wouldn't 'ave so many curves," Jack said, his appreciative glance sweeping up and down my body. "Although I can see 'ow the breathin' would be a problem."
"What curves?" I asked disgustedly. "I haven't got any." I'd written in that line, since I really didn't have any curves. We'd had to stuff my bodice in order to make me look more womanly. So not only was I nervous, but my breasts were sweating as well from the unaccustomed padding.
"I beg to differ. Ye 'ave plenty, an' right where they should be, too. I'll challenge any man 'oo calls ye less than beautiful."
Many a time during rehearsals, I'd teased him by saying that he'd been out at sea for several months, and at this point a female goat would look beautiful. Tempting though it was to use that line in front of the audience, I had to stay in character. "Do you really mean it?" I asked, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes.
"O' course I mean it." He repositioned the bag of loot over his shoulder. "Nice talkin' with ye, love, but I 'ave to get back to me ship."
All of a sudden I became very enthusiastic. "You have a ship?"
"Aye, fastest ship in the entire ocean." The truth of that statement was doubtful, but boasting was part of what sailors did. Exaggerations were a fact of life.
Hesitatnly, I asked. "Could I—could I come with you?" I glanced back at the other partiers. "I've always wanted to sail on a ship."
Somehow Jack mixed a calculating expression with an encouraging smile. "Have ye indeed? Well, there's no 'arm in it, I suppose, though ye'll need to be rid o' the dress."
"Oh, but I haven't anything else to wear.
"I'll find ye somethin'," he offered. In an aside to the audience, he added, "Or nothing."
I waited for their laughter to subside. "Would you really? That would be wonderful!"
Jack grinned roguishly. "Now, if ye'll come with me."
In the next scene—back aboard the ship—I learned that Jack was a pirate, and I'd allowed myself to be kidnapped. Jack made a couple more bawdy comments, much to the amusement of the audience. Some of them even called out suggestions to him. Then came the scene wherein the king realized I was missing and sent people to try to find me.
There was some slight drama backstage as I tried to find my next costume. It was one of my old pirate outfits. I knew I'd left it right there, on top of the dresser, easy to find. But someone had moved it. To prevent the audience from hearing, I kept my voice to a whisper, but everyone backstage knew the meaning of that hiss. "If I don't have my costume by the time I have to go on stage, someone is going to pay." As it got down to crunch time, I gave up and went in search of another pirate outfit. That involved going all the way to my room and performing the ritual of digging through every single drawer until I found what I wanted. I zipped through changing as only a woman can, then ran at full speed back to the auditorium. I got there just in time. Luckily I knew some breathing exercises to disguise the fact that I was out of breath. In addition to that, in this scene I was supposed to be slightly out of breath, because it was the beginning of Jack's seduction attempts.
My brother Jeffrey tried a valiant attempt at a rescue, having heard through the grapevine that I had been kidnapped by pirates. Unfortunately, Captain Jack was too smart for him, and managed to catch him sneaking about the ship—which was, conveniently enough, named the Black Pearl. Okay, so I was obsessed. And I hadn't been able to see the movie in far too long. Five years and a few months.
"Well, well, what 'ave we 'ere? What are ye doin' sneakin' aboard me ship?"
"You've taken my sister."
Captain Jack held his cutlass at Jeffrey's throat. "I should kill ye now, lad. Ye've compromised our security."
I clung to Jack's sleeve. "Oh, please, spare him. I beg of you." By this time I'd submitted to many passionate kisses and was quite smitten with the pirate captain. I could only hope that he was equally smitten with me—which he was, though he would die before admitting it.
"Isn't this sweet. The lass begs for 'er brother's life. I wonda, is 'e worth as much as 'is sister?"
"You won't get anything if you try to ransom me. Father disowned me years ago."
"Oh really? An' why is that?"
"Because I ran off to become a pirate."
"Nay, Jeffrey!" I exclaimed. "You're an honest sailor. Tell me it's not true. Tell me you're not a pirate."
"Sorry, Lyn. I can't lie to you. I'm a pirate. So kill me, Jack. But when you do, remember this: I saved your life."
"Damn ye, boy. Ye an' yer bloody sense of honor."
"So are you going to kill me or not?"
Jack lowered his cutlass. "Nay, I'll not kill ye."
I looked from one to the other. "Jeffrey, when did you save his life?"
Jeffrey shrugged. "Oh, a year ago, I suppose. They were having a massive hanging for all the pirates they'd caught. Jack and I were among them. I got us all out of there alive."
"I never got a chance to thank ye properly for that."
"Then do so now. Release my sister. I'll see that she gets home safely."
"I need that ransom. With it I might be able to retire from piracy. Maybe go into some honest trade. As a merchant, perhaps."
"You're a fool, Jack. Father won't give you the ransom. He's got the entire royal navy out looking for her."
"Who's yer father, that 'e 'as so much power?"
Jeffrey laughed. "You mean you really don't know? You kidnapped the Princess Lyndsay. I hope you treated her with the respect due her rank."
Jack blanched. Visibly. We'd gotten a really good actor for the part. Almost as good as Johnny Depp. "The Princess? I 'ad no idea!" He whirled on my, fury replacing his fear. "Why didn't ye tell me?"
I looked at my toes. "I'm sorry, Jack. I was afraid you'd do something awful. Then I was afraid you'd send me back."
"Well, I'm sendin' ye back now. Go with yer brother. An' tell yer father 'e can keep 'is bloody money."
Unfortunately for Jack, sending me back wasn't enough. I'd grown to like the life of a sailor and refused to give it up. I threw temper tantrums galore when they tried to get me to wear one of those awful dresses. I cursed fluently, to the horror of the king. I cursed even more when I learned that he hadn't halted the search for Captain Jack. It had become a personal grudge. That the pirate had dared to kidnap Princess Lyndsay right from under King Harold's nose was something the king could not tolerate.
Eventually the pirates were caught, tried, and sentenced to be hanged. At which point Marky gave a tearful speech to the king, begging him to let them go. The audience loved it. King Harold was unimpressed.
I enlisted Marky's aid to help the pirates escape. Dressed in our pirate costumes and waving cutlasses, we attacked the procession bringing them to the gallows and tossed them their swords. Together we escaped, but not until after Marky gave a short speech on how anyone who followed us would pay the consequences. "The princess wants to come with us and that's that!" He nodded emphatically. Then he turned and leapt into my arms. We ran off into the sunset.
Once aboard the ship, Jack kissed me—stage kiss, of course. They were all stage kisses. But this one was made to look like a proper dip-and-kiss. Very romantic.
The audience cheered. We threw our hats in the air in celebration. I stole about three extra bows—not that anyone really cared. I bowed with a flair, and they loved it. As for me, I don't think I'd ever had so much fun. "There's no business like show business like no business I know. Everything about it is appealing. Everything the traffic will allow. Nowhere can you get that happy feeling when you are stealing that extra bow. There's no people like show people they smile when they are low. Yesterday they told you you would not go far. Tonight you open, and there you are. Next day on your dressing room they've hung a star; let's go on with the show. Let's go on with the show!"
I know you people are reading my story. There're more than just three of you. If you don't review, I will hunt you down. And I will fight you with my plastic cutlass.
Seriously, though. I've gone through a lot of effort to write this story for your enjoyment. The least you can do is offer me some feedback. Otherwise I'll have to go back to writing HP and LotR and PotC fanfics. Because those actually get reviews. And I'm plumb out of ideas. I think there were a couple more chapters I wanted to write before I headed for Lake Evendim, but inspiration is not forthcoming. I need fan mail! Fan mail is the cure for writer's block! (Hey, it works for Piers Anthony, why not work for me as well?)