CHAPTER TEN
She turned and walked up the beach, calling "Come on," over her shoulder.
"Wait," I said, jogging to catch up. "Aren't pirates something to be worried about? Just a thought."
"Oh, they're something to worry about, all right," she said. "I'll have to talk to Mabelle, though I don't know how much she can do."
"What does Mabelle have to do with pirates?"
"Well, she's in charge of the scullery maids. I'll have to talk to the head housekeeper, too."
"What does she have to do with pirates?"
"She's in charge of the other maids," Pearl said, as though this were the obvious thing in the world.
"So glad we got that cleared up," I said. We reached the door in the wall and slipped through quickly. "What do the maids have to do with the pirates?" I asked as we walked across the courtyard and into the palace.
"Nothing, if I have anything to say about it," she said.
This conversation was going nowhere. I saw Grethel down a hall; she motioned to us, Pearl nodded.
"Go with her," Pearl said. "I'll see you at dinner."
We went straight to my room, and Grethel drew a bath. I had staunchly refused assistance with bathing from the beginning, and so she waited outside while I washed the sand from my hair and rinsed away the ocean salt. When I emerged, she sat me down and we went through the usual doing-hair ordeal.
"We saw pirates out on the water," I said. She sighed.
"Charming," she said wryly. "Does Mabelle know?"
"What can Mabelle do?"
"Well," Grethel said logically, "she's in charge of the maids."
I rolled my eyes at her reflection. "I heard. How are they involved? I'm new here; enlighten me."
"Oh, that's right," she said. "I forgot, you wouldn't know." She twisted my hair up and started pinning it. "Well, pirates have been coming to these shores for years, well before I moved here. They're not vicious or anything. These are the pirates of… well, of storybooks, like Pearl's from a storybook and I'm from a storybook and you'll probably be from a storybook someday. They're the ones who go around in stripes, swaggering, shouting things like 'Avast!' and drinking up everything in sight." She raised her eyebrows. It was clear what she thought of this behavior. "They will occasionally attack a ship and steal gold, but how many ships really carry gold nowadays? It's all oil and plastic toys from China and the like. Very boring." She finished my hair and leaned back to examine her handiwork. Pleased, she continued, "The trouble is now that instead of docking to Merlana to trade and take in supplies like they used to, they mostly just show up to gamble and get girls. The palace maids are particularly susceptible to that sort of thing --- being kidnapped by a pirate seems to be a badge of honor."
"Thus the need to alert Mabelle and the housekeeper," I said. That made sense. Grethel nodded.
The pirates washed up on shore later that day. Word of their appearance had spread around to some, but to most in the palace it came as a surprise. The king of the pirates met with Ryne, as I gathered was the usual order of things, and then he disappeared to the town. The lights of lanterns could be seen moving up and down a particular street all night, and occasionally shouts would drift up to where I stood, looking down from my open bedroom window.
I had never seen the town up close. Life had been consumed by the goings-on of the palace, but now that I was getting on my feet and becoming accustomed to things, I wanted to see outside. And, truth be told, I rather wanted to see the pirates. Grethel had said that they would probably stay for a week. I tried to gauge the likelihood of someone letting me out to meet them. It seemed slim.
I wasn't tired. I knew I'd get in trouble. I didn't know my way through the town. I did know my way out of the palace. Well, I figured, slipping on the plainest gown I could find, one couldn't have everything. I knew what I was doing was probably stupid, but something in me didn't care. The lights down there had reminded me in an odd way of what it was like to live a normal life, where you went to school and spent time with friends who didn't have to curtsy to you. No one down in the town ever had to sit up straight during diplomatic meetings or remember that a princess showed displeasure with a cold tone and delight with a happy one, being careful not to show an excess of any emotion outside intimate friends and family lest political acquaintances think it a weakness to exploit. People down there didn't have to worry about evil ex-fiancées of estranged parents, either. The idea of Rochelle probably should have kept me safe in my room. Instead, it spurred me on.
The corridor outside my room was dark, lit only by a few dim lamps along the walls. I slid through the side panel that led down to the kitchens and eventually found my way to the door that led to the kitchen gardens. From there it was an easy walk out of the gates.
The ground was unsteady under my feet, but I didn't mind. The fresh air and freedom of being alone was rejuvenating. There was a sort of walkway of brick that I tried to follow, but it had been overgrown by weeds. After a while I came out onto a moonlit stretch of sand that sloped down to the water, crossed it, and came up onto a road that went to the town. It was deserted, and overhung by trees which, though creepy in the darkness, were enough to shield me from watchful castle eyes.
"Marina!"
I jumped and almost choked on my tongue trying to repress a scream. I whirled around.
"Would you quit scaring me like that?" I asked, fright lending a sharp edge to my voice. Eran took my arm.
"Sorry," he said. "What are you doing out here?"
"Escaping."
He tilted his head. "In which case, would you stop doing that?"
I shook myself free. "No. I'd like to see you stuck in a palace all day. I'm getting out. I want to see the pirates."
The last bit sounded very childish. He was kind enough to overlook it.
"Does anyone know you're out?"
"Obviously not."
"Then I'm coming with you."
I frowned and walked on. After a moment's reflection, I said, "Do you know your way around down there?"
He nodded.
"Then you can come," I said, "as long as you don't tell anyone."
He fell into step beside me. "Do all monarchs run away like this? First Cinderella, now you. I must say, it's a strange trait for someone in a leadership position."
"First off," I said, "I'm not a monarch. Not yet. Cinderella and I were both princesses. Secondly, was Cinderella real, too?"
"Of course she was," he said. "Not Merlan, of course. French."
"Right. I remember."
"But her godmother was from here."
"Shocking," I said dryly.
"You sound bitter."
"Of course not. How far is it until we hit civilization?"
He shrugged. I could just make out the gesture in the darkness. "Couple minutes. Stick close to me when we get out there." His voice turned slightly mocking. "You'll see the pirates. But only if you do what I tell you to. If someone sees you, we're both in trouble." There was, I thought, probably no "we" about it. I would be in trouble. He would just get smiled upon as the fine young lad who risked life and limb to rescue the fair princess from the pirates. That's the way life seemed to work, at least if what Grethel had said about certain injustices regarding princess behavior was correct.
We continued in silence. I tried to talk once, but he hushed me, claiming that we were nearby houses. I figured he just wanted me quiet.
Eventually we came out near some nice little homes, very picturesque, with tile roofs, whitewashed walls, and little window boxes spilling over with flowers. The moon illuminated the walls and it, along with the warm light coming from many of the houses, gave us enough light to see clearly. Eran led the way down the street and into a denser part of town. The buildings grew closer together and the people became more common. Finally, we were on a fairly busy little street, filled with shops, small restaurants and a pub, the last of which hosted a great deal of noise. Merlana, apparently, had a decent night life. Who'd have thought? I said as much to Eran, but he only told me to be quiet.
"You look too much like the queen," he said, stopping in the shadows between the pub and the building next to it.
"So sorry."
"Just stay in the dark," he said. "Come on." He led the way around to the other side of the building, where several windows looked conveniently in. He gestured to one of them, and I peered through.
It was a wonderful sight. Every romanticized view of pirates I had ever had was fully satisfied. Several of the pirates had peg legs or eye patches, every shirt was either a variation on stripes or billowy and covered in frills, and their pants were either aesthetically ragged or very nice and very expensive-looking. Earrings were popular, as were hook hands, and three of them had animals --- two parrots, one monkey. The pirates were busy singing and sloshing around great tankards of ale, and quite a few girls had clustered around them to join in the fun.
"I like it," I said with a grin. Eran laughed dryly.
"You would. Come on, you've looked enough."
I reluctantly peeled myself away. "I don't suppose we can go in?"
"No. I value my head more than that, and Lady Lisette would have it if she found out."
He took my hand and led me back the way we had come. With any other guy, I would have snatched my hand back, or, depending on the scenario, tried to decide if I liked him liked him. As it was, however, it seemed perfectly innocent and natural; I let it go. Eran didn't really mesh with my idea of romance --- the idea of him thrown together with, say, Valentine's Day, was almost amusing, making the latter seem superficial and the combination amusing. Plenty of people were on the street around us, but we seemed to be invisible to them. I glanced at Eran and saw him muttering something. More magic. Yippee.
We went quickly through the trees --- he was no doubt anxious to get me back to safety or something --- but stopped abruptly when we got to the path across the sand. "Where are we going?" I asked, for instead of going up to the castle, he was leading down to the water.
"Hush," he said softly.
"What?"
"Trust me." He looked up. I followed his gaze and saw a seagull floating above us. I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He sat down and gestured for me to do the same.
"I'm a sea shephard," he said in a low voice. "And I've been told I'm to be your language teacher. As such, I can get away with a lot more than you can."
"How is that relevant?" I asked, trying to match his tone. He nodded up at the bird again.
"That's Ryne's," he said. "Your mother is the sea, your father is the sky. That makes you the land."
"What are you talking about?"
"We just emerged from the trees back there, right?"
"Yeah."
"And that seagull above is almost certainly going to report to Ryne if you're seen out of the palace, especially at this hour."
"Seagulls don't talk." Stupid me, of course; everything talked on this island.
"Those do. You can tell because of the yellow crest on their heads."
"I can't see it."
"Well, you don't know what to look for, do you? Now be quiet so I can finish. The gull is going to report that it saw you come out of the trees with me. You were probably not supposed to head down to town, but it is reasonable that, if you were under stress, you would find solace in a wooded area, as that's your element by birth."
This didn't entirely make sense, but I nodded.
"And," he continued, "it makes sense that I might take you out of the palace in the middle of the night without telling anyone, because in the first place, you're safer with me than with anyone, since I can relay a message to the sea or other shephards if anything happens, and in the second place, such spontaneity is expected in this training, as the mental and emotional blocks the mind puts up have to be bypassed if one is to access the sea speech easily. You see?"
I paused, thought about it, and then nodded. "I guess."
He held a hand out, palm towards me. I gave him a quizzical expression.
"What's that for?"
There was no response. He just gazed steadily at me. The light reflected oddly in his eyes, and a small smile curved a corner of his mouth. An image came into my head of my hand pressed up against his, and before I had time to think about it too much, I had done just that. He smiled.
"Good job."
"Was that what I was supposed to do?"
"It's what I was telling you to do," he said. I did the quizzical look thing again, and he dropped his hand. I did the same. He repeated the steady gaze, and I tried to think of what he might be telling me to do. Nothing came to mind. Put my hand up? Touch my nose? He laughed.
"Stop thinking so hard about it. Just feel."
I tried, and in a moment, my arm lifted of its own accord to rest on the back of my neck. He nodded. Another image came, this one of my hands together in a praying position. I did it, he smiled.
"Send me one," he said. I thought a moment, and then pictured him putting his hand on his opposite shoulder. He did so. A few more pictures followed; he responded quickly to them.
"That is so cool," I said after a while. An unpleasant idea struck. "Can you read my mind? Like, always?"
"No," he said. "Only when you want me to, or when your emotional barriers are low. If you're extremely stressed, for example, or grieving, or in love. Or all at the same time."
An image came; I held out my hands and he pressed his palms against mine, and then pulled back a few inches. His started to move in small circles, and I mirrored. They separated; so did mine. He traced patterns in the air, ever more elaborate, and my hands mimicked. After a while, he leaned back.
"You're not bad," he said. He sounded surprised.
"You expected me to be?"
There was no noise, but his voice came into my head as though from a great distance. "Yes." I jumped. He laughed softly, and the thought continued. "You talk too much. I wasn't sure if you'd have the inner silence required."
"I'm the daughter of the sea and sky," I thought, a bit sarcastically. Immediately, a reply came.
"You are, more than you think."
I frowned. "That's cryptic. I get the feeling you know more about me than I do."
"I doubt that, very much. You just haven't been listening."
"To what?"
"To yourself."
"Okay, sorry, this is creeping me out," I said after a moment. My voice was strangely loud after the echoing quality of the thoughts. He shrugged.
"So let it. You can't just run from everything unusual."
"Believe me, if I'd run from unusual stuff I'd have left here a long time ago."
He shrugged. "Maybe so." He stood up. "Come on, we'd better head back."
The palace was quiet when I entered. Eran left me at the door, and once I was safely within, slipped off into the shadows. He was very good at slipping into the shadows; wondered if he could teach me. Probably. I shut the door and hurried up to my room.
A/N:
Petals of Esther: Thanks! I'm thrilled the story's coming across as both the old one and something new --- that's what I was aiming for. Generally. You know... as much as you can ever aim these things until the characters take over, lol.
Piratess of Summer: It was late, Captain Hook amuses me... I couldn't resist. Sorry to scare you. :D
slipshod: I've never heard of "Lucy and the Merman," but I googled it and it looks neat. I'll see if I can get my hands on a copy. And I was going to just replace that chapter with this one, but I'm leaving it up for you. Glad you liked it!
teenchic: I'm glad the underwater scene worked out, and that you liked the spoof thingy. It was very fun to write. (Well... what involving intoxicated pirates isn't?)
Bingo5: Nope, no Johnny Depp this time! (Although I'll admit, it's tempting, lol.) I actually rather like that ending, too, simply because I like the idea of Rochelle as some big-haired frosted queen of the 80's. She's very much not. Although I'm getting ahead of myself. ;)
Allyp: Ah, yes, the green paint is lovely, isn't it? I think people should turn colors more often; it's refreshing. What underwater scene are you working on? I is very interested... And yes, Neptune rocks, doesn't he? And "tines" is such a cool word.
porkypick: Thanks! Glad you're enjoying the story, and glad you liked the chapter. I don't venture into the realms of spoof very often (in fic, anyway...) so it was both very different and very fun to write.