Chapter 2
Copyright J.B. Norman
That evening, Billie settles down for dinner at her parents’ table as their ever-present and ever-growing collection of brightly painted faience chickens watches silently from the crockery hutch.
“So, honey,” her mother asks, setting down a plate in front of her. “How was piracy today?”
“Well,” Billie answers, “Captain Goblinbeard made me lead the crew in a sea shanty. I’ve never been so embarrassed.”
“But you have a lovely singing voice, Uiliema,” her mother notes.
“Even without having to humiliate myself in front of the whole crew, it was a long day,” Billie says wearily. “We were taking the Countess Dowager Dirigible and her daughter to the lighthouse island because she wanted to paint the Harbour.”
“That doesn’t sound very pirate-y,” her mother notes.
“Actually, dear,” her father says, “most of the pirates sanctioned by the Brotherhood are technically privateers.”
Billie watches as her mother stares blankly.
“It’s true,” Billie says.
Her mother continues to stare blankly.
“Well, a privateer is a pirate hired or commissioned to work on behalf of someone else,” Billie offers.
Her mother continues to stare blankly.
“We’re kind of like adventuring guilds, I guess. We have a specific skillset and set of tools, and people who have problems hire us to those use skills and tools to solve those problems,” Billie explains. “And the Countess Dowager really wanted to paint that picture of the Harbour.”
Her mother continues to stare blankly.
“Right.” Billie snatches up several of the mealtime accoutrements. “Mom, it’s like this. This dish of olives is a pirate ship. The salt is a wealthy Marchioness. And the butter is, um, a popular seaside resort.”
Billie picks up the salt and affects a dainty, high-pitched voice. “Oh no, however shall I get to the popular seaside resort? Oh, help me! Help me!”
She glances up to make sure her mother is following along.
“So, since most of the pirates in Realmgard operate as privateers for hire, this is exactly the sort of thing a pirate crew would help with.”
She slides the dish of olives next to the salt shaker.
“Yarr,” Billie says in an exaggerated Pirate Voice modelled on Captain Goblinbeard’s own. “Madam Wealthy Marchioness, we’d be more ’an pleased as what to sail ye to that tharr popular seaside resort.”
Billie then slides the salt and the dish of olives to the butter. “See?”
Billie’s mother nods thoughtfully. “But – and I don’t mean anything by it, dear – aren’t pirates usually viewed as, well, sort of uncouth and ill-tempered? Why would the Countess Dowager Dirigible, of all people, want pirates to help her paint a picture?”
“Any port in a storm, right?” Billie’s father notes with a grin.
His face falls when he notices the way Billie and his wife are staring at him.
“Port?” he asks hopefully. “Pirates? And that’s where… a boat goes? To port? And any port in a storm means you’ll take whatever help you can get?”
“Eat your casserole, dear.”
“I thought it was funny,” he mutters, reaching for a bottle and seeking out a markedly different kind of any port in a storm.
“Well, Dad’s not wrong,” Billie notes. “The Falchion was the only ship available at the time. And it was a good thing, too. We got to the lighthouse island, but Jehan-Picard Souricier was already there.”
Her mother gasps. “The Jehan-Picard Souricier?”
Billie blinks in surprise. “Wait? You know who that is?”
“No, honey,” she admits. “But I thought you’d appreciate it if I seemed like I was interested in your, well, interests.”
Billie sighs inwardly. This is exactly what it was like back when she got really into moths and butterflies as a little girl.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” her father says. “Tell us about this Saucier guy. Is he like the Baleful Saucier? Did he try to cook you in a stewpot?”
“It’s Souricier, Dad. Not Saucier,” Billie says. “And, well, Captain Goblinbeard does not like him at all. He was telling me all about how Souricier was kicked out of the Brotherhood and swore revenge on the entire Brotherhood. He’s been plundering and attacking and making insulting graffiti of members of the Brotherhood all over Realmgard.
“But he also tied Matchlock Sally’s boots together that one time. He rented the apartment above Plaid Jack Rackman’s specifically so he could walk around as loudly as possible and then took up clog-dancing. He agrees with Ragnar the Contrarian. And he stole Captain Goblinbeard’s ship and marooned him on the island of Monte Tramezzino. So, they’ve kind of had it in for each other ever since.”
“Oh dear!” her mother exclaims. “How horrible!”
“So,” Billie continues, “Souricier said that he was going to kidnap the Countess Dowager and the Countess, and Captain Goblinbeard wasn’t having any of that. They started fighting. I tripped Souricier, and the rest of the crew hauled him off and tied him to the mast. Then, the Countess Dowager needed help mixing her paints and holding her palette, so I did that.
“And then a really angry seagull kept trying to peck me. It’s just kind of been a long day. Oh, and Mr. Sprengt shoved one of his socks into Souricier’s mouth.”
“Iona’s mercy, Uiliema,” her mother groans. “I don’t think I like the idea of my only child working as a pirate. It’s all so violent and intense. The swashbuckling, the keelhauling, the cutlasses, the disrespectful parrots! The general ill deeds and not-niceness! Grog! And all this shooting at each other with cannons!”
“Mom,” she protests. “It’s not like that at all. Since I’ve been on the crew, we’ve barely even had to fire the cannons more than—” Billie’s eyes go wide as she realises she’s said too much. “This casserole is delicious!”
She crams as much of it as possible into her mouth to redirect the conversation.
Her parents stare at her.
“I really like this cheese,” she says through a mouthful of casserole. “Is it Gallicantien?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Uiliema,” her mother says. “Goodness, these pirates are already proving to be such a bad influence on you! I think I’ll have to sit this Captain Goblinface down and—”
“Beard, Mom. It’s Goblinbeard.”
“And let him know that I am quite concerned with his teaching methods,” Billie’s mother declares with unshakeable maternal resolve.
“Why Goblinbeard?” Billie’s father asks. “Does he actually have a beard, or is this just some weird pirate thing?”
“Pass the salt?” Billie asks wearily. “Or the port?”
Chapter 1
Chapter 3
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