This blog series is a fun crossover between How to Break an Evil Curse by Laura Morrison and The Black Pearl by Jennifer Flath. You can read the novels for free at JukePop Serials.
I was recently given the opportunity to learn more about another country--an entire other world, in fact. I won’t bore you with the travel logistics, mostly because the Enchanters wouldn’t share them with me, but soon I found myself outside the Fritillary castle with paper and pen in hand. (And also a sword, a warm cloak, lunch that could have fed three people for two days, extra ink, a few pencils, a book, a language stone that would allow me to communicate, and a jaguar that the women in my life insisted was a necessary traveling accessory for me.)
My main goal was to interview the royal family about the structure of their society, but straight off, I could not help but notice how dirty the city was. The presumably-stone streets were covered in what could only be described as glop. Also, at least three street urchins attempted to rob me, but the jaguar dissuaded them.
The castle was in better shape, which led me to believe the ruler of this city may be something of a despot. It’s poor leadership to force citizens to wallow in filth. Believe me, I had every intention of remaining objective about this foreign culture, but the filth smeared streets had me in an ill temper. I was not carrying a pair of extra boots.
To make matters worse, the first thing I saw when I arrived at the castle was a pair of guards above the gates doing something that looked very much like testing the temperature of the boiling oil in giant cauldrons. What kind of backwards ruler actually pours boiling oil on… Sigh. This cultural investigation is going to require copious amounts of editing for impartiality later.
“Greetings,” said I to the armed men standing by the gate. “May I have an audience with your ruler?”
They engaged in a loud whisper conversation, which was clearly audible:
“Who is this?”
“I don’t know. Do you know?”
“Why would I have asked you if I knew if I knew?”
“What? Should we tell him we have no idea where anybody is?”
“No! What if he’s a revolutionary?”
“Good point, Dave. Good point.”
They shuffled back to face me at this point.
“They won’t see you,” said the guard who was not Dave.
“Shouldn’t you have at least pretended to ask them?” I pointed out. Or asked me who I was, for that matter.
They chose not to answer, but there was a plaque next to the gate that read, “Fritillary Castle: Home to King Conroy, Queen Lilian, Princess Julianna, and Prince Conroy Junior.”
“Where might I find Princess Julianna or Prince Conroy the younger?” I asked the guards.
The guards looked at each other shifty-eyed. “If you want information,” said the guard who was Dave, looking left and right like someone might overhear him, “try the pirate ship in the harbor.”
The guard who was not Dave gasped. “Are you a secret revolutionary, Dave?”
How interesting. A secret revolution. Well, this town needed one. It was filthy. I left them to their loud whispering.
The ocean was impressive, as were its ships. The only ocean with which I was familiar is blistering hot and not particularly useful for travel or trade as it is home only to an island no one can travel to. This ocean was massive and cold, with a huge ship off in the distance. The ship bore a black flag with a skull and bones, but the previously menacing symbol was covered in paint. Actually, the paint was in the form of hair and a smile placed over the skull, apparently in an attempt to make it look like a smiling lady. I assumed the pirate ship was in some sort of poor disguise. I could not imagine this disguise working on anyone, but the ship was bobbing unattacked in the distance, so perhaps my imagination needed adjusting.
I asked at the dock if someone with a boat could row me out to the not-a-pirate-ship. I found a burly man named Copper with a boat and an interest in my books and writing utensils. He was not so comfortable with my furry travel companion, but he was amenable to bacon-wrapped pickled olives as a form of payment, so I was on my way to the ship. As it turned out, the pirate ship had been his destination before we crossed paths. On the way, I took a moment to jot down notes about the royal family, the state of the city, the potential revolution, and the fact this city had a port for ocean trading.
“Do you know much about the royal family,” I asked Copper politely. “Or the revolution?”
“I--er--uh--”Copper responded unhelpfully. He cleared his throat and stuttered, “I--I know the Prince and Princess.” He looked at me through eyes narrowed suspiciously and said, “Who wants to know?”
“Oh, forgive me. My name is Alexander.” I held out my arm, but he was rowing with both of his, so greetings were ill-timed. “This is Pepper. We’re from another…place.” My description was sorely lacking.
“Ahh! Another place!” Copper said, winking at me. The man must have suspected I was talking in code. “Well, in that case perhaps I might know a thing or two about that revolution after all. These boxes,” he said, gesturing to three large boxes in the bottom of his boat, “May or may not be carrying weapons that may or may not be for this revolution that may or may not be happening.” The boxes were marked ‘Flatware’. “I’m bringing these weapons--uh--flatware, out to the pirates so they can bring them to Apamea.”
“Very useful,” I said. At least I assumed they would be useful. They might very well be boxes of silverware. Perhaps they fought with silverware in Fritillary. “So tell me about the revolution. What are you revolting from? What are your demands? Clean water? Proper city planning?” I opened to a fresh sheet of paper to write.
“Uhh,” Copper said, scratching his head. “Well, see, we don’t like the King. He only lets us eat horrible food. Takes all the good crops for himself. And he doesn’t let girls go to school. And um… well, you might want to talk to Dr. Jane or the Prince or Princess.”
“Thank you,” I said, copying down his words. None of the barbaric practices of his kingdom came as any surprise. “Yes, I was hoping to get more information on your social structure here in Fritillary, and I was directed to this ship. Are the pirates in control of the city or leading the revolution?”
“Oh, no. They just do whatever they want, I think. But the captain--or ex-captain maybe--I think there was a mutiny--anyway, he fell in love with Dr. Jane, and she’s really big into the revolution, so he wanted to help her. Even after the mutiny the pirates are still helping the revolution.”
Traveling to this ship suddenly sounded like a very bad idea, but we had reached it before I could come up with a reasonable excuse to turn around. At least Pepper was with me.
“What are you writing this all down for? A book?” Copper asked. “I’m a writer, myself,” he added.
The first two questions were difficult to explain--histories of other worlds and all--so I decided to encourage the last line of conversation. “What do you write?” I asked.
“True crime,” he answered. “They say write what you know. And I know crime. I’m not published yet, mind you, but my wife is. She writes plays and poetry. Maybe you’ve heard of Wistful Musings from a Crow’s Nest?”
“I’m not from around here,” I apologized. “I’m sure she’s very talented.” I wasn’t sure at all, but I was in a very small boat with the man.
“I have a copy. I always carry a few spares around,” he said, letting go of the oars and rummaging through his pockets. “I know it’s in here somewhere…”
“We’re at the ship,” I interrupted politely, “so maybe later--”
“Sure. Yeah. But hey, in case I don’t have a copy on me how about I just recite a bit?”
“O...k…” Again, we were in a very small boat, and he was a large man who had just informed me his experience lay in crime and then casually writing about crime.
Copper cleared his throat and began, “I’m a sad, lonely lady in this crow’s nest tonight. Thinking matters most weighty, I’d like to take flight. I’d fly over the ocean, and land on the shore. For that’s where (I’ve a notion) there must be dudes galore. I’m not talking bloodthirsty pirates I know. But fellas who’re worthy, souls pure as the snow!” Here, he smiled a proud sort of smile, probably since he was the man who had eventually won her heart. “There’s more. Want me to say more?”
I could only hope the translation stone was having trouble. “Oh, no,” I said quickly. “I only have so much time here.” His face fell, so I quickly added “But thank you for sharing. Very nice use of...rhyme. ‘Shore’ and ‘galore.’ Clever.”
“She’s amazing. Simply amazing. You have a wife? Or a lady friend?”
“Something like that,” I answered. The grin on my face when anybody mentioned Rin or when she walked into a room or when I thought about her in passing was probably answer enough.
“Nice,” he said. “Hey I know you’re busy and all, but let me know if you have any time this evening. There’s this pub--The Dawdling Donkey. Great ale.”
“Thank you for the invitation,” I said politely, not writing down the name of the pub.
Copper nodded, then looked up at the pirate ship and yelled, “Hey! Lower the ladder! And lower something to lift up some boxes too!”
A pirate peeped down at us, and a moment later a ladder flopped down over the side. I patted Pepper on the head. “You’ll come with the boxes,” I told him. Whatever was aboard this ship, I was definitely going to need jaguar protection.
