Typical.

If there isn’t something to run around barking at right then and there, dogs really aren’t very good conversationalists. And just try to get one to admit they made a mistake.

It was a clear morning with light streaming in the window. The brightness made the night before feel like a distant dream. I knew it had been real. I knew I should be curled up in the corner hugging the bed sheets, afraid to face the world in case another murderer was lurking behind the next door. But it was all a dim haze with no feeling attached to it.

I lay there, staring over Officer Puppy’s back, feeling blank, thinking that maybe Mrs. Apothecary had healed me a little too much. I didn’t even know she was that strong a healer, though I suppose it made sense if she was an apothecary. It’s one thing to heal people’s cuts and broken arms and things, but it’s just plain rude to heal people’s emotions without asking them first, even if they are upset and getting blood and tears and snot all over your nice bedclothes.

Part of me flat out didn’t like being calm right then. It felt wrong. I tried to get upset about not being upset. It didn’t work. A bit of me I didn’t even realize was there whispered, “Not again.” Not again what I asked myself, but there was no one to answer that question. Something in the back of my head told me I had felt this before, but I couldn’t remember when, just that it felt wrong, like some piece of me had gone missing somewhere, like a bit of my brain had stepped out for a cookie from a nearby baker and had forgotten to come back.

Little missing bits of the night began to slip in around the memory of the attack, but were interrupted when the mumble of voices in the great room got a little louder. I realized people were arguing, using those sorts of voices people use when they don’t want you to realize they’re having an argument in the next room, even though it’s pretty obvious that’s exactly what they are doing. Most of the argument was happening between Ornery and Mrs. Apothecary, with my mom making an occasional comment.

From what I could tell, though I couldn’t make out the words, my mom was mostly trying to keep Ornery from being too … well, Ornery.

I silently untangled myself from Officer Puppy, crept out of bed, and snuck over to the door. I caught myself in the big mirror Ornery kept in the corner of the room. I still looked like a mess, but at least was wearing a clean bedclothes. I didn’t even remember putting them on. Maybe Mrs. Apothecary dressed me.

Ornery liked to claim that the mirror was cursed, which is why it was in his room and not ours. It certainly looked cursed. Who would carve a mirror frame to look like that? I mean, I’m not dumb, but even I could never figure out what some of the maybe people and maybe demons were doing, except that it was probably illegal in a lot of places. I looked at myself in it and retied a tie that had come loose on the side. Something felt not right. It wasn’t that I was only wearing a top. It was one of my mom’s, came below my knees, and was nice enough I could’ve worn it as a dress. It was something the mirror wasn’t willing to show me even though I could feel it looking back out at me. Maybe it was cursed to make people look their worst in the morning, but probably not.

By the door I could hear a little better, if I was really quiet.

“That still don’t explain why ya let her come home last night,” Ornery said. It couldn’t be that bad an argument if Ornery was being that polite.

“I’m afraid it does. It’s just not an answer you want to accept.” Mrs. Apothecary sounded very annoyed, and she’s hard to annoy. I know. I’ve tried.

“Ya put her life on the line to prove yerself a point? That just ain’t right.”

“Oh come now, Ornery, she was never in any real danger—”

“Real danger!” Ornery almost shouted. I though for a second it was going to be a proper argument, but he dropped his voice again. “A drunken lunatic with an azure fire blade ‘gainst a little girl. Sounds perfectly safe to me.” Even at a loud whisper, I could hear the malice in his voice. He made one of his most menacing harrumphs. If it had been anyone but Mrs. Apothecary, it would have been followed by the noise of them crashing at high speed into something across the room propelled by Ornery’s fist.

“Which she is at the moment, perfectly safe. At least no less safe than she was before.”

“Ya knew, and ya—” Ornery sputtered. I could feel how much he wanted to scream and almost shouted at him to go for it.

“Yes, I knew.” Those words perked my ears up. They echoed in my head, something in them telling me I was going to get to learn something about what happened last night.

“And I also know that the longer she stays here the more danger she’s in. Ornery, we can’t protect her forever. I needed to be sure—”

My mom chose that moment to open the door to check on me to make sure I was still asleep. It’s hard to be sneaky when someone hits you on the side of the head with a door handle, even if it isn’t very hard. It’s too easy to go “Ow!” and look injured, especially when it’s your mom hitting you with the door. It’s hard to outgrow that kid mode of “no I wasn’t doing anything oh look here you hurt me now you should be all nice to me” when a parent accidentally bumps you because you were in the wrong place.

But “ow” is also the universal parent code word for “quiet, the kid”. Parents have the ability to magically get us to bump into things, or trip over things, or knock things over at that very moment they are about to reveal some big adult secret. I think it’s part of some super secret mystical parent training they have to go through before they are allowed to get their certificate of parenthood. Not that they’re allowed to hang their certificates of parenthood where the kids can see them, but I’m sure they have them hidden away somewhere. Probably up on the top shelf with all the booze which we aren’t supposed to know is there because it is clearly too high for us to see.

The other room was silent, with all three of them staring at me through the partly opened door that had tried to attach itself to my ear.

“Well, look who’s awake,” Mrs. Apothecary said with a voice so pleasant it was like she hadn’t been annoyed by anything in weeks. She radiated her normal, calm, peaceful self. Really, I think it was her own adult version of the “ow” game. She fussed with her crisp, clean dress and smiled at me.

My mother pushed the door gently open the rest of the way, politely but firmly forcing me to step back out of the way. I could see by her face that she wasn’t buying the “ow” game. But she wasn’t angry either. She looked relieved, but whether because I was okay or because Ornery and Mrs. Apothecary couldn’t argue any more was not something she ever shared with me. “And how long have you been hiding there?”

“Not long,” I said, trying to sound dejected to see if I could turn the conversation back to my “ow”. She gave me one of those looks that said, “I believe you, but you’re getting too old for that game so give it up.” Then she gave me a great big hug.

When she didn’t let go, I realized she was crying. There was really nothing me to do in a situation like that but cry too. Not hard, just get all bleary-eyed and sniffly. It would be bad form to stand there being strong when my own mother was crying on my shoulder. It made the blankness from the previous night feel a little less blank.

Ornery just looked at us and harrumphed. It would be poor form for Ornery to not harrumph too. The Secret Order of Harrumphers might have had to kick him out of the club and find a new hero to worship if he didn’t remain properly aloof when the “wimmen folk” were getting all emotional and stuff. But he stood there quietly, staring at the ground, examining the fireplace, acting lost in thought, instead of going and looking for something to do, so it was clear he was touched by the scene too.

By the time my mom was ready to let go, Mrs. Apothecary had used the interruption as an excuse to leave and Ornery had chased out a city guard who had tried to step in with a stern and very ornery warning to the guard that no one could talk to me yet.

I took a nice, long bath at my mother’s insistence and got myself all properly cleaned up. In the meantime, two of Ornery’s retired pirate friends had shown up with some flagons of the best mead they could find and made it clear they were there to guard the treasure so nearly plundered the night before. Ornery harrumphed at them in a way that said he hadn’t decided whether they were welcome or not, but he didn’t chase them away. They settled in to protecting the two most comfortable chairs by the fire and making up stories about what must really have happened the night before and how it would have worked out different if they had been there.

Then, dressed in nice clothes that weren’t really proper to wear for another month but were simple and presentably formal, and without even my cap to protect me, they sat me down at the table so the city guard could talk to me. At least they didn’t make me tie the sash too tight. It was okay, almost fun, Captain Kirilyn had come to question me herself.

She was a ranking officer in the district, grew up here, and everyone liked her. She was also the type who would never leave a dead sailor in a ditch somewhere. She might rough them up a bit, but would then dutifully turn them in to their captain or the port authority. If their captain turned around and left them as another dead sailor in a ditch afterward, that wasn’t really her problem, unless she got stuck with the paperwork. She probably came because people knew Ornery would be more polite to a woman, and more polite still to someone he knew when she was still a kid. That and she knew how to be not intimidating. Most of the men in the guard never really mastered the not intimidating thing.

She was built like a long-distance runner, all athletic, tall and trim, with dark hair, a lean face, and dark, piercing eyes. She could outrun anyone else in the city guard in full armor. She was agile in body and mind. She taught some of my self defense classes when I was younger. Ornery had specifically requested her classes for me.

In her classes, boys quickly learned being a girl didn’t mean being weak. She was more polite teaching them that than I was. Some of the people in her classes even went on to join the Imperial Guard. It was a badge of honor to be a good enough trainer for your students to be hand picked by the Imperial Guard. She could have joined herself, but she was proud of her city and didn’t want to get lost in the empire.

We talked over lunch, since it was lunch time by then. I’d been allowed to sleep really late. I didn’t have much to tell her that hadn’t already been told by Mrs. Apothecary. I probably learned more from her about the night before than she did from me. There isn’t much to say about being attacked by a drunken shadow in the dark, but she needed to be sure. There were times when she was very annoyed that Mrs. Apothecary had soothed over my wounds a little too well, because a lot of memories went with them.

It was near the very end of the interview with Kirilyn that one of the retired pirates, who had been protecting too much mead by then, said aloud, “Hey Ornery, thar be rat prints around your hearth. Should do sumpin’ about that. Rats ain’t nice.”

That was the pirate Thinker, emeritus. He got his name from thinking too much. He was a famous pirate scholar who could speak like a famous scholar should speak to other famous scholars at important scholarly events, but when drunk he liked to talk like normal people thought pirates talked. Get him drunk enough and he would even start shouting “Yarrr!” and laughing like a pirate is supposed to laugh. He thought it was funny.

Okay, it usually was.

He also thought it was funny to wear tweed and smoke a big pipe carved in the shape of his own head. I mean the pipe, okay, but what kind of pirate wears tweed? And there are clean shaven pirates, and pirates with fancy mustaches, and pirates with all sorts of different beards, long, scraggly, bushy, knotted, wild, curly, or teased into shape like a palace garden shrub. But the pirate Thinker insisted that his mustache and beard always be trimmed close and perfectly groomed. To his dying day, his pirate friends would greet him with, “Hey Thinker, when ya gonna grow a beard? Ya oughta be old enough by now.” The look did make him more welcome at scholarly, non-pirate parties though.

Most of his adventures took place in ancient ruins and dimly lit libraries, which had nothing to do with the ones he told stories about, except maybe in some of the ruins. He studied pirate history, which took him to dangerous places where sometimes he discovered dangerous things. He wrote long, beautiful poems and dry scholarly papers about his discoveries. It was interesting, even if most of what he discovered and wrote about were empty ruins. I learned a lot from him when he was visiting Ornery.

He once said to me, “Give them the illusion they want see so they never have to face reality, and that will make them happy.” He said it was the greatest wisdom he could give me and that I should remember it and thank him when I found out how wise he was.

He was really drunk at the time.

Captain Kirilyn gave the retired pirates a dirty look and then turned to my mom. “Liiza,” she said, which was my mom’s name. Bet you didn’t know my mom had a name, did you? Okay, I suppose you knew that. It would be weird, or at least really confusing, if everyone just called her “mom”. Anyway, Captain Kirilyn said, “Liiza, silly question, but do you have wards on your chimney?”

“I don’t think so. It’s such a tiny flue. Never needed a big one with a mostly magick fire.”

Officer Puppy hadn’t told me about the rats yet, that was much later, so I didn’t have anything to add to the answer right then and there.

Mom looked sort of shocked as a thought hit her. “There’s no way he could have come in that way.”

“Unless he was small as a rat,” Captain Kirilyn finished.

She almost leapt out of her chair to go inspect the hearth. The pirates moved their chairs away from the hearth a little to better protect them from her. Ornery pushed in beside her, since it was his hearth, while my mom crept forward slowly, gently wringing her hands, and trying to look over the two tall people in front of her.

There were clearly rat prints, or tiny prints of some kind around the hearth, scattering a few ashes and tracking what little soot the hearth fire made. The tracks just led a little ways out of the hearth and stopped next to home of one of the chairs the pirates were protecting. It was hard to see if there were any rat prints on the chair on the account of a pirate butt being in the way.

“Hey Sojoe,” Ornery said, “De-ass the chair.”

Figuring he wasn’t going to be able to protect the chair from the person who owned it, Sojoe moved over and joined me at the table. He gave me a look that clearly said he was now officially protecting me, even if he would rather be protecting a comfortable chair. And it was a comfy chair, made of solid wood with big comfy cushions. Friends would come over just to sit in it and compare it jealously to their having to sit on cushions on the floor.

After Ornery and Captain Kirilyn looked at the chair, poked the chair, shook the chair, picked up the chair, and tipped over the chair, Ornery picked it up and smashed it against the stone of the hearth. Out of the splinters bounced enough loose change to buy lunch and another coin that really didn’t look like a proper coin at all.

“Was that really necessary?” mom asked. Sometimes Ornery annoyed her with his abrupt manner.

“Faster,” was all he said.

“I’m going to agree with Liiza on this one,” Captain Kirilyn said, “you didn’t know anything was actually hidden in the chair and you may have destroyed some evidence.”

Ornery just harrumphed.

The pirate Sojoe, retired, looked sadly at the chair he’d failed to protect. Then he protected some more mead.

Ornery bent down and picked up the coin that wasn’t a proper coin.

“Careful! That could be dangerous,” cautioned Captain Kirilyn.

“That might be why I’m pickin’ it up before anyone else is crazy enough to.” Ornery turned it over in his hand. He harrumphed at it a few times. “Nope, safe. Pretty though.”

He took Captain Kirilyn’s hand and dropped the coin into it. She startled, but nothing happened.

When nothing had continued to happen for a safe amount of time, she examined the coin closely. It looked like there was writing of some sort etched into it. “I’ll have some people back at the main office look at this,” she said.

“Better idea,” Ornery said, and grabbed the coin out of her hand too quick for her to stop him. “Hey, Thinker, got a research project for ya.”

“Splendid, I haven’t had one of those in a while. I mean- Yarrr! What ya be needin’ matey?” He made it pretty obvious he was trying to make me laugh. He got a small giggle.

“Thinker, how would a rat carry something?”

The pirate thinker looked confused by the easy question, or maybe by all the mead he was protecting. “Why, in it’s mouth … matey!”

“Bite down on this.” Ornery held the coin up in the pirate Thinker’s face.

The pirate Thinker looked as it suspiciously. “Is it safe?”

“Probably not.”

“Sounds good to me.” The pirate Thinker bit down on the edge of the coin. Only now there wasn’t a pirate Thinker in the chair, but a rat, holding the coin in its mouth. The pirate Thinker was so surprised that he dropped the coin out of his mouth, and was the pirate Thinker again. Mind you, he wasn’t in the right position to be sitting the chair anymore and proceeded to fall out of it very dramatically.

The coin went flying away as the pirate Thinker fell. Ornery’s hand shot out and caught it faster than you could see.

Ornery harrumphed. “There ya go. Answer.”

The pirate Thinker leapt back to his feet, looking very excited. “That was fascinating! I have never encountered anything resembling that little fetish. I don’t suppose, by chance, that there would be a way for me to acquire that device for proper research and study. I haven’t had an opportunity such as this since I unearthed that cache of ancient medical ledgers detailing the existence of vitro facilities specifically for cloning in the ruins of Ordos. Just a detailed interpretation and proper genealogy of the runes inscribed upon it could very well earn me the keynote at some major conference or another. Shapeshifter magick of a questionable provenance. What an incredible find, and right here in this house. Quite illegal for home and personal use is it not?”

Ornery gave him a long look. “Have another drink.”

“Right. Yes. I do think I will. Indeed, indeed.” He sat down, and had a very long drink. He was so excited that it was the better part of an hour before he could talk like a pirate again.

The rat coin led to an entire afternoon of more questions and more city guards and more things being poked, prodded, moved about, and looked under, though no more furniture was broken. Or maybe it was all just sped up a little. Wyrds came by to scry and to do divinations and to take readings. I annoyed them by following them around, watching what they were doing, getting in the way, and asking questions. Cleaning people came and cleaned my room, taking some of the things away with them in little magicked paper bags marked “evidence”. Concerned friends stopped by to express their concern and were politely shooed away, though mom took the time to talk to some of them. Nosey people pretending to be concerned friends stopped by to snoop and were less politely shooed away. Important looking people dressed in their finest important looking clothes came by and stood around looking important before leaving without doing much of anything at all.

Officer Puppy finally got up from his long nap and, after going outside to do the sort of things a dog needs to do, he came back and tried to politely stay out of the way. After a while he decided that the best way to do this was to hide in a corner, put his head under his paws, and whimper. If I was a dog I’d probably do the same thing. It was all noisy and crazy and loud with people coming and going, too much talk of rats and magick, and drunken pirates offering advice entirely unasked.

Mrs. Apothecary was devastated to hear about the rat coin and how she’d overlooked putting any sort of wards whatsoever on the chimney. She apologized to us for at least a half hour straight, during which Ornery just glared at her. Then she set about refreshing the wards which annoyed the other wyrds who were there trying to investigate things. She was upsetting the delicate flows of energy they were trying to feel out, in the same sort of way that a tidal wave might upset a sand castle. Mrs. Apothecary always firmly believed that if people were scrying for her wards they should see the place lit up like a New Year’s festival.

As the day wore on, Ornery was being ornery, the pirate Sojoe left after he decided there were too many city guards for him to have a chance of protecting anything from anyone, I was getting bored, and mom started making dinner. I helped, because I figured that it was a pretty safe bet we would be having some extra guests for dinner tonight, which meant more food needed making than normal, and because it was the sort of thing I did. Mom didn’t even make me get out of my nice clothes and I was very careful. Ornery was going to send me out to the market for more food then thought better of it and got Officer Kirilyn to send one of the guards.

While we were making food, and fewer people were still around investigating fewer of the things they thought needed investigating, Howper showed up with a basket of the best meat and sausages his shop had to offer. He’d heard what had happened and was worried about me. I mean, he didn’t actually say he was worried about me. He asked if I was okay, looked relieved to see me standing there, and looked a little embarrassed because I was in nice clothes instead of my normal things while he was still in a blood-stained apron from work. He made lots of excuses about how his sisters had sent him over to check on me, and how everyone else was worried, and how if he’d been there he would have thrashed that murderer but good. Knowing he was worried about me made all the busyness much nicer to deal with.

When no one was looking, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, just to watch him turn bright red. I turned back to my work grinning like a cat who had just taken down an ox and trying not to laugh. My mom, looking up from her cutting board to a beet red Howper and the look on my face gave me a dirty look. Then she laughed. That ruined it and I had to laugh too.

To steer clear of me and any other torments I might unleash on him without actually leaving, Howper got to work on roasting the meat he had brought on the hearth. He wasn’t about to let his best cuts of meat be cooked up on a stove. Howper left it to Officer Puppy to do most of the official taste testing, something Officer Puppy happily agreed to do. After a few very official reviews of choice bits of sizzling meat, Officer Puppy looked much less upset than he’d been while moping in the corner.

Soon the entire room was filled with the smells of cooking. The more the room smelled of dinner the more the talk moved away from the crime of the night before to every day chatter. By the time dinner was ready, everyone was famished, except Officer Puppy, but he tried very hard to pretend he was. After all, what self-respecting dog would wander away acting all happy and contented when there was meat on the table?

Dinner was laid out on the finest plates Mrs. Apothecary could dig out of her closets. She claims they were made with real human bones, but I didn’t believe her. Who would make plates out of human bones? That’s just creepy. “Well, it would hardly seem that they are using them anymore,” she said, “so I’m sure they would be happy to know their remains did not go to waste.”

Serving plates and bowls were filled to overflowing with spring greens tossed in oil and vinegar, spicy seaweed salad, grilled squash, smoked sausage, fresh bread, bowls of sticky rice, perfectly seared steaks, steamed beans, boiled baby crab, pickled radishes, sliced fruit, fresh mint tea, and wine. Around the food sat Ornery, the pirate Thinker, Howper, Captain Kirilyn, two of her officers, mom, Mr. and Mrs. Apothecary, and me. A good thing there weren’t any more or the table would have been crowded.

Over the course of the day, the pirate Thinker had worked hard to get Ornery to help guard enough of the mead that everyone was relaxed as they could be under the circumstances. Between that and the wonderful smell of food everyone was mostly in a good mood. Even Ornery was laughing while we ate.

Over dinner we talked about absolutely everything but the night before. Howper told us about working out a new spice blend for grilling meat with his dad. Captain Kirilyn started recounting some of the more interesting events in the city over the past week. When one of here officers protested that the public wasn’t supposed to know about a really interesting event she was describing, she laughed. “I would trust these people with my life. I think they can keep a secret.” Then she gave Howper a very dark look before she continued. Mrs. Apothecary explained the history of every piece of dinnerware she had brought over, in detail. The adults all found it fascinating. I don’t know why. And the pirate Thinker told stories about adventures that he probably had never had. Ornery, mom, and I had heard them before, but we listened anyway. He was a good story-teller.

As dinner was winding down, and the pirate Thinker was winding down another story, he stood up, and almost fell over because by then he’d had too much to eat and even more to drink. He recovered without spilling a drop from the glass in his hand and raised it high. “A toast,” he said, “To your first kill! We’ll make a pirate of you yet!”

The room was so silent you could have heard a rat drop.

My mom gracefully stood up before anyone had time to get upset, and raised her glass. “I can’t say I agree with your sentiment,” she said softly, “But the truth will be what it is.” There was a pause. Then she let out a long breath. “May no one here ever have to bear the pain of outliving their own child.”

Everyone else stood up and slowly raised their glasses in silence. I stood up, but it didn’t feel like something to raise my glass to. It made the glass feel too heavy. Everyone drank. I lifted the glass to my lips but couldn’t drink what was in it. It sat there in the glass like rippling lead. Everything felt distant and time seemed to slow to a crawl, the glass stuck there at my mouth. The silence became so deep it felt like a noise all its own, like I was stuck in the glass with nothing but the pounding of my own heart. There was a shadow in the glass with me that seemed to grow until it loomed over me, threatening, coming closer, and bringing with it things I didn’t want to remember.

Mrs. Apothecary, who was sitting next to me, rested a hand on my shoulder and asked if I was all right. The shadow passed and the world sped back to normal. I nodded quietly, but I felt really dizzy and sat down. “You poor dear,” she said, “you must be quite exhausted after all this.” She looked around. “Right. I do believe it is time to wrap things up so this young lady can get some rest.”

“But I got to sleep in late,” I protested.

“And you had a hard day and an even harder night. You need to sleep it off.”

Her calling an end to the day gave the pirate Thinker an excuse to cover his embarrassment by taking his leave as fast as politeness allowed. Even the pirate Thinker could forget to think when he was drunk enough. Captain Kirilyn gathered what few things still needed gathering and left with her men, Mr. Apothecary left to check on the shop, and Howper was sent on his way. My mom went with him a short way to talk to him. We had cleaned out the larder and she said she needed to plan groceries for the week. Howper was a good meal planner. His dad was better, but his dad wasn’t at dinner.

While she was out, Ornery lit a pipe, looked at me a long time, and said quietly, “Congratulations on yer first kill. Are ya sure that’s the kind of life ya want to be living for the rest of yer days?”

I didn’t have an answer for him. I just squirmed uncomfortably in my chair and nibbled on some scraps already grown stale on my plate, trying not to look back at him. After looking at me a while longer, he harrumphed and wandered over to the hearth to look at the fire.

Just as I was about to silently excuse myself for bed, Mrs. Apothecary said, “Just remember, make the choices you have open to you wisely. They are always and unfortunately far too few in number. A wise choice can steer the course of fate a little, but never truly change it.” I didn’t really know if she was talking to Ornery or to me.

“There’s always choices,” Ornery said, “Ya just may not like any of them. We pick what we hate least and then blame the rest on the Sisters.”

“Well, you old pirate, you go on believing that if it helps, but both you and the child do have some choices to make about how to deal with some things you have no choice in whatsoever. Even after last night, where and when may be still open to you. What never was.”

“I know my business. Maybe ya should see to yers.”

“Ornery, this is my business. I’m the one who spoke her fate for you. Then all you did was repeat the mistakes of others and try very hard to deny all you heard. You and I both know where that will get you.”

Mrs. Apothecary spoke my fate? I lost the thread of the conversation at those words. Besides, they had started talking about me like I wasn’t there. It was easy not to be.

Why would Mrs. Apothecary have spoken my fate? She was not even a Speaker. Speakers train all their lives to speak fates and nothing else and are only allowed to become Speakers when a panel of the most senior of Speakers agrees they are ready. Most of them are old and half mad by the time they are ready to speak fates. But they always speak true, at least if you can figure out the riddles and rhymes they speak in. Usually people realize too late what the words meant. If they are lucky, they meant something good. If the speaking sounded like it was full of ill omens, people will destroy themselves trying to escape the fate that was spoken, only to run head long into it.

Mrs. Apothecary clearly couldn’t be old enough to have learned to be a wyrd, and an alchemist, and a Speaker, and who knows what else besides. That would take multiple life times for even the most gifted wyrd. Hundreds upon hundreds of years ago, before any of the Pirate Wars, people claim there were natural-born Speakers, but if there were, no one has come forward in all that time to prove it. I mean, there are the Sisters, they can Speak too, but in the entire world, there are only three of them.

The Sisters, blessed be their paths, I suppose I should tell you about them. They are ancient crones, older than anyone can remember. Some people say they are immortal gods come to the earth to punish us for our past crimes. They are wise, all powerful, all seeing, all knowing, cranky, spiteful, and entirely fed up with humans and their affairs. They hide out in the Great Wastes, where only pirates dare to tread, and avoid all contact with the human race. They are stooped with age, with wild hair that seems to have a life of its own, and eyes that look right through you, like your entire life, past and future, is on display in a glass case for them. If they show up to speak your fate, it is to tell you your doom and laugh at your pathetic attempts to escape it. There are stories of them destroying entire cities because they were having a bad hair day.

Outside of the pirates, no one in living memory has even seen one of the Sisters, and most people are very thankful for that. At least if they’re anything like they are in all the story books. Ornery likes to say, “Girl, the Sisters are fairy stories to scare little children into bein’ good. Just like pirates!” Then he laughs.

Their discussion, or maybe it was an argument, it was hard to tell, was interrupted by a commotion outside the door, an argument between my mom and someone else. My mom opened the door to step in with Madame Flattery hot on her heels.

Madame Flattery was the owner of the fanciest brothel in the city, though she insisted people call it an “enstablishment of evening entertainments”. Anyone who tried to tell her the word was “establishment” would get a real fast lesson in how you don’t contradict Madame Flattery.

You didn’t even get to walk in the front door of her “enstablishment” unless you were of the right lineage and pedigree. Not that she was one to turn away money, there was a back door too. She was rich, and garish, and greedy, and gluttonous, and probably some other words beginning with G that I don’t know. She was built like she lived entirely off rich foods and expensive chocolates, and far too much of both. Though she could move her huge frame around with poise and elegance, like a giant panda who had gone on to become the world’s greatest ballerina. When she was in her best form, she could flow like liquid, with not a ripple to disturb a single one of her many layers of fat.

She was always dressed in the finest silks and satins that she somehow squeezed into without the fabric bursting. Howper used to joke that if the cords on her top ever burst, the explosion would level a city block. She never went out without perfect hair that had probably started as someone else’s, too much makeup, and way too much of whatever perfume was guaranteed to drive men mad with desire this month. Given how men responded to her, she was probably wearing a few spells too. To everyone else she was an annoyance and a painted cow, if an overly polite and elegant one.

The one nice thing most people had to say about her was of her generosity to various charities. Though what she gave, everyone knew, was only the tiniest fraction of what she had. She had a special weak spot for orphans, especially attractive young ones with no prospects and in need of gainful employment.

She never crossed the canal unless she was in a sealed coach that was hurrying toward the gate and out into the provinces beyond. Having her here was definitely a surprise, especially since there was not a single one of her burly body guards around her. There were always at least three with her: massive men, shirtless, no matter the weather, oiled and tanned. They always looked very intimidating. Ornery just called them pretty boys and said they couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.

“Dear child,” she said to mom. She called all women ‘dear child’, though people said she used different words for her girls when no one else was around. “I simply must insist you invite me in. I am here purely as a gesture of goodwill. I want to asssisssst you,” she said, drawing out the word, “here in your time of calumnity. It would be unendurably unpertinent to turn me away. I would be embarrassed and shamed beyond reconning. I simply must come in.”

My mom looked angry, and was trying to find a polite way to slam the door in her face. Slamming the door in Madame Flattery’s face was a hard thing. It might break the door on her hardened layers of makeup.

“Let her in,” Ornery said.

“Fine. Come in,” my mom said in an icy voice she usually only used when I was in really big trouble and doing a bad job of lying about it. She left the door open and stalked away to find a place to glare.

“Oh, I do thank you ever so much. You won’t regret this fellatious courtesy.” Madame Flattery waltzed gracefully in, or started to. As she tried to step through the doorway, she startled, tripped, and nearly fell in. There wasn’t even anything there for her to trip on. Maybe the door just didn’t like her coming in. She bounced flustered glances between Ornery and Mrs. Apothecary as the stumble added to her state.

Madame Flattery was always in a state, usually somewhere between fainting and exploding in a burst of nervous energy. Most of the madams in the city were always in some state or another. I guess it is what was expected of madams. I think it was supposed to be endearing or maybe to fool men who were too distracted to see the rabid wolves behind their eyes into thinking they were soft and easy to haggle with.

Officer Puppy knew she wasn’t soft and it was clear he didn’t like her there. He was very politely not growling or barking or biting her leg, though you could see he wanted to.

“Now, what can we do for ya, Miss Fattery,” Ornery said. Ornery said it with such sincerity that it was a few seconds before I was trying very hard not to giggle. Madame Flattery, full of even more nervous energy than normal, didn’t seem to notice.

Madame Flattery took a moment to gather herself up to her full, well-rounded height. She was surprisingly tall. If she wasn’t wearing heels under all those skirts, then she was taller than Ornery. “Well, I do realize this may be an undescribably importune time for you, but, honestly, nothing like bad news to motivate a person to take action, don’t you agree? I came right over because I wanted to give my most sincere heart-felt sympathies to the terrible tragedies of the past few days. I am sure it has been stressful on all of you, especially this dear child here.” She gave me an odd look and came toward me reaching out like she was going to caress my cheek. I dodged her hand. I think it was supposed to be some creepy gesture of kindness. I understood the creepy part.

She paused, no longer flustered, I think. It was hard to tell. She stared at me like she was looking for something, then glared at Mrs. Apothecary while she put her next sentence together.

“But I have also come to render what assistance I can to you in your hour of need. After much careful and studiful delubrication I am most certain I can assist in providing your darling young daughter here a safe haven free from such horrible and rather nasty threats as the last two days have brought on this household.”

Ornery harrumphed. “She ain’t my daughter,” he said levelly.

“Yes, indeed, of course, but the child does need a trade does she not? And the entire city sees her as your relation, your pregeny, which even you must confess deinclines them to offer a proper apprenticeship to her. What is a young girl to do with no future, lost in the shadow of a great and infamous pirate?” She made a play of acting a bit faint to emphasize her point. “Most certainly, she can apply herself to further study and acquire a wide penelope of knowledge, but to what end? To what end? After all, what use does this world have for another unemployed academic?” She tittered at her own humor.

“No,” said Ornery and my mom, almost at the same time.

Madame Flattery just started talking faster, to keep them from getting any more words in, especially really short ones that she didn’t want to hear. The faster she talked, the more made up words she used. It would have been funny, in a different situation.

“Now, I can certainly understand your miscomfort at such a preposition, but I run one of the safest, cleanest enstablishments in the empire. She will be under careful guard at all times. Not only wards, but real, flesh and blood guards who don’t take kindly to abusive clients.

“The libelity others perceive in her would be nothing but an asset under my tuteling. Just think, her age, child of an infamous pirate. I would have the wealthiest nobles in the empire lined up at the door for an importunity with her. Why, I have three standing orders for a chance to deflower a young pirate in this city alone, the most recent bidder offering triple what all my darling girls normally make in a month put together. I could pass her off at least that many times before anyone noticed. No matter their prederections, rarity and exoticism always commands top dollar. I mean, everyone has to be child at some point in their life, but only pirates get to be pirates. Yes, yes, I know, she tested negative, otherwise I would definitely have heard about it, my ears are everywhere, but the sashay of your name would more than cover for that. You know full well that allusion is all about giving people what they have already chosen to believe anyway.

“If the amounts on those standing offers are any mendication, she could be an independent operator within two years. And just look at her. Androgyny is in fantastically high demand these days. It is the new look in all the eristrocratic circles. Women are falling all over themselves to look like little boys, and she has the look down pat. She is an utterly natural.”

My mom looked like she was about to go look for a knife to stage a dramatic reenactment of the night before for our guest. I was slowly moving away from Madame Flattery. I didn’t like what she was saying one bit, but something felt wrong in a way that was deeper, and darker. Something deep down inside me told me that Madame Flattery was scared. Something had made her come down here alone to make a deal and now she was panicked that the deal was going to fall through. I felt the shadow from the dinner toast filling the room, looming over her and reaching for me. Officer Puppy had started growling softly, Mrs. Apothecary was checking her nails with careful disinterest, and Ornery seemed too calm, in a cold, dark way.

“So, if I’m understandin’ ya right, ya want to offer Peri here an apprenticeship?”

Madame Flattery seemed genuinely relieved. “Yes, exactly, an apprenticeship. I am most certain that with some proper coaching she could be the finest courtesan in the empire for select patrons. I am so glad we understand one another. I am most sincerely doing this from the kindness of my heart. No child should have to face the horrors this dear child has faced just because she is from a pirate family. But under my sewardship, we could easily turn this pediment into a horribly useful opportunity. With my marketing skills she could be one of the most desirable new properties in years. We could capitalize on her infirmy and turn it into an unquillified asset.”

“Peri ain’t going to be a prostitute for yer brothel.”

Madame Flattery did her best to look properly offended. It was hard for her to do without trying to play coy at the same time. “I will have you know that I do not employ prostitutes and my house is not a brothel. My enstablishment hires only the finest courtesans and mistresses for the most exclusive of clientele. Not that I’d expect some unemployed pirate to understand that.”

“Apologies then, I didn’t mean to insult ya. I have a great respect for a good whore, having hired many of them in my day.” Ornery paused to give Madame Flattery’s face time to turn red and the flames to start licking around the edges of her eyes. Just as her lips started to press into that line that would turn into a sharp reply, he continued, “But ya see, she’s already got an apprenticeship somewhere.”

“Impossible!” Madame Flattery almost exploded. “I have my ear to every channel in the city, and there is not a person that would touch her. You’ve tainted her. And now you’re going to ruin my—her last chance.”

Ornery harrumphed. It was a very smug harrumph. It made me a little less afraid of her. “Ya know what is kinda queer? That a woman like yerself, who never waits for an invitation from anyone, wanted us to invite ya in. What were ya afraid of?”

“Common courtesy,” Madame Flattery almost hissed.

Ornery gave her a long, hard look, hard enough to bruise most faces, but her makeup was too thick to be injured so easily. “Anyway, she can’t hardly be an apprentice pirate and workin’ under yer customers at the same time. Wouldn’t be proper.”

Officer Puppy was growling loudly now, stalking up around Mrs. Apothecary and sidling into position like he was looking for a clear shot at Madame Flattery’s neck, if he could find it under all the chins and silk.

“Alright, alright,” Madame Flattery almost hissed, “I know what you want. I’ll split the first year’s proceeds with you fifty-fifty.”

Mrs. Apothecary just looked at Madame Flattery sweetly, “Tell me, how is that new girl you just hired… what was her name, oh yes, Hiro. How is Hiro doing? She seemed so promising.”

“Hiro? I—” Madame Flattery looked stunned. She recovered and laughed nervously, like she was covering for a bad joke. “I have no idea—”

Seeing the look on Officer Puppy’s face, framed by a stance ready to lunge, she thought better of another reply. Seeing that Ornery, my mom, and Mrs. Apothecary all looked perfectly ready to not call him to heel, she made her step toward the door. Then there was another step, and another, then she threw open the door and hustled out.

Safely outside, she turned and shouted, her face red with rage, “People do not say no to me, and they certainly don’t cheat me out of paying customers! I have friends! Important friends! You will be hearing from them!” And with a dramatic harrumph of her own, she stormed off like she was being pursued by ghosts. It may have been her best attempt, but her harrumph didn’t even merit a passing mention in the Secret Order of Harrumphers.

Officer Puppy, standing next to Mrs. Apothecary, stopped growling. She was scratching his ears. “I smell a rat too,” she said.

There were a thousand questions we could have asked. Why did Madame Flattery show up right then? Was she really serious about hiring me as one of her girls? Did she have some other, darker reason? What was she afraid of? Did she know something about the murder attempt? Was she involved? Who was Hiro?

The only question that got asked was mine. “Apprentice pirate?”

“Sounds to be what I said, don’t it?”

I expected my mom to protest, to raise a fuss, to reprimand Ornery for making a joke. What she said was, “It’s about time you made up your mind.” Her voice was still dripping with anger, but if any of it was aimed at Ornery it was only for letting that woman come in.

“Past time,” Mrs. Apothecary agreed.

I had to ask for her. “That was a joke to drive her away, wasn’t it? I mean, I wouldn’t want to work for that cow, doing… that, but there are no apprentice pirates, you said so.”

“Then ya can be the first.”

At that moment, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be an apprentice pirate. If Ornery was expecting me to be excited, he was disappointed. I was scared. I had a feeling he liked it better that way.