Page 47 of Blow Me Down
“Emeralds, huh? So a lot of the men work there?”
He shook his head. “They’re all dead now. Black Corbin killed ‘em. Cap’n Bart, he brought in more men, but they’re not many, and they’re busy in the crew foragin’ and keepin‘ Black Corbin from slittin’ our throats while we sleep.”
A protest that Corbin would never do anything so nefarious rose on my lips, but I bit it back, instead looking along the arms of the crescent that formed the harbor. On either side, crude wooden structures had been built, upon which even now men swarmed, working to install the new bigger cannons that would be used to protect the town.
I looked back at the square, the pleasant, ordinary scene in front of me contrasting violently with the vision of the cobblestones running red with the blood of the remaining inhabitants of the island.
If what Corbin and Bart said about the blockade was true, then the people of Turtle’s Back needed my help.
“I have to write a letter,” I said, making a decision. “Who has parchment, do you know?”
Bas’s eyes widened in surprise. “Ye be wantin‘ to write a letter? To a person?”
“Yeah. Yes… er… aye. I do. An important letter. I don’t have any reales, so I need someone who would be willing to barter something for a bit of parchment, a pen, and ink.”
Bas continued to look stunned by my request. I gave up hoping for a suggestion from him and scanned the shops around the square, finally settling on the largest merchant shop as being the wealthiest in town, and thus the most likely to have extravagances like parchment and ink.
Two hours later I emerged from a nearby sweltering outbuilding, sucking at a blistering spot on my left palm, my right hand just as sore, but triumphantly clutching a rolled-up scrap of parchment, a cast-off quill, and a minuscule amount of ink in a stopperless bottle.
Bas, who had been napping in the shade of a nearby coconut tree, got up and shambled after me as I headed for Renata’s house. “Ye got yer letter, then?”
“I churned enough butter to clog up the arteries of half the town,” I said. “And, yes, I got the parchment and ink. Now, for a few quiet moments to write the letter. Oh, are you busy? No? Would you mind staying around the square? I want you to watch for someone.”
“Who?” Bas asked, his head to the side as Bran ruffled through his hair. I avoided looking at both of them, knowing the bird had probably found feasts there in the past.
“A friend of mine. He’s… er… he looks like a leper. Or a deranged man. But he’s neither; he’s perfectly harmless, I assure you…” My voice trailed off.
Reassurances weren’t necessary. The minute the wordleperleft my lips, Bas’s eyes lit up.
“If you see him, go up to him quietly, without drawing any attention to yourself, and tell him I have a message for him to deliver. You got that?”
He nodded. I parked him in the square, gave him an apple I’d confiscated for my lunch, and hurried back to the small room that Renata had let me use.
It took me a few tries, and much of the remaining shaft of the quill, to get a point that would write even remotely legibly, but at last I sat cross-legged on the floor, a board on my lap, the rumpled bit of parchment stretched out on it.
I teased my chin with the feather end of the quill as I drought about what I wanted to write.
Dear Corbin,
I’ve changed my mind about five dozen times in the last few hours about what Iwanted to say to you. My first response to your proposal was, as you imagined, to bequite startled. I didn’t scream, though, but that’s because I figured it would bringeveryone in the town on the run, and I’d never get your letter read then. After I wasthrough being startled, I was a bit annoyed. It seemed like you were back to beingthat blond charmer, interested only in conquests and having women ogle his manlychest. But then I had a chat with Bart, and… well, I decided that I wasn’t going tosay no.
I’m not saying yes, either. I think we need to talk, face-to-face. I’ve got someconcerns that I want to discuss with you, and it’s too difficult to do it via not-very-instant messaging. Is it possible for us to get together? I’m free during the evenings.
Usually Bas and I hang out around the town, since I don’t like for him to be inRenata’s when customers start arriving. I can meet you at that little beach on theother side of the island. Don’t come in through the harbor—Bart has some newguns, and I get the idea he’d really relish using them on you.
Sincerely,
Amy
PS—I’ve talked to what seems like half the town so far, and no luck on Paul-hunting. Have you found him yet? I get back spasms if I don’t move around, so weneed to get out of here soon before my body revolts on me.
I read the letter over, yearning for my handy Wite-Out pen to remove the worst of the inky blotches, splashes, smears, and fingerprints, but in the end, I shrugged and figured Corbin would just have to decipher it as best he could. I used a bit of plain old candle wax to seal the rolled-up parchment, then went in search of Bas, and, I hoped, Holder. I hadn’t heard any hue and cry indicating that one of Corbin’s men had been caught, so I assumed he was lying low until night, when he could slip out of town.
Night was just falling when we finally found him.
“Psst! Amy!” Holder hissed from an alley Bas and I were passing. A woman and her children walking next to me paused to look down the alley.
“Argh, me beauty, ye’re a fine-lookin‘ wench. Be ye lookin’ to play hoist the anchor?” Holder said, doubling over and drooling as he shuffled toward us. The woman hurried her children away quickly. Holder glanced around as he straightened up, grabbing my arm and hauling me into the shadow of the alleyway.
