[b:8fb665cb90]Photographs. Where did Maljonic get them developed, hm?[/b:8fb665cb90]

He gently slid a black and white photograph from between the pages of the diary and handed it across the desk for me to look at.

'Who is he?'

'Brad. A long time ago.'

'But he's a llama...'

'He is now. The Sock Wars all started because he wanted me to change him back. I told him if he could win three times in a row, then I would.'

I gaped at the photograph.

'Bu--How--' I gaped at Maljonic. 'How did you turn him into a llama?'

'This is the first sock,' he held out another photograph.

Okay. It's a sock. I looked up at him, curious, and he continued, ignoring my earlier question, 'It wasn't mine, and it wasn't Brad's. Mossfoot is holding it in this picture. I don't suppose Brad introduced you to Mossfoot?'

I shook my head and peered at the photograph, but all I could make out aside from the dirty sock were a few blurred fingers and a background of shadows.

'In any case he usually keeps out of sight. Since the...um, Since I... Well, he doesn't like to see people.'

'Why?'

And then there was pie. It was some sort of vegetable pie. It always has to come in the middle of everything... I took my plate out of the air, my question still hanging strung out above Malory's desk. He took out a silver spork and told me he'd prefer to eat in peace, if I'd be so good as to close the door behind me.

In the face of his impatience I could do nothing but stand up and carry my pie out of the room. Outside pirates were milling around with their pie, some with sporks, some without. I'd left mine in my other clothes. I didn't like getting grease all over my hands, but I had to eat the stuff somehow. Leaning up against the railing I chewed and thought and suddenly realized the island was dwindling in the distance. My face fell and I wondered where we were going. We couldn't be leaving... not for good... not without fighting the sock wars?

I finished my pie and continued to watch the island in all its green and black and sand-coloured picturesqueness. It floated further and further away in the sunstruck ocean.

'Pretty, innit?' Chris Jordan had materialized at my elbow, tucking a brown curl behind one ear and squinting into the sun.

I nodded with a sidelong glance at his grubbiness.

'So, yer name's...Plaid, they tol' me...not...' he mumbled the last bit, 'Maria.'

I couldn't help smiling, he looked so repentant and self-conscious. 'Well,' I said, suddenly feeling friendly, 'I really don't know my real name. They call me Plaid. You can call me Maria if you like. I don't care.'

He laughed. 'Maria's a...well, its a fish-name. Only a mermaiden would be called Maria. And you en't one a them.'

Questions about mermaidens crowded my brain, but I couldn't find a way to put them into words. I stared at the water in confusion. Chris Jordan leaned on the railing next to me.

'Did it...' I began. There was a pause in which I wrestled with all the stupid reasons I had for asking this question. 'Were you... Did you forget, too? Do you know where you came from? or who you are?'

I looked at me strangely. 'Aye's always bin a pirate. I remember Trollmovverr feedin' me mashed pie and lettin' me help the ovvers polish the silver.'

'So you grew up on the Catface?'

'Yup.'

I sighed. 'What about... the other pirates? Where did they come from?'

'The island. Well, Captain Mal didn't, he came on ther ship, wit' Catface. That was way back. Before.'

'Before what?'

'Just before. Geez ye ask a lot ar questions.'

With the slightest of appologetic looks I turned away and ran into Carrot.

'Argh, what--' I muttered angrily.

He rubbed his shoulder and stepped back with a polite nod of his head before he spoke. 'Captain tol' me ter find yer clothes? Trollmother wouldn' le' me 'ave 'em, but she 'ad these bits...'

It was the dillapidated old book, the key chains and nail clippers, and Blue. And my spork! I clutched the spork, and began to fiddle with Blue's machine. She crawled out and scurried up my arm. I giggled as I collected the rest of my belongings from Carrot.

'Do you have her food...it was in a jar... a small jar like... ah, there it is. Thank you,' I looked at him gratefully and, with a dutiful nod, he went back to whatever he was supposed to be doing.

After feeding Blue a little of her food and holding her furriness up to my face, I noticed Jordan. He looked incredulously disgusted.

'What?' I asked, my eyes narrowed in self-defense.

'What is that thing? It looks like a rat.'

'She's not a rat, she's a gerbil. Go away if you c--'

'She? She?'

'Yeah, she. What's your problem?'

'Nuffin'.' The pirate kid backed away. I glared at him as he left. weird...

I didn't want to put Blue back in her cage thing, but I also didn't want to have to keep hold of her all afternoon. She squeaked and squirmed, but I put her away and turned my attention to the book. Maybe Malory would know something about it. Or maybe he...

Moon Cat Blue had said he didn't know everything. And that Fred did know... everything? Nobody knew everything, did they?

Well, what was there to know? Maybe...

No, it was too horrible to think about not even having a past. It had to be there somewhere.

But where?

'Plaid,' a shadow fell over me. I turned to find a tall, bulky pirate...Fugitive, I recognized him.

'What?' I asked carefully.

'Aye's sorry fer ruffin' ye up wif Sian yesteday, like we done.'

This surprised me. My eyebrows couldn't decide to raise inquisitively or furrow in bewilderment. I just looked at Fugitive. He swallowed.

'Tempus Fugitive, 's me,' and he held out a large dirty hand. As I hesitantly shook it he went on, 'They calls you Plaid, innit? So yez one of us now?'

I said nothing and sighed, shaking my head as I asked myself the same question.

'Whassat?' He was looking at Blue's round contraption as it rocked gently on the deck next to my feet.

'A gerbil. Her name's Blue.' I set my book down and picked her up, squinting through a space between the metal works of her cage. 'Do you know where we're going?'

'Not fer certain...but prob'ly ter-- 'allo Captian.'

Malory had come out of his office and clearly wanted me to accompany him back to it. I gathered my collection of belongings and cursed the fact that I had no pockets, tailing the Captain across the deck.

He closed the doors to his office as I sat down and placed Blue carefully on the desk. The chair was nice and comfortable. Malory looked at me and coughed softly.

'This is...Blue, the gerbil?' He gestured towards the metal contraption.

'Yes. I took the gerbil out and Maljonic had to force down a look similar to the one Chris Jordan had given little Blue.

'What?' I held her close, in my hands, and she sqeaked softly.

'Put it away, before it gets loose, please. What is that cage thing? What does it do?'

'She's a she.' I set the gerbil back inside and looked back at the Captain. 'It's a....well, I was supposed to use it to send back messages...but, well.... um. Pat showed me how it works, but... well, I don't know. And now that... well... er.'

'I see. Where were we? I was showing you my photographs. Here.'

The Garner was sillhouetted against a grey-scale sky. I recognized two or three of the pirates standing on the shore of the lake below a waterfall. It didn't look like the same waterfall.

'We won the first War. There have been many since then, and Brad has never been able to stack up three victories against us. He's come close, but not close enough.'

'Um, how... I'm still not really,' I put the photograph down on his desk, 'sure... exactly what...er, well, how these Sock Wars actually...work. How do you win?'

'Keep hold of your socks. It's harder than it sounds.'

'How?'

There was a pause while Maljonic put the photographs away and returned to his chair. 'It does seem very like a mere game to you, I'm sure. Socks are nothing more than socks, of course. You will see how important it is to us. Things have only begun to--'

In response to the loud knock that came on the door the Captain sighed and shouted for whoever it was to come in. Moon Cat Blue stood in the doorway, her face a picture of urgency.

'Captain, there's a ship. Starboard, heading south. Prepare to attack?'

Attack? And then I remembered...these were pirates, after all.

'By all means,' Maljonic said with a smile. He stood up and took his spyglass out with him. 'Let me have a look at them.'

I waited. Outside, Moon Cat Blue and the Captain speculated on the origin, purpose, and direction of the ship. I only half listened to their talk of distinguishing architectual details, the shapes of sails and flags, and colouring. The room remained empty, and their voices remained outside. Blue chittered.

The drawers of Malory's desk slid smoothly and silently. Brad sent me here to spy and I could at least find out something, couldn't I? I nicked a few pencils, as Pat had requested, keeping them hidden in my sleeves. I was able to shuffle through the drawer full of papers and the drawer full of utensiles before I felt guilty enough to return to my chair. That second drawer...I wondered what the sharp and intricate instruments in there were for.

Captiain Malory didn't come back to the room. I stood up and innocently inspected his shelves. Mostly there were maps, journals, oh my...

My hand went to the spine of the leather bound book. The Holy Book of Om, tooled into the cover, cleanly, with the same gold leaf and everything. I turned the book over in my hands, smoothing my fingers across the soft cover, tracing the title in amazement.

The water-damaged copy I presumed was mine lay on the table beneath the key chain and nail clippers I didn't really have a reason for keeping. The book, though...This book...

I flipped through the pages of Malory's copy. He and Moon Cat came in and found me trying to divide one stare between the two books. They payed me no attention as they pulled maps from the shelf and sank deeper into a discussion about tactics and weapons. I moved Blue and my other things out of their way and sat back down in the chair. While they talked and ignored me I decided to take a proper look at this Holy Book. I turned back the title pages carefully.

The half a dozen pages I got through presented a very boring story about some people and some prophets and a wildernes. I got thoroughly sick of reading and looked up persistently, willing Malory to look at me and answer my questions, but he and Moon Cat Blue were absorbed in battle plans, their fingers tracing chaotic lines all over the maps in front of them.

'They're sailing South. We'll intercept them....about....here. The winds are...Oh, pie.'

Both of them set their plates to the side and continued. I took mine, and Blue and my things, outside and sat down against the railing of the ship. My head ached. I closed my eyes and gripped my spork. This was so incredibly stupid. I am stuck on this ship with a whole lot of strangers, eating pie from who knows where, and its so hot out here. And my head hurts. This pie tastes awful.

I looked at the pie mournfully. I wondered what was in it, wondering why Ba couldn't send anything more... more... different. Always pie. I swallowed, clutching my spork tighter, breathing angrily, deep seething frustration. Thankfully I fell asleep before I'd cried too much. The pirates left me alone and I didn't wake up until they all started shouting.

I was hungry and my eyes were sticky and heavy with sleep and crying. The sun was setting, I could tell as I squinted, still in a rather unhappy mood, still lying curled against the ship's railing with my spork digging its nice plastic edges into my hand.

All the shouting that was going on sounded quite unintelligible. I wanted to go back to the calmness of dreamland but someone stomped over to me and started tugging on my arm.

'Yer wan' ter git below deck missy, thar's gonnar be figh'in' an yer en't,' he dragged me awake, 'got,' and I stood up, scowling, 'no weapons.'

I was tempted by pure animosity at this point to stick my spork up his nose. Luckily for him I was tired enough to give way to his demands with a complascent sort of apathy. He pushed me down the stairs and I stumbled through a few corridors until I regained a sense of direction.

Trollmother was knitting in her room. I fed Blue and placed her carefully on the floor in her cage. Then I laid down in my hammock and stared at the ceiling. The steady click of knitting needles wound out my aggravation slightly. Before long it faded behind the sounds of screaming and battle-cries from above deck. This and the humming of the ocean mingled into a dream of washed out darkness where a star became a puddle became a sock, and I put on the sock, and found myself standing in the sky, which was a puddle, which went all wooden and stiff and hit me in the face. I woke up with a groan.

'Oh, careful dear, careful.' Trollmother was at my side stroking my shoulder, lifting me from the floor. I shook the dreams away from my aching head and realized I'd fallen out of the hammock.