[b:5bd9c2d1c9]pirates at last[/b:5bd9c2d1c9]

They saw us coming and met us half way. Pirates. Real Pirates. Leather and earrings and big black boots, and long curved swords. There were three of them. I decided to have the first word. I had been the one to approach them, after all.

'Hey!' I shouted when they were within a few yards. 'Hey, can you help us? We don't know...'

Hermes began whimpering. And I must admit the pirates looked menacing. Dark and powerful-looking. The one with a navy kerchief on his head and three gold rings in his ears came forward and grimaced at me. His moustache was greasy, tangled, thick, and black.

'Who are you?' he growled. The other two had drawn daggers out of sleeves and boots, and were hemming Hermes and I in.

At this point Hermes' whimpering erupted into a choked plea, 'We don't know who we are! We don't know!'

The glinting daggers disappeared.

'Bring 'em down,' the moustached one said, walking quickly back to the mouth of the river. The other two took hold of us and marched us after him. I wished Hermes would shut his mouth and try and act respectably, instead of blubbering so much like a child.

They were rough with us. Oddly enough, this didn't frighten me. Pirates are meant to be rough, after all. They wouldn't be proper pirates otherwise. Hermes was tossed in the small skiff, and I was set down on top of him.

'Stay put,' one of the pirates shouted. I resisted the impulse to take Blue out and check on her, and instead hefted myself off of Hermes. The pirates were conversing a few feet away, looking suspiciously at us.

'You okay?'

He only nodded and continued looking like a frightened puppy. Out of sympathy I took his hand.

'Captain's sailed 'round eas'side, and he won't be back this mornin'. We could do what we please with 'em,' I heard one of them say. He was tall, thin, and draped in a dirty orange rag of a shirt, with chains around his neck and an eerie yellow-toothed grin.

He saw me staring and scowled, so I looked away, and pretended fascination with the supplies in the boat as I continued to listen.

'Nah, 'e sed we was to keep any castaways fer 'im to lookit later on. Ye knows the sock wars gets to 'im like that. 'e'll be...'e'll be in a right state ifn yer don't obey partick'lar 'structions jus' like 'e sez.'

'Orright, orright. What're we gonna do wi' 'em 'til Captain gets back, then?'

'Tie 'em up, eh? eh?' This was a new voice. It sounded much too eager to tie us up.

'Shattup Jordan. We's jus' gonna let 'em sit. Athar, you go on an' finish scoutin' the river. Ifn ye kin git a bottle er two a the, ye know, tha' the Captain likes, yeah? Good on yer.'

I heard one of them walk off through the trees. The other two came back to the skiff and looked us up and down.

'Yer sure we ain't allowed ter tie 'em up, eh Black?'

'Jordan, I ain't gonna tell yer again ter shattup. I want ye ter sit 'ere an' .... an... think up names fer 'em both. I's gonna...I'll be back for pie.'

With that, the pirate with the moustache stomped off.

I looked at the one he'd left behind to name us. He had a lot of messy brown curls sticking out from under a big hat. His face was smooth, he looked young. If I'd wanted to escape, it would've been a simple matter of shoving him into a tree and tying his earrings to his bootlaces.

'I want ter tie ye up.' The scrawny pirate glared, stubbornly frustrated that he'd been forbidden to do so. His eyes were a dull greenish yellow, framed by dark brows.

I looked at him with my best ignorant look, waiting. Hermes was beginning to calm down a bit, and his grip on my fingers relaxed.

'Who...who are you?' he surprised me by opening his mouth and directing the question at our disgruntled captor, such as he was.

The pirate looked at us both suspiciously, and I blinked a few times in curious innocence.

'Jordan. Chris Jordan,' he stood up and straightened his hat proudly, 'crew of Maljonic's Catface.'

[b:7f635bb9ac]catface?[/b:7f635bb9ac]

I let a little worry creep into my expression. My lips trembled as I slowly asked, 'And... you... what are you going to do with ...us?'

'Give ye names, like Tony the Black said ter.'

He paced uncertainly near the boat. I picked at the end of my sleeve and waited. Chris Jordan murmured to himself. I didn't bother listening. Hermes let go of my hand and peeled some of the cracked paint off his fingers.

'Stop that! Don't--' I grabbed his hands and glared at him sternly. 'Leave it alone,' I hissed.

He nodded, frightened. Chris looked at us strangely. I whispered a bit more nonsense to Hermes with a mock-anxious tone and then looked nervously back at the pirate. He squinted at us both for a few minutes.

'How wud yer both like real good proper pirate names, eh? You,' he pointed at me, 'you look like a... ah...errr...'

'Fred.' Hermes said it out of nowhere. I looked at him in shock. Please, I don't need his memory to come back just now...it'll ruin everything...

His response to my sudden stare was a look of bewilderment. 'What?'

'Fred? What a dumb name.'

I just looked at Chris as he said this, hoping very much that none of my knowledge of Fred the elephant could be seen in my face. The pirate continued.

'Nah...'nless yer want ter be called Fred, ye wit' the strange hat. Do yer?'

Hermes' hand went to his headware self-consciously. He persisted in looking bewildered.

'Nah, yer gonna be called...' he paused and seemed to draw his next words out of the air, 'Peg-leg Harry.'

I looked at Hermes. Nope, he hadn't sprouted a peg leg. 'He hasn't got a peg leg!' I told Chris.

''e ain't? Arr, well...' Chris Jordan's gaze wandered. He groped for a comeback. 'So?'

'What're you gonna name me, then? One-eyed Petunia? Maria the Headless?'

He started laughing. 'Maria! Hahahah hahaha! Ha ha ha ha!'

Tony Black returned to find Chris Jordan sprawled against a tree laughing his head off.

'Hahaha! Ha, Maria!' he blubbered. Tony stared at him.

'Maria? Ye ain't goin' ter name 'er 'Maria,' arr ye? Does she look like a bloody fish ter you?'

'Maria the Tailless!' Chris announced this as if it were the most brilliant idea he'd ever had. Maybe it was.

Tony grunted and threw the sack he'd been carrying into the boat. 'Whatever, Jordan. Maria 'tis, if ye like. Come on, let's shove off.'

Chris killed his laughter began to help Tony get the skiff down into the river.

'What arbout Atharr?'

'We're goin' ter git 'im, come on.'

It had gotten a bit warmer, but the breeze over the water was still crisp. The two pirates didn't speak as they rowed upriver. It was a winding, solemn river. After listening a few moments in the quiet of the woods, I almost thought I could hear it moaning. I looked over the edge of the boat warily. The water looked normal...well, as normal as I imagined water should look... were those red-orangey things fish?

They didn't look quite like fish...but what else...? Salamanders?

Hermes--Peg-leg Harry, now I suppose--was being surprisingly quiet. I looked up from the river and turned to him. He looked at me with the same helplessness in his eyes. That look probably wasn't going to go away soon. My gaze fell into my lap. I could feel Blue scritching and squirming inside my coat. The two pirates were silently rowing. I was hungry.

The river widened out eventually. The loud cascade of a waterfall grew to fill the clearing. We rowed into the lake and the pirates dragged the skiff mostly out of the water.

I couldn't help staring at the waterfall. It was multicolored, and looked...alive. Hermes stared at it too. Was it...it couldn't really...

'It's screaming.'

I looked at Hermes. There was a pale terror in his face as he gaped. I looked back at the waterfall, shaking my head. It can't be screaming. It just can't. But I could hear it. Underneath the pounding of masses of water on water, it was undeniable.

'Arr! Get yerselfs outer thar 'n come fer pie!' Tony was hauling us both by our collars out of the boat.

'Hey!' I tried to wriggle out of his grasp and in doing so ended up on my face in the mud. I heard a duet of laughter.

Hermes helped me up, once the pirate had set him down. 'Thanks,' I said.

The three pirates ate their pie with their fingers. Hermes and I were forced to do the same. I couldn't give away where I'd got my spork, and Hermes had forgotten all about table manners.

'Where did it come from?' Hermes wondered. The pie had appeared in the air, just like it always did, on plates. Today it had sprinkles. Coloured ones...pink and blue and yellow and green.

I only shrugged at him. The pirates were mostly ignoring us. Chris Jordan would occasionally give us a glance, but other than that, they were busy smearing their faces with pie.

As Hermes and I licked our fingers, we looked around some more. My eyes were drawn to the waterfall, but it's unearthly screaming was frightening. I tried to concentrate on the boat. It was made of whitewashed wood, and the word 'Chimaera' was stencilled sloppily on the side. The guy they had called Athar had set a half a dozen bottles of river water in the back with the other sacks of who knew what. I listened to everything the pirates were saying, but they were talking with their mouths full of pie, and I couldn't understand one word.

Tony Black was obliged to consent to Chris tying us up before the three of them could take the liberty of falling asleep. Chris Jordan was good with rope. I couldn't move at all. Hermes whimpered, looking at me.

'Oh, stop it He-harry,' I said. 'They gave us food. They haven't really hurt us. Its better than starving.'

He still wasn't happy. I wasn't either, but whining wouldn't help, would it?

'M--Maria? The waterfall...'

'Shhh. I don't know why it's screaming. I don't know why it looks so...ugly. Just ...just stop...' I fell silent and tried to shift my position against the tree I was tied to.

'But--'

I glared at Hermes. He was really starting to bug me.

'But I--'

I screamed. Not too loudly, but with so much aggrivation and frustrated energy that it echoed slightly. The pirates woke up grumbling.

'Whut in Ba's name arr ye hollerrin' fer?!' Athar shouted, getting up and bringing his grimy face within centimeters of mine.

I closed my mouth and jerked my head away from him. 'Aaowch,' I moaned when it hit the tree. I expected Athar to slap me or something. He just scowled and breathed a sticky, horrible breath into my face.

I tried forcing some tears, to maybe get a bit of sympathy. I hung my head and moaned about being tired and frightened and not knowing where or who I was.

'Shattup,' he said, turning away. I muttered quietly for a few more moments and then continued staring at my feet in their mud-covered boots.

Athar was still walking around. I risked a glance at him through a few dirty strands of my dark hair. He had taken off his shoes and was climbing Hermes' tree.

'What are you doing?' Hermes asked, his voice slightly panicky. 'What..? Hey! Argh grhgrgh...'

Athar's foot pressed down on Hermes' shoulder, then his head. I couldn't help but smirk at the sight of those big filthy pirate feet in poor Hermes' face.

'Yerr ain't peekin' 't them merrmaidens agin, arr ye?' Tony reclined against a tree and stretched lazily. 'May yerrr spyglass shatter yerr scalliwag...' and with that he closed his eyes and went back to sleep. Chris was lying a few feet away. He rolled over and continued to snore gently. This was turning out to be the most boring morning I'd ever had.

'Ahoy!' Athar shouted, to who I couldn't tell. I tried to crane my neck and get a look at what he might be doing up there in that tree. It didn't work.

Hermes and I looked at each other, wondering.

'Did he say...?' he began.

I looked at Tony and had to admit to myself that he had said mermaidens... I nodded. 'I think,' I said, 'he did.'

'Mermaidens. Is that...Are th...what are they?'

We looked suspiciously at the waterfall. I didn't see any mermaidens. I squinted. No...unless...unless mermaidens were...translucent and mouldy looking...with too many arms and legs....ew...

'Can you see those, Hermes?'

'Hermes?'

'Harry, I mean Harry! Harry, can you see those...things...' I jerked my head toward the waterfall. 'The...They're hard to see. I think they're the things...that are screaming. Look harder.'

'I can't see anything. Are you sure...'

'Look! They're...all squirmy and... I--There's dozens of them. They're hideous,' I whispered. The things in the waterfall were absolutely rotten. As I looked at their cascading bodies I swear I was able to smell them. I wrinkled up my nose and wrenched my eyes away from the sight. Hermes was lookign at me like I was delusional. I hoped I wasn't.

[b:196868b3d3]yeah, its a freaky waterfall. no, I'm not gonna tell you why.[/b:196868b3d3]

Athar either fell or jumped out of the tree, landing two very small inches away from Chris Jordan. The thud didn't even wake up the skinny snoring figure.

After scrambling upright and inspecting his spyglass to make sure it was whole and undamaged, Athar brushed himself off and walked over to the boat. It wobbled as he stepped into it. Where the lake water lapped against its sides there were smears of orange-green goo.

I watched the pirate carefully, not wanting to anger him and risk the chance of his breath anywhere close to my face again. He was rummaging around in a ruck sack. He took out a pair of socks and sniffed them once before stuffing them and a few more pairs into his boots.

Then he dragged Chris up off the ground and shouted until the kid woke up. 'We're leavin'. Catface 's on 'er way. Get Black.'

Athar began to untie Hermes, and then me. He marched us to the skiff and tossed us in. Hermes landing on top of me this time. I stuck my hand in my coat and tried to make sure Blue was still there and still undamaged.

Tony was cursing at Chris as they both joined Athar in the Chimaera and began steering the boat back down river. Again, nobody talked. Hermes amused himself by taking off his hat and putting it back on again at various angles. At least he wasn't pestering anyone with questions.

The tide sucked the little boat out into the sea and the three pirates had to strain to keep it on course. Within a moment or two the ship came into view. It creaked and swayed as we approached. Its sails were old, its portholes covered with grime, its crew shouting from crow's nests, scampering up and down the rigging, looking at us and pointing over the edge of the deck.

Once on board, Chris was allowed to tie us up again. I wish he hadn't tied us both to the same mast, or at least not so close together. Hermes smelled like laquered paint and seawead. I smelled a fair bit like seaweed myself, but it was the paint that gave me a headache.

Pirates of various sizes and colors gaped at us. I had my hair pulled and my nose tweaked and my jaw squeezed. Thankfully, none of the grubby people breathed on me.

'Maria? My shoulder hurts.'

'Hm, does it? Maybe,' I said, staring around at the throng of busy pirates on deck, 'you might ask one of these kind sailors to loosen this rope?'

I laughed to myself as he tried this. 'Hey, hey you! Hey, you there with the eyepatch, can you... Hey! Hey, could someone...'

'Shut up Her--Harry. Just shut up.'

I wondered, as Hermes persisted to squirm and moan next to me, what was goign to happen to us. If they left us tied up here all day I'd never find out anything about the Sock Wars.

A knife sang swiftly and thudded at an angle into the wood behind my head. I looked along its glinting edge and saw the hand from which it'd been thrown. It was a large hand, belonging to a pirate with blue tatoos all over herself. Her hair was in two rough plaits, golden and thick. One ear was pierced with a series of small metallic rings. She had tanned, even skin and her eyes were deep and hard, but almost warm. Not angry. Why had she chucked a knife at me then?

'Carrot, Sybil, untie them.'

These two scurried from her side and began working at Jordan's knots. Meanwhile, the knife-throwing blonde came to retrieve her weapon. She leaned towards me and smiled. My eyes were wide, wondering, not quite scared. She whispered, so close to inaudibly, 'Fred knows.'

The ropes fell away from me. Hermes drew himself close behind me and looked at the woman as she pulled her knife from the mast and stepped back.

'Welcome to the Catface.' She took my hand and shook it firmly, 'Moon Cat Blue. I believe Jordan named you Maria?' I nodded. 'Captain wants to see you and,' she paused, 'Peg-leg Harry?' I nodded again. 'Separately. Carrot, take him.'

Hermes was led away by the ginger haired pirate. The one she'd called Sybil wandered off. Moon Cat Blue gestured with her knife and I followed her across the deck. She led me to an ornate set of doors. Standing in front of them, facing me, she stuck her knife into her boot and looked into my eyes. I looked away, nervous.

'Look 't me, girl.'

I looked. She leaned closer. 'Fred ain't the only one 't knows. Captain don't know everything, but trus' me, it ain't worth it lyin' to 'im.'

She knocked, paused, and threw open the door, motioning for me to enter the room. I took a deep breath and did so.

He had a hat on, saving me from being tempted to think too much about the hinted horrors of his ear.

'Sit down, Plaid.'

I sat down. I looked around the room, which was lovely, if small. Malory leaned across the desk and raised an eyebrow. Then I realized, He knew my name...how did he...? who told him my... ? I tried to breath calmly. Brad just made up the name, remember? From your clothes. Don't panic...

I blinked slowly and looked at him as innocently as possible. He straightened and leaned back, but kept staring at me, his smile fading away into an impatient frown.

'Plaid,' he said again. 'What has Brad told you?'

I couldn't give in. I couldn't. 'Brad?' I asked.

'The llama. Brad, the wonder llama. I know he sent you!'

He was pounding the desk now. I pressed myself as hard as I could into the back of my chair and persisted in my ignorance.

'L-l-llama?'

The captain glared at me from under the brim of his hat. 'Look,' he said. 'I know you know that I know that Brad, the miserable two-timing sock-thief, sent you here, to spy on me and my crew. Admit it.'

I screwed up my face into what was probably a slightly artificial-looking expression of confusion.

He scowled, becoming angrier. I was truly bewildered enough about how he could have known. Remaining silent, I watched him stand up and pace the small room, muttering to himself. Listening hard, I could make out a few words. 'couldn't have,' 'wrong one,' 'but how,' 'monkey freak,' 'what an idiot!'

He looked at me again and then stormed to the door. 'Moon Cat!'

She arrived with a bright, inquisitive willingness in the doorway. Captain Malory shouted for her to take me away. Moon Cat Blue did this without asking where.

We ended up below deck, where she sat me down in a corner and, raising an eyebrow at me, ordered me to stay put. I leaned aganst the wall and sighed. Making sure no one was around, I took out Blue and her contraption and held it, thinking, turning it around in my hands absent-mindedly.

Samantha had said to watch out for Moon Cat Blue. She knew about Fred...I wonder how? The question was, could I trust her? I shook my head at Blue. I wished I had some paper and a pencil, to write down what had happened so far. Where has Hermes got to? I stood up and shoved the gerbil back into my coat. A moment's vacillation later I was striding down the corridor, musing distractedly about why Chris had decided Maria the tailless was such a brilliantly funny name.

[b:826c224638]what sort of adventures will plaid run into? don't ask me, I'm just making this up...[/b:826c224638]

The innards of the ship were fairly empty. I wandered through rooms and hallways without meeting anyone for what seemed like a very long time. For no particular reason I listened at a few doors. Nothing. Silence, exept for the oceanic background noise.

I was hopelessly lost after a while. I wandered above deck once, briefly, but the busy pirates up there made me nervous, so I stayed below after that. It was so quiet I almost felt compelled to start talking to myself again, out loud, just to fill the dark emptiness.

'Will they bring Hermes down here as well, or...'

There was almost an echo. I listened to it and hummed to myself. This was much too boring. I took Blue out again and fed her. She crawled onto my hand and squeaked. Watching her, I thought for a moment. 'It's funny. The llama can talk, and Fred too. Why can't you?'

She looked at me and rubbed her ears with her paws. I put her away again and kept walking.

A couple of pirates, both tall, both bulky, came out of a room before I could hide. They glared, approaching in the menacing way pirates do.

'Who're you?' the larger of the two, male, suspicious, was wearing a navy cap and silver jewlery.

'I--I--' I looked from one to the other of them, very nervous, very uncertain. 'I don't know,' I said, catching upon the truth at last. 'They just brought me here. C-Chris Jordan and Black and...another guy...'

They looked at me, squinting their eyes, glowering, breathing angrily. The fractionally smaller one pulled a small dagger out of her sleeve and they both giggled as I watched its point dance carelessly, much too close to my nose.

'Looks cross-eyed, don't she?' They laughed. I frowned and looked up. The knife danced a bit more wildly. I swallowed and started to really hope that I wouldn't end up mangled and bleeding at the end of this encounter.

'Skeered, Ms-I-don't-know-who-I-is?'

I'm sure they could see the fear in my eyes. I was backed up against the wall and trembling just a little. The grimy male grabbed me forcefully and I grimaced as his fingers dug bruises into my arm..

'Now, Fugitive, le's not git too violent, orright? Mebe Captain wan's 'er fer summfink, eh?'

After looking at his companion Fugitive let go. 'The Sock Wars...?' he speculated.

The other pirate nodded, her dredlocks swinging gently. They both looked back at me. 'Tha's right!' the guy exclaimed. 'Rincew--'

'SHHH!' The girl looked pointedly at him and jabbed her dagger at the air in emphasis. She then gripped a fistful of my coat and inspected the plaid lining. Both of them nodded meaningfully at each other again.

'Malory talk to you?' she asked me. I nodded, my eyes darting between his face and hers, nervous, curious, wondering if I'd get any answers out of these two.

'Brad send you?'

The question printed itself on my face. I couldn't speak, but I made it clear enough that 'brad' might as well have been foreign. Her dagger tickled my ear.

'Brad sent you.' She nodded knowingly to herself. Behind her Fugitive's face grew serious and dark. I tried not to think about the cold edge of that knife tracing soft patterns so close to my skin. Searching frantically for my voice, my eyes still flitting fearfully, I tried to stay still while at the same time edge away from the pirate with the knife.

'I--I--'

'I can smell the llama on you, so quit lyin' 'bout it. Brad sent you. We's been tipped off.' She grinned and to my infinite relief took her dagger away.

'Whaddaya think she's doin' down here all 'lone, 'stead a tied up on deck, eh Fugitive?'

'Dunno Sian. Aye do not know.' His hand reached over and jerked me by the hair. They both accompanied me above deck, where I was tied up again and laughed at. It was almost all I could do to fight back the tears.

The sun was leisurely proceeding towards the watery horizon when the afternoon pie showed up. My hands were bound and I could only stare at it and its banana-cream gloriousness. Passing pirates smirked and pointed at my vain attempts to get at the pie with my tongue. I gave up after a while and just groaned impatiently, cursing the sunset's sharp orange glare.

'Maria,' Captain Malory's approaching voice said distinctly, 'is not your real name. Chris Jordan is a fool. Untie her,' he ordered someone.

I went straight for the pie and finished the whole piece in three bites.

'Careful, Plaid. Although,' he paused and looked at the sky, 'Plaid may not be your real name either. But it is those clothes that gave you away.'

The pirate who'd untied me had drawn his sword. Malory had a pistol in his hand, but held it as if it weren't there. I tried to ignore it, and instead concentrated on licking the banana pudding off my fingers.

Malory came closer and gripped my chin in his hand. 'Now, miss, I want you to be straight with me. I could get my informant to identify you fairly easily, but I'd rather not have to distract him from the much more important things he is concerned with at present. Sian tells me you reek of llama, and that as well as your clothing can only mean one thing.'

Several more pirates were circled around us now, some of them with swords drawn, many of them reveling in this confrontation.

'Your friend--Peg-leg Harry, Jordan called him--has been recognized as well. Honestly, I didn't think Brad would be this stupid. Sending two of you to spy for him, on me, the greatest pirate to ever sail these waters, respecting the honourable Catface, may he rest in peace. I expected, though I don't know quite why, something more original from the Wonder Llama.'

He let go of my face and I tried to stand up straight, but it was pointless to defy him. Okay, he knew. I didn't know how he knew, but he did.

'What now?' I asked, somehow keeping all the hoplessness and anxiety from creeping out with the words. 'Where's Hermes?'

Maljonic smiled. 'Don't worry your head about him. Trollmother, come here.'

It was an older woman who approached, her head bent, her fingers wrinkled, her voice faint and tired as she greeted the Captian.

Placing his hand on her shoulder kindly, Maljonic introduced us. 'This is Trollmother, Plaid. Or would you prefer the name Maria?'

There was laughter from almost everyone at that. I only stood there, looking at Trollmother. She took my hands in hers and squinted up into my face.

'Trollmother,' Malory went on, 'would you be so kind as to take our guest below deck? Find her a bed to sleep on and make sure she gets a set of clean clothes.'

I was confused. I followed Trollmother around in a daze, my mind whirling through questions...who had told him about me? what was I going to do now? what had they done with Hermes? was I stuck on this ship forever now, or what?

Trollmother drew a bath for me and handed me a towel. They've got plumbing...amazing... maybe I don't mind so much, leaving behind Brad the insane wonder llama...

'Clean clothes are in the wardrobe, dear. Leave your things here and I'll take them to be washed. Need anything and I'll be right in the next room.'

I fell asleep in the tub. I woke up to wrinkled skin and bubbles in my nose. What had I been dreaming about? Shadows and seaweed and socks... a llama wearing socks. Weird.

Grabbing my towel and standing up, I stepped out of the bath and wriggled my toes in the fuzzy mat. What luxury, after having worn sand-filled boots all day. I yanked the stopper out of the tub and dried myself as I watched the water drain away.

In the wardrobe there were skirts, tunics, scarves, hats, leather trousers and boots of various sizes. I pulled out everything and looked at it before finally pulling on a pair of comfortable leggings and a loose red linen top. Then I poked my head into the next room and asked Trollmother for a hairbrush and some socks, please.

'Socks? Not this time of year, sweetheart. All the socks are in Jonathan's secret vault. There are slippers, if you like.'

I accepted the warm blue slippers gratefully and combed out my hair carefully with the comb I found in a cupboard. On a whim I tied it all back with a polka-dotted scarf, knowing they'd still call me Plaid no matter what I wore. I was stuck with the silly name now.

I slept that night in a hammock strung across the corner of Trollmother's room. The waves against the ship's hull beat the darkness into sleepy shapes. My dreams concerned lots of sharp things. They were uncomfortable dreams. I woke up more than once and stared at the ceiling. Nevertheless, Trollmother had to gently prod me awake when morning came.

'Come awake, dear. The Captain wants to see you.'

She brought me to the same office I'd sat in yesterday. Maljonic smiled at me from across the desk.

'Good morning. Let me get to the point here. I want to know what you know.'

I settled back into the large chair. 'I don't know much. I don't even know what these 'sock wars' are about.'

Maljonic sat back and looked thoughtful. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'you might tell me what you have been told, and I might... fill in the blanks, so to speak.'

I considered this. Were we on the same side now? I still wasn't sure who I could trust.

'Can I ask a few questions first? I want to know...I need to know more about...things.'

Maljonic nodded and I tried to quickly decide what to ask him first.

'Where am I?' The question was only a small step away from 'where did I come from?' I watched the Captain's face eagerly, waiting to be answered. 'I know this is the Catface, but the island.... Where is it?'

'The island...' Maljonic stood up and stroked his chin. 'The island... well, it doesn't have an official name. We call the volcano Garner, because that is its name. The island of Ba Witda, it...it is just an island.'

It worried me that he seemed so uncertain. Maybe he didn't know who he really was either. I shifted in my chair as a chill planted itself at the base of my neck.

'And...are you going to let me go back? Or...'

His eyes darkened slightly as he resumed his seat and laid his forearms upon the desk. 'That will depend on how useful you prove to be. And on the outcome of the Sock Wars. Neither Brad nor I usually take prisoners, but,' his tone brightened and a smile appeared briefly, 'he hasn't been so presumptious as to send spies to me before, either. We find ourselves in new and exciting territory. Now, tell me what you've seen of the island so far. Who have you met? Have they taken you to read the Words?'

'Yes.' I looked at my hands, remembering, rubbing a finger across the slight burn I'd got when I'd dropped the candle. 'I didn't understand them.'

'Not many do, but there is something about the caves of Words. Something inspiring. Let me show you.'

Reaching up to a shelf, he pulled down a booklet and leaned across the desk as he opened it and showed me the page.

will simple make piracy that ...... and better

It was penciled in a clear cursive hand. I read it and looked up, wondering.

'Those were the first Words I read in the caves. I know the sentence is smudged and the remaining fragment doesn't truly make sense, but I found my calling in these Words.'

'That's why you're a pirate?' I suddenly remembered another question. 'Why do you call the ship Catface?'

'Catface was the previous Captain of this ship. He... he ...has been dead. For many,' Maljonic's reminiscing gaze went right through me, 'many many years now.'

A melancholy silence descended and suffocated all my further questions about the ship and its past. I could only wait for Malory to regain his sense of purpose, which he did shortly, urging me to tell him more about the island.

'I found Brad and Hermes in the forest. They took me into their... well, this place, with rooms...' The Captain was listening attentively. As uncertain as I was, I had to keep talking. 'I met a few others.... buzzfloyd, emma... sam, and nester...Nester was in trouble for letting Fred wreck the dining room...'

It all came together rather clumsily. I told Malory about Orrdos and Fred and Pat and then I remembered.

'Blue! ...I left her in my coat...'

'Who?' Throughout my relation Maljonic had been nodding as if he knew the people I'd been talking about. Apparently this gerbil was a new one to him.

'I need to go find her and make sure she's alright. Excuse me...' I stood up and hurried out of the room, walking quickly over the deck and trying to remember just which way Trollmother had led me earlier.

After several wrong turns I found it, but there were no signs of my clothes or of Blue or her contraption. I was starting to worry. If anything happened to her... well, Pat would be upset, wouldn't she?

I stormed back the way I had come, muttering to myself about being so careless.

'Captain? Where have they taken my clothes?' I demanded.

'Sit down,' he said, his face hard and his voice cold.

I stood where I was. 'Captian, I need to find Blue. If she's gotten lost I will--'

'Sit down!'

My concerns were all blown away by the power of that order. I sat down quietly.

'Now, tell me, Plaid, what is this Blue?'

'A gerbil. It was part of a...machine thing...I can show you, if you get my clothes back to me...if nothing's happened to her and she hasn't escaped. She was in my coat pocket. Trollmother said she'd have them washed....'

Maljonic nodded. He went to the door and yelled for the nearest pirate.

'Carrot, find Plaid's clothes. Trollmother will have taken them with the washing. Quick, man.'

He closed the door and returned to his chair. I relaxed and told myself Blue would be fine. They would find her and bring her back. I looked at Maljonic and waited.

'If we might return to our discussion? I believe you expressed a...a curiosity of sorts, about the Sock Wars? What have you been told?'

'Emma explained them, a little. She said it was a tradition. But I don't know what its all about. Brad just told me to keep my ears open and send them anything I overheard.'

The Captain nodded thoughtfully. 'Is that all?'

I dug deeper through my scant memories. 'I think... Pat did say something about how you'd tried ... um...'

'Oh nevermind. I will show you what the Sock Wars are about. Hopefully then everything will make sense.'

[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.

'Are you alright?' she asked me, helping me to stand. Her eyes said You don't look alright, not at all. Tell Trollmother all about it.

I sighed and paced the room, watched by her patient kindness.

'What's going on? Where--' I looked at her as I voiced my question and she didn't say anything. 'What are they fighting about? How did the Captain turn Brad into a llama? How?'

My insistence brought a smile from the old woman, but she clearly couldn't give me anwswers.

'I don't know who I am.'

She patted the seat next to her and I took it, pouting, confused, hopeless.

'Listen. Who you are is nothing more than what you do.'

I choked on this. 'How do I know what to do?'

'You don't. That's the bit you just have to make up as you go.'

This wasn't comforting.

Trollmother left the room hurriedly when a girl-pirate knocked and came in with fear and desperation all over her face. I wasn't tired anymore, so I followed her.

I shouldn't have.

The shadow of the ship they were attacking was fading into the twilight. If it had been pitch black maybe I would've been less frightened. As it was the grey shapes of fighting pirates looked dangerously chaotic and at the same time sharply direct in their violence. Trollmother was brought to the fallen, the bloody, the maimed. They smelled of gore and sweat. I was enlisted, no questions asked, to help staunch the flow of blood, to wipe fevered brows, and to drag unconscious bodies out of the melee.

It was not fun.

The sun had, for the most part, gone down but it was still terribly hot. There weren't many wounded, but there were enough to clutter the deck, to fill the air with pained moaning. When everything finally calmed down it was well into the night. The stars looked down, cold and bright, and watched as Malory's crew tied up their prisoners and looted the ship. It had finally turned cold but I was still warm with exhaustion and stress. I don't remember being brought below deck to bed, but I woke up there to an early apple pie. Well, it seemed early anyway. Maybe I'd slept late.

After my pie I took a short bath, feeling rather guilty about it. I found my plaid clothes hung in the wardrobe and put them on, glad that they were clean and glad that they were mine. Trollmother came in briefly and told me in a reassuring voice that no one had died, and the morning had come bright and clear. When she'd gone I decided to feed Blue.

'Come on Blue,' I said, taking her out of her cage. She sat and nibbled her breakfast in my palm. I let her run around the floor for a bit, following her under Trollmother's bed, ready to snatch her back if she went to far. It was dusty under there.

Somewhat occupied, too.

'Yar,' the voice was soft but menacing. 'Who be yer? Whatcher doin' down 'ere?'

I scrambled out from under the bed without Blue, not sure what had actually just happened. Was there really...well, it sounded like a pirate...was there really somebody....why would they be under the bed?

I had to find Blue before she disappeared through some crack or hole in the wall. And I was curious. I folded up the covers and kneeled down to look.

'Yaaaaarrrrr!' the thing yelped and there was a series of thuds. Blue shot out and crawled up the leg of my trousers. I grabbed her and backed away from the bed.

I was speechless, watching the hand that emerged, its green and yellow mottled fingers covered with rings and a jigsaw of smeary tatoos. It gripped the floor and dragged an elbow out into the room. Blue shivered and squeaked. I shivered and backed further into the wall. As far as I could. My bare toes went cold. The arm was followed by a tattered rag of a sleeve, so old and worn I could see through it to the greasy tatoos on the shoulder.

His head appeared next, cursing and angry. And uglier than anything I'd ever seen before. I cringed as the creature stood up and lurched sideways. The clothes he wore were stretched and full of holes, dangling rather than being worn. His ears were small and sticking out at odd angles, and they looked ...moldy. As he lurched again I started to look apprehensively at the door, but I wastn't truly terrified until I noticed I could...no, not really..I couldn't...not... but I could, yes I really could, see the pattern of Trollmother's comforter through the sickeningly gooey-looking skin of this...this thing.

I tried to scream but somewhere between all the fear and disgust it became a strangled gurgle.

'Har Harr, yer look so skeered 'n all. Whassat rat yer got thar?'

The thing pulled out a dagger and held it pointing straight at Blue. I shifted away from him and all my fear condensed into a heavy astonishment. Still nervous, I tried to find my voice.

'Who the heck,' I said, 'are you?'

'An' who be yer ter be askin', arr?'

At this I became slightly indignant, shifting some more, away from the knife, 'I asked you first.'

He sneered and snorted another laugh. In my efforts to get away from the ugly, transparent pirate, I tripped over my boots and almost dropped Blue.

'Arr, getap yer.' He held out a hand but I didn't take it. I stood up awkwardly with one hand full of gerbil, my barefeet collecting splinters from the rough wood floor. That knife was still pointedly accusing me of who knows what, and I was running out of room to move.

'Tell me why ye was peekin' under me bed,' he demanded. 'Else I'll skewer yer lungs fer me afternoon tea.'

I breathed, trying to calm down, and lied to myself about the likelyhood that he'd really impale my internal organs on that rather short, but nonetheless gleaming and sharp blade.

'I was just..My gerbil...' I proffered my hands, which held the quivering rodent. 'She crawled under the bed and I went to get her back, that's all.'

His eyes sharpened and glared at me, but he eventually put away his weapon and introduced himself as Ivan the Terrible, three-quarters sea-ghost, other quarter zombie.

'Zombie?'

'Yup. Me gran'fatha was a zombie. Gimme that rat thing.'

His tone was so authoritative I almost surrendered the poor gerbil.

'Hey. No. What do you want Blue for?'

'Givit 'ere, girlie.'

His hand was fingering the handle of the knife in his belt.

'No.'

I looked at the door, but the bed and Ivan's terribleness were both inbetween me and it. His eyes narrowed as he continued to demand that I give him Blue. I wondered if the portholes in the wall opened and if I could get out through them without drowning... Or if I could make myself scream loud enough and if I did if it would do any good.

'Listen girlie. Rats en't 'llowed in ther Catface. Captain's orders. Givit 'ere.'

'She's not a rat! Get away from me!'

[b:e64d03e34e]unspeakable culinary act #345: gerbil casserole.[/b:e64d03e34e]

'Look 'ere, girlie, I en't gonna hurt ye. Jus' gimme the rat. Givit 'ere, quick now, befores I gits angry.'

'I will not give her to you. And she's not a rat.'

The knife came out and spun gracefully around in the air before thudding, startling me, next to my baby toe, the blade so shudderingly close that my toe could kiss it. I froze.

'Whut loverly toes yez got, girlie. I'll let ye keep 'em if ye jus' 'and that thing 'ere, sensible like.'

Blue continued to shiver in my hands, and now goosebumps were accumulating on my arms. I held Ivan's eyes, fighting the repulsion their gooey wet whiteness created. My toe slid gently against the flat slick side of the knife. Blue crawled up my arm and under my sleeve. His knife was in my hand shortly. He reached out for the gerbil, to pluck her from my clothes and I cringed and struck, hesitant but with panicked force.

The blade did catch on his flesh, but it sank through. It went straight down and came out the other side, as if his arm were nothing but a cylindrical blob of molasses.

Ivan growled. I stared. If I....Could ... I don't think I... but the knife is real enough, right?....gosh... I used the weapon to poke at his ugly zombie-ghost skin. It went in smoothly and came back out with just the slightest resistance. What if...but... oh ew. ew! He had grabbed my wrist and twisted the knife out of my hand. His skin felt as slimy and gross as it looked. And it was cold. The pirate shoved me into the wall and growled some more, cursing unintelligibly, gripping my arm tighter.

I screamed then. Blue the gerbil was curled and frightened, hiding in my collar beneath my hair. Her tiny claws pricked into my skin. Ivan's breath was putrid and frozen.

Screaming didn't work. No one came. Struggling presented itself as my next option. I kicked at him but my feet just went through his semi-solid shins. I tried to push him away but this only half worked. His grip around my wrist was too sticky and strong.

So begging was next. 'Please, let go. Ow. Let go of me, stop it, stop it, I didn't mean to...grr...Ow. Ow. Please! Please, let me go!'

'Yer en't gonna cry, is ye?' he taunted. 'I do 'ate ter see a girlie cry.'

And with that I was free to blink away my few slithery tears and rub the feeling back into my hand. Blue still sat crouched in a warm fuzzy spot between my neck and my hair. I wasted no time in climbing across Trollmother's bed and out the door. I raced through the corridors below deck until I reached the sunny morning outside. I was headed for Malory's office but I collided with Moon Cat Blue before I got there.

'I--I--I--' I spluttered. 'There---He---'

'Woah, woah, Plaid.' She took my shoulders and held me still. Her eyes were blue, I noticed. Moon Cat Blue. What pretty golden hair. 'Plaid, what's wrong?'

'Ivan. He said his name was Ivan...the Terrible. And he tried to take Blue, and I wouldn't let him and he...' I rubbed my arm where the feeling of slimy, filthy ice still clung to my skin. 'He grabbed my arm and it hurt. And I...He was a zombie. Half a zombie...or something. He was hiding under Trollmother's bed!'

Moon Cat's understanding nod was very calming. 'Are you alright, though? Who's Blue?'

Blue. Where had she got to now? I didn't feel her in my collar. I ruffled my shirt and inspected the pockets of my trousers. she can't have gotten away... oh no... Oh good.

'Blue, why are you hiding down there?' She'd gnawing on my belt loop casually, as if nothing had happened. 'Yeah, we're alright,' I said to Moon Cat. 'This is Blue. A gerbil. Not a rat.'

'Oh. Well, come with me.'

I followed the blonde across the deck. I was feeling a lot better, until Moon Cat continued, 'And I thought we'd be able to trust you. A course, Trollmother shouldn't 'ave left you alone there, especially not with that r--gerbil gettin' into things. The Captain is gonna be in a tif about this. Ivan never fails to git on his nerves. Here, come on.'

I was confused. She'd led me into a large room which was divided down the center with thick metal bars. Among the dozen or so prisoners inside I saw Hermes standing on the far side, his back to us, his face pressed against the porthole, watching the water.

As Moon Cat opened the cell with her ring of keys he turned around.

'Maria!' he shouted with a grin. Moon Cat took me by the arm and manouvered me into the cell. I looked at her. She locked us in again, and my eyes searched her face.

'Stay 'ere Plaid. Ye'll be safe. It may be the Captain needs you a bit more and in that case I'll get you fetched back for 'im. There ought to be pie later on, but if not someone'll bring food.'

She left with a slight smile. I clutched Blue and felt lonely.

'Maria, I was wondering where they'd put you.'

'Its Plaid, Hermes. Harry. Whatever. Just call me Plaid.' I sat down in the corner and put a lid on my mental saucepan full of writhing thoughts. Hermes continuted to chatter but I didn't listen to him, or to any of the other prisoners. I stared, stroking Blue. Hermes asked about her but I glared at him so blackly he backed off. I tried to think about nothing, but the pot boiled over.

What if there wasn't pie? But there always had been pie. Twice a day. Like clockwork. Please Ba...wait, who am I praying to anyway? Ba Witda. God of Pie. Please don't let there not be pie.

'Blue,' I whispered. 'We want to get back to the island, don't we?' I held her furry little face up to mine and looked at her. 'And eat our pie on the firm ground and forget all about socks and pirates.' Blue twitched and nibbled my thumb. 'Nasty, ugly pirates.'

Moon Cat Blue wasn't ugly. Chris Jordan wasn't that ugly either. And Malory...what was it about his ear? I wondered if I'd ever see it or if he'd keep that hat on forever.

What would I say to Brad? He was going to wonder what I'd found out. What had I found out? Well, Captain Malory had turned Brad into a llama. How had he done that? And Brad would have known that already anyway.

I'd just have to wait. Brad couldn't blame me for trying. It wasn't my fault Maljonic knew. Someone had told him. Who?

I let Blue crawl around on my lap for a while. What had the words said to me? If they meant so much to Maljonic... All I could remember was control....control, and dates. Dates. Some of it dates. Some of what?

Control. I looked at Hermes, his nose up against the window, his breath pasted like filmy wallpaper on the glass.

Total control, wasn't it? Total control. but of what? Of me.

I sighed. Not only was I stuck on the Catface, I was now stuck in a prison cell with a dozen sweaty, grimy men. Some of them were wounded, I noticed when I looked closer. I recognized them from the night I'd helped Trollmother, the night they'd attacked that ship. I wondered what had happened to that ship.

'Blue...come back here...' I snatched her back onto my lap. Hermes turned.

'What is that thing? Can I hold it?'

I held the gerbil protectively. 'She's a gerbil. No, don't touch her. Leave me alone.'

Hermes sat down and joined me as I stared into space. I couldn't be bothered to shift further away from the paint covered guy. I couldn't be bothered to even notice that most of the paint had peeled off his fingers and elbows. I couldn't be bothered to do more than stare into space and strain to evesdrop on the cluster of bulky pirates on the other side of the cell.

I knew I would just have to wait until the Catface returned to the island. I didn't like it, but there was no way to do anything about it. Waiting was boring. I put Blue in my pocket, gently, and decided to pace.

Almost eleven paces wide, the cell was. Hermes watched with a puzzled look on his face. I paced back and forth four times, feigning interest in the floorboards.

Tony Black stepped in, rudely interrupting my pacing, and I very nearly snapped and went at him for all I was worth. It was his bloody scar and his ragged moustache and mostly his bulk that deterred my wrath. I glared up at him indignantly.

'Get out of my way.'

'You,' he growled, 'stay on yer own side er the cell!'

I just stood there. Why was Tony Black in a prison cell? What had he done? I guess he was wounded, but still...why imprisoned? 'Why are you here, Black?'

'Mind yer own bisness. Ifn we wants ter talk to ye, we'll let yer know. Now stay on yer own side!'

'I was just curious, geez,' I said, pacing back to my corner.

He tried to console me by saying they'd been even meaner to him. 'Look, look at my arm. They twisted it here. Its all red, you can see it even under this stripey stuff. It still hurts.'

I would probably always regret being so unfriendly to Hermes. Especially this Hermes, who had been brave enough to take amnesia upon himself for the sake of what had so far turned out to be the most pointless spying mission ever. I sat down again next to him and tried to look interested and sympathetic as he continued to babble about his peeling paint and how much he liked his hat.

'That guy over there won't give it back though. He took it, and he's not even wearing it, its just tied on his belt. Can you get it back Maria?'

'Plaid. Not Maria. And you're Hermes. Well, unless you like being called Peg-leg Harry. Do you?'

'Peg-leg Harry. I don't know. Could I get a peg leg, do you think? It might be fun if I really had a peg leg, to be called Peg-leg Harry.'

I laughed at him. He didn't know what he was saying. I considered telling him about Brad and the island.

'You don't remember Brad, do you?'

'Who?'

'Do you remember anything?'

'No, you know I don't. And you don't either.'

A slippery and burning cold guilt tickled my heart. 'I lied about that.' My eyes dropped to the floor. The truth was easier, I decided. After the mess lying to Maljonic had caused, I didn't feel up to continuing in pretense.

'So ...'

'Don't-- I had to. I-- Really, I don't know much more than you. It's all Brad's fault,' I glanced at him, not knowing how to explain everything. It didn't make sense. Not even what Maljonic had shown me. I remembered Fred. I wished I could ask him. Moon Cat Blue had said...

'Wait. I'm...Hermes?'

I took a deep breath. 'Brad named you Hermes, I guess. You came to the island before I did. You and Brad were the first ones I met.'

'There are others? Not pirates?'

'Lots of them. They live underground, on the island. The pirates ...' I stopped before I got into the Sock Wars. I didn't know what they were all about yet. 'Well,' I went on, 'we're stuck with the pirates for now.'

Hermes looked confused. 'Why?'

Hm. I'd have to get into the sock wars to answer that one. And from what I knew about Hermes, he'd keep asking Why for who knew how long. I didn't have that many answers.

'Brad sent us. To spy on Malory. It's complicated. I'm not really sure myse...' I stopped talking and Hermes and I looked up into the faces of a few curious pirates who had crowded around us.

'Brad sent you?' Tony Black spoke first. They were all looking at Hermes. 'Both of you?'

I stood up and looked back at them.

'Yes.' I guess they'd thought Hermes was just another prisoner. Until now.

'There's talk ye's seen Fred.'

Was that an accusation, or what? I didn't know what to say in response. Hermes interrupted and asked, 'Fred? Who's Fred?'

The curious looks had turned a bit suspicious. One of them, I didn't recognize him, put a hand on Tony Black's shoulder. 'Don't, Black...' he said.

'Elrond, ifn they might talk, we kin always cut their tongues out. 'Sides. She looks like we kin trust 'er, meybe. And 'e's too stupid to betray us. Fred could eat 'im alive if 'e tried it.'

'How do you know about Fred?'

'Ah.' The pirates looked at each other.

'Well?' I was the one asking questions now.

'Have you seen him?' another pirate asked, from behind Black.

'Who wants to know? Are you going to tell me what's going on? How do you know about Fred?'

'Come 'ere.' Both of ye.'

They cleared a space for Hermes and I to join the rest of the pirates on the other side of the cell. It was darker there, away from the portholes.

'Sit down.' Only Black remained standing. He leaned against the wall and waited for silence.

'Plaid, first ye's got ter swear ye won't let