The Very Nearly Honorable League of Pirates #1 (34 page)

The first small obstacle they faced was the lock on Miss Pimm's office door. From somewhere with in the waves of hair piled on top of her head, Claire retrieved a hairpin, and Charlie used it to fiddle with the lock. After what seemed to Hilary like a great deal of experimentation, something clicked, and the door eased open.

The gargoyle looked around. He sniffed. Then he wiggled his ears. “I don't see the treasure,” he said, “but I think my ears are tingling more than usual.” Hilary set him on the floor, and he hopped to the far wall of Miss Pimm's office. “Yes,” he said, “it's stronger over here. There's magic nearby, and lots of it!”

“Excellent,” said Hilary. She placed the gargoyle on top of Miss Pimm's desk to give him a better view. Then she stood on her tiptoes until she could reach the sampler that hung in the center of the wall. Taking care to be as delicate as possible, she touched the sampler.

Nothing happened.

Charlie sighed, and Fitzwilliam let out what Hilary could only assume was a squawk of scorn.

She stomped her boots on the floor. “Oh, curses! I was sure that would work! To find the greatest treasure in all the land, you've got to apply the delicate touch of a lady's hand to the sampler.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Claire agreed. She hurried to the wall and touched the sampler herself, but the treasure refused to appear. Then Charlie touched the sampler, and then all three of them pressed their palms against it at once, but still nothing happened. “Perhaps we're simply not ladylike enough,” Claire said at last.

“Oh, honestly!” Hilary stood on her toes again and snatched the sampler from its hook. “Maybe there's something we're missing.”

“Like a big figure eight carved into the wall?” said the gargoyle.

“Yes, I suppose that would be convenient, but I hardly think—” Hilary broke off as she followed the gargoyle's gaze to the wall above her. In the space where the sampler had been, a large stone was marked quite distinctly with a figure eight.

“Well,” said Charlie. “That looks awfully promising.”

“Push it, then!” said the gargoyle. “I mean, be delicate about it and everything, but hurry up!”

Hilary took a deep breath. “Are you sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Yes!” said Claire and Charlie in unison.

“There's treasure behind that wall,” the gargoyle added, “and you are a pirate. I don't think you have a choice.”

“All right, then,” said Hilary, and she touched the stone.

It wasn't a particularly ladylike touch—it was more of a shove, really—but it seemed to do the trick. The stone sank back into the wall, and then, with a great rumbling noise, the entire wall slid away into the side of Miss Pimm's office. Framed embroidery crashed to the ground, sending bits of glass flying, and on Miss Pimm's desk, the portrait of Simon Westfield trembled.

Hilary held up her candle and stared. In front of her, in a room twice as large as Miss Pimm's office, piles upon piles of magic coins glinted golden in the candlelight. Stone shelves behind the coins were lined with rows of magical objects: carving knives and step stools, candlesticks and flowerpots, all quivering a bit from the surrounding magic. And a crate at the front of the room was stacked high with shimmering golden crochet hooks.

Charlie grinned, Claire gasped, and the gargoyle jumped up and down, making little dents in Miss Pimm's wooden desktop. “You've done it!” the gargoyle cried. “You've found the treasure! You're the Terror of the Southlands for sure—and
I
am your gargoyle!”

Charlie whistled. “I've never seen so much magic in one place before.”

“No one has,” said Hilary. “No one but the Enchantress.” These coins and candlesticks must have belonged to her own great-great-grandparents, and to their friends, and to all the long-ago people of Augusta before Simon Westfield died and the Enchantress took their magic away.

Claire sank into Miss Pimm's chair and stared at the magic. “It seems terribly unfair that it's been locked away all these years,” she said. “I could have used a bit of magic at the fishmonger's.”

“Well, it won't be locked away anymore,” said Hilary. “Now, we've got to collect everything up and get out of here quickly, before Miss Pimm comes down to see what all the noise is about.”

“It's too bad the
Pigeon
is still out in Gunpowder Bay,” said Charlie. “We'll need a pirate ship to transport all of this magic.”

It was true: The treasure was far too large for them to carry, and far too heavy, and far too
magical
. It was sure to draw the attention of anyone on the street who carried a magic coin or two. Hilary imagined pushing wheelbarrows full of golden crochet hooks through the streets of Pemberton. “I'm sure we'll think of something, but—”

Behind them, someone fumbled with the lock on Miss Pimm's office door. They stared at each other in horror.

“Open?” said the someone on the other side of the door. “Surely not! How convenient!”

Hilary had only enough time to reach for her sword—and remember, too late, that it wasn't there—before Admiral Westfield stood in front of her.

First, he stared at her. Then, he stared in turn at Charlie, Claire, the gargoyle, and Fitzwilliam. Finally, he stared past them at the gleaming piles of treasure. He crossed his arms over his belly and grinned. “Hilary, my dear girl,” he said at last, “I must say I'm proud of you.”

Whatever Hilary had expected her father to say, it certainly wasn't
that
. “You are?”

“Indeed,” said Admiral Westfield. “You've found my treasure for me. Now, be a good little girl and let me have it.”

an extract
From

T
reasure
H
unting for
B
eginners:

THE OFFICIAL VNHLP GUIDE

IF YOU MUST
BETRAY
A FELLOW PIRATE:

B
etrayal is a serious matter, and it must not be taken lightly. The VNHLP does not officially encourage betrayal, but we recognize that in certain situations, betrayal is necessary in order to save one's own life, obtain treasure for oneself, or achieve some other worthy goal.

When you are struck by the urge to betray someone, remember to STOP, THINK, and ACT:

First, STOP! Do not utter foolhardy phrases such as, “Ha! I have betrayed you!” before you are sure you have made the proper choice.

Next, THINK! Will betraying your fellow pirate cause more problems than it solves? Is the pirate likely to react with violence? Have you taken all necessary safety precautions?

Finally, ACT! Send the VNHLP a written request for the necessary betrayal forms and complete these forms in triplicate. In these forms, you will be asked to provide the name of the pirate you are betraying, the reason for betrayal, and a description of the horrible fate you plan for the betrayed pirate. When the forms are received and approved by our head of Betrayal Services, you will receive a note permitting you to proceed with your betrayal.

Please note: All betrayals conducted without proper filing of betrayal forms are not considered official acts of the VNHLP, and the pirate responsible for the betrayal may lose his membership credentials.

“N
O
,”
SAID
H
ILARY
. “I simply can't.”

Admiral Westfield rubbed his ears, as though he hadn't heard Hilary properly. “What did you say, my dear?”

Charlie stepped forward before Hilary could stop him. “She won't let you have that treasure,” he said, “and neither will I.” He grabbed a porcelain-handled letter opener from Miss Pimm's desk and held it out like a sword as he approached Admiral Westfield.

Charlie was quick, but the admiral was quicker: He lunged forward and caught hold of Charlie's arm, twisting it backward and holding it there until Charlie yelped with pain. The letter opener clinked to the floor.

“Father!” cried Hilary. “Let him go at once!”

Admiral Westfield sighed and let go of Charlie, who winced and dropped to the floor alongside the letter opener. “I admire your gumption, lad,” he said, “but I've got no time for dueling.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small golden coin that glinted in the candlelight. “Do you recognize this magic piece? I pinched it from your friend Jasper, and if you don't do exactly as I say, you'll wish you were in the Dungeons alongside him. Do you understand?”

Charlie rubbed his shoulder and nodded.

“You're a horrid beast, you know,” said Claire, “threatening people with magic.”

Admiral Westfield's eyes widened. “What's this? A little girl in a nightdress? Do you intend to attack me, too?”

Hilary turned to Claire. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Defending you, of course!” Claire smoothed the ruffles in her nightdress. “It's the only proper thing to do.”

“But I don't need defending—”

Claire put her arm around Hilary's shoulder. “I'm sorry, Hilary, but I shall defend you whether you like it or not. Now, Admiral Westfield, I don't intend to attack you. I'm not very strong, if you must know, and I'm also not entirely featherbrained. But if you don't leave this building at once, I shall scream very loudly, and Miss Pimm shall come running. Surely she'll believe your villainy when she catches you trying to run off with her treasure.” She cleared her throat. “I'll be screaming shortly, sir. And I warn you, I'm rather good at it.”

“Now, now, there's no need to be hasty.” Admiral Westfield plucked an embroidery sampler from the floor, shook off the stray bits of glass, and mopped his brow with it. “A lady never shrieks. It says so right here on this handkerchief.”

“Oh dear,” said Claire. “I suppose that's another rule I'll be breaking, then.” She smiled sweetly and took a deep breath.

Admiral Westfield made a fist around Jasper's coin. “Make that foolish little girl be quiet!” he said. “And make that pirate boy be quiet, too, while you're at it.”

Claire opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She stood quite still for a moment, clenched her fists, and let loose a string of perfectly silent words that Hilary guessed were not at all complimentary to Admiral Westfield. On the floor by Miss Pimm's desk, Charlie was doing much the same thing.

The admiral dusted his hands together. “Terribly sorry about your friends,” he said to Hilary, “but it will be much easier for us to talk now that everything is shipshape.”

Hilary glared at him. “You don't care to magic me as well?”

“Magic my own daughter?” The admiral looked scandalized by the thought. “It would hardly be proper, and after all, you're a reasonable girl. You understand, of course, that this treasure belongs to me. I have been searching for it for quite some time.”

“So have I!”

“Ah, but there's a difference between us. This isn't a silly game for me. You can't possibly understand how important this treasure is.”

Behind him, the gargoyle growled. “I want to pounce on him,” he said. “Shall I pounce?”

“You'd better not.” After the way Admiral Westfield had treated Charlie and Claire, Hilary couldn't bear to think what he might do to the gargoyle. “Father, I won't allow you to tyrannize the kingdom!”

Admiral Westfield folded the embroidery sampler he was holding into a neat square. “
Tyrannize
,” he said, “is rather a strong term. I will simply be guiding the citizens of Augusta toward order and propriety.”

“And throwing them in the Royal Dungeons if they prefer not to be guided?”

“Well, naturally. But I expect that my vast stores of magic will be enough to persuade even the most fearsome scallywags to do as I say.” He smiled down at Charlie. “Isn't that right, lad?”

Charlie reached for the letter opener again, but Admiral Westfield tapped his forefinger against the magic coin, and Charlie punched the floor instead.

Admiral Westfield turned back to Hilary and put his hands on her shoulders. “Now, tell me,” he said. “What would you like?”

Hilary stared up at her father. He looked almost as she'd imagined him as a child, when he was away at sea and she was landlocked: tall and confident, and every inch a sailor, from the tips of his shiny boots all the way up to the beads of sweat on his brow. He dabbed at the beads with the embroidery sampler and gazed down at her. “I'll give you whatever you'd like,” he said, “if you step aside and leave the treasure to me. I shall rule the kingdom soon, after all, and I want nothing but the best for my only daughter! Fine dresses—a whole new wardrobe, with those lace petticoats the girls like so much. Would that suit you? Or a sure-footed pony, shipped straight from the Northlands!” Admiral Westfield paused. “Of course; how foolish of me. Two ponies it shall be, and a new wardrobe besides.”