The Buccaneers' Code (2 page)

All pirates who wish to assist the Terror in her bid for League presidency should demonstrate their support by reporting immediately to Westfield House in Queensport.

Hilary had to read the headline three times before she could believe it. “It says I'm going to challenge Captain Blacktooth,” she told the gargoyle, who was craning his neck to get a glimpse of the paper. “It says I want to be the president of the VNHLP.”

The gargoyle froze. “Challenge Captain Blacktooth?” he said. “Are you crazy? He'll send his mates after us! They'll slice us up and fry us for supper!” He squeezed his eyes shut. “They'll serve me with potatoes.”

“They won't do anything of the sort,” said Hilary. “You're far too crunchy. But someone's made an awful mistake, and we've got to fix it at once.” She turned on her heel, left Lucy Worthington standing in the hallway, and hurried into the blue parlor without bothering to knock.

In blue velvet armchairs in front of a blue-tiled table, Mr. Flintlock and Mr. Partridge were absorbed in an energetic game of cards. Their teacups had left damp rings on the furniture, and steam rose off the coats they had left to dry in front of the fire. When Hilary laid the notice down
on the table in front of them, their playing cards fluttered in all directions. “This is why you're here, isn't it?” she asked. “To help me take over the pirate league?”

Mr. Partridge and his parrot both nodded at once. “Of course,” said Partridge. “Ever since Captain Blacktooth ended my career, I've been eager to return the favor.”

“So have I,” Flintlock boomed. “I was a loyal pirate for nearly fifteen years, but it only took one mishap for Blacktooth to turn me out of the League for good.”

The gargoyle hopped in from the hall. “What was the mishap?” he asked.

“I was a human cannonball.” Flintlock sighed. “I got stuck in my cannon.”

Hilary turned to Worthington, who had come to stand in the doorway. “Did Blacktooth dismiss you, too?”

“He did,” said Worthington, “not more than a month ago. I was training as a pirate's apprentice, and he told me there wasn't any place in the League for a navigator who couldn't navigate.” She scowled. “We always got where we were going
eventually
.”

All three pirates shook their heads.

“It's a good thing the Terror gathered us here,” said Flintlock. “When we're done with Blacktooth, he'll be nothing but knucklebones.”

“Knucklebones!” said the parrot.

“So, Terror,” said Partridge, “when do we start?”

Hilary scuffed her boots across her mother's good
carpet. All three of the pirates seemed so hopeful, so certain that she could help them. “I'm afraid we're not starting anything,” she said. “I'm not going to challenge Captain Blacktooth.”

The pirates' faces crumpled. Even the kings and queens on the playing cards looked more dejected than usual. “You've changed your plans, then?” Flintlock asked.

“I never had any plans to begin with!” said Hilary. “I don't know where the
Gazette
got that notice. Hardly anything it says is true.”

Worthington looked puzzled. “Do you mean to say that Blacktooth
isn't
a villain?”

“Well, no,” said Hilary, “that's not what I mean at all. He wants all the kingdom's magic for himself, and he's been completely dishonorable about trying to get his hands on it.”

“But you still think he should be in charge of the League?”

“Of course not!” said Hilary. “He should be locked up in the Royal Dungeons!”

Flintlock scratched his chin. “In that case, Terror,” he said slowly, “why aren't you challenging him?”

Hilary frowned. “I may want Blacktooth gone,” she said, “but that doesn't mean I should be the one to replace him. It would be ridiculous! I don't know a thing about leading an entire league of—”

“Pirates!” said her mother.

Mrs. Westfield stood at the parlor door, with one hand braced against the door frame to keep herself from fainting on the spot. Partridge, Flintlock, and Worthington all offered their own hands for her to shake, but she simply looked from one pirate to the next.

“Hilary, dear,” she said, “when I told you that I wished you would be a bit more sociable, this was not precisely what I meant.” She looked down at the blue carpet, which was sprinkled with clots of mud from someone's boots, and her face paled. “If only you'd let me know that you were hosting tea for a band of pirates, I could have suggested a more suitable location.”

“Pirates?” said Partridge. “I, for one, am a High Society gentleman!”

“Knucklebones!” said his parrot.

“I'm so sorry, Mother.” Hilary moved to Mrs. Westfield's side. “These guests arrived unexpectedly, and—well—I didn't want to be an ungracious hostess.”

Mrs. Westfield's color improved considerably.

“But they're just about to leave. I'm afraid there was a misunderstanding, and I'm not the scallywag they meant to visit after all.”

All three pirates looked thoroughly downcast at this, and Partridge's lower lip began to tremble. Hilary hoped he wouldn't start dripping all over again. “I'm sure they'll find the person they're looking for,” she added.

By now, Mrs. Westfield had managed to remove her
hand from the door frame. “I'll have the coachman drive our visitors home,” she said, as though that would solve everything. “It wouldn't do for them to walk; the snow is still ferocious.”

“That's very good of you, ma'am,” said Flintlock. He bowed to Mrs. Westfield and ducked out of the parlor, with Partridge and Worthington at his heels. “If it's acceptable to my new acquaintances,” he said, “I'll instruct the coachman to take us to the Salty Biscuit, where we can weather the storm around the grog barrel. You'll find us there, Terror, if you change your mind.”

From

The Illustrated Queensport Gazette

YOUR GATEWAY TO THE CIVILIZED WORLD!

MUTINEERS STILL AT LARGE,
ENCHANTRESS SAYS

PEMBERTON, AUGUSTA—It has been six months since Miss Eugenia Pimm, Enchantress of the Northlands, disappeared mysteriously from her home in Pemberton and was rescued by the pirate Hilary Westfield. At this time, however, the queen's inspectors have not made any arrests in the case. Miss Pimm still maintains that she was kidnapped by a band of villains calling themselves the Mutineers. “They wanted to replace me as the Enchantress,” she told the Gazette. “They hoped to take all the kingdom's magic for themselves,
and I must say they came remarkably close to succeeding.”

According to Miss Pimm, the Mutineers' ringleaders are the former naval admiral James Westfield; the pirate captain Rupert Blacktooth; his sister, Mrs. Georgiana Tilbury; and Mrs. Tilbury's daughter, Philomena. “The Mutineers specialize in theft and treachery,” Miss Pimm told this reporter. “To be perfectly frank, they are not nice people.”

So far, however, inspectors have been unable to confirm Miss Pimm's story. Admiral Westfield was arrested nearly two years ago for attempting to steal a sizable stash of magic, and he currently resides in the Royal Dungeons, making it impossible for him to have played a role in the kidnapping. As for Captain Blacktooth and the Tilburys, Inspector John Hastings says there is no evidence linking them to the alleged crime. “Mrs. Tilbury tells us that Miss Pimm fell ill on a visit to Tilbury Park,” Inspector Hastings said. “She was in no state to travel home, and she began making up fanciful stories about villains and kidnappings. Now I suppose she believes those stories are true, but I suspect her illness has addled her mind, for I have never heard of the Mutineers, apart from the tales I've been told by Miss Pimm and her friends. I have no reason to believe they exist.”

When told of Inspector Hastings's remarks, the Enchantress reacted in a surprisingly unladylike manner. “That man is a dratted fool!” she said. “Of course the Mutineers exist. It's only a matter of time before they make another attempt to control the kingdom's magic, and they're not likely
to fail twice. Perhaps Inspector Hastings will finally believe me when the Mutineers blast him into the next kingdom over.”

Unfortunately, Captain Blacktooth and the members of the Tilbury family could not be reached for comment. Mrs. Georgiana Tilbury is confined to Tilbury Park under a royal guard's watchful eye after stolen magical items were discovered in her possession, Miss Philomena Tilbury refuses to speak to the press, and Captain Blacktooth fired a volley of cannonballs at this reporter when she tried to approach his pirate ship.

W
HEN THE PIRATES'
carriage had disappeared down the lane and Mrs. Westfield had retreated to her private rooms to recover from the morning's excitement, Hilary walked down the long hallway lined with stained-glass windows and pushed open the heavy door of her father's study. No one had dared to use the room since Admiral Westfield had been marched off to the Royal Dungeons; even the maids hadn't been bold enough to enter. Cobwebs dimmed the light that came through the windows, all the nautical instruments lining the walls had wound down ages ago, and the drawers full of charts and maps were preserved under a thick layer of dust. The
admiral's chair, however, was pushed back from his desk at an imperfect angle, as though he'd simply stepped out for a moment to stroll in the gardens or chastise his officers. Every so often, a clock in the far corner let out a half-hearted tick.

Admiral Westfield had left his desk unlocked, and Hilary rummaged through it as quickly as she could. In the topmost drawer, behind a small golden spyglass and a thick card pinned with rows of iridescent moths, she found a battered pen, a bottle of ink, and a faded old map of the Southlands coast; they would do, she thought. The admiral would most likely be furious if he discovered the map was missing—but then, Hilary reminded herself, he wouldn't be able to discover any such thing while he was safely imprisoned in the Dungeons. The clock ticked again. “NO VISITORS TODAY,” she wrote on the back of the map, doing her best not to smudge the ink. “AND PLEASE, NO MORE PIRATES.” Then she signed her name with a flourish, recapped the ink bottle, and slammed the desk drawer shut, sending the spyglass and the moths clattering back into the darkness.

By the time Hilary had slipped out of the study and returned to the front hall, she'd managed to brush most of the cobwebs from her coat. The gargoyle looked on as she tacked her sign to the front door of Westfield House. “What I don't understand,” he said, “is who placed that notice in the newspaper. It must have been someone who
wants you to lead the VNHLP.”

“Or someone who wants to blacken my name even more than it's already been blackened.” Hilary stepped back to examine her handiwork. “I hope Captain Blacktooth doesn't subscribe to the
Gazette.
I can't imagine what he'll do if he sees it.”

“
I
can imagine,” the gargoyle said, “and it's not a pretty sight.”

Hilary's makeshift sign seemed to be effective, for no pirates interrupted her lunch or the rest of her sword-fighting practice. When the drapes had become more holes than velvet, she curled up on the drawing-room floor with a thick and discouraging book Miss Greyson had loaned her called
Common-Sense Tips for the Freelance Pirate.
She had barely read past the first page, however, when a commotion rose up from the front hall.

“I'm terribly sorry,” she heard Bess say, “but Pirate Westfield isn't accepting visitors. It says so right here on this sign.”

“But she'll want to see
us
,” someone said with great confidence.

The gargoyle's ears pricked up. “More pirates?” he asked.

There was a flurry of footsteps, followed closely by an enormous bang.

Hilary didn't quite understand what was happening, but she was certain of one thing: the drawing-room door,
which had been resting peacefully on its hinges, was now barreling through the air and heading in her direction. She grabbed the gargoyle and ducked under a table as the flying door sailed over them, collided with the wall, and crashed to the floor. “Horsefeathers!” someone cried from the hallway.

Hilary stood up. “That's not pirates,” she said to the gargoyle, who was shaking like a small earthquake in her arms. “That's Claire.”

Like an actress late for a performance, Claire Dupree hurried into the room. She was wrapped in a long woolen coat and an even longer striped scarf, and she gasped when she saw the door lying in the middle of the room. “Oh, drat,” she said. “I
knew
I shouldn't have used that magic piece. I only asked it to lead me to you, Hilary, but I suppose I was a bit too enthusiastic. I haven't squashed you, have I?”

“Not quite,” Hilary assured her. “It takes more than a drawing-room door to squash a pirate.” She climbed over the wreckage to give Claire a hug. “But what are you doing here? I thought Miss Pimm was keeping you busy with magic lessons over the holidays.”

“We had lessons in the coach all the way from Pemberton, though I'm not entirely sure they stuck.” Claire poked at the door's bent hinges with the tip of her boot. “And as for Miss Pimm—well, she should be right behind me.”

In the doorway, Bess cleared her throat, and Miss Pimm
herself entered the room. She looked as grand as ever, but she walked more slowly than Hilary remembered, and she leaned on a carved wooden cane that Hilary hadn't seen before.

“The Enchantress of the Northlands,” said Bess with a curtsy. “I'm sorry I didn't knock, miss, but the door is gone.”

“
Gone
,” said Miss Pimm, “is a very strong word. I believe the door has merely traveled.” She looked across the room at Claire and gave her a thin smile. Then she reached into her handbag and produced a golden sphere the size of an orange. “Magic,” she said, “please replace this door in its proper location before someone trips over it at Ophelia Westfield's next luncheon.”

As Hilary watched, the door picked itself up, floated across the room, and settled itself obligingly in its frame.

“Much better,” said Miss Pimm. “Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to sit down.” Without letting go of her cane, she settled herself in an elegant high-backed chair. Like most elegant things, the chair was exceedingly uncomfortable, but Miss Pimm did not seem to mind. “I must apologize for visiting unannounced,” she said. “We were in a great hurry, and there wasn't time to send a message.”

“That's all right,” said Hilary. “We've already had three pirates here today. They didn't bother to announce themselves either.”

“They wanted Hilary to be in charge of the pirate league!” said the gargoyle. “What do you think of that?”

Claire and Miss Pimm exchanged a glance. “I thought you told me,” Miss Pimm murmured to Claire, “that pirates are never prompt.”

“Well, they aren't
usually
.” Claire unwound her scarf. “And I was sure the snow would slow them down. These ones must have been especially persistent.”

Hilary stared at her. “Do you mean to say that you knew I'd have pirates on my doorstep?”

“Strictly speaking,” said Miss Pimm, “we invited them.”

“But they weren't supposed to arrive for days!” said Claire. “Of course, we had no idea the
Gazette
would run our notice early. We hopped in the carriage as soon as we saw—”

“
You
placed the notice?” said Hilary. She almost couldn't believe it. Claire could be silly, but she was never cruel. “And you told everyone in the kingdom that I'm planning to challenge Captain Blacktooth? Did you want him and his mates to come after us with their cutlasses immediately, or did you hope they'd wait until spring?”

The gargoyle shook his head. “You think you can trust people,” he said. “You let them scratch you behind the ears. Then they get you in trouble with a band of angry pirates, and before you know it, you're lying at the bottom of the sea with fish swimming up your snout.”

Claire knitted her fingers together, looking as uncomfortable as Hilary had ever seen her. Miss Pimm didn't
seem entirely comfortable, either, but perhaps that was due to the elegant chair. “I can see I owe you an apology as well as an explanation,” Miss Pimm said. “Frankly, however, I've never been much good at the first, so I shall begin with the second.” She tapped her carefully clipped fingernails on the handle of her cane. “I am not as young as I used to be—but perhaps you've noticed that.”

Truthfully, it had been nearly two centuries since Miss Pimm had been young. Magic, fresh air, and more than a pinch of stubbornness had kept her in good health for two hundred and forty years, however, and she had danced until midnight at her birthday party the month before. “I haven't noticed a thing,” Hilary assured her. “You're as vigorous as a swashbuckler.”

“And the kingdom must believe nothing else.” Miss Pimm looked grave. “I will tell you in confidence, though, that being kidnapped by villains puts quite a damper on one's strength. I have been doing my best to protect the kingdom's magic, but keeping watch over the entire country has been out of the question for months now. Even when I do manage to spot someone misusing magic, I can't cast a simple scolding spell without losing my breath or my balance.”

“She's had to mail people chiding letters instead,” Claire said. “They're not nearly as impressive as spells are, and the postal courier is starting to complain.”

“But you fixed the drawing-room door!” said Hilary.

“And it took nearly all my strength to do it,” said Miss Pimm. “The fact of the matter is that it's high time for me to retire. I must let the new Enchantress take over my duties before all the scoundrels and scourges in the kingdom discover I'm no longer a match for them.”

At the mention of a new Enchantress, Claire turned pink and looked down at her scarf. Hilary wondered whether Enchantresses were encouraged to blast doors off their hinges in High Society mansions; it didn't seem likely. “You'll be wonderful at the job,” she told Claire. “You'll sweep villains out of their boots and toss them into the sea.”

But Claire only turned pinker. “I enchanted a cracked pane of glass out of my window last week,” she said, “but it snowed overnight and I was thoroughly soaked. Then I tried to warm myself up, and I set fire to my bedsheets—a very
small
fire,” she hastened to add. “I suppose I still have a bit to learn.”

Miss Pimm looked as though she supposed so, too. “Although Miss Dupree is alarmingly prone to catastrophe,” she said, “I believe she is talented enough to be a good Enchantress. When Queen Adelaide asked me which girl should be chosen for the position, I recommended Miss Dupree at once.”

“And the queen agreed?” Hilary asked.

Claire buried her face in her scarf.

“Not quite,” said Miss Pimm. “When she announced
her plan to appoint Miss Dupree as the next Enchantress, half of High Society flew into an uproar. The Coalition of Overprotective Mothers is even circulating a petition. They believe . . .” She cleared her throat and glanced at Claire. “Ah, they think . . .”

“They think the Enchantress should be a High Society lady,” Claire said. “They certainly
don't
think she should be a commoner who grew up on a marsh.”

“What's wrong with marshes?” the gargoyle asked. “They're full of interesting bugs.”

“And there's no reason why the Enchantress can't be from one if she wants to be,” said Hilary. “Those High Society folks will simply have to get used to the idea.”

“That's not the worst of it, though.” Claire sounded really upset now. “They've offered up a candidate of their own. I'm sure you'll be able to guess whom they've picked.”

The gargoyle gasped. “Is it
me
?”

“Oh no,” said Hilary. There was only one person in the kingdom who could make Claire so miserable. “It must be Philomena.”

The thought of Philomena Tilbury having control of all the magic coins, crochet hooks, and candlesticks in Augusta was enough to make Hilary's toes curl in her boots. Philomena had been the cruelest girl at Miss Pimm's Finishing School for Delicate Ladies, and it seemed that now she was striving to become the cruelest young lady in all of High Society. She wanted nothing more than to
be the next Enchantress, and for a moment last summer, after her mother and Captain Blacktooth had kidnapped Miss Pimm, she had nearly accomplished just that. “But surely the queen won't put Philomena in charge,” Hilary said. “She's a Mutineer! If she gets to be the Enchantress, she'll take all the magic away from the commoners and give it to her awful friends! She'll let Captain Blacktooth seize the kingdom's treasure! She'll let my father out of the Dungeons!”

“I don't enjoy the thought any more than you do,” Miss Pimm said. “Neither does the queen. It can't be proved that Philomena is a villain, but her mother certainly is one, and even Queen Adelaide is wise enough to see that letting that family near the kingdom's stores of magic would be disastrous. However, she may not have much choice in the matter.”

Hilary rolled her eyes. “If the queen is so timid that she can't stand up to a few Overprotective Mothers—”

“It's not only High Society that's protesting, you see,” said Claire. “That awful Captain Blacktooth has threatened to lead the VNHLP in an attack on Augusta if Philomena isn't made the next Enchantress.”