He opened a window he kept well greased for his stealthy comings and goings and jumped up onto the sill and swung his legs inside.
“So,” Yap said from outside, “are we robbing the house, or returning something?”
Amberhill smiled, pleased the pirate had a sense of humor. “What was here is mostly gone, and all of it mine.” He could’ve entered through the front door, but old habits died hard. He preferred no one espied his late night entrances and exits, regardless. He supposed he could use the back entrance, but where was the fun in that?
He assisted Yap through the window, pulling on rough, cracked hands. The rotund pirate scrabbled frantically over the windowsill and pretty much rolled into the house, landing on the floor with a hefty thump. Vacant as the room was of many of its original furnishings and objects, the noise seemed excruciatingly loud to Amberhill’s ears and he hoped it did not awaken any of his servants.
Yap clambered to his feet and glanced warily around in the dim light of the library. The shelves were mostly empty. There were a few chests and packing crates on the floor.
“Have a seat,” Amberhill said, indicating one of the few remaining chairs.
Yap did so tentatively at first, but then with an expression of delight, he allowed himself to sink into the plush upholstery, exhaling with contentment. Amberhill hoped the stink of pirate would not adhere to the fabric.
He remained standing with arms folded and regarded his guest, but could discern nothing beyond his rags, stubbled cheeks, and straggly gray hair.
“You must be very rich, sir,” Yap said.
“More so than many,” Amberhill replied, “with the help of pirate treasure.” If his words had any effect on Yap, he could not see it in the pale dawn light. “What can you tell me about the dragon ring?”
“Is that what ya brought me here for, sir?”
“I said I had questions.”
“What if I don’t have answers.”
“I shall send you on your way.”
Yap gasped. “Ya won’t kill me then? Not even for ... not even for ...” He patted his chest to indicate the treasure within.
“Only if you give me cause shall I kill you.”
Silence fell as Yap considered his words. “That is fair spoken. And if my answers please ya? I have no ship no more. Old Yap’s nowhere to go.”
Amberhill was not surprised Yap angled for some small reward. He was, after all, first and foremost a pirate.
“I am sure I can make it worth your while. If your information is good.”
Yap took another moment to consider his words, then said, “Fair. I will tell ya what I know of the ring. It starts with the sea kings.”
YAP’S STORY
The light in the library turned gray with the rising sun. Yap looked like a figure of pewter as he sat unmoving in the armchair. Would he vanish in a puff of light when full morning broke? The pirates were not entirely mundane, and whether it was the influence of some outside force that made them so, or an innate quality of the pirates themselves, Amberhill did not know. He had only to consider the treasure he’d collected from their quickly rotting carcasses as proof there was something arcane at work. He recalled Captain Bonnet mentioning a curse.
Yap, however, did not vanish, but cleared his throat. “As long as I can remember, Cap’n Bonnet was gripped by the lure of sea king treasure. He’d listen to tales in every port about the fabulous stuff the sea kings had. Funny, but none of these tale tellers could show us any proof these stories were true, or tell us who might have a piece of treasure, but that didn’t stop the cap’n one bit. Oh no. Many was the time he’d pick out an island that might fit one of the stories, and he set us to digging, looking for treasure.
“Once we found something stuck in a beach. A gold torque with a dragon’s head. Not worth much when you spread its value around the crew, but it was enough to excite the cap’n and off we were again chasing some other old rumor. To be sure, we still took ships and their cargoes as any decent pirate must, otherwise the cap’n woulda had a mutiny on his hands for chasing ghosts and nothing to show for it.”
“How did rumor turn into treasure?”
“Why, it was a storm, sir. An autumn ripper as my old dad would have called it. We were in the Northern Sea and the storm was so bad it rammed us aground on a small island there. We spent weeks making repairs and poked about the island. That’s when we stumbled on the grave, sir. Well, that’d be Eardog who fell into it. He was always finding trouble, Eardog. Rigged wrong in the head if you take my meaning.” Yap thumped his forehead with his finger.
Amberhill had met Eardog, so he did take Yap’s meaning. “What was in the grave—besides the obvious, that is?”
“It wasn’t just any grave, sir. It was a cavern, a big one, with a whole, real ship in there. The entrance hole was big enough for a man, but not big enough to push a whole ship in. Makes me think they musta took the ship apart and carried it in, in pieces, and rebuilt it. A black ship with a dragon figurehead. That’s how they buried the king—in his ship with all his treasure. Aye, it was an amazing sight.” Yap paused, his gaze glassy as he remembered a scene long past.
“The old king, he was laid out on a byre on deck, he being nothing but bones covered in furs and rugs. And jewels. And all around him were chests of coins and more jewels. Weapons, too, and some other rubbish we didn’t care about—kettles of food and drink all long gone, or long gone bad. The treasure we loaded right quick into the hold of the Mermaid.”