Lintang and the Pirate Queen

  About the Book

  Lintang dreams of having adventures on the high seas.

  When a deadly mythie attacks the same day the infamous Captain Shafira visits her island, Lintang gets her chance, defending her village with a bravery that earns her a place on the pirate queen’s ship.

  But they’ve barely left the island when Lintang discovers her best friend, Bayani, has stowed away. Telling Captain Shafira means betraying her friend, but keeping Bayani’s secret risks everything … including their lives.

  Contents

  Cover

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Dedication

  The Uninvited Pixie

  The Worst Punishment

  Bayani

  Pero and the Propheseeds

  Sword and Shield

  Pirate Queen

  The Black Blade

  The Three Gods

  Her Most Precious Thing

  Across the Reef

  Unexpected Crew

  Choices

  Captain’s Cabin

  The Weapons Master

  Life on the Winda

  Avalon

  Nyasamdra

  Cabin Girl

  Hero

  Banished

  The Defiant Boy

  The Little Girl

  Gems and Bridges

  Into Zaiben

  The Governor

  Reward

  The Ex-Pixie

  The Siren’s Call

  The Glory

  Captain Moon

  The Job Offer

  Sacrifice

  Transformation

  Mother of Monsters

  Battle of Three

  Home

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Lintang and the Forbidden Island

  Copyright Notice

  For Marguerite

  * * *

  THE MYTHIE GUIDEBOOK

  ENTRY #38: Fey (Twin Islands)

  The Twin Island fey (pixie) is a sky mythie and the smallest of the humanoids, at barely the height of an adult thumb. It has the wings of a dragonfly and wears a dress of friol petals.

  Diet: Berries, nectar and kitchen scraps. When visiting the islands of Tolus and Thelkin, food should be stored securely.

  Habitat: Populated areas in the Twin Islands.

  Frequency: Common.

  Behaviour: These mythies are considered pests. Missing items, spoiled food and broken possessions are often the work of Twin Island fey. They enjoy provoking angry responses from humans and animals alike.

  Eradication: Twin Island fey are too clever for traps and too fast to be squashed. The best thing to do is ignore their behaviour until they get bored and go away.

  Did you know? Each fey has a unique glow to tell it apart from others.

  Danger level: 1

  * * *

  The Uninvited Pixie

  There was a pixie in the larder, and Lintang was going to be in so much trouble.

  ‘Shoo,’ she said, waving her flaming wooden torch at it.

  The pixie darted away and poked its tongue at her.

  Lintang waved her torch again. ‘Go! Mother will feed me to a river monster if you ruin anything.’

  The pixie zipped between the dangling panna leaves and a leg of ham. Its white glow made it easy to spot. Lintang jabbed the fire at it and almost ignited the hanging herbs.

  She shouldn’t have left the larder door open. She knew better, but she’d come home for lunch and Mother wasn’t here so she thought she’d peek inside to see how everything was arranged. There were rules for how food had to be stored, and considering she was turning thirteen in less than a year – a true adult – she figured it wouldn’t be so bad if she had a closer look.

  Except it was bad, because now there was a pixie inside.

  The pixie didn’t care that Lintang would get into trouble. It buzzed around pots of grains, dancing out of the way when Lintang tried to singe its petal dress.

  This was the cheekiest pixie in the village. Whenever food disappeared, or the gaya paddocks were open, or the fishermen’s nets down at the bay were untied, its little white glow could be seen bobbing cheerfully from the crime.

  The pixie wiggled its butt at Lintang before pressing its palms in a tub of congealed fat, leaving tiny, telltale handprints. Mother would definitely know a pixie had been in here now.

  Lintang lunged. The fire whooshed. ‘Shoo!’

  The pixie sped past her, out the open larder door. Lintang turned to chase it, only to find the hanging panna leaves were alight. The wooden torch had caught them. Black smoke puffed to the ceiling and filled her nostrils.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ she said.

  The herbs caught fire too.

  ‘Uh-oh,’ she said again.

  She had been trying so hard to be responsible.

  A piece of panna leaf fell to the floorboards and curled up, scorched. The thought of their timber house catching fire finally propelled her into action. She ran out of the larder and returned the torch to its bracket. The wooden drum Mother used for scrubbing dishes hung from the low rafters among the pots and pans, empty. If Lintang wanted water she’d have to go to the river, and that was too far, even if she sprinted as fast as a hurricane.

  Ribbons of smoke unfurled from the larder, choking the mid-afternoon sunlight. Water, water, where else could she get water?

  Of course – the household shrine! Their offerings to the Three Gods had been freshly laid on the stone altar that morning. She reached between a scattering of juicy burbleberries and thin, smouldering sticks of mollowood to take the earthen jug.

  ‘Sorry, Niti, but this is an emergency.’

  Water sloshed over her sarong and onto her bare feet as she carried the jug to the larder. The smoke was now thick plumes that clung to the back of her throat and made her cough.

  She tossed the entire contents of the jug over the blaze, but the parts she missed continued to grow. She set down the jug with a groan.

  ‘Lintang!’

  The front door burst open and Mother thundered into the house. She grabbed Lintang’s arm to drag her out. Elder Wulan was waiting on the porch with a basket of washed clothes. Mother snatched a sopping pair of Father’s pants and raced back inside.

  Lintang tried to follow, but Elder Wulan snagged her sarong. ‘Not a chance.’

  They listened to the wet slaps as Mother tried to put out the fire. Smoke pulsed from the doorway.

  Lintang gulped and turned to face Elder Wulan. Her teacher was the oldest person in Desa – she’d taught Lintang’s grandfather when he was at school – but her age never stopped her from helping other villagers with their chores. She said as long as she kept moving, the Goddess of Death couldn’t catch her.

  ‘I didn’t mean it.’

  Elder Wulan put the washing basket down. ‘Of course you didn’t.’

  She didn’t sound as if she believed Lintang, but it was true. Lintang never did these sorts of things on purpose. They just sort of … happened.

  The slapping from inside stopped. Elder Wulan leaned towards the smoky doorway. ‘Shall I send Lintang to the village for help, Aanjay?’

  ‘The fire’s out,’ Mother said, her voice echoing from the larder. ‘But all my panna leaves are ruined.’

  Oh no. Mother was supposed to make fish wraps for the visitors tonight, but she couldn’t without panna leaves. Mother prided herself on her fish wraps. The recipe had been passed down for generations. She refused to teach Lintang how to make them until Lintang proved herself a good housekeeper, which, by the way things were going, would be never.

  Lintang sighed and turned to stare over the lush rainforest, down the hill to the lagoon
. The visitors’ ship bobbed across the reef. Its black sails were rolled up. A lone bird circled above as clouds clustered on the horizon. The heaviness of the air warned of an impending storm.

  She closed her eyes as Mother’s footsteps thumped towards her. ‘I’m going to get in trouble again, aren’t I?’

  ‘Yes, Lintang,’ said Elder Wulan with a long-suffering sigh. ‘I’m afraid you are.’

  The Worst Punishment

  ‘What am I going to do with you? Father is going to return with his fish, and I have nothing to make with them!’

  ‘I can explain.’

  Mother stopped pacing to throw her hands in the air, making her wooden bangles clack together. ‘She can always explain,’ she said to Elder Wulan. ‘What was it this time, Lintang? A piece of exploding meat? A dragon? Perhaps one of the Three Gods came down from the stars and set fire to my larder, hmm?’

  Lintang picked up the next sopping sarong. Elder Wulan always preached a truthful tongue, but every time Lintang admitted what really happened, Mother would yell at her. And if she told the truth now, she’d have to admit that she’d left the larder door open, which was another rule she’d broken.

  How did she always end up in these messes?

  She searched her mind for something believable. ‘Actually,’ she said, trying to sound indignant, ‘it was a pirate.’

  Mother snatched the sarong from her. ‘You’re too much like your grandfather, may his gentle star shine forever.’ She strung the piece of cloth up on one of the thin ropes stretched across the porch. ‘Your uncle is the village storyteller now, not you.’

  Lintang flicked water from her fingers to hide the lurch of emotion. Her uncle told good tales, but no one would match her grandfather’s ability to weave a legend before the bonfire in that coarse, vibrant voice.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not a story this time,’ Elder Wulan said under her breath, almost too quiet for Lintang to hear. ‘With the visitors due to arrive soon …’

  ‘Yes, maybe the pirate came from the visitors’ ship,’ Lintang said, pushing memories of her grandfather aside. ‘He was wearing a hat with a talross feather and had a sash and all these gold medals –’

  ‘Stop.’ Mother picked up a wet shisea. The wraparound dress was so complicated and long, it stretched out across an entire line. Being allowed to wear a pretty shisea instead of a sarong was one of the only good things about becoming an adult.

  ‘Why do you bring me such shame?’ Mother said. ‘Why have the Gods tested me with such a daughter?’

  ‘So that your star may shine as bright as any warrior,’ Elder Wulan said, digging into a small pouch tied around her waist and withdrawing a handful of plump dates.

  Mother turned to glare at her, then said, ‘The ship on the bay is the Winda, Lintang. There’s no man with a talross feather, and there are certainly no gold medals.’

  Lintang stopped in the middle of reaching for an offered date.

  No. It couldn’t be.

  She’d thought the ship was just another group of Vierzans from across the sea. They always stalked through the village in their long coats and heavy boots, sweat across their brow as they talked to the villagers about boring things like trade and taxes.

  Elder Wulan was from Vierz, but she’d been living in Desa so long she was practically one of the villagers. Her skin had darkened under the blazing sun, and she wore shiseas like the other women, as well as a blue kerchief around her thin grey hair. She hardly counted as being like the Vierzans who visited.

  Except it wasn’t Vierzans visiting this time. It was so much better than that.

  ‘The Winda?’ she said, breathless. ‘Captain Shafira of Allay is here? In our lagoon?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mother said irritably. ‘And stop speaking of her like that. She’s a pirate, not a Goddess.’

  Lintang leaned on the porch railing to squint at the black-sailed ship. A group of colourful birds flapped up from the rainforest canopy. ‘Are we going to fight her? The Vierzans said we have to kill her on sight.’

  ‘There are rumours she’s unkillable,’ said Elder Wulan, picking the seed out from a date. ‘And the village hardly wants to fight pirates with only eight people in the warriors’ guild.’

  Lintang smiled, imagining her wooden sword in hand as she duelled some faceless attacker. She might’ve considered asking to join the warriors’ guild, except nothing ever happened in Desa anyway.

  Until now.

  ‘I heard Captain Shafira’s innocent.’ She liked the thought. If anyone understood what it was like to get into trouble when it wasn’t their fault, it was Lintang. Really, they were the same, her and the pirate queen.

  Mother snorted. ‘Where did you come up with that silly idea?’

  ‘One of the merchants from the southern island said she came to their village. She only asked for food and to tell the story of how she was framed. She helped them get rid of a labak.’

  Lintang had gone to the inn to fetch more cups – one of the youngest children at school had knocked over the crockery shelf and broken their whole supply – when she’d overheard the merchant talking to the village elders. She’d lingered as the merchant explained how Captain Shafira had skilfully caught a predator mythie that was nothing more than a flying head with trailing organs. The tale had been gruesome, and Romi the innkeeper had made Lintang promise she’d never repeat it to her friends.

  ‘What are you doing talking to merchants?’ Mother said, snapping one of Father’s wet shirts in the breeze. ‘No wonder you never get any chores done, if you’re lazing about chatting to visitors.’

  Lazing about?

  Lintang opened her mouth to defend herself, but before she could, Elder Wulan said, ‘That labak had killed four people before Captain Shafira came along. It’s why we’re holding our usual welcome feast. Hopefully she’ll leave us unharmed.’

  Lintang’s gaze slid to the Winda again. ‘Will she need an Islander to get out?’

  Elder Wulan chuckled dryly. ‘Pirate queens are not exempt from the sea guardian. If she wants to leave the Twin Islands, then yes, she’ll need one of you.’

  Lintang rubbed the back of her neck, her fingers sliding over the small, shiny fish scale that had been in her skin since birth. Only Islanders had a scale like it. Merchants could come and go between the two islands without trouble, but Nyasamdra drowned ships who tried to leave her territory unless they carried someone who bore her mark.

  ‘You’re not thinking of asking to join a pirate ship, are you?’ Mother said.

  Lintang dropped her hand, wishing she hadn’t been so obvious.

  ‘You’re not leaving Desa, even if all the governors in the United Regions begged for your service. You have work to do here in the village.’ Mother strung up a petticoat from one of her shiseas. ‘You’ll finish school before the next harvest, and your proper training will start.’

  ‘I don’t want to be a housekeeper,’ Lintang said.

  ‘We all have jobs to do.’ Mother’s voice was brisk as she straightened the petticoat. ‘You will take over from me, and your brother will take over the fishing from your father.’

  Lintang gestured to the horizon. ‘I want to see the rest of the world and have adventures like Captain Shafira.’

  ‘Don’t be selfish,’ Mother said. ‘We do what’s best for the village, not what’s best for ourselves. Now, Elder Wulan, please take this child out of my sight.’

  Elder Wulan glanced at the incoming clouds and put the rest of her dates into her pouch. ‘Come, Lintang. It’s time for afternoon class.’

  Lintang followed Elder Wulan down the steps, already plotting ways to convince Captain Shafira to take her regardless, when Mother called out, ‘You won’t be going to the feast tonight.’

  Lintang spun around. ‘What?’

  ‘Did you think you were going to get away with burning down the larder?’

  Niti’s hat. The larder. She was so busy thinking of Captain Shafira, she’d almost forgotten.

  Mother
picked up the empty washing basket. ‘You can stay home and scrub it until it’s clean of soot.’

  ‘But I want to see Captain Shafira!’

  Mother responded with a glare that could puncture a blowfish. Lintang’s earlier excitement vanished.

  She couldn’t believe it. How would she ever get the chance to convince the pirate queen to take her away if she wasn’t even allowed to meet her?

  Bayani

  The school was in the centre of the village, surrounded by the blacksmith’s shed, the warriors’ guild and a cluster of houses for villagers who didn’t own farms. The smell of manure from nearby stables was particularly strong thanks to the muggy air. The younger kids were playing a skipping game in the dust, chanting an old rhyme about Nyasamdra.

  ‘Remember, remember, the guardian’s rules.

  Use them or you’ll be a fool!

  Don’t you laugh or give her meat,

  Pick your nails or suck your teeth.

  Don’t let the palms of your hand be seen,

  And most of all you don’t wear green!’

  Lintang dodged a chicken and glanced around, hoping the visitors had already arrived. All she saw were the everyday people of Desa. There was a lot less conversation than normal, and a lot more worried faces.

  ‘They say she’s invincible,’ Camelia the woodcutter said to Romi the innkeeper as they scrubbed the long festival tables.

  ‘I heard they’ve caught her before, but she escapes every time,’ Romi said. ‘Did you hear about her battle with Captain Moon?’