Chapter 3

            Christin knocked her gavel against her desk.  “Treasurer’s report please, Lord Beardin.”

            “The current balance to be used for the public good is �" , with a generous donation made yesterday of 500,000---.”

            “Thank you.  Any other monetary business to attend to?”

            Lizzy strained to hear from her adjoining room.  This was where her assignment would come from.

            Lord Sprat stood and addressed the assembly.  “Harrumph!”  He twitched his moustache and harrumphed loudly.  “Erm, yes, erm, I have, erm, some information considering a few of our, erm, barons who have been squirreling away some of their, erm, funds which should be, erm, given over in the form of, erm, taxes.  One in particular, erm, Baron Austen, erm, has been withholding, erm, massive amounts of, erm, money in order to, erm, fund a party his, erm, wife is, erm holding to celebrate their, erm, eldest son’s twelfth, erm, birthday.”

            Lizzy tched behind her door.  She did this partially at the baron’s foolish crime, and partially at Lord Sprat’s tiresome way of speaking.  He might be the most educated and well-informed lord in Christin’s cabinet, but he was not a good public speaker.

            But a boy’s coming of age party was no good reason to withhold taxes, and that was the more important matter at hand.  Lizzy snuck away quietly.  Time to prepare for another journey.  Lizzy pulled a brown satchel from beneath her bed.  Into it she dumped a pen, a bottle of ink, some loose parchment, a map, and a compass.  She opened a drawer in the bottom of the wardrobe and reached inside.  Searching through a tangle of silk scarves, she grabbed at a flash of red.  The scarf was red with white spots to set off her black hair.  Spreading apart the dresses in the back of the wardrobe revealed a leather vest and breeches hanging from a wooden hanger along with a loose muslin shirt.  Lizzy draped the scarf and a wide dark belt studded with steel spikes over the hanger.  She would retrieve her boots when she exited the greenhouse.

            The jewelry box contributed two large golden hoops for her ears, and a tiny golden stud for the cartilage on her right ear.  She pulled three sheaths from underneath the wardrobe.  One held a small pistol, and the other two held matching daggers.  Tomorrow she could suit up and be transformed into a pirate with no trace of a lady.

            Christin appeared at the door.  You’re not planning to leave right now, are you?” she asked with concern and surprise.

            “No.  I just like to be ready.  Will you give this to a messenger to give to Iama?”  Lizzy handed Christin a parchment note.

 

Iama,

            Tomorrow we must be ready to sail again.  Baron Austen is withholding taxes for his son’s coming of age party.  It is our duty to return the money to its rightful place in the Republic’s treasury.  Please prepare the crew, for we sail at dawn.

           

            “Would you like me to seal it?”

            “Please.  Thank you.”

            Lizzy spent the rest of the afternoon strolling lazily through the palace gardens with her cousin.  They delighted each other with stories, small talk, and jokes, but no reference was made to the morrow’s business.  Still, it lurked in the back of the pirate maid’s mind, and once or twice Christin was obliged to awaken Lizzy from a trance of contemplation.