Chapter 25
The shack was made up of three rooms: the kitchen, main room, and a bedroom, with a bathroom at the back.
All three rooms were covered in wallpaper, but not the flowery kind.
This wallpaper was bland white and so patched that it looked like a quilt.
Even the ceiling was covered in the strange decor.
The plain wooden floor boards were sanded, but otherwise undecorated.
Cages lined the walls to our left and ahead of us.
They also didn’t have doors, and their bottoms were lined with more scraps of paper.
I didn’t see any bird droppings, but the air had a definite odor of old paper and ink. It was as strong as ten libraries.
The other oddity of the room was a wooden hanger on the wall over a tall table.
Dozens of pens hung on the wood, each different from the rest, though they were all black.
A bookcase sat beside the table and was filled with dozens of books.
Many of them had titles on the spines that mentioned birds and wildlife.
Marty led us over to the crackling fire in the hearth and gestured to the couch. A coffee table sat in front of the cushions and was covered in scraps of paper. “Have a seat. I was just making some birds.”
“Birds?” I repeated as Torvus, and I sat down.
“Deckle birds,” Marty told me as he took up a pair of scissors and a plain sheet of paper. “You can never have too many, especially when the older ones start to tear apart.”
I blinked at him. “Tear apart?”
Marty studied me with a confused and curious eye. “Of course. They don’t last forever.”
“Miss Larkin here isn’t well versed in the art of caring for deckle birds,” Torvus explained.”
Marty leaned back and blinked at me. “Was she raised on one of the far islands?”
“Something like that,” Torvus answered as he nodded at the supplies in Marty’s hands. “Why don’t you show her how it works?”
“Well, it’s not difficult, but you have to have the right magic for it,” Marty mused as he held up the scissors and snipped them together a few times.
“And the right tools. My great-great-great-grandfather made these scissors. There’s nothing like them in the world of the four seas. Let me show you.”
Marty began cutting through the paper, and my mouth dropped open. The paper curled behind him, but not because of gravity. The parchment went against gravity and folded upwards. Each snip caused another fold, and soon something took shape.
It was a bird, much like an origami swan. The creature had a long, straight tail and wings, and a sharp beak protruded from the paper. Marty finished the last snip, and the bird opened its straight, crackling wings and took flight. He leaped up and clapped his hands around his flapping creation.
“This one is pretty spry,” he mused as he hurried over to one of the cages.
He grasped the ‘bird’ in one hand and slipped both through the bars, where he released it. The bird darted around the cage, but each attempt to slip through the bars was met by an invisible wall.
Marty turned to us with a proud smile on his face. “And that’s how you make a deckle bird.”
I craned my neck and peered into some of the other cages. “So those pieces of paper on the bottom of the cages-?”
“More of my creations.” He grasped the bars of one cage and gave it a shake.
The papers on the bottom came to life, folding themselves into the shapes of dozens of different sizes and breeds of birds.
They flew up like a tornado of papery feathers and flew about their cell.
They, too, were repelled by some invisible magic, and they soon settled back down to the bottom of the cage.
Marty plopped himself back down on the chair and looked to Torvus. “So what do you need sent and where? Coordinates to a buried treasure? Or is it a secret letter to one of your other lovers?”
“Neither. I want to make inquiries at every port about Captain Encina.”
Marty’s good humor dropped faster than a bowling ball out of a window. He leaned back and frowned. “He’s a dangerous man to be asking about.”
“The ones worth asking about usually are,” Torvus countered as he took up a pencil from the table and wrote out a short note. He held out the sheet to his friend. “This is what the message needs to say.”
Marty took the note and read the contents before his eyes darted up to me. “Asking about a woman aboard his ship? Does this have anything to do with her?”
“It’s equally dangerous to be curious about your client’s messages,” Torvus scolded him as he set the pencil on the table.
“I don’t like my birds to get into too much trouble,” he protested as he swept his eyes over the room.
“And some of them have been in the family for generations. I’d hate to part with them now.
Take this one for example.” He stood and walked over to a cage that was suspended from the ceiling near the hearth.
A single piece of paper lay on the bottom.
He reached in and drew out the parchment, which trembled in his hand as he sat back down.
“My great-great-great-grandfather made this one. It’s the last of his special birds. ”
I leaned forward and examined the paper. The edges were frayed and cracked, and the surface was yellowed. “What kind of bird is it?”
Marty brushed the tip of his finger against the edge of the paper.
The parchment twitched before it slowly folded itself into a hawk, complete with chest feathers and tiny eyeballs that blinked at us.
My mouth dropped open, especially when the creature opened its mouth and let out a squawk that sounded like paper rustling.
Marty grinned at me. “I think Pen likes you.”
“Pen?” I repeated.
“My great-great-grandfather named him that because a very unique pen was created to inject the ink into his paper,” Marty told me as he nodded at the pen holder on the wall above a tall table.
“We give each nest of birds a different pen so no one can tell which ink we’re using at the time.
My family also makes the pens ourselves.
It makes it more difficult for the messages to be read by the wrong party. ”
“We need your deckles to go to every port they can reach and see if Encina is making inquiries about my lovely companion here,” Torvus repeated as he nodded at me. “And perhaps ask the port masters or any of your connections whether the Admiralty is searching for her, specifically Jager.”
Marty’s face drooped. “Jager? Why do you suspect him?”
“He chased the Tempest a day ago out in the eastern waters.”
Our host leaned back and absently stroked the bird’s back. “I can see why you’re curious. I haven’t heard of the captain visiting those waters in years.”
Torvus reached into his pocket and drew out a small purse, which he set on the table. The contents clinked. “We’ll pay you, of course.”
Marty took the pouch and tossed it in his palm. “This should just about pay for what you owe me the last time you needed some messages sent.”
It was Torvus’ turn to look put out. “But I paid you back the last time I was here.”
Marty dropped back against his chair and laughed. “The last time you were here, you were running from one of your lovestruck victims turned hunter. What was her name again? Lolita?”
Torvus winced. “I wish you wouldn’t mention that name in front of me.”
“But she said she was your biggest fan,” Marty teased as his eyes twinkled. “I think she said she’d followed you through twelve ports at that point.”
“Thirteen, and the number matches the woman.”
“Whatever the number, you were too busy trying to set sail without her noticing to pay me any attention, much less a coin.”
Torvus frowned, but reached into his pocket and drew out another bag, which he dropped onto the table. “Will this work?”
Marty took up the purse and tossed it, catching it with a smile on his face. “Perfectly.” He pocketed the purses and took the scribbled message from Torvus. “I’ll have my fastest deckle on it.”
The captain narrowed his eyes at his old friend. “Will that cost more?”
“I’ll be sure to keep within your budget,” Marty assured him as his gaze fell on me. “And if it goes a little over, I’ll take it as a gift to your lovely companion.”
I blinked at him. “Why me?”
“Torvus has brought around any number of women from the port and his adventures,” Marty commented as he smiled at me. “But there’s a different air around you, and I like the spark in your eyes. It reminds me of Baba.”
“The heavens forbid. . .” Torvus muttered.
Marty stood with Pen on his arm. “I’ll get right on sending those messages.”
We followed suit and rose. Pen fluffed up his ‘feathers’ and squawked at me. I blinked at the bird. “Does it not like me?”
“On the contrary, Pen doesn’t want you to leave,” Marty mused as his eyes flitted between the bird and me. He stretched out his arm in my direction. “Care to hold him?”
I held up my hands in front of me. “I don’t really know how-”
Pen leaped off Marty’s arm and landed neatly on mine. I jerked back into the arms of Torvus, but his paper talons were tougher than they looked. He remained attached to my sleeve, dancing from one foot to the other. Pen bobbed his head and squawked.
I blinked at the bird before I looked to the owner. “What am I supposed to do with him?”
“He must be quite happy to be out of his cage,” Marty mused as he held up his arm. “Come, Pen.”
Pen snapped and fluffed his feathers, and the rustle of his caw was quite loud.
Marty lifted an eyebrow and lowered his arm. “You’re sure?”
The bird bobbed his head.
“What’s going on?” I asked him.
Marty folded his arms over his chest and grinned at us. “It appears Pen wants you to take him on an adventure or two. It has been fifty years since he stretched his wings.”
I turned my head to Torvus. “Can the ship hold another crew member?”
He cocked his head to one side and smiled at the bird. “This one won’t eat too much, so I suppose we could take this one on.”
I held the bird up to Marty. “You’re sure you won’t mind? This is your grandfather’s last bird.”
His soft eyes twinkled with mischief. “I think grandfather would appreciate a beautiful woman like yourself holding on to his most treasured possession. He probably would’ve given you the bird himself.”
“We should leave,” Torvus spoke up as he guided me toward the door. “Before we get more gifts from grandfather.”