SEVENTEEN

THE QUESTERS started for Pirate Cove.

Prilla said, “We’re sort of a talent, aren’t we? We’re quest-talent—”

“—fairies.” Rani felt sorry for Prilla. “A talent is a little different.”

“Entirely different,” Vidia said. “For example, dear child, you always like and care about the others in your talent.”

That’s mean! Prilla thought.

“Vidia!” Rani said. “We care about each other.”

“I care about Rani,” Prilla said pointedly.

Rani blew her nose, touched.

“Dear child, I don’t mind if you hate me. But let’s see if I care about you. Let’s see if your talent is fast-flying.” Vidia sped up and called over her shoulder, “Catch me.”

Prilla fluttered her wings as hard as she could. She kicked her feet and flapped her arms. She didn’t want to be in anything with Vidia, but she wanted to outdo her. And, of course, she wanted a talent.

She wished a wind would come along and push her, only her.

But no wind came, and no matter what she did, she could fly just slightly faster than Rani. She had no chance of reaching Vidia, who was a dot in the distance.

Vidia waited for them at the shore. When they arrived, she said, “Dear child, your talent is for being untalented.”

“Don’t listen, Prilla,” Rani said. “Vidia, we have no time for insults.”

“Precious, we have no time for slowpokes.” Vidia started out over the water.

They flew the three-quarters of a mile to the ship. The night was so quiet you could almost hear Never Land thinking. On the Jolly Roger, the helmsman nodded at his wheel.

The fairies flew from porthole to porthole, wondering which belonged to Captain Hook. They mistakenly flew through the crew’s porthole window and were blown right back out by the snores.

Three portholes farther on, they entered Hook’s cabin. Hook snored too, but his snores were refined. He snored in iambic pentameter, with an occasional spondee thrown in.

Prilla hovered above Hook’s bureau, where a dozen roses had been placed exactly as he liked them—stems in water, with the decapitated blooms arranged around the vase.

Vidia touched down on his desk in the midst of his collection of nose lengtheners.

Rani flew to the bed.

There, clenched in Hook’s teeth, was the cigar holder, bearing two enormous unlit cigars.

Hook lay on his back. He’d thrown off his blanket, and his pillow was bunched beneath his large head. His hand rested on the sword strapped around his nightshirt. As Rani watched, he shifted a little and scratched his belly with his hook.

He stopped snoring and began to speak. Prilla froze in fright and almost fell out of the air.

“Captain Joshua Abreu, March sixth, ’twenty-two: planked.”

His eyes didn’t open, and the fairies realized he was talking in his sleep. The cigar holder moved as he spoke, but it didn’t fall out.

“Captain John Amberding, July seventh, ’twenty-four: poisoned. Captain Harvey Ardill, October eighteenth, ’twenty: planked. Captain William Bault, January fifth, ’eighteen: planked.”

Hook was listing the captains he’d killed, alphabetically!

How gruesome! Rani thought. Cold with fear, she flew to Hook’s lips and pulled gently on the cigar holder.

It didn’t budge.

“Captain Alistair Bested, February twenty-seventh, ’twentyone: hooked and dangled.”

Rani wondered if he’d start on the first mates when he finished the captains.

“What do we do now, sweet—”

“—heart?” Rani wished Ree had sent someone else to be leader. “Er... Er...”

“Captain Simon Bontarre, August…”

“Maybe if we wait awhile,” Prilla said, “something will happen.”

No one could think of anything better, so they settled themselves amid the roses on the bureau. Prilla felt proud of having made a suggestion that the others had followed. Rani tried to think of a way to get the cigar holder, but no ideas came.

And if they did get it, Rani wasn’t sure they’d be able to carry it. The holder was five and a half inches long, studded with emeralds. Even without the two gigantic cigars it would be heavy. They’d use fairy dust to lighten both the cigars and the holder, but still, they’d have a job bringing it all to shore.

An hour passed while Hook recited dead captains up to the letter H.

Rani tried to drown him out by whistling mermaid songs. While she whistled she worried. They weren’t going to save Mother Dove if they spent the next three days on Hook.

Vidia cracked her knuckles.

Prilla arrived in the bedroom of a Clumsy boy who was sitting up in bed, looking frightened.

“What’s wrong?”

He whispered, “Something’s breathing under the bed.”

Prilla flew down to see. No monster, just a few dust bunnies.

“All clear.” She did a handspring in the air—

And landed on the pillow of a girl who was reading under the covers with a flashlight. Prilla somersaulted onto the girl’s ear. The girl didn’t notice. Giggling, Prilla sang, “There’s a fairy in your ear.” The girl reached up, but—

Prilla was back on the ship. Hook was still clenching the cigar holder. She said, “Don’t you love being silly with Clumsy children?”

“Dear child, why would I do that?” Vidia said.

“I’ve never tried it,” Rani said.

Prilla wondered if she was doing something wrong by going to the mainland. She didn’t go on purpose, but she’d be miserable if she stopped.

A second hour passed. Prilla visited the mainland again (a zoo and an ice-skating rink), but this time she didn’t mention it.

Hook reached the letter N.

Vidia said, “Rani, darling, if you don’t stop whistling, I’ll rip your lips—”

“—off. I guess I’ll stop.”

Prilla had liked the whistling. And she thought a leader should stand up for herself.

A third hour passed. Dawn wasn’t far off, and Hook would wake soon.

Once he woke up, they’d never get the holder.