Trajan and Pilbrick rapped on the door for the third time.
“Go away!” a voice finally answered.
They looked at each other. Pilbrick knocked again and they waited.
The door swung open, revealing a withered hermit of a man with a reddish beard trailing to his waist. He brandished a pair of hot tongs and shoved the glowing metal in front of Trajan’s face, forcing the young man to fall backward, then pointed them at Pilbrick, who quickly moved out of the way.
“He’s not here, I tell ya. Read the sign. Now go away.” The hermit turned, walked back inside and slammed the door on them, muttering, “Tourists.”
Trajan gave Pilbrick a confused look.
“Is that not him?” he asked.
“Not remotely.”
Pilbrick knocked again and then spoke through the closed door. “Sir, we are sorry to disturb you, but I have it on good authority that Miracle Max once lived here. Would you perhaps be willing to discuss his whereabouts? I can pay you for your troubles.”
The door opened.
“How much?”
“Can you tell us anything useful?
“Depends on how much.”
Pilbrick reached into his pocket and retrieved a single coin. The hermit inspected it, and surveyed Trajan briefly.
“Two more of these and I’ll give you ten minutes, depending on why you want to know. Come on in.”
They entered the small hut and stood along the wall. A fireplace heated a soup pot, books adorned the walls, and a three-foot long reptilian creature lounged on a rug near the fire. It turned its nose in Trajan’s direction, sniffed, and then hissed, revealing dozens of razor-sharp teeth.
“Oh, hush, you.” The hermit returned the tongs to the fireplace and knelt down to rub the creature’s scaly head. It purred and resumed its slumber.
“Look, sonny,” the hermit said, “I don’t mean to be rude, but you wouldn’t believe the amount of traffic this place gets. They usually don’t even knock, they just roam around the place trampling on my potato plants. Everybody wants to see the famous miracle man. I told the Florinese Tourism Guild that he retired and moved off, but they don’t care, they still charge every Tom, Dick, and Harry five a pop to see Miracle Max’s former shanty. It’s just a hut, the miserable cretins.”
“So,” Trajan offered, “why do you continue to live here?”
“The Guilder kid made of money too?” he asked Pilbrick. “I’m sorry if this place is a little below your normal standards,” he scoffed at Trajan, “but some of us got to eat.” He looked a little closer at Trajan’s forehead. “What the heck happened to you? Get bashed on the head a few times much? Is that what you need Miracle Max for? Put a few noodles back in the noggin? I’m tellin’ ya, he’s retired.”
Trajan looked away, embarrassed. “Good sir. Our business with Max is our own. Can you tell us where he is now?”
“No.”
“We paid you three gold coins.”
“And I told you you’ll need to tell me why you want to find him. I don’t own this place, I take care of it for Max, and that stingy devil and his wife don’t pay more than a month at a time, mainly for me to keep quiet. You don’t want to get on a miracle man’s bad side, sonny. Trust me.”
The man sat in one of the chairs, put his feet on the table, and waited.
“True love,” Pilbrick said.
At this the hermit raised an eyebrow. “Never heard of it.”
“That is because you are not Miracle Max. My name is Pilbrick. For many years I sailed with the Dread Pirate Roberts. He was acquainted with Max. In fact, so was I.”
The hermit said nothing.
Pilbrick continued, “I was here, in this very cottage alongside Roberts, perhaps twenty years ago. You see, Roberts wanted to hire Max and offered him a great fortune to do so. I suspect you know this.”
Still, the hermit only listened.
“Max took the job, journeyed with us on Roberts’ ship for a few months, and was paid his fortune. I was tasked with returning Max to Florin amid great secrecy. But Roberts also laid one stipulation on the deal with Max. That is, if Roberts ever again needed Max’s help, he would send a messenger, and that messenger would give him a code to attest for his genuineness.
“Let me guess, true love?”
Pilbrick nodded. “You would be wise to assist us. I don’t know what device Max uses to ensure you keep his secrecy, but I can promise you it would pale in comparison to the harm that would come to one who stands in the way of Roberts’ and his servants.” Pilbrick shifted in a subtle manner that allowed the hermit to get a good look at the hilt of his sword.
After a short silence, the hermit rose, went to one of the bookshelves, and searched until he found a large leather bound book of maps. He pulled it down and opened it on the table.
“Valaria,” he pressed his fat finger over a peninsula, several days journey beyond Florin’s southernmost border. “You’ll find Max there, but you didn’t hear it from me.”
“And you…” Pilbrick produced another coin and handed it to the hermit, “never heard of us.”
As they mounted their horses, Trajan shook his head in bewilderment. “I never understood how fortunate I am to have your acquaintance. It testifies that fate has willed my quest to bring me in league with the one man in Florin who would have such connections.”
“How’s that?”
“You and your secret knowledge of Max, I mean. And his coded message. This is fantastic.”
“Oh, I made that up. I’ve never met Max, and I was only a deckhand for Roberts for a little over a year.”
“You mean, you lied?”
“Of course. Have you learned nothing about pirates?”
“My lord, two visitors are asking for an audience with your greatness.”
“We’re busy,” Valerie said with her eyes closed, lounging in the fountain-fed marble pool.
“Yeah, we’re busy,” Max agreed. “Tell ‘em we’re…we’re…what?”
“Dead,” she said.
“Yeah, tell ‘em we’re dead. They can come back tomorrow.”
“Sure, tomorrow,” Valerie agreed. “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow.”
In the parlor of a large seaside castle, Pilbrick and Trajan waited for the valet to return.
“I regret to inform you that the lord and lady have perished. But you may return tomorrow near teatime, so long as the forecast calls for rain. Good day.”
Trajan made to leave, but Pilbrick walked up to the valet. He removed a coin from his pocket and placed it in the valet’s hand.
The valet nodded, put the coin in his pocket and casually turned to present the back of his head to Pilbrick. “Might I suggest a glancing blow, just behind the right ear, sir,” he said, lowering his head to accommodate.
Pilbrick gave a half-hearted, weak punch to the back of the servant’s head. “Augh,” the valet sighed while pretending to fall forward, closing his eyes and settling into a good position on the ground. He shifted a few times in order to be more comfortable while knocked out.
“Let that learn you!” Pilbrick shouted. “Make way, or the rest of you will have my sword. Where is he?” Several servants scurried for dark corners.
Trajan followed Pilbrick through the wide rooms to the outer courtyard. The view of the sea was spectacular, and they saw two withered old figures lounging in the sun.
Pilbrick let his shadow fall on them.
“Move out of the way, sonny, you’re blocking the light.”
“Are you Miracle Max?”
“Miracle Max is retired. Haven’t you heard?”
“He’s retired,” Valerie agreed. “And, hey, be a good boy and get me some more cherries, will ya?”
“Yeah, the red ones, not the yellow ones,” Max added.
“Yeah, not the yellow ones.”
Pilbrick stepped aside so his shadow moved elsewhere.
“That’s a good lad,” Max said.
“Sir, you are Miracle Max and we have an urgent matter to discuss with you. We are in need of a miracle and we are willing to pay for it.”
Valerie and Max laughed.
“Look,” Valerie said, “I know you’re a pirate and all so money is real important to you, and your little Guilderian ward there is probably in cahoots on that topic, but we don’t need your pocket change, as you can see.”
“I hung ‘em up, sonny. Now, move on and find yourself a nice stately miracle man. They got a good one down around…what…Willano, I hear.”
“Yeah, Jerry’s his name,” Valerie said. “Quality work. My compliments. Nice little wifey too, a little stuffy around the edges, but who am I to judge.”
“Yeah, we don’t judge. What was her name…Polly, Pansy…?”
“I don’t remember.” Valerie closed her eyes again.
Pilbrick shook his head and turned around, wondering what to try next.
Trajan grew impatient.
“My lord, Mr. Max, sir. The last thing I want is to encroach on you and your lovely wife’s good will. I see you are of vast wealth, and by reputation I know you to be honorable. I need your assistance to avenge my father, killed by the Dread Pirate Roberts, three years ago. I offer you nothing other than my immense gratitude, and the knowledge that you, even in retirement, can perform great acts of justice that other men can only admire.”
Valerie and Max looked at Trajan, and paused.
“Should have led with the kid. He’s got the talkin’ game figured out. But I’m still retired, sonny.”
“Help the little Guildarian,” Valerie said. “He seems like a nice boy,”
“Patty, Priscilla…I know it was a P name. She had red hair, if I recall.”
“You’re blind. She was like a strawberry blonde, they calls it these days.” Valerie patted Max on the shoulder. “Let it go darling, help the smart little Guilderian with his revenge thingy.” Then she whispered, “Roberts will kill him in three seconds flat anyway. Let the boy have his big moment. It’ll be noble.”
Max looked at Trajan, then Pilbrick, then back at Valerie. “Oy. Alright, what kind of miracle are you looking for?” He stood up slowly, stretched his back, and cracked his knuckles.
Valerie interrupted and waved at Trajan. “Go grab some of those cherries first, will ya. And maybe get me a fruity kind of drink while you’re there. Get yourself one too. Such a nice boy.”
An hour later, Max handed Trajan a small corked bottle. “Here you go, sonny, drain the whole thing and you’ll have the strength of fifty men. Enough to withstand any blow, even a fatal one,” Max said.
“Within reason, of course,” Valerie added.
“Yeah, I mean, if they, ya know, fffth your topmast” – he gestured across his neck – “it ain’t exactly gonna grow back.”
“And it will only last for, what, a few minutes? Five?”
“Yeah, sure. Five, maybe less, who knows? But take it with some wine, or maybe a nice chamomile tea. It’s a little on the bitter side.”
“Honey, honey’s good,” Valerie suggested.
“Yeah, get some honey to go with it.”
Trajan turned the vial in his hands while staring at the sea.
“You’re all set,” Pilbrick said, walking onto the dock.
Trajan hurried the vial into the pouch Max had prepared, and turned to Pilbrick.
“Remember,” the older man said in a gentle voice, “safeguard that with your life. You won’t stand a chance against Roberts without it.” He held out his hand, and Trajan shook it.
“I will.” He put it in the folds of his cloak. “I can never repay you for your training.”
“Nonsense, you already paid in advance.”
Trajan tried to hide the shaking of his legs. “Please, if should fail…”
Pilbrick put his hand on Trajan’s shoulder. “I will see that they are cared for.”
Trajan wiped a tear he wished he could have held in, and registered a weak smile. “But how can I trust the word of a pirate?”
Pilbrick laughed. “And now you are finally ready.”
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