Page 185 of The Discount Damsel

“Just a few more pages.”

“And that’ll be it.” Bradley dropped into his seat and slid the book he’d finished to the end of the table for a bookwyrm to retrieve whenever it fluttered past. “We’ve gone through this entire section. You know, maybe we’d have better luck if you could be a bit more specific with Renaldo.”

Dirk flipped another page. “Nope.”

Restless, Bradley rose from the table to perform his own search for a book on human curses. He knew this library was vast, but someone as skilled as Renaldo should’ve found something by now. The assistant was purposefully dilly-dallying.

No sooner had Bradley reached the end of the stacks, than a bell tolled from high in the lighthouse. It was deep sound, resonant in a way that sent a shudder through your bones and encouraged your heart to skip a beat.

Renaldo was at their table in an instant. “Quickly, you must come below. Leave the books—the bookwyrms will attend to them.”

Three bookwyrms in three different colors descended upon the table, snatching books and fluttering off with crazed chirps. The bell tolled a second time, urgent and insistent. Outside, another smaller bell echoed back.

“What’s going on?” Bradley demanded as Renaldo herded them towards the staircase.

“Pirates are attacking a merchant vessel just offshore. If they fail to capture their prize, or if they’re feeling spicy in their victory, there’s a good chance they’ll turn their cannons on the town for a chance at extra plunder. Summer holidays mean lots of visitors with coin to spend, after all.”

“And you want us to hide in a basement?” Dirk exclaimed, shouting to be heard over the peal of the bell.

“A carefully curated and environmentally controlled wine cellar, but yes. While this library is indestructible to all but magical attacks, cannon balls can make the books pop out of the shelves. It’s been 3178 days since a patron was injured here, and we’d like to keep that record intact. The Komodo monks will defend the library and its guests should it be breached, so never fear. Come along.”

“But what about Millie?” the Mini Red demanded.

Renaldo winced. “That fine lady will have to take her chances outside.”

Leave her to take her chances with pirates?

Bradley whirled and punched the Komodo square in his beautiful face. As the assistant staggered back, clutching his nose, the apprentice bolted for the front door. “C’mon, Dirk!”

The two of them escaped the library as the bell tolled a fourth time, its peal making the air shudder above them. The moment they crossed the threshold, the iron door of the library magically locked itself behind them.

“Get up in that sky and find her, Dirk.” Bradley sprinted down the sandy path to the boardwalk, sliding to a halt when the little dragon squealed, “There! On the pier. There she is!”

The fool of a princess was at the end of the pier, one hand holding her sunhat in place on her head against a fearsome wind, the other resting on the hilt of her cutlass.

“T— Millie, what are you doing?” Bradley shouted above the cannon fire. “We’ve got to go!”

But she was immovable, even when he tugged on her arm, fixated on the scene unfolding before them. But that wasn’t the joy of watching her dream unfold before her on her face. It was scrutiny. Assessment.

The merchant vessel hadn’t been sailing alone. Its armed escort was an agile schooner, and it valiantly defended its sister ship from the galleon dogging its heels. A jolly roger of a skull smoking a cigar flapped against a darkening sky.

Smoke drifted inland as the ships traded fire, stinging their eyes. They could hear the boom of cannons and the splintering of wood and the cries of men even from this distance. On the beach, the swimmers screamed as if a fleet of sharks were in the water instead of a single pirate galleon. There was a great cacophony of slamming doors and shutters as businesses closed and boarded up. The sound of pounding feet upon the boardwalk—the marines—was drowned out by the thunder of the incoming storm.

Then, magefire bloomed like a purple chrysanthemum across the deck of the pirate galleon, rippling up the pitch-covered rigging and devouring the mainmast.

“They have a war mage on the schooner,” Bradley breathed.

“They’re going to get away,” Millie said, voice hushed.

“Not those pirates. They’ll row for the closest land, which is right here. Come on.” He tugged on her hand.

“I don’t think they’ll make it.” She pointed.

Lightning threaded white and blue against the wall of darkness sweeping in from the west. Even in the low light, the whitecaps were stark against the churning sea.

“Bradley?” Dirk said in a small voice. “I can’t out-fly that.”

“We have to get inside.” When Bradley tugged on Millie’s hand again, she turned willingly.