The rain could be heard through the latticework of the parlor. One of the pirates peered through the slats and saw the street, busy with carts rolling through the mud, loaded with barrels and crates, while riders galloped through the downpour, water dripping from their tricorn hats. At that moment, the soft chimes of a golden figurine clock, perched atop an elegant dresser, began to ring. Carioca pulled out his pocket watch, checked the time, put it back in his coat, and reclined with one leg crossed.
"Mr. Briggs," he said, "would you be so kind as to step outside, accompanied by two men, and stand in the middle of the hall to loudly announce that if the damn old cow doesn't show up within the next five minutes, I, Sebastián the Carioca, will do a great favor to the preacher and the puritans of Kingsport by burning down this damn house of sin and debauchery?"
The boatswain nodded and, with a tilt of his head, signaled two of his men to join him. However, just as they were about to open the doors, they swung open by themselves. A young footman in a blue livery appeared, giving way to an older woman with a powdered wig, dressed in a low-waisted gown with an open overskirt revealing a brocade underskirt. Her expression was affable and cordial as she fanned herself with a lace fan.
"Welcome to Aunt Betty's house. Apologies for the delay, Captain Carioca," she said, motioning for them to sit. "Kayin, bring tea for the gentlemen."
"We've already downed several pots of tea," said Carioca gruffly.
"In that case, may I offer something else? Wine, perhaps rum?"
The pirates' eyes lit up, but Carioca's expression remained stern.
"I'd prefer we focus on what we came here to do," he replied. "Wilbur, explain what we need... I don't plan to spend the whole day here."
With a friendly demeanor, Aunt Betty turned to the elf, closed her fan, and enigmatically rested it against her chin. The elf cleared his throat.
"Thank you for receiving us. We require..." Wilbur began.
"We need to locate a person. Can you do that?" interrupted Carioca impatiently.
The woman smiled.
"Of course, but there is a service fee," she said with a pleasant smile.
"Name your price," said the captain.
"Fifteen gold coins."
Carioca stared at her with an intimidating air, but she held his gaze with serene composure.
"I'm not paying fifteen gold coins for a Judy and Punch show," said the pirate, rising from his chair. "This has been a damn waste of time."
Aunt Betty looked at him sternly, then softened her expression.
"As you wish... Kayin, escort our guests," she said, opening her fan.
The elf nervously cleared his throat and stood to approach the pirate.
"Captain," he said timidly, "if we want to start somewhere to find Balin's whereabouts or..."—he lowered his voice—"his granddaughter... this is the only lead we've got."
The captain flinched, looked at the elf, then at Aunt Betty, who held his gaze calmly as she fanned herself.
"By all the devils!" the captain exclaimed. "Mr. Briggs... go ahead."
The boatswain pulled the coins from a pouch and placed them on the table. The captain and the elf returned to their seats. Aunt Betty took the coins, counted them carefully, and summoned Kayin, who came in to collect the payment.
"Alright, let's begin. Is he alive or dead?" asked Aunt Betty.
"He's alive... we believe," Wilbur replied.
"I'd like to think so. And we want to know where he was taken," added Carioca.
"What's the person's name?" she asked.
"If you're truly versed in divinatory arts, you'll know who it is," said Carioca with a sneer.
The woman smiled, though her gaze showed a flicker of annoyance.
"I need an item belonging to the person in question."
Wilbur pulled a sheet of paper from his coat and placed it on the table. The witch looked at it in surprise. Her hands slowly traced the symbols drawn on it.
"Where did you get this?" she asked, visibly intrigued.
Carioca cut her off brusquely.
"Just tell us where he is."
Aunt Betty blushed slightly at the captain's rudeness but retained her composure. She rang a small bell to summon the young servant. He approached, and she whispered an instruction in his ear. After leaving, he soon returned with a map, which he spread on the table. Aunt Betty passed a pendulum over it. The device began swinging in wide circles and gradually narrowed until it stopped at a point on the map, slowly turning and settling over an uncharted area.
"It tells me the owner of these pages... is here," said Aunt Betty.
Carioca looked at the map, then at Wilbur and the boatswain.
"That's impossible. That zone is outside Spanish territory or any other power's domain," he protested.
"That's what the pendulum says."
"Then your pendulum must be broken!"
The woman looked at him gravely.
"Don't question my abilities, Captain. I also command magics you'd be wise not to provoke."
Seeing the tension rise, Wilbur cleared his throat.
"Perhaps we can try something else... for the same price."
He pulled out a piece of Sammy's clothing and placed it on the table.
"Whose is that?"
The elf leaned toward the pirate's ear and whispered, "The granddaughter's... I took it when I visited her house."
"I'm not paying more... It's obvious this is a fraud," Carioca protested, standing up.
Wilbur reached into his pocket and pulled out a few gold coins.
"It's all I have left," he said.
Aunt Betty looked at the elf, accepted the coins, and took the garment. She sniffed it, closed her eyes, and again passed the pendulum, which now circled and pointed to a location on the island.
"What does that mean?" asked Wilbur.
"Isn't it obvious, dimwit? The brat is in Kingsport, isn't she?" said Carioca.
"No need to say it. It's evident," Aunt Betty replied with sarcasm.
"That's impossible... unless she managed to escape aboard Sally's ship," Wilbur remarked.
Carioca leaned back in his chair.
"If you'd been more observant, you would've noticed that The Swan was anchored at the port."
Aunt Betty offered them a hostess's forced smile and declared the session over.
"Kayin, show these gentlemen to the door."
The young man led them out to the porch just as the door shut behind them. The captain turned to Wilbur, grabbed him by the lapels, and pulled him close. The elf could smell tea and tobacco on his breath.
"Listen to me, you worm," he said through clenched teeth. "This cheap fortune-telling charade cost me thirty gold coins."
"Forgive me, Captain... I paid ten of those," the elf replied nervously.
"It was my time you wasted on this scam, so I'm giving you one last chance. If what that old hag said holds any truth, find that brat. Otherwise... say goodbye to your pretty little head."
He released him and descended the steps, his footsteps echoing on the wooden boards. The boatswain shoved the elf before following the captain toward the port. Wilbur rubbed his neck, swallowed hard, and straightened his jacket before walking away.
Meanwhile, the young slave who had been spying through the door's cracks hurried to the parlor, where he found Aunt Betty peering through the latticework of the window.
"That damn bastard pirate... If he knew who I am, he'd wet his breeches," she muttered. "But what the chubby one brought has me puzzled. Those symbols aren't common; they seem older than anything I've seen in these lands."
The young slave remained standing, nodding cautiously whenever Aunt Betty glanced at him, though he didn't understand much of what she was saying, knowing it was more a monologue than a conversation. Aunt Betty took a sip of tea, set the cup down on the saucer, and, without turning to him, waved her ring-laden hand.
"Kayin, bring me my tarot cards. Let's see what the spirits say."
The servant left and soon returned with the deck, placed it on the table, and was dismissed with a flick of her hand.
The boy stepped into the hallway and discreetly walked into the adjacent room. He entered, locked the door, walked to one of the walls, and carefully removed a painting, revealing a pair of peepholes. The boy began to spy.
Aunt Betty, who was actually a witch from the highlands, began shuffling the cards and laying them on a table covered with a velvet cloth. The first card she turned showed the image of the Moon.
"Deceit, illusions, and hidden forces," she murmured. "Something shrouded in mystery... possibly black magic or vengeful spirits."
She flipped another card: the Devil.
"Unbridled ambition, curses, dark pacts..."
She turned a third: the Tower.
"Destruction, danger… something terrible looming..." The witch leaned back in her French-made chair and brought her right hand to her chin, reflecting. "This isn't just about a lost map or a kidnapped granddaughter... someone has opened a door that should have remained shut."
She remained thoughtful for a moment before flipping one last card: the Six of Swords.
"A dangerous journey," she said. "I know you're up to something, my dear Carioca and chubby elf... and I'm going to find out what it is."
She gathered the cards, reshuffled them, and stored them in their box.
"This isn't a guessing game," Aunt Betty whispered. "What's at stake is greater than gold or revenge... Something ancient is stirring. Something has awakened."
Then she rang the bell to summon the slave, who entered and began tidying up as Aunt Betty strutted out toward the grand hall, ready to receive and smile at the next guests.