phywriter.com|Prone to occasional grandiloquence

This is the first scene of the first day of my NaNo2k4 project, The Sky Pirate. Do I find dialogue fun or not? You be the judge!

“It was a moonlit night, and magic was in the air,” whispered Eggplant nervously as he crouched behind the barrels with the others.

“Ssh,” said Bola, trying to look around under the canvas awning that stretched over them on the dock.

“He speaks in the third person when he is nervous,” explained Eggplant of himself, helpfully.

“He’s going to get his tongue pinned to the dock if he keeps making noise, isn’t that right, Coop,” murmured Bola, drawing a wicked big knife to demonstrate her point

“It’s not ‘Coop,’ it’s ‘Captain Flynn,’” said First Seaman Karver Humble, who was already taken with his new title.

“This will be a short trip to a dark cell if you don’t put that shiny blade away,” whispered Chain calmly, who had no use for titles, himself. He knelt in from of what appeared to be a leather backpack, working entirely by feel in the shadows on the docks.

Mr. Pitt said nothing, as usual. A Reacher by birth, he was a full head taller than Bola, who was herself something of an Amazon. Mr. Pitt, broad of chest and wide of shoulders, was the most legitimate person of the crew, walking away from the Haddirron Naval Academy’s graduation ceremony to join Flynn. He was content to remain passive and relaxed while he crouched next to the object of the discussion.

Cooper Flynn was a trim, powerful young man. His black hair was pulled back and tied, completely out of fashion with the wigs of Her Majesty’s Navy. As newly-elected captain of their little venture, Cooper Flynn couldn’t care less about titles as long as he got what he’d come here for, the ship retrofitted to his specifications by the Navy itself without direct knowledge of the project, the ship stolen out from under him by Welston Dananstrogh, Her Majesty’s Auditor. They knew the Navy couldn’t have taken
the ship very far, and here she was, waiting for reinforcements.

It was now or never, and Flynn didn’t like to lose.

“You have the sword?” asked Chain.

Flynn patted his sheath. “Right here. You sure this thing works?”

Chain shrugged. “It’s from Menorra. It costs more than my entire shop. Or would,” he amended, “…if I’d actually bought it. It better work.”

“Where’s this flappin’ ship,” hissed Bola, turning around to grouse to the little band. It was clear that the dock where they expected to find the tethered shape of the HMS Majeste was vacant, and yet the distant sound of fiddle music teased the small band. “I’ve been waiting six months for this. I’m here to pinch a ship, and I don’t see my payday.”

“Patience, Bola. You’ll get your payday,” murmured the captain as he faced her. “You’ve waited six months, just wait one more minute.” Flynn smiled. “To answer your question, in this case, it’s to your starboard.”

“What’s starboard,” she said, spinning in place, looking around for the ship.

Flynn touched her right shoulder. “Starboard is to your right. And it looks like Eggplant was right—magic is in the air.” And then he pointed to the ship.

Not out, but up.

As one, they leaned out from under the tarp and looked up. They all followed the tether rope up into the night sky.

Bola started a low whistle, which was abruptly silenced by Pitt’s gently firm hand over his mouth, but it summed up the moment.

“They saw the ship silhouetted up there against the moonlit sky, floating one hundred feet in the air above the quiet port of Bitten Bay,” whispered Eggplant.

“Ssh,” said Bola, her voice muffled by Mr. Pitt’s hand.

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