"Tarquin?" Jo repeated, almost falling out of his chair. Who used that name in this current time and space?

"Hello Travernsi and Han—no—Ansel," the caller replied.

"Points for stopping yourself on the misspelling, Tarquin," said Travernsi. "Don't want to start off on the wrong foot."

"If it was a dance," said Ansel. "Apology accepted, Tarquin."

"W-why thank you," Tarquin replied, "I was just going to say one."

"Saved you the trouble. Now, what's the question?"

"Remember, it has to be 'out of the box'," Travernsi added. "Otherwise there's a forfeit."

Goodness knew what that would be, Jo harrumphed. He was only waiting for the question. Then the station was getting a switch over. Tarquin. He hadn't heard that since he been in Lofty School and he could hardly remember the boy who had had the 'title'.

"I look like a pirate. What should I do?"

Silence.

Unless it was the chap who had been corrected on making a one-syllable word have two fresh additions; Jo mused. Then threatened to take down the classroom that very night; aquarium included.

"I look like a pirate," said Tarquin. "What should I do?"

"S-sorry, Tarq," said Travernsi. "I don't know what to say to that..."

"Tarq's alright with me. If I can call you Trav."

"Trev—no—Trav's fine with me," said Ansel.

"It's not you he's asking," Travernsi whispered.

"I know," Ansel chuckled.

"Trav's fine," Travernsi—no—Trav continued. "But you're going to have to enlighten us and the audience on this one, Tarq. I mean, is it facial hair, or do you speak like one when you smell the salt air?"

"Not all pirates have beards, Trav," said Ansel.

Jo held onto the remote. A pirate. And the first call? What in all the District was this phone-in, and why was he still listening to it?

"It's more the dress," said Tarq.

"They're robes if you're talking about the crew of the ships that used to make a nuisance of themselves between the Trio and Promrumsey," said Ansel. "Although even their vessels weren't fast enough to avoid becoming the occasional sea volleyball..."

"It's more a jacket, waistcoat, boots and hat kind of thing."

"That could be eveningwear for goodness' sake," said Trav. "On the Riverside. Nice meal. Two-thirds of a Nighter afterwards."

"One-quarter for you," said Ansel.

"Very funny."

Although Tarquin did rhyme with a name that made Jo's own selection. Not the true name mind—but a variant.

"Wait—you're not the guy who lives in one of the Grails with the skull and swords floating from an aerial?" said Trav. "You know there's another one at the top of the Villes and a third past the library with all the flower planters."

"Afraid not. But I have heard about the 'other' Grails," said Tarq.

"You should see it - or them - rather. The Villes house was having a party last week and the Beyond library one even had a ship in the front courtyard."

"Curiouser and curiouser."

"I'll give you the pointers off-air, but they might be worth a look."

"Oh yes, Trav," said Ansel. "Tarq and all our listeners who are handy with a map and want to get in on the Corsair subculture."

It was making Jo's skin move of its own accord. Of all the names in the Patchwork, why Lorquin? Kizaran was better. But even now his parents and sister called him Lorquin, and it had stuck with the rest of the family too. How could it be a nickname when it was only one letter short of the actual one? Not that it was limited to the family nowadays. Suzé had said - Glandon - when she had been boiling kettle about their recovery visit to Lavendara; and Jay could come out with Lorquin as easily as he could say Glan-.

"...Of all the..." he began, staring at the radio, then across the landing. "Him!"

"I know," a voice said from his left, coupled with the appearance of a portrait containing Sun-disk-Suzé.

"What are you doing?" Jo said, falling backwards onto a chair.

"I could ask the same," Sun-disk-Suzé replied. "Bed at a not-as-unsociable hour is still a viable target."

"I was listening to the phone-in, but got side-tracked by the current caller's 'false' identity."

"False with an illuminated drop cap 'F'," Sun-disk-Suzé added.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"I should have known when he said, Pirate. Who else would come out with something like that?"

"Another three, at least. Plus whoever else has pipe, pistol and cutlass leanings. But if he's looking to outfit a ship, he's got another thing coming."

"Ship? Hey, wait," Jo added as the Sun-disk completed a spin and swept out of the room, "I want a word with him too."

One, two, three, four steps to get from his bedroom and onto the landing/lounge/gold ox picture. But Sun-disk-Suzé was nowhere to be seen. Could she - or it - really move that fast?

"What in all the patch-" an unmistakable voice came from a not far away in the least further bedroom. "Ouch-that hurt!"

"It's supposed to," Sun-disk-Suzé's voice replied. "what in all Drimsey are you playing at?"

"I could ask the same question," a third voice added.

"I did ask the question," Jay moaned. "It's going to bruise."

Taking a breath, Jo walked into the doorway. The ocean lavender still danced into his nostrils; matching the may, mineral and bottle green florals on white that seemed to be the dominant theme of Jay's bedroom. Fern prints on the cushions and framed leaf illustrations on the walls. How did this say anything except floral, let alone pirate?

"That's the general idea," Sun-disk-Suzé said from above the quaint stone blue desk. "Plus, you haven't answered my question."

"Or mine," said the third voice from the speaker next to half a headset. "We're on air, you know."

"A member of your crew, Tarquin?" asked a fourth. "And there's me thinking that you were advertising for new members."

"He wishes," Sun-disk-Suzé coughed. "End this, Jay."

Jo's mouth dropped open. But not as far as Jay's.

"A second name?" said the third voice that sounded like the person named Travernsi.

"Real name," said Suzé as Jay tried to get to his feet but fell back on the bed. "Only, we've got another matter to attend to, so no time for explanations."

"Prankster, eh," whispered the fourth voice that had to be Ansel's. "A day-dreaming-wishes-he-was-a-pirate Joker."

"I would look at myself first before speaking, Hansel," said Jay. "At least I'm bringing some sunshine to this nocturnal dreariness."

"What do you think I've been doing for the past two and a bit years," said Travernsi. "Sitting on a lounger and smoking a peach pipe?"

"It's Ansel, Tarquin-Joker."

"Once heard a story about a Hansel," Jay continued. "Had a sister, and they got into a tangle with someone whose house was like the cakes in the confectionary beyond the Villes."

"Watch it..." Ansel whispered, only it appeared or danced across Jo with a stronger undercurrent.

"The sister's name is on the tip of my tongue, but I just can't get to it. Your next song could be about that."

"Nevermind song. We're tying this up, Jay," said Sun-disk-Suzé.

"What you have just said would be a slap in the face with a glove in another time and place," said Ansel, softer and deeper still. "The start of a duel."

Jo blinked. Or did the lights all decide to have an unusual flicker?

"If I can bring that dreary-whiney-too-close-to-midnight verse to an end, name the time, place, and weaponry."

"What!?" said Travernsi.

"Have you listened to me at all, Jay," said Sun-disk-Suzé,

Jo wanted to say something. But words stopped as the lights flickered again and a distant arc of thunder rippled.

"Words have power, young one," said Ansel, voice level, yet expansive, like an approaching storm. "There is still time to take them back before the Hour is set in stone."

"Something's... not right, Jay..." said Jo, looking around as his hands seemed to be caught in January brookwater. "Close it off."

"Verse or bats. Park or Square. Choose the Hour," said Jay, getting to his feet.

A thunder peal or laugh rumbled from the speaker. A moment before Sun-disk-Suzé landed on top of the headpiece.

"Hey," Traversni's voice came from Jo's room. "Hey. Where's he gone? Ansel. Ansel?"

"That's it," said Jay. "Go and have a long think about if you really want to take someone like me on."

"What in all the Cradles are you playing at," said Jo, moving between Jay and the desk. "We've got enough challenges without you advertising for more on the airwaves."

"He's been ruining this show for weeks with his snippets and sonnets about the 'drudgery of time'," said Jay, lifting the headpiece Sun-disk-Suzé had been sitting on. "I listen to it to laugh before going to bed; not to be brought down to the same gloom-hole as – him."

"You won't be smiling if he gets hold of you," Jo replied. "And I haven't even got started with Tarquin."

"I didn't use Glandon."

"But Tarquin's not far off Lorquin. You may as well have said Lorquini and been done with it."

"Not that it matters a jot now my cover's blown. Hands up if you know a chap in Esméduné named Jay who looks like a pirate."

"Two right here," said true Suzé from the doorway in a deep storm jacket and matching skirt-like trousers, "and you brought it down on yourself, Enver."

Jay put a hand and a quarter of a headpiece to his mouth, whilst the other quarter connected with a grey rug. "That's-uncalled for-" he whispered. "Plus, you owe me a headpiece."

"Talk to the Disk," Suzé said, sweeping back out of the door. "And be downstairs in ten, or you can both explain to the Houses why your latest venture didn't even leave the porch."

Jay looked at Jo. "Venture? More like a dare."

"Two dares if you include your latest addition," Jo said as he walked onto the landing. "And where, in all the Patchwork, is Drimsey?"