The Hero's Guide to Being an Outlaw by Christopher Healy, Todd Harris Page B

one of them, it didn’t turn out very well?”
    “Believe me, I remember,” Liam said soberly. “But I have a good feeling.”
    “Ha!” Gustav chuckled. “Look who’s suddenly trusting his gut.”
    Liam threw open the door, and the princes stepped into a scene of utter chaos. Black-eyed thieves emptied their mugs into the faces of swearing barbarians. Goblins swung from the tusks of mounted mammoth heads. Cackling assassins broke plates over the heads of torch-waving burglars. It was still anybody’s guess whether this was a fight or a party.
    But as soon as everybody saw the princes, the commotion abruptly stopped. An enormous, bald barbarian separated himself from the crowd—Two-Clubs, the bare-bellied brute known for using his pig-size fists to pound his enemies into the ground. “You four are the most wanted criminals in the Thirteen Kingdoms,” he said.
    The princes braced themselves.
    “Congratulations!” Two-Clubs yelled cheerfully. “That’s great!” He shook each prince’s hand as the crowd around him applauded and burst into loud hoots and howls. Boniface K. Ripsnard, the bent-nosed, stubble-faced owner of the tavern, rushed up to make sure his favorite celebrities weren’t overwhelmed.
    “Give ’em space, give ’em space,” Ripsnard shouted, shoving aside a grubby bandit who was waving his autograph book in Gustav’s face. “Welcome back, princes! Follow me. I’ll get you set up with some proper food and drink. Or at least some improper food and drink . . . I don’t wanna make promises I can’t keep.”
    The bartender led the princes to the Official League Founding Table in the back of the tavern. Customers continued to gawk.
    “I think our outlaw status has made us more popular than ever at the Boarhound,” Frederic said.
    “Oh, without doubt,” Ripsnard said, grinning. “We even framed one o’ yer Wanted posters.” He pointed over the bar, where the poster hung between one of Duncan’s old shoes (which had been mounted on a board like a hunting trophy) and a ball of discolored string that was labeled PRINCE FREDERIC’S USED FLOSS .
    “My used what ?” Frederic asked, aghast. “Where did you get that?”
    “Outhouse trash bin,” Ripsnard said. “Knew it had to be yers ’cause there ain’t a single one o’ our regulars ever practiced dental hygiene.”
    “I’m . . . honored?” Frederic said, grimacing.
    “Mr. Ripsnard,” Liam said, “we need to see Captain Gabberman. Is he here?”
    The bartender raised an eyebrow.
    “Pirate?” Frederic tried. “Long coat, scraggly black beard?”
    “Bunch of missing teeth,” Gustav said, and then slyly added, “thanks to me.”
    “He preordered my book,” Duncan threw in cheerfully.
    “Oh, you mean Cap’n Gabberman,” Ripsnard said, nodding. “Sure, I’ll send ’im over.”
    A few minutes later, the grizzled Cap’n Gabberman trotted to the princes’ table with a giddy grin on his face.
    “What can I be doin’ for you fellers?” he asked in a gruff-yet-cheerful voice. His eyes lit up when he noticed Duncan’s tricornered cap. “Ah! I’m guessin’ ye came to get me opinion on the hat. Two thumbs up, I say! Gives ye a nice bit o’ swagger. Could use a feather or two, though, to really spiff it up.”

“Feathers, eh?” Duncan muttered, fingering his hat’s undecorated brim.
    “Cap’n Gabberman, we’re here on urgent business,” Liam interrupted. “You said if we were ever in need of a fast ship, we should see you. That time has come.”
    “Aye,” the pirate mumbled, scratching his crooked ear. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
    “Does the offer still hold?” Liam asked. “Is your ship for hire?”
    “Might I ask what ye be needin’ her fer?” Gabberman asked tentatively.
    “We need to track down another ship,” Liam said. “The Dreadwind .”
    “The Dreadwind ?” Gabberman gasped. “But they’re pirates!”
    “ You’re a pirate,” Gustav said, furrowing his brow.
    “O’ course I