Prospero Regained (69 page)

His face swelling with bluster and wrath, he boomed, “I am asserting my independence!”

“Boreas, you’ve worked for my family for years. You were our enforcer. You’ve seen the other unruly spirits forced into obedience by my brothers: the oreads, the nymphs, the oni, the phoenixes. Is that the fate you desire? How long will you enjoy your freedom, if you carry on thus?”

Boreas glared at me, furrowed his brow, and blew five-hundred-mile-an-hour winds from his nostrils. There was a blast of terrible cold, but the torrential winds did not even so much as ruffle Astreus’s feathers. My hand was still firmly clasped in his, and his protection continued to extend to me. Unmoved, I gazed evenly at Boreas, waiting.

Then, he saw me, really saw me. The great Lord of the North Wind beheld the mark of Eurynome upon my brow, and his icy eyes widened in awe and astonishment. His head of wind bowed.

“Mistress…” He breathed a gentle cold sigh. “You are a Sibyl! You can make Water of Life! That which gives us heart and strength and makes us great!”

“I can.” I touched my forehead. “Now listen carefully, Boreas. Spread this message; I know you are good at that. Every wind who calms his people, I shall reward with Water of Life: a dozen drops for himself and one drop for each minion who obeys him. Any minion who disobeys and continues to rage shall not be rewarded. In addition, I shall reward you similarly upon the birth of each new year. With time, those who are obedient will receive more Water and grow stronger than those who are unruly.

“What is more,” I continued, “any Aerie One who wishes to continue working for Prospero, Inc., will receive a regular salary of Water. Also, any Aerie One who returns to work will have access to a fleshy body such as you and your fellow Northerly have worn.” I leaned toward him, smiling. “By wearing such a body, Caekias has developed a soul!”

“Caekias? But he is the worst of us!”

“
Was
the worst,” I replied.

Boreas let out a frigid gasp of wonder. “Lady, I beg your pardon for my previous impertinence. I will be returning to my body now.”

The cloudy face dissolved, and Boreas was gone. Moments later, another face formed slightly to the left. This one had a long nose and wisps of cloud indicating a scarf.

“Congratulations, Milady!” Caurus cried in his Scandinavian accent. “Boreas told me the splendid news. A Sibyl, at last. We all have received our heart’s desire!”

“Except the innocent mortals harmed by this storm.”

“Not to worry, Milady. I and mine have not taken part in any storms over the continents. Neither has Ariel, Afer, Eurus, or Notus; we understand what will become of us if we betray mankind. We may have tipped a few ships in our celebrations, though, and for that I apologize. I will send my servants and winglings to scoop up the sailors and carry them safely to dry land.

“Boreas and Zephyrus have been a bit more exuberant, as has Zetes and Calias, the sons of Boreas who have been filling in for Caekias and myself while we were incarnated. By the way, where is Caekias?”

“He is below.” I pointed down toward where I thought the courtyard to be. I could not see through the storm clouds.

“Wonderful! I would not wish him to miss all this. Father!” Caurus addressed Astreus. “I did not recognize you with your wings! How splendid you look!”

“My thanks, Caurus.” Astreus inclined his head. “Go, spread this word: I have returned, and I am lending the strength of my authority to the Lady Miranda. Who offends her, offends me!”

“I shall tell all straightaway!” Caurus promised, and his cloud face dissolved into wind and rain.

The winds above us slowly died down to the speeds of a tropical storm. Astreus drew me to him, wrapping his arms about my waist. With the merest motion of his wings, he waltzed us through the clouds. The warmth of his body was a wonderful contrast to the chill of the winds.

“I was dead, and you rekindled my life.” He stared down at me, his changeable eyes a deep fascinating blue. “Every moment of my life, hereafter, is a gift from you. And to that end, I lay my people at your feet. No longer shall I whip up their fury, urging them to rage and storm and crush the ships and homes of mankind. I see now the harm I did when I walked that path. For I have walked the roads of Hell, and I would not send so much as one mortal there before his time.

“I am yet still an elf, and my people still capricious winds. I cannot promise that all will swear again, or that there will be no terrible storms in years to come. But what I can do, I shall do, and all for love of you.”

His eyes reflecting the fury of the tempest, he lowered his head and kissed me.

I entwined my arms about his neck, my lips yielding willingly beneath his mouth. He clasped me to him, and his wings enfolded me, sheltering me in a soft feathery embrace. Breathing the air about my elvish love, I dreamt we danced together in the sky, twirling and spiraling through cloud and wind and storm. Only, this time, it was not a dream at all. Or perhaps, the dream and the reality were one.

When we parted again, still dancing and gazing into each other’s eyes, I asked, “Will you answer a question for me? Something I have been curious about?”

“For you? Anything,” his eyes flashing green, “so long as it suits my elvish fancy.”

“In your pact with Mephisto, where you promised to help him with Queen Maeve, what did he promise you?”

Few mortals have ever seen an elf blush. I now joined that lucky elite.

“We made a solemn oath that”—he spun me about—“if I helped him win the affection of the Elf Queen, he would help me win yours. At first, I must admit, I sought merely dalliance, for you were lovely to behold, like a rainbow over the morning dew, or the light of a newborn star piercing a cloudy night. However, Mephisto made it clear you were a vestal virgin and not to be trifled with. After that, the hope grew in my breast that, by bringing you the
Book of the Sibyl,
I might win both my freedom from Hell and you for myself.”

And he kissed me again.

The clouds parted around us briefly, and I could see Father’s island beneath us. I felt a stab of sadness as I saw that the lightning-damaged oak was the one in the Grove of Books, from which Theo’s staff came.

“The poor oak! Remind me to go by and give it a drop of Water.”

Astreus touched the ivory mark upon my forehead. “Cannot you help it right now, from here?”

I gazed at it, picturing what the world might be like from an oak’s point-of-view. As the warmth began to flow from my Lady’s mark, a thunderbolt ripped across the sky, following the invisible beam coming from my forehead. Quickly, I averted my gaze, and the bolt struck the first thing my eyes fell upon, a high plinth of rock.

Again and again, I picked some object beneath me, the tip of a wave, a ledge of rock, an open field. Each time, lightning flashed across the sky, striking the place I had chosen.

I threw back my head, laughing.

After five hundred years, I had become a Sibyl of Eurynome, and it was even more splendid than I had imagined!

“The Gifts of the Sibyl!” I shouted. “Command the Lightning!”

Astreus touched the mark on my forehead and smiled. “Indeed, and even more wonderful gifts await you, the secondary gifts. Did you not read the book I so laboriously copied for you?
‘The very elements themselves rejoice in Her love, standing firm or fleeing as She requires.’
I have seen Sibyls run across the waves and sink fleets, make quagmires firm and rocks porous, dance in the midst of flames, and fly.”

“Fly!” I cried joyously, clapping a hand to my forehead. A joyous jolt of strength passed through my arm. “You mean, with this I can fly?”

Astreus drew me close. “We are birds of a kind, you and I.” His eyes still sparkled a merry green. “Perhaps we should form a flock.”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

Prospero’s Secrets

My family had repaired to the library, a great cavern of a chamber with a vaulted cathedral ceiling and book stacks over twenty-five feet high. Most of the vast shelf space was empty or contained a smattering of modern volumes, paperbacks, and hardcovers with brightly colored dust jackets, as the majority of Father’s books were in Prospero’s Mansion in Oregon or at Erasmus’s. The place was both drafty and musty, but this was preferable to the torrents of rain currently drenching many of the house’s other chambers, now that the great glassless windows no longer had Aerie Spirits to keep the elements at bay. The library had a few skylights set among the arching vaults of the ceiling, but they had been installed recently and were made of glass.

A few massive tomes still rested upon their custom-made pedestals, one or two of which I recalled from my childhood. These books were enormous and fascinating to behold. One had the ages of man etched into its white leather cover, so that as one watched, a babe seemed to grow into a child into a youth into a man into an old man and back to a babe again. Another had as its cover a mirror that reflected the sky of other worlds. Yet a third bore a demonic face that grimaced menacingly, hissing and growling, whenever any of us came near. This last one was bound up with a thick iron chain.

Near the center of the library stood a table surrounded by straight-backed chairs. Food from many nations, in variously shaped cardboard and Styrofoam boxes, littered its teak surface. I gathered this bounty had been provided by Ulysses, for he and the others who had vanished with him were now present again, as were Logistilla’s and Titus’s children, who munched on Happy Meals. Stacks of plates, silverware, and napkins stood to one side.

At the head of the table, my father sat in his old armchair eating doughnuts and Chinese takeout. His hair and beard had been brushed and trimmed, and he was garbed in his enchanted gold robes with their royal purple trim, which, like our garments, had been woven by Logistilla. Though he was still gaunt, he looked much more like his old self. The thorn wounds were already healing, thanks to the Water I had given him. He smiled at the rest of the family who were already seated around the table.

I came to join the others after landing and visiting the oak tree, to which I gave a liberal dose of Water of Life. Then Astreus headed skyward again, and I went to see my family.

As I came into the library, the first thing I did was touch two fingers to my forehead and point first at Ulysses, who was sporting a black eye I did not recall having seen after the battle, and then at Logistilla, who was tending Titus’s wounds, her face covered with a mass of bandages.

“By the power granted to me as a Sibyl of Eurynome,” I announced, “I free Ulysses Reginald Prospero and Logistilla Violante Prospero from their oaths to Abaddon, the Angel of the Bottomless Pit, and from any other foolish promises or vows undertaken in times past.”

My younger siblings were not Sforza, our family having officially changed our name to Prospero during our years in England.

“Jolly good!” Ulysses leapt up and punched the air. His voice echoed throughout the mostly empty library. “Miranda, you are literally the best sister a guy could have!”

Logistilla breathed an audible sigh of relief. “Thank you, Sister. That is one nightmare I am happy to have behind me! You cannot imagine…” She shuddered and held up a hand. “No, I shan’t speak of it!”

“The fake Seal of Solomon!” Ulysses blurted out. “Now that the geas is gone, I can tell you! It’s an imp in disguise. I was supposed to smuggle it into Father’s mansion so that it could let other demons in past his wards.”

“Which explains how Seir of the Shadows got into the Vault.” Mab flipped open his notebook and made a note of this, crossing off yet another unanswered question. “And how he got onto the grounds of the Oregon mansion in the first place. I wager it helped that the demons had Mr. Prospero’s blood and could pass the wards, right?”

“Yes.” Father inclined his head. “Lilith was ‘kind’ enough to inform me when they cast the spell to let Seir into the mansion. I suppose she hoped it would weaken my resolve. Make a note, Mab, to remove that fake piece first thing when you return to Oregon.”

Mab scribbled obediently in his notebook.

My stomach rumbled. The mingled smells of the many cuisines all warred for my attention. Realizing that I was very hungry indeed, I quickly served myself from the various boxes and sat down.

“We’ve settled the storm, for now,” I explained between bites. “Some of the Aerie Ones will be coming back to work, and Caurus has gone to scoop up sailors who would otherwise drown at sea.”

“A worldwide storm.” Cornelius shook his head sadly. He sat at the table between Ulysses and Theo, his staff resting beside him, his shoulders slumped, and his expression dejected. “It is going to take a great deal of work to clean this up in the history books.”

His voice seemed flat, as if it echoed from a great distance away, as if his soul were elsewhere, far from us, and resented being dragged back in order to speak.

Again, I felt a pang of sharp regret and wished that it had not been my words that had convinced him to forgo Heaven.

“Nonsense!” Erasmus did not bother looking up from where he knelt treating Theo’s head wound. “Just blame it on global climate changes. People blame all sorts of things on global climate changes—earthquakes, the losses of their favorite rugby teams—and everyone believes it.”

Father looked around the table, his eyes traveling from one of our faces to the next, until he had studied each of us.

“Miranda has learned a great deal in the short time I have been away,” he said. “I expect to discover the rest of you have done as well.”

“I could wax poetic about life as a bear.” Titus sat with his leg out so that Logistilla could treat his wound.

“You were a bear? No wonder my servants could not find you!” Father’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Logistilla speculatively. “I see there is much I have not yet heard.”

“I was a leopard for over fifty years,” Gregor volunteered, raising a hand. He turned to Titus. “You and I should swap tales. One interesting thing I discovered—”