The Sand Prince (13 page)

"'Course she is, she's an idiot. Next week, right?" He kissed her on the cheek. "I won't forget. Don't wait up." Rane was a Third and like Lelet, his life was his own. He seemed to have devoted it to things May was glad she didn't know about. At least he'd stopped talking to people who weren't there. Or at least stopped doing it in front of those who really were there. While she was frustrated with Lel, she was constantly worried about Rane. Their mother had talked to her invisible Gentleman her whole life, until finally she acknowledged no one else.

***

F
our hours later, Lelet had a glass of sparkling red wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Althee had declared the party a disaster and fled the scene. Lelet didn't blame her. She wanted to leave, but Billah said he wasn't ready. Althee lived alone in a small, charmingly decorated flat in a part of Mistra that attracted artists, cafes, and shops. Not like Lelet's house which was in a fashionable, but rather staid neighborhood. Sometimes she wondered how Althee could stand being on her own so much, and other times she wished for nothing else.

Lelet looked around the room at her friends and then up at Billah. He had an arm flung heavily across her shoulder and was orating about something, some play he'd seen that he found to be very deep. He looked the part, she thought; tall and quick with a funny remark, good looking, and well dressed—of course well dressed. His Ever Blue jacket came from her own family's silk works, although the va’Everlys only made the fabric. The day would never come where they'd do something so crass as to own a shop, so she didn't know where he'd bought it. The vivid shade made her own pale blue gown look washed out by comparison, although she knew the grade of silk on her back was much finer.

That's not a reason to break up with a man,
she told herself.
He tells you constantly how he adores you. You've got no cause to be unhappy.
She took another drag on her cigarette and then stubbed it out. She thought about getting another drink but decided the risk of acting foolish and starting an argument with Billah wasn't worth it.

Maybe I should quit smoking. Maybe I should color my hair. Maybe I'll start riding again. Maybe I'll run away.

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E
riis City

17 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar

85 years later, Mistran calendar

Royal Library

Rhuun and Aelle were joining by now. He found it both inevitable and inconceivable.

That first day, the day she showed him what to do, the changeless heavy grey clouds were a little lower than usual and there was a fine, powdery grit in the air, making it hard to see and difficult to draw breath. Even the gifted ones like Ilaan felt lazy and unmotivated.

Rhuun, wiping his eyes for the millionth time, hurried across the play yard, having been caught in a slouch. He had checked and no one was around. Not a surprise, who would want to practice or play on a day like this?

He thought he was in the clear when a familiar voice said, "I see a great Beast lumbering across the plains!" There was a chorus of giggles. His nickname no longer felt like an insult in the mouths of his friends, but coming from Niico, it burned. He hunched his shoulders even more and continued without turning.
Stand up straight
! he could hear Ilaan saying.
Use that height for something.

The first blow, when it came, fell across the back of his calves. They were aiming low. Now he had to turn, if only to see how many he'd have to face. Three. Niico, of course, on point with Daala behind him. A blowing wave of ash blinded him for a second and he instinctively began to crouch to protect his head. A jet of flame grazed his cheek as it went by. Putting the pain away was an instinct by now, and in a moment he was ready to move. He tried to figure out if he could make a run for the safety of the library, but it was too far. He could see Aelle in the doorway, she seemed to be fighting with Ilaan, who was holding her by the arm.

"Where are your little friends, Beast?" called Niico. "No girls to protect you today? No one to hold your hand?" His friends were holding each other up laughing, and sending short, sharp blasts at his legs. Niico took a great leap into the air, instantly sprung his wings and hovered directly above Rhuun. His hands were cupped, no doubt preparing a bolt. "Hey, look up here! I'm talking to you!"

Niico, rather than using his flame, dumped a double handful of ash on Rhuun's head. For a long moment he could neither see nor breathe. But he could hear them laughing.

"Freak! Beast!" they shouted.

Do it now
, said Ilaan's voice in his head.
Or do it never.

He stood. He reached up. He reached all the way up and caught the tip of Niico's wing as he swung past. Instead of a graceful arc carrying him up and away, Niico's momentum carried him face first into the dirt. Momentum was just as interesting as Rhuun hoped.

Rhuun realized he was still holding the first flange of Niico's wing, now dislocated and twisted completely behind his back. He stretched it out and brought his foot down on it, crushing the fragile bones and delicate membrane under his heel. A leathery shred came off in his hand. Niico screamed like a new fledged girl and lay still. His friends had vanished.

It was the most intensely pleasurable moment of Rhuun's life.

Aelle and Ilaan joined him in the blowing smoke of the play field.

Ilaan said, "You've made an enemy for life. About time." Then he helped a sobbing Niico to his feet, saying, "Oh, I know, it looks bad now, but I'll have you back in the air in no time...."

Aelle merely looked at him. Finally she said, "I'll see you later," and left without another word.

***

L
ater that evening she would introduce him to another kind of pleasure. It came with a price, but as he watched her slip out the door and turned his attention to his new collection of scorches and bruises, he decided it was worth it.

"I am yours," she told him before leaving. And, not taking any chances, she added, "and you are mine."

***

W
hat if I could go there?

The thought just appeared in his head as if it had been waiting for him to catch up.

What if I could really go there?

The idea took on some urgency when he realized the last few pages of his book were missing. There was going to be a wedding—Sir Edward had been killed—once on the dueling field (he was just faking it that time) and again from the Duke flinging him out a window into the rocky crags of the sea below. (It was all very dramatic.) The murder was solved, the jewels had been found, even Cook and old Mrs. Beedle had agreed that sweet Gwenyth would make a perfect bride. But the Duke hadn't appeared at the chapel (what was a chapel? It had been one of his complete failures of translation.) and Gwyneth in her white gown (the color was extremely significant, and since the color white on Eriis indicated victory won without battle, it made a sort of sense) was in tears at something called an altar. And then—nothing!

"You ought to go, then," said Ilaan one particularly hot afternoon as they lounged in the library. Aelle gave him a death glare, which had lost a great deal of potency as they grew up.

They were halfway through a bottle of
sarave,
being by this time old enough to not have to steal it, and Ilaan was in an expansive mood. "You should sneak through the Door and find the person who wrote it and ask what happened to your girlfriend. Beast, you'd be a legend."

"She's not my girlfriend," said Rhuun uncomfortably.

At the same time Aelle said, "I wish you'd never found that stupid book."

The human world, and all the nasty, vulgar creatures in it, was the only competition Aelle hadn't managed to drive away.

"Did you ever figure out what all that scribble was? On the back page?" asked Ilaan.

"No," answered Rhuun. "I can't make it out. Plus it’s got some nasty brown stains all over it."

"Time to throw it away," muttered Aelle.

"Can I see it again?" asked Ilaan. "I've been studying pre-War language and it would be a perfect project. I'd get all sorts of credit. Did I tell you, the Mages contacted Father? They're interested in me."

Rhuun was not surprised to hear it. "Are you interested in them? I mean, they know everything about everything, no one gets to look at their books, but don't you have to live down there?" He paused. "And Niico..." He’d never told Ilaan how Niico had caught him out early one morning, coming home from Aelle’s house, and how, to his own amazement, a ‘punch’ had settled things between the two of them. While Niico had merely been stunned and knocked to the dirt, he’d broken two bones in his hand. He felt it was a small price to pay. But Ilaan thought Niico was the rain itself, and wasn’t the sort to set his prizes free.

"Father has some ideas about where I do my training. We're going down to see them soon, I'll let you know if it’s too hideous to bear. So can I see it?"

"I suppose," said Rhuun, "as long as you don't plan on setting it on fire or something."

"Bring it tomorrow and maybe we can start to translate it. Who knows," he added with a wide-eyed whisper, "it may open The Door."

Aelle stood up. "I'm glad you think this is so interesting, but I don't think it's funny at all. The law is in place for a reason, as you both very well know." She marched off.

"She's really angry. Maybe we shouldn't do this," said Rhuun without much conviction.

"Her friends at Court don't like you anyway, this will give her something to complain about," said Ilaan with a grin. Then he sobered and said, "This is all thanks to my father, I'm afraid. Aelle would never say she wants the High Seat—that sounds a little too... head-chop-offy? Shall we say?" Rhuun had to admit she'd never put it that way. "She will say, she does want you to follow your mother. That's the Natural Order of Things According to Aelle. But also she wants you where she can keep an eye on you. If you set off on a grand adventure, so do her plans—and I'm afraid Father's plans have become her plans. Not that she doesn't care for you, you know she does. But maybe we ought to keep this between us."

Rhuun thought,
A grand adventure which leaves her behind. Just like her father's been doing her whole life. But if I really could....

"If I could really go there..." Rhuun was no longer thinking of Aelle, or her plans at all. "I'll bring you the book tomorrow."

––––––––

E
riis City

20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar

100 years later, Mistran calendar

Yuenne’s family residence

It was when Aelle watched him pour himself a second glass of
sarave
without comment, that was when he knew she wanted something. It turned out to be as bad as he feared.

"Why can’t we just stay home by ourselves tonight? You just had a party." She had, not a week past, and he’d even stayed through most of it. Surely that was enough.

"It’s not a party," she countered. "It’s just some friends coming over."

Technically, she was correct, although he was already planning his escape. He let her have her way almost all the time, but on the subject of socializing, he made her earn it. It was a grim thought, he realized. He’d rather face his mother than his friends. He did like Rhoosa, though. And at least Ilaan would be there, although he and Niico were in a phase where they couldn’t bear to be physically parted for more than twenty seconds. There was a good deal of under-the-table hand holding and it made him uncomfortable. At least Aelle didn’t insist he hang all over her.

"Well," he said, "I just wished you’d mentioned it." She smiled and kissed him, accepting his concession.

"It’s just that my parents are both out this evening, and we have the place to ourselves. It’ll be fun." Her parents, he knew, were dining with his mother, and she had practically a wing of the big house to herself as it was.

He slid his hand under the hem of her dress and then pulled her down into his lap. "Wouldn’t this be more fun?" She seemed to hesitate—this tactic had worked before—but then got to her feet and flapped her hands at him.

"After. Right now go change your face, you’re dusty. And put on the new jacket—with the braid trim on the collar. It looks good on you." As he didn’t leap to his feet, she put her hands on her hips and looked down at him menacingly. "What else?"

He shrugged and got up. "You’re pretty when you’re bossy, that’s all." That made her laugh, but when he reached for her again she pushed his hand away.

"They’ll get here at second moonrise." She squinted out the window. "Be here before that or I’ll show you bossy."

By the time he returned, he was already late—he’d overslept, and in a rush to leave, he’d put on the wrong coat and had to go home and find the one she preferred. Her friends were already gathered around the table in her visiting room. She’d set the glowing stones out in pretty black and white bowls, and everyone had a glass at their elbow. They were playing Galiina’s Bluff, and it looked like Niico was ahead on points.

Aelle glanced at him with a look that informed him there would be no ‘after’ that evening. He helped himself to a glass of
sarave
and headed for a low couch facing the players. Then he thought better of it and took the bottle with him.

"Stone and bowl, thrice," said Daala to Rhoosa, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth she winced. "Twice, I mean. Can I change it?"

"That’s not how it works, obviously," said Rhoosa. The other girl groaned.

Niico laughed. "Let’s see it, Rho."

Rhoosa set the card that she’d been playing face up. "Quince," she said, "so it wouldn’t have mattered." She pursed her lips and pointed to Daala’s hand. "That one." She’d picked the third card from the top. Daala sighed dramatically and held it up. Rhoosa pointed at it and it vanished in a quick burst of flame. "Yes! Victory trip, hands up, everyone." They all laid their hands on the table, fingertips touching. "Ready? Let’s go." They vanished.