The Sand Prince (24 page)

It looked deeply uncomfortable. "I was going to meet someone. I was looking for someone. But the Veil is... it was dark. And then I saw color over here." It looked around the room, she could swear with some disdain. "Well, not here, so much. But the Veil is thin and I was... curious."

"What’s your name?" This seemed to alarm it, as it began to smoke more vigorously. It said something that sounded like ‘Mammoth.’ "What?" She waved her hand to freshen the air in front of her face. It cleared its throat.

"Moth" it said.

"Well, Moth. Do you know where you are?"

"A place of study, I think. A place where spells can be cast by children. Perhaps a school of some sort?" The demon stood up. "You are very young. Is there a headmaster? A teacher? Would they be pleased to see what their little human person had brought back as a souvenir from their trip to the Veil? Would they like to find me here?"

It stood at the foot of Scilla’s little bed. It was tall. It was also naked, although modestly wreathed by smoke. Scilla quickly looked away.

"I... I... you should go! Yes. Go ahead and get out of this building. Go hide. Um, find some clothes. Probably first. But listen for my call. I’ll have things for you to do. It won’t be long, so don’t wander off."

It nodded, then turned and merged with the shadows at her door. Then it was gone.

Scilla realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a great shuddery gasp and put her head on her knees. After a moment she took out her notebook, opened to a fresh page, and began to write.

***

T
he sun was up and Scilla realized with a start that she'd missed her morning duties. She swore under her breath, set her notebook aside—now filled with lists of chores for her new pet—and hurriedly restacked the rare books under her bed. And now she had to race or there'd be hot water and a scrub brush in her future.

When the knocking came, she opened the door. "Pardons, I overslept, I'll be down to the kitchen...”

The entire library staff and the Elders stood outside her door. Brother Blue filled her doorway. She gazed up at him.

"We'd like to look at your books, my dear. Now." His normally kind and distant brown eyes were now hard and suspicious. She was in for it. She had to do something and fast....

Scilla gave a great sobbing cry and flung herself on the floor of the little room, carefully kicking the rag rug over the scorch marks the creature’s feet had burned into the floor. As she did, her notebook leapt from her hand into the fire, which still burned quietly in the grate.

"Please help me! The demons said if I didn't do what they said they'd kill my whole family! They made me steal the books! I love the Order, don't make me leave!" she howled.

"Child, you are to calm down. We know about The Veil...."

"Don't make me go there! I was so scared! I won't go back, I'd rather die."

She shrieked and sobbed so hysterically that finally the elderly gentlemen who staffed the library shrugged and handed her over to Brother Blue.

Every time the old man asked her a question, she provided a fresh round of hysterics. He made it clear he knew she’d somehow lifted The Veil and been in contact with the other side, but until she had a chance to think, it wouldn’t do to answer him. Blue finally turned her over to the Guardhouse nurse, the only woman in attendance. The woman made Scilla drink something bitter that made her head feel like it might drift away. As Scilla fell asleep, she was smiling. She could get another notebook. She had a pet demon bound to her, and the Voice was safe.

––––––––

"Beesley, I’ve known your family my whole life," said the Duke. "Why would you try and steal from me now? You know you had only to ask."

The man rattled the chain at his wrist and sneered, "Lookin’ in the wrong quarter for your man, Guv. Him what stole from you wouldn’t never fink to ask."

The Duke shook his head. The man was spouting nonsense.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 82

Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)

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M
istra

100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar

20 years later, Eriisai calendar

The Guardhouse

Brother Blue watched the tea ball bob gently in his cup, the steam rising from the steeping liquid. He'd awakened hours earlier with Hellne's name on his lips, something that had been beaten out of him nearly a hundred years earlier.

"I am old," he thought, as usual with some measure of surprise. "I had no idea I'd live this long." He had many theories as to how he'd done it; his most recent involved his extended stays on Eriis, where time had always moved more slowly. Once he though his Princess had charmed him into long life, then he thought she'd cursed him with it. He hadn't dreamt of her in ages, but this morning he'd been sure she was in his room. It wasn't the old dream, the vision of fire and blood; she was just sitting there watching him with her lovely scarlet eyes. He was surprised upon awakening that she was not there. What would he say to her, if she'd been there, perched on the edge of his bed smiling at him? What do you say to a woman who nearly destroyed your world?

When he'd returned through the Door (
last one through, that's worth noting)
his elders at the Guardhouse had thanked him for his service in keeping the monster occupied. They seemed genuinely grateful. They heaped upon him the praise he longed for, but for once, didn't think he'd earned. Eventually they realized he had no idea the princess was plotting, along with her odious father and his wicked Counselors, against Mistra and against them all. When it became apparent he was simply dallying with a pretty girl, he was beaten with a stick and locked in his room to repent. At least, that was how he remembered it. It was all so long ago.

Blue was eventually forgiven of his crime, since it was of ignorance, not collusion, and allowed to remain and learn, and finally teach. He was more than grateful and extremely motivated. He knew there was nothing more important than keeping the Door sealed. If he could be fooled and led astray so easily, what chance did anyone else have against them?

And now, all these years later, they were trying again. He saw every bit of his own foolish behavior in little Scilla. If, upon rising, he hadn’t followed the ancient routine—check the ‘locks’ against charms or tampering—he might never have known. In the long, quiet years since the Weapon, that routine, once urgent, had become an afterthought. They would have to be more vigilant.
She's up to something,
he thought.
She's part of this somehow. They didn't open the Veil by themselves, there's no way. They have no human blood, and without that, my little escape hatch wasn't anything but words on a page. Words on a page. Well, there's nothing for it now but to watch her and see what happens next.

His thoughts returned to his Princess.
I wonder if she liked my book.

––––––––

The girl was finally too exhausted to sob. She still had to clean the Duke’s kitchen and then tend to his dogs. The world of glittering jewels and wavering candlelight, of fine meals and soft beds were close enough to touch, but she knew it would never be for one such as herself. She sank down on the stairs and wondered how it had all gone so wrong.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 73

Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)

––––––––

M
istra

100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar

20 years later, Eriisai calendar

Outside the Guardhouse

Rhuun put as much ground between himself and the Guardhouse as he could before he had to throw himself down under a tree and rest.

"Hello, human person. My name is Moth," he said, trying it out. It wasn't bad, as names went, and he certainly wasn't going to tell that girl his real name. He'd heard about mages who could call you through time and between worlds by calling your real name. He doubted the girl was a real mage, but she had some odd sort of power. Why take a chance?

This far from the influence of the books in the child's room, he found he was also able to hide his face. Eyes, though, still a problem. For the first time, right shape but wrong color. He'd have to figure something out to hide them.

Why am I worrying about such silly things,
he wondered.
How long was I in the Veil?
He was afraid it was a very long time.

I’m part human
. He was strangely relieved. He wasn't the worst demon who ever lived. He wasn't really a demon at all.

For every answer—
this is why I never fledged, this is why I have no fire—
a dozen more questions. He knew he must have some Eriisai blood; he could do a few things. He could disappear, after a fashion. And he had his mother's eyes, everyone said so. His father's too, perhaps.

He wished Ilaan was with him. He'd had plenty of time in the Veil to think about things, and much of that revolved around Ilaan.

When he'd read the spell and left Eriis, he quickly realized he'd only made it halfway. The grey and oppressive space pressed down on him and he knew the other side—the human world—didn't look like a dark cave. He knew less about the mechanics of the Veil than he should, although in retrospect he guessed he knew less about every single
scorping
thing in his life than he should. With that knowledge bitter in his mouth he’d decided to take a walk in what resembled a dimly lit corridor, although he couldn't say how long he’d sat before he rose to go. And he didn't really know how far he'd gone. And really, what did it matter? He’d sat back down—was it where he'd started? Or somewhere else? He tried to put together what Ilaan had told him. Human. The concept flew around his head like a little mouse with wings. Half-human? Had his mother accepted the spark from a human person? It seemed unthinkable. She never once expressed an interest in anything other than the superiority and safe keeping of Eriis. But would she take on the responsibility of raising someone else's crippled human child, and never say a word?

He’d wandered the Veil for what felt like days, or minutes. He’d felt himself drifting....

The questions that followed him around had faded away until his mind was as still as a stone. He’d spent a long time sitting in a dim, quiet space watching a dark spot on the wall. Then he’d realized there was no wall and maybe no spot and he'd been literally staring into space.
Eh, that was fine
. The view had been the same with his eyes opened or closed. Finally he’d closed them and prepared to drift off, maybe for a really long time. Maybe for just a few seconds. Maybe forever.

Then, in the middle of all that nothing, there’d been something. A flash of light at the edge of his field of vision. He’d regretted the interference in his perfect still nothingness, but went to investigate.

He’d followed tiny flashes of light, random sounds—like the sound a candle makes as it burns—and the smell of a library. As he’d become more interested, the flashes grew brighter and stronger. He saw color—real color. As red as a woman's hair and as blue as a scrap of silk. He’d eagerly gone towards the source.

It was a mistake. It had been some sort of snare. The control he maintained over his physical form—his temperature, his True Face—was dragged away. He was freezing. He was burning. Then he’d felt as if someone had thrown a rope around his mind. He’d tried desperately to back away from the glowing colors but someone was pulling on the rope and he was yanked closer. He’d thrown his hands out to keep from falling forward.

Someone had taken his hand. Then they were gone and it was all screaming. Then the strange little girl in the stone room. He’d tried to hide his True Face from the human girl at once, but something in those old books pressed down on him like a fist. He could only try to hide his confusion. Ilaan had been right, as he usually was. Naked as a sand hill. And it had been horrible, not funny at all.

He didn't blame Ilaan. What else could he have done? If you thought about it (which he had done at great length) from Ilaan's perspective it had worked as well as it could—they'd known it wasn't quite complete. How could Ilaan have known there'd be a girl waiting in the Veil to pull him through? And where was Dos Capeheart in all this? He'd expected to be greeted by his author, not some random child, certainly not by a child with some sort of power. Ilaan would be interested to hear that binding spells worked on this side.

They'd have a lot to talk about when he got home.

But for now he was here. He'd made it to the human side. He caught his breath and took a look around. Almost immediately he had to clap his hands over his eyes—he had never seen so many things all in one place.

"Start slowly," he told himself. "Let's start with this tree."

He spent a long time with the bark before moving on to the leaves. He was a little stunned when he realized the tree had always been a tree—it hadn't been transformed from something else. He finally let himself look up at the leaves, and even though the constant motion made him feel a little queasy, he couldn't bring himself to look away from the color and light. The sky (which was the same sky on both sides of The Door, it was said) had a sun that was made of light. Light and blue. His sky, the sky of Eriis, was low and grey brown. It was nothing but clouds and most of the time you couldn't see through them. He knew his mother's Mages worked tirelessly to finally break the clouds apart, but it hadn't happened yet and they made no promises. He'd heard about a clear sky over Eriis from stories about before the War. Had the sky back home ever been this bright? And he realized with a start that there was what you might call a breeze, but no wind. He was very far outside, far from any structure or gate or wall, and there was no need for a scarf. His eyes, now more accustomed to the bright day, weren't stinging from sand or grit or ash.

The book had been true. This place was magical.

Ilaan had sworn he'd find a way to bring him home. Rhuun thought about the way the paper had burned to ash in his hands. He hoped his friend had gotten to work. In the meantime, he had to obey the strange child who had caught him. He laughed grimly to himself.
I guess my big plan of living on my own terms is off the table for a while
.
The wind that blows me around now comes from a human
. Would she follow the law and release him when she was done with him? She seemed a bit... off. But how could he be sure? Maybe the human persons were all like her, not sweet like Gwyneth, or strong like the Duke, or even sly like Cybelle. That was a concern, but things in their order.