The Sand Prince (36 page)

She looked in the bag and her heart sank. She pulled out her white shoes.

"I thought you’d probably not want to lose those," he said, as if that was an explanation.

She pulled out her white satin purse.

"Don’t worry," he said with a smirk. "I checked it for weapons."

"You think I carry weapons in my purse?" She pulled out a slim cigarette case—yes! Matches! She had a brief moment of ecstasy as she took a long drag.

"Why are you doing that?" he asked, waving his hand at the curl of smoke.

"I know, it’s disgusting, I mostly quit. But I think I earned it." She stubbed out the cigarette and narrowed her eyes at him. "So, you grab me, knock me unconscious, and then go back and fetch my bag?"

"Your wrap thing is in there also. I tried to clean it off but it got pretty muddy."

She threw the stub away and edged towards him. "How much did Rane pay you?" She swung herself over the back of the cart, climbed down and advanced on him. "Or was it Althee? That bitch, is this her idea? Are you supposed to be the pirate? Or was it the two of them together?"

To her surprise he took a step back as if she were his size and a threat and not a small and barefoot girl in need of a bath and a change of clothes. "Rane takes advantage of people. He figured you were simple and he got you involved, am I right? I bet it was Rane, Althee has more sense than this. So, what are you supposed to do with me now?" She took another step forward and he continued his retreat.

"I am not simple. Why does everyone..." He shook his head and said in a louder voice, "That’s enough, wench! Get back in the cart or I’ll leave you here to starve in the woods." He nodded approvingly to himself. She stared at him with disbelief.

"Wench? Are you from a hundred years ago? What is going on?" He didn't answer. "Well, there's absolutely no way I'm going anywhere with you." She turned and began walking the way they'd come. He walked behind her.

"There are bears lurking in the woods, you know," he told her. "Bears and, um, what else lurks? ...Brigands! Bears and brigands. You're much safer with me than out here alone."

After stepping on the fifth or sixth sharp stone, she swore under her breath, turned and stomped past him. "Fine. Take me on your little cart to Rane and he and I will have it out once and for all. He's going to pay for this. My dress is ruined, I missed the party, and my feet are crippled. And stop calling me wench, it sounds ridiculous."

"There is a warmer dress in that bag. Put it on and if you give me this one," he pointed at her white gown, "I'll fix it for you. I won't look."

He held his hand out to help her back into the cart. She glared at him and hoisted herself back over the rail. Peering in the leather bag, she found an enormously ugly dark brown dress. She looked over at the man, who already had turned away—polite, at least. He had crossed his arms and was looking at the sky. She wished he'd take off the hat, she wanted to get a better look at him. One thing at a time, though. She wiggled out of the white dress and into the brown one in a flash, and threw the white silk at his back. The new one came to mid-calf and felt like carpeting but it was certainly warmer than the silk.

"I don't know what you mean by fixing it, but knock yourself out." She continued to root through the bag, next finding several apples, a lump of cheese wrapped in paper, and a loaf of bread. "How rustic," she sneered. "Well, I won't starve, I guess. So. Instead of a pirate, I get you. Rane is supposed to be out with my father at our farm. How did he pull this off? You might as well tell me." She began working on the apple.

"I am to deliver you to someone. I won’t hurt you. That’s all you need to know." He took his seat on the driver’s bench and began tugging—randomly, it looked like—on the reins.

She glared at his back. "Try keeping them the same length," she said, "and we might go in a straight line."

"It doesn’t become a woman to give orders," he informed her.

When she had recovered her composure she said, "All right then. We’re not going to talk anymore right now. Good luck with your new friend."

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Cybelle dos Shaddach peered into her tiny hand mirror and applied more color to her already perfect coral lips. She laid a slim hand on the Duke’s arm. "For you, my Lord, the great wide world is your arsenal. You may pluck your weapons from wherever you chose. But we women, we must keep our weapons close at hand."

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 53

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

Road through the Great Forest

The day wore on and the landscape didn’t change much.

Lelet couldn't remember the last time she'd been out of the city. There was nothing out here but trees anyway. She'd never been able to understand the way Billah went on and on about how wonderful the outdoor life was. This was proof, as far as she was concerned, that fresh air and green things were better in theory than in practice. She wondered if Billah had missed her at the party last night, and if he'd wondered where she was. Did he have it in him to look for her? Was anyone looking for her?

She ate another apple and wondered for a second if she should offer her peculiar abductor anything to eat. She decided not to. She might have to run for it after all and would need her strength. She thought about simply slipping off the back of the cart and hiding in the woods until someone heading back to the city came along, but they hadn't seen another soul all day. And besides, the man—whoever he was—was correct about brigands, even if no one had called the thieves and robbers one heard about by that name in a hundred years. The open road was a dangerous place, and without even a pair of decent shoes, she doubted she'd have much luck on her own. No, best to go and find out what Rane thought he was doing, then have a story to tell when she got home.

Once she decided to allow herself to be kidnapped, she tried talking to the strange man again. Wench, brigand—maybe he was an actor? Or a scholar who needed Rane's money?

"What’s your name?" she asked. He had hardly said a word since he'd given her the bag.

"Moth," he said.

She snickered. "Moth? That’s your name? Really? Were your parents angry with you?" He slumped even further down on the bench. "My name is Lelet." Nothing. Then she said, "Let me go home," not for the first time.

The dark figure at the front of the cart sighed.
He's a perfect picture of depression, whoever he is
, she thought.

"I've said I can’t do that."

"Of course you can. Just stop—right now and let me out. I’ll make my way home and you can tell your 'employer' I escaped. Or better yet, turn around and drive me home. You can drop me off at the back gate again and sneak away. It's a perfect plan. I can better whatever Rane is paying you. We can do this right now." This was such a perfect plan it had practically already happened. She was already planning her story. Althee had probably gone for a drink with her brother before he got exiled, and said something about her pirate idea. And when he got sent away, it was the perfect time for him to strike—he had a foolproof alibi. Her friends wouldn't believe her. She'd have to whip out the ugly brown dress for a climactic reveal.

"It’s not about money. And women shouldn't talk about money, anyway. It's demeaning," he replied. "One might say it’s even vulgar."

"Well. That's... interestingly... crazy. But honestly? It’s always about money," she said, thinking,
If he's an actor, maybe these are lines from a play? Because otherwise Rane has hired a lunatic.

"Well, not this time," he said.

"Just let me go home. I can tell you’re not really like this. You’re not bad. This isn’t you." Just in case, she hid one of her satin shoes behind her back. It had a sharp heel and was the closest thing she had to weapon.

"What isn’t me?" he asked, although it sounded like he really didn't want to know.

"You don’t want to be doing this. Someone is making you. I can help you!" She had a sudden image of herself—beautifully backlit—being congratulated by someone—the Mayor? Her father?—for rehabilitating a poor, simple criminal.

The man sighed again and flicked the reins over the horses back. She noted that he’d listened to her and was holding them evenly, but the animal was clearly a good judge of character and slowed its pace, ignoring his commands.

"I’m not like this," he said. "The only thing I’ve ever stolen is
sarave
from my mother’s kitchen."
Sarave
? she thought,
What in the world was that?
"And I sincerely doubt you or anyone can help me." He shook his head and sat straighter and taller. "Mind your mouth and behave, wench. Your voice is an assault." She gasped. It was like he was two people—one was a lunatic but at least polite, and the other was arrogant and rude in addition to the lunacy. Rane needed to check references more carefully the next time he hired a felon.

"How do you even know you have the right victim?" she asked.

"I was told that the slattern had white hair and white skin, like a dead animal," he told her.

"A
what
? Who said that?" Her voice rose to a near shriek.

"I believe you were also described as looking like a cave creature. A lizard, I think it was, who never sees the sun." She gasped again and he turned, saying, "Forgive me. That was unkind. And untrue. I shouldn’t have—" and caught one of her satin pumps in the ear. It knocked his hat off. He rose to his feet.

"You get one blow and this is how you waste it?" he roared. "On vanity?"

"Vanity?" she replied. "You call me a cave lizard and I’m supposed to..." Her mouth snapped shut. She stared up at him.

He looked at her anxiously. "I’m sorry I scared you. I was about to say you don’t look like a cave lizard. I’m sorry I yelled, but you shouldn’t have thrown your shoe at me." He rubbed his ear where she’d clipped him. "I
did
scare you, didn’t I? Some?"

Lelet, for her part, had played enough lawnball that her aim was more than fair, and had simply aimed for his head. Knocking off his hat was a bonus, because now she could see his face.

He's young, maybe only a bit older than I am. And he's handsome enough to be an actor,
she thought,
but how strange....

His eyes were bright red. Red eyes...
they got red eyes
....

She finally said, "You’re from the other side of The Door."

"What are you saying? No I’m not. That’s madness." She thought he looked a little sick. "
Rushta
," he muttered.

"Your eyes. You’re a demon. I’m right."  She stood on her knees in the back of the cart, swaying slightly, her hand stretched out as if it still held the shoe.

"You're wrong," he told her. "I was kicked in the head. By a horse. And it’s rude of you to stare at me."

She gaped at him and then laughed. "I'm certain you were kicked in the head, but that has nothing to do with the fact that you're a demon. My sister is practically an expert and she told me you can hide your... what's it called? Oh, True Face! Some burny thing! But not your eyes." She paused and shook her head. "Rane got a demon to kidnap me, that’s pretty impressive. I can't wait to find out how he did it." She rearranged herself in the cart, tucking her long brown skirt around her knees.

"There’s no such thing as demons. They are mythological." He picked the hat up and made to put it back on, then sighed and tossed it into the cart near where she sat. She grabbed it and shoved it in the bag.

"Show me," she said.

"Show you what?" She thought he knew.

The horse, sensing a moment, had come to a halt. The forest was silent. Even the birds were watching.

He sighed, "You didn’t know until just now, when you saw my eyes?" She nodded. "Good. I didn’t know if I was doing it right."

"Doing...?"

"Being a human person, as you said. I’ve been here a while, and no one seems to have noticed me at all. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to. Until now. You."

She wondered which one he really was: the polite one or the jackass. He seemed to be leaning towards the former. She hoped so. She drew a long breath. "This is just amazing. You really are from the other side? How did you get here? How long have you been here? Are you by yourself? Do you miss it? What is it like?"

He gazed at her for a moment and she wondered how anyone could have looked in those eyes and thought to recognize a fellow human. And look at him and not notice him? Impossible.

"Show me," she repeated softly. He looked at the ground, his golden skin reddening to his ears.
So he can blush
, she thought. It suddenly felt much warmer.

He finally said, "No. No. You'll just have to take my word for it."

"Why don't you want to show me? Is it frightening? Is it dreadful? Are you ugly?" This was all just so interesting!

He looked shocked. "Ugly? Am I... Do you have eyes?" He straightened up. "Yes, ugly and terrifying. One might say a beast, in fact. I hope you never have to see it, because if you see my True Face, it means someone is going to die."

She bit her lip, then burst out laughing. "That is the single most dramatic thing anyone has ever said to me." She bounced a little in the cart, wide-eyed. "What happens next?" She wondered if Rane had told him what to say, or if he was a writer along with a player. In any case, he was very good. Playing the part of a demon—he was very convincing! She couldn't wait to tell this story to her friends, even if she had to miss the party to do it. For his part, he seemed at a loss for words—not that he had that many to begin with. He glared down at her, but she felt sure there was also something like shame in his expression.

He turned back to the horse. "No more questions."

The cart rolled forward.

––––––––

The Duke looked Gwenyth up and down. She could feel the heat of his gaze. She shivered in her thin bodice, despite the warmth of the great room. What could he want with her?