The Sand Prince (44 page)

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Gwneyth wiped away her tears and crept to her door. She turned the lock, and the ‘click’ sounded as loud as a whip crack. She pulled her old bag out from under the bed—the lovely soft bed, the lonely bed she’d never sleep in again, and began to toss her clothes in. Only the ones she’d brought with her. At the bottom of the bag she caught a gleam of light. It was the stolen jeweled necklace.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 160

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

Road through the Great Forest

Once she had caught her breath and gotten her dress back in place, she tucked her bare feet under herself and waited for Moth to incinerate the armed men.

What do they want?
wondered Lelet.
Why is he talking to them? He should just show his true face or whatever it’s called and burn them up! What is he waiting for?

Instead of making the pair burst into flame, he was talking to them as they all maneuvered around each other. The two villains were trying to place themselves on either side of Moth, who was trying to keep her behind him while keeping both of them in front of him. She realized with a sick feeling that she was the pivot around which they all moved. She looked around wildly. She had no weapons and there were two of them. Run away? Could she leave Moth to fight and escape on an ill-fitting pair of shoes? No, and probably not since the leather slippers were in her bag in the back.

She did have one thing she could use, and when the sword man, who was the furthest from Moth's eyeshot, began to raise his weapon, she screamed his name for all she was worth.

It was enough. He dropped to the ground and the man missed him completely, the sword passing over his head. But instead of trying again, the man raced to the cart, reached across the driver's bench and began to grab for her dress. She made for the far side, intending to jump down and run after all, but he snagged her sleeve and hauled her back, pulling her down next to him and holding her fast. Her feet barely touched the ground and she was afraid he might break her arm.

Moth was doing something with the club man—now the man was on the ground and he had the club! Moth's hands were covered in blood, and she realized with horror that it was his own. The end of the club had nails sticking out of it, but he'd grabbed it like it was nothing.

"He'll kill you both," she shrieked at the man who held her.

"He can try," said the sword man mildly.

That was when the third man stepped from behind a tree. He was holding a good sized rock. She screamed again, pointing at the man and struggling to get away from the sword man's grasp.
Why won't he look behind?
Her captor had tossed aside his sword and now had both her arms pinned behind her back.

The third man came up behind Moth and knocked him in the head with the rock. He fell instantly.

The fat man and the third man stood over him.

"Put up a bit of a fight, this one," said the fat man. "Oh well." He kneeled down, pulling out his knife, and slit Moth's throat.

You will not faint,
thought Lelet, although the world had gone grey.
Maybe he's still alive and he'll need your help....

"Wake up," she whispered. "Moth, wake up." Her legs were gone. Her lips were numb.

The sword man said, not unkindly, "He'll wake up in the next world, sister. If you believe in that sort of thing."

The third man pointed at Moth's chest and said, "Get those."

The fat man laughed. "Said I would, didn't I?" He hesitated, pointing his knife at Moth's tracery of silvery scars. "Look at this boy. Must have used him for bait at dog fights."

The third man snickered. "Maybe he won those things for beating the dogs."

The fat man considered the corpse. "Strong, though. Got me right in the gut. Took on the both of us, and him without a weapon. Brave, your man was," he said over his shoulder to Lelet. She started to scream again, although now without much volume behind it.

The fat man said. "Yes, well, you ought to scream, dearie. That's what the dead like to hear as they leave us. Sends 'em on their way. Get that noise out of your system now, though. We can all sing proper songs of respect for your fallen hero later. We ought to be on our way."

The third man, who had dropped the gore-splashed rock, scratched his head. "What are we going to do with the girl?"

The fat man looked up at him. "What do we usually do with 'em?" He nodded at the sword man. "Phee, tie her hands and toss her in the back. No, don't toss her—place her." He bowed towards her dramatically. "My lady."

She tried to scream but could only whisper
No, no no.

He looked back down and thumbed one of Moth's eyes open. "Look at that—full of blood. Must've had a soft head."

"I've seen it before. Startling, isn't it? They'll do that, if you hit 'em in the right spot. No one's head's harder than a rock, Beb, except maybe yours."

They all three laughed at that one.

The fat man—Beb—poked at Moth's torn and bloody hand with his knife.

"Never saw anyone grab the end of Barbara like that before, either. Like he didn't even feel it."

The third man frowned. "I thought that thing's name was Nancy."

"Nah. Nancy and me had a falling out. Can you believe it—she told me she thought I was getting too fat. Me, too fat! Have you seen the ass on that girl? I tell you, it hurt my feelings. So yes, it's Barbara now. Aren't you, my darling?" He picked the club off the ground and looked at it admiringly before setting it close by his side. "Barbara appreciates me just as I am. Maybe I'll make her a present of these. Just don't none of you tell her where they came from. She's got delicate sensibilities."

He lifted a gold ring with the tip of his knife.

"How'd he get 'em in there? It's a mystery of the age, why people do what they do to themselves."

He leaned over with his knife laid flat. There was a great deal of blood.

That was when Lelet fainted.

––––––––

"What is this trash?" exclaimed the Duke. "Who has turned her into such a slattern? Cybelle, I see your hand in this." The Duke swept the dainty pots of paint onto the floor. "Now wash your face and stop that infernal noise!" Gwenyth stifled her sobs as best she could.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 89

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

Road through the Great Forest

"Wake up, sweetheart." Moth was whispering in her ear. "Wake up, now." She smiled. He had such pretty eyes. She'd tell him that, right away.

"Time to wake up, Missy." She opened her eyes.

Three dirty men looked down at her.

Moth was still dead.

They tied her hands behind her back and one of them—the sword man, Phee—lifted her into the back of the cart.

"My family has money," she whispered, but they didn't hear her. They were moving.

Beb climbed into the back of the cart with her. He laid his club by his side. She wondered if she could throw herself on it in such a way that it would kill her quickly.

He noticed her gaze and said, "Plenty of time for that, sweetheart. We'll get to camp and then have a nice evening together. You, me, and Barbara."

"Please," she whispered, hating herself for the begging whine of her voice, "please don't hurt me."

"Leave her alone," said Phee over his shoulder. "She's had a bad day." They all laughed.

"One might say!" said Beb. "Bad luck, wrong place wrong time, all that. Good luck for us, though. Can you cook, girl? Wash a pot? Keep three gentlemen of the road warm at night?"

"Not all at once, though," pointed out the third man, "We're not animals."

"My family has money," Lelet said again. "They'll pay you to bring me home." The three laughed again, taking in the leaves in her hair, her torn dress and her dirty, bare feet.

"What'll they do, trade us a cow for you? Give us a loaf of bread?"

"No," she said, trying to keep her voice even, "I live in Mistra, in the city. Big house. Money."

Beb shook his head, chuckling. "And I'm Loquacia, King of the Fairy People. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!"

"Check her hands," advised Phee. "That'll tell where she was raised."

"Smart boy," said Beb. "That's why I love you like a brother." He reached out a huge hand and swatted Lelet to one side. With no way to brace herself, she fell on her face. Beb took his time rooting around, getting big handfuls of her legs and thighs before looking at her hands.

"Funny," he mused. "She's as skinny as a fence post, no more ass than an old chicken, and hasn't got a rough spot anywhere. Despite her outwardly slattern appearance and overall loose demeanor, this girl hasn't scrubbed a floor in her life. I may have to go back and check the front—just to be on the safe side."

She turned so she could see his knobby shaved head outlined against the sky.

"My family will pay if I'm unharmed." He pulled her upright, helping himself to a generous squeeze of her breasts.

"Well, there's unharmed and then there's unharmed." He pinched her leg—the tender part just above the knee, and she screamed through her teeth. "See? You're still 100% intact, arm and leg-wise."

The third man said, "Find out about the money, Beb."

"Ah! Excellent. Important to focus, keep one eye always on our objective. Not be distracted by a yard or so of very nice looking girl meat." She shrank back, trying to pull away from his huge hand, which still rested lightly on her knee. "So, dearie, where is this magical family estate that turns into a bank?"

"In the city. I don't know how far from here. Please, don't hurt me."

"Well, there's plenty of time over a nice dinner to talk about the future. Maybe we'll find out why a nice city girl like you was out humping a recently deceased farm boy in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you'll tell us where your pretty clothes vanished off to. Or why you're vacationing in the woods with no shoes. All sorts of interesting things may come to light." He turned to the third man, who'd taken the reins. "Pull over, I have to respond to nature's call."

As he relieved himself against a tree, Beb sang:

"Oh the Demon Queen

Loved mortal peen

And that was her undoing

She picked the lock

And licked
—"

"Beb, there is a lady present!" said Phee. Lelet huddled in the back of the cart. She missed her family with a pain that surprised her. She wished she was sitting in the garden with May, or even arguing with Rane. She didn't want to even think about Moth. Time for that later.

If I can convince them I am worth something maybe they won't rape me to death. The big one—Beb—he'd do it for fun. Maybe the other two wouldn't? I don't want to die in the dirt. I want to go home.

She was sitting on something that was jabbing her in the rear. She shifted slightly and looked down dully at one of her white satin pumps. The heel had broken off and it was more grey than white, but the sight of it filled her with rage. Less than a week ago her biggest worry was getting these shoes dirty. There were no such things as demons. She'd never been hungry or cold a moment in her life, and she'd never seen a dead body, much less witnessed a murder. Or given someone his very first taste of pear.

This is your fault, Moth,
she thought,
How could you leave me?
She hid her face in her shoulder so no one would see her cry.

Beb climbed back in and picked up the wrecked shoe.

"One mystery solved! You do have shoes! Or at least, you did. You won't be running away on this thing." He tossed the shoe out and they were on their way.

Please don't hurt me.

***

H
ours later the three decided to make a temporary camp for the night. Killing Moth had taken a bite out of their schedule and they hadn't made it back to their base after all.

"We should leave her in the cart," said the third man. "I don't want to listen to her crying for her boyfriend all night."

"She won't cry, will you sweetheart?" asked Beb. "She's a good girl. She's got new boyfriends now. And I like to look at her. Tie her to that tree. No tears, am I right?"

Realizing he expected an answer, she stammered, "No, I won't cry. I'll be good. Just—"

"Yes, I know, 'please don't hurt me.'" His imitation of her voice was a simpering whine. "I won't hurt you, dearie. I think we'll get along just fine. After all, you like 'em big, that man of yours was good sized."

"Went down fast enough, though," observed the third man. She began to cry. Beb cuffed her head.

"I thought we agreed there'd be none of that."

She bit her lips hard to stop crying. Her head swam and she thought she might vomit.

He'll kill you just like he did Moth if you get sick on him.
She took a deep breath and forced her face into something like a normal expression.

"Can I have some water?" she asked. "I promise I won't cry." Beb shrugged and Phee held a cup while she drank. Then he tied her to a young pine, taking a little care not cut off the blood to her arms.

"Help me," she whispered. He laughed.

"Not a chance, sister. Don't worry, I expect it'll all be over by morning. Tell you what. I'll make sure it's quick."

"You two making friends over there?" Beb called. "Get back over here and let’s get a fire started. Dinner won't cook itself. Although this little white rabbit certainly jumped into our pot." He laughed at his own cleverness and the other two chimed in from long practice.

***

"T
ime for a serious discussion, lads," said Beb.

They had eaten their stew and drunk up their beer, and Phee had even held the spoon while Lelet ate a few bites. She found it vile and her throat tried to clamp shut but she forced herself to swallow the shreds of meat and bits of onions.
If I eat,
she thought,
I can run. If I can run I can grab a rock
.