The Sand Prince (45 page)

"Now," continued Beb, "Miss... uh, what's your name, sweetheart?"

"May," she replied. It made her feel closer to home somehow.

"Ah, now, our Miss May Morning, she says she owns a big pile of gold in the middle of Mistra City. All we have to do is deliver her to the doorstep."

"Sounds like a reasonable plan," said the third man. "Mum and Da will be happy to see us. Open the vault for us, most likely."

"See, but there's only one small hitch in this otherwise foolproof endeavor." Beb screwed his face into a dramatic version of a sobbing mother. "'Our darling girl,' Mum will say. 'Our darling girl restored to us—but where's her kit? Her fancy capes and hats and jewels what we sent her off with? Where's her luggage? Where's her chaperone?’ And who'll take the hit?"

"Might be us," nodded Phee. "We should end this quick and forget about her."

"They won't blame you," said Lelet, "I'll tell them you were... you took me in when I was lost in the woods. I was robbed, and um, I was left for dead, but you showed kindness and fed me and brought me home. For a reward." She hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt.

"Who was that fella? He was no city man," said Phee.

"No one," said Lelet.

"That was a lot of screaming and crying and carrying on for no one," said Beb, "I say that he turned your head and you run off with him, leaving a life of comfort for one of adventure and uncertainty. Well, you got yourself a bucketful of that! These mythical parents of yours, would they still pay for a runaway dragged home after leaving with... honestly, Miss May, that wasn't your garden variety lothario. What was he? And how did he lure you from your cushions?"

"What's the difference?" she snapped. "He's dead."

"Care to explain this to the assembled?" Beb put out his hand. The gold rings lay on his palm.

"I put them in," she hissed. "Myself. With a needle."

All three men winced. Then they laughed and Beb put the rings back in the little leather pouch.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste. Anyways, they're Nancy's now."

Phee tentatively put his hand up. "I thought you and Nancy was on the outs."

"I am having second thoughts. Barbara, recall, let me down at a most critical juncture. I tend to follow my gut in matters of the heart. If the namesake fails me at just the wrong time, might not the lady follow suit? Thoughts, gentlemen. Thoughts that are best sorted out in the embrace of slumber. Gentlemen, I propose we table the ultimate fate of our May Morning here until the actual dawn. My brains are tired after a long day of rescuing wayward maids from roving bands of... of... whatever your friend there was." He paused and frowned. "Something about that boy was... Well, it’s behind us now. Miss May, I bid you a pleasant night, and tomorrow we'll get to know each other better. I've got a friend I'd like you to meet!"

He roared with laughter, which the others, on cue, joined in.

Finally, the third man and Phee both wrapped themselves in blankets and turned away from the fire. Beb yawned hugely and threw the last bottle he'd emptied into the darkness.

"Nature’s call," he told her. "Back presently."

He wandered off towards a tree yet again. She thought,
How can one man piss so much? He's got to have something wrong with him. Maybe he'll die soon.
She listened to him sing again.

"Keep the Door well locked, boys

Keep the Door tight shut.

For if ye don't—"

There was a soft cough and a rustling.

Maybe he peed himself to death
she thought.
Has that ever happened?

That was when the fire exploded.

––––––––

"You will pay for what you've done," snarled Sir Edward.

"With my life?" asked the Duke.

Sir Edward replied, "You have nothing else of value."

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 172

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

Moth came awake with a great start and leapt to his feet, and his knees immediately buckled. He sat back down. He was covered with blood. Dried blood. How long had he been lying there? His throat ached horribly and he leaned over and spat out a mouthful of thick black fluid. Almost immediately, his stomach heaved and he retched great gouts of half congealed gore. The smell and taste of it burned his nose and made his innards twist, but finally there was nothing left. When he could raise his head, he touched his neck, afraid of what he'd find, but there was nothing but the slightly raised band of a new scar where the knife had cut him. His hand bore a constellation of pink circles, each no bigger than a nail, and there was also a knot on the back of his head.

As soon as he'd lifted his hand to feel the back of his head, he felt a horrible, tearing pain in his chest. He looked down.

"Awww,
rushta
," he muttered. He took a moment to be grateful they hadn't stripped off his trousers—that would have been even more unpleasant.

He found a chunk of rock with a splash of blood on it on the ground next to him.

"Well, I've solved this crime."

He looked around but the cart, the two—no, there must have been three men, and of course Lelet, were all gone. He couldn't even see her tiny light in his mind, but that didn't mean anything, did it? He could barely see what was right in front of him. The late afternoon sun gave everything shimmering halos and there were shadows everywhere.

He stumbled to his feet.

He tried to remember what direction the horse had been facing, and began to walk that way. He couldn't think of what else to do—he couldn't sprout a pair of wings and fly over the trees, or somehow hear them talking across the miles....

This had to be the right way.

He tried to make his legs move faster, although the big muscles in his thighs burned and he saw black spots in front of his eyes. He could barely swallow for the pain in his throat.

Ilaan was walking next to him. He was happy to see his friend of course, but it was strange how Ilaan was wearing the handsome blue silk coat from the party where he'd learned about music. Wasn't that a human's coat?

Before he could ask, Ilaan said, "You should have killed those human creatures when you had the chance. I had no idea you were so squeamish, Beast. I am seriously disappointed."

Aelle was on his other side. She was wearing Lelet's ugly brown dress. She wore it like her robe of office. Her hair was decorated with shards of broken glass. "It was a mistake for you to come here at all, of course. You can’t say I didn’t try to warn you." She wrinkled her nose. "You smell terrible, by the way."

"Shut up, Aelle," said Ilaan.

"Shut up Aelle," he whispered.

Ilaan continued. "Boy, talk about a lost opportunity! I think you were getting somewhere with that human girl. Another couple of minutes and you would have had the boring human joining you've always wanted. You had the advantage and didn't use it! One little change, a little smoke—bam, those men are dead and you're a hero. Why didn't you show your True Face? Is it that much worse than the one you're walking around with?"

"You like that silly girl, don't you?" said Aelle. She sounded annoyed. "Someone even softer than you are. Why didn't you just ever tell me to stop? 'Aelle, please don't leave a mark.' Was that so difficult? I know what pain means even if I've never felt it personally," she paused. "When did you make up your mind to leave me?"

"He didn't want to hurt your feelings," said Ilaan. "So he left our world entirely instead." Ilaan gave a whinnying laugh that Moth had never heard before.

"Please, stop," he said in a rasping whisper. "Why did you even stay with me, Aelle? I never understood why...."

Aelle smirked and answered, "One becomes acclimated."

Then they were standing in front of him, blocking him, and he had to go off the path into the shadowy forest to get around them, he fell, he was falling... then he was back on the road and they were each holding an elbow, dragging him along.

"Did you remember to tell him he's never coming home?" asked Aelle.

"Oh right! You know how I said I wouldn't leave you here? I'm leaving you here. You were never really one of us, anyway. Everyone was right about you! You're going to die here. Maybe really soon! And that girl of yours is already dead. You're too late."

Moth shook his head. "This isn't real. I know it’s not real."

Ilaan barked, "Why didn't you show your True Face? Tell us. Were you afraid of showing that girl what you really are?"

He staggered to a stop, the dark world spun. He said, "I've never killed anyone and I didn't want to start now, today, in front of her."

"That's
a
reason, but it’s not
the
reason. Is it, Beast?" asked Ilaan. "Is it more to do with the way she'd look at you when it was done? Maybe not so eager after all. Maybe she’d see you were ugly inside and out. Well, it doesn't matter anymore because SHE'S DEAD SHE'S DEAD AND SO ARE YOU YOU'RE NEVER GOING HOME IT'S TOO LATE YOU'RE TOO LATE”

He did fall, finally, and clapped his hands over his ears.

Lelet's white shoe, or what was left of it, lay on the ground in front of him. He picked it up and asked, "Is this real? Am I seeing this?"

Ilaan and Aelle were gone.

He got up and kept walking.

***

S
everal times he thought he smelled human urine. Once he gave himself a few minutes to rest, but when he closed his eyes, all he could see was that fat man and her fear. He pulled himself upright and kept walking. It got darker and he kept going, although he sometimes couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not.

I'm going to find her
, he told himself.
Because the Duke would find her, and she'll be safe and so happy to see him... see me...
he awoke leaning his forehead against a tree. He sighed and tried to remember which way he'd come. It was completely dark and he had no idea. At this rate he'd be walking in circles and they'd carve her into pieces and he'd be too late....

There was a noise. Someone was... singing? That was singing, wasn't it? And it was real this time, wasn't it?

He crept towards the sound and nearly fainted with relief when he spotted her pale hair in the faint firelight. She was sitting next to a tree with her arms behind her, he gathered they were tied. Her head was slumped over her chest. He hoped she was just sleeping.

The fat man was carrying on about something or other. The other two men were his audience. They were all drinking from bottles and then tossing them into the dark forest. The remains of their meal, some sort of meat stew, still clung to the bottom of an old iron pot. It had an unpleasantly gamey, almost metallic smell, but his stomach made such a rumble he was afraid he'd be heard. He tried to remember the last time he'd eaten and could only think of the taste of a pear. It was a better thing to think of than the burning in his head and in his throat.

He found a spot where he could see them all and settled in.

Finally the man with the sword grunted and rolled himself up in a blanket to sleep. He patted his weapon lovingly before turning away from the fire. The other man soon did the same, although Moth couldn't spot a weapon.
You must be the one who killed me
, Moth realized.
I hope I can return the favor.

The fat man said something to Lelet—he couldn't make it out—and got up to piss against a nearby tree. Moth rose to his feet, pain and exhaustion forgotten, and he changed.

––––––––

... and with one final great shove, the Duke heaved Sir Edward through the window. It was a long fall to the crags below, and Sir Edward screamed the whole way. The Duke and Gwyneth held themselves silent and still until they heard no more screams, then a thump. Then, as if a string had been cut, they fell into each other’s arms.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 183

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

Moth saw Lelet straining against the ropes. Had she seen him? He couldn’t worry about her now. He held up his hands, roiling with ash and smoke, dark smudges against the smolder of the fire pit. The flame crawled up his legs. He didn’t feel it.

Phee was first on his feet, but hadn't even lifted his blade when Moth stepped out of the fire and fell on him in an embrace that blotted him out. He didn't get a chance to scream, he just made a whistling noise and sank to the ground.

There was a distinct smell of cooked meat in the air.

The third man shouted, "Beb! Where are you? Phee?" He'd found the fat man's club and was swinging it in a wide arc. It had gotten quiet except for the hiss and crackle of the newly stoked fire. "Beb?"

There was no answer. The third man made a dash for the cart, meaning to take the horse and escape, but a lump of darkness tripped him and he went sprawling into the dirt. The man swore and got to his feet, holding the club in front of him like a shield.

Still nearly invisible, Moth said, "Now, are you the one that hit me with the rock? Or are you the one with the knife?"

The man let the club fall to his side. "You're dead," he said.

"No, as it turns out, I'm not," Moth said amiably, "but you are."

"What are you?"

"I'm a... I am the Beast."

By the unstable flickering firelight, Moth watched as if from a distant place as his hands close around the third man's throat. He, like Phee, made a shrieking, whistling noise before he fell. The cooked meat smell was overpowering.

Moth quickly hid his True Face, and rested on his knees for a moment. He'd never been so tired. An injury as extensive as the one he'd gotten required more than a quick nap, and he still wasn't sure how he'd made it through the forest. Later on, he'd be unable to remember most of it at all. Had there been others walking with him? It didn't seem likely. At least Lelet appeared to be unhurt, although the blank look on her face made him worry about her mind.