The Sand Prince (46 page)

"Lelet? It's me. Look at me. You're safe now," he said as he untied her hands. She jerked her head away. He thought she'd be happy to see him, or at least relieved, but she took no notice. She stood up with some difficulty but as soon as she was on her feet she walked right past him, heading for where Beb had fallen. The fat man was slowly moving his hands in the dirt, and Moth cursed himself for not searing his throat completely, and prolonging this for Lelet. She pulled a leather pouch from his belt and laid it aside. Then she found his knife. She held it up, looking at the firelight glitter on the blade.

Beb suddenly gave a heaving gasp and tried to sit up. He fell back, hands at his neck. He stank of charred meat. She looked back and forth between him and the knife. He tried to talk through a seared throat.

"What's that, Beb old friend?" she said. "Can't quite make it out. Say again, but take your time. We've got all night. Maybe you'd like to sing a song for us!"

He kept up the whispering and pawed weakly at the air above his face.

"What? Hmmm? Please, don't hurt me?" she said. "Is that it? Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me..." she repeated in a singsong voice that sounded nothing like her own.

"Lelet..." Moth stood behind her. He'd have to take the knife away from her in a moment.

"Shut up," she hissed at him. "You shut up. You're dead and you left me alone with them." She turned back to Beb, and put the knife against his burned neck. "Say it again, Beb. Please don't hurt me..." Beb's whispers had stopped. "Say it!" she shrieked.

"Lelet, he's dead. Put the knife down."

She threw it away and rose to her feet. Breathing hard, she took the three steps between them. He could see she was fighting to stay on her feet. She took another staggering step and fell against him. He could barely hold himself up and struggled not to fall.

"You died," she said in that strange grating voice, "and you left me alone with them." She looked up at him. "Am I dead too?"

"No,
shani
. No, and I didn't die either. At least, not for long. I told you how it is with me, that I can heal quickly. They hurt me but I didn't die. And even if they had killed me, I'd still come for you. Don't you know that?" She covered her face with her hands. "I'm sorry I left you alone. I got here as fast as I could." He blinked a few times and found he was sitting at her feet. "I'm sorry," he said again, "I've had a hard day."

She sat next to him and peered at the dark purple line on his throat. "I imagine you have," she said. "I'm sorry I yelled."

"It's all right. I didn't mind. This is yours." He handed her the remains of her white shoe.

Then everything was sideways and he closed his eyes.

***

I
t was barely light when he awoke. She had gotten a blanket and thrown it over him. She'd also set a cup of water next to him, and his clothing, retrieved from his hiding place among the trees, sat in a neatly folded stack. He gulped the water, then shook out his trousers and climbed back into them.

She was sitting cross legged some distance from him, staring into the now dead embers of the firepit with that strange vague expression still on her face.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked.

"You mean did they rape me? No. But look!" she said in a bright, brittle voice, "Now we match. I have some marks now too!" She pulled up her sleeve and showed him a bracelet of finger-shaped bruises on her upper arm. He looked away.

"They talked about it a bit, who was going to go first and so on, and that fat bastard got a couple of feels in, but I told them my family had money. Ha, just like I told you, remember?" His face burned. "They decided to put any major life choices off until the morning. I'm pretty sure they'd have gone for a bit of fun and then thrown me in the river. They didn't seem like long term planners." She picked up the knife. "Beb kept saying he had something for me, something I was going to like. A friend for me to meet. Do you suppose this is what he meant?" She laughed but it sounded like a scream. She tossed the knife aside and stared at the ashes. He couldn't think of a thing to say other than that he was sorry.

She shook her head. "I know you are. I know." She started to cry and he reached for her, but she put up her hand.

Finally she looked up. Her eyes were red and her face was puffy, but her voice was her own when she said, "It looks better. Your neck, I mean. Does it hurt?"

He touched the new scar. "Not so much, any more. They also took my rings. Now,
that
hurt."

"Oh!" she said. "Here." She handed him the little leather bag she'd taken from Beb.

"Thank you," he said, "for getting them back for me."

"Thank you," she replied, "for not being dead. And rescuing me. I don't know why I was so angry with you." She sighed. "I was going to kill that man. I wanted to. Why did you stop me?"

She remembers it differently than I do
, he thought.
She stopped herself.

"But they're dead and I'm alive," she continued. "And somehow you're alive, too." She touched his throat. Her touch was cool and he leaned against her hand. "Please never do that again." Her hand lingered on his cheek. He kissed the inside of her wrist. She made a soft sound. He kissed her palm. She sat back and pulled her hand away.

"Soon," she said with a small smile. "Really soon. But not here—with them, and the smell."

"Of course." He felt foolish. "I am thoughtless."

"No, you're very brave. And you saved my life. It's just, I need to think about some things. Everything's been happening so fast. Almost killing that man. I would have done it. What does that make me? I don't think my family would recognize me. What happens when I get home? And—" she looked him in the eye. "I've met a man who shouldn't exist. A beautiful mythological creature. And I've developed... intense feelings for this person."

"Oh, do you mean me?" he said with a smile.

"You are the most interesting thing that's ever happened to me. But I have to figure out why I should have to be kidnapped—twice—and meet someone who isn't strictly human for things to finally strike me as 'interesting'. Shouldn't it take less drama to get my attention?"

"I had to leave my home, my family—such as they are—and someone who would almost certainly have spent her life with me had I allowed it, everything I ever knew. I knew there was something else. And I thought I might find it here. So I imagine either you weren't paying attention, which is possible, or more likely, you weren't as content as you supposed."

She considered this.

"You are very clever."

"Well, if I'm adding correctly, I'm almost a hundred years older than you. I've had time to think."

They scattered the ashes of the fire, and together they carried the sword and Barbara (she had to explain the name) to the river and threw them in. She insisted on keeping Beb's knife and had found its sheath, which she wore low on her waist over the brown dress.

"You might die again," she said, "and beside, this awful thing needs a belt."

They watched the weapons vanish into the water. She said she wanted to jump in as well, but it was too cold.

"It’s unfair, the way you're perfectly clean," she said. "And your beard, that's gone, and yet somehow your hair is still there. There are plenty of women, and not a few men who'd like to know your secret." It wasn't only his scant beard that got burnt off when he changed form, the stink of blood and gore had been scorched away as well. It was like nothing had ever happened.

While she worked on getting only her head wet—she said the smell in her hair was making her feel ill—he dragged the three bodies well downstream and pushed them in. He was only sorry he couldn't kill them again. He thought perhaps Aelle would approve, but couldn't say for sure why.

***

T
hey sat quietly together on the driver’s bench of the cart. The campsite disappeared behind them and the road rolled forward. Moth finally said, "Intense feelings?"

She blushed and said, "It was your well-honed sense of outrage that finally tipped the scales."

"For me I believe it was the constant questions. All the questions. All the same questions, over and over."

"I got better answers from the horse," she laughed.

"Do you want to drive?" he asked, pretending to take offense.
I've never
pretended
to take offense before
, he marveled.

"No, no," she said. "You and this horse have forged a relationship so beautiful, I couldn't think of coming between you."

"Fine, then." He thought about the dead, the scattered ashes, and the river, washing it all clean. It seemed like a bad dream and a long time ago. "Let’s finally get you to your sister."

She gave him a curious look.

"My what?"

––––––––

"Ach, she'll be the sweetest bride this parish has ever seen," smiled Mrs. Beedle.

"And high time the Duke was wed, there was talk he'd be a life-long bachelor, and him with his sparkling eyes and white teeth..." sighed the cook.

"Have you been in the brandy?" Mrs. Beedle asked suspiciously.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 203

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

"My what?" Lelet repeated. Moth was staring at her with his eyes wide and hadn’t appeared to have heard her. Then he dropped the leads and grabbed her by the arms.

"Your sister! It’s your sister!"

"You said that," she said. She wriggled away and reached over him to pick up the leads. "Which one?" She cocked her head at him. "How do you know I have... did we talk about...?"

He shook his head, the string holding his hair back came loose and the dark mass flew in his face. He raked it back and repeated, "It’s your sister! I can’t believe it. How did this happen?"

"Moth." She pulled the horse to a stop and tucked his hair behind his ear. "Calm down and tell me. What about my sister?" Rather than calm down, he pulled her into an embrace and kissed her, then jumped down from the cart and began walking back and forth alongside it. She touched her lips. He’d been uncomfortably hot.

"I don’t know how but it’s gone." He looked up at her, perched on the edge of the driver’s bench. "You must think I’ve gone simple in my wits all of a sudden." He broke out in a grin. "But it’s gone. The rope, in my head, it’s just gone. I’m free." He resumed pacing. "It must have been... of course, it must have been when they killed me. So they really did kill me. Strange." He glanced over at her, his eyes gleaming. "Being dead, I can’t recommend it. But I suppose I should be grateful...."

She watched his monologue with her arms folded. It had been amusing to watch right up until the ‘killed me’ part. "Whenever you’re ready."

"Oh, sorry. Of course." He reached up to help her to the ground, but as soon as he touched her, she snatched her arm away.

"Ow! Moth, you’re burning!" She pointed at him. His shirt was smoking.

His exuberance faded as quickly as it had begun. His smile vanished and she felt the air turn cool between them. "Did I hurt you? Let me see."

"No, it’s fine. Look, it’s not even pink."

He lifted her to the ground. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize."

He looks like someone hit him in the head with a shoe,
she thought. "Take a breath. Everything is fine. Tell me what happened. Why are you grateful that you were dead?"

"Um. Let me see." He started pacing again. "When they killed me, it must have broken the binding spell. So now I can say it."

"Say what?"

He stopped pacing and faced her. "The binding spell was put on me by your sister Scilla at the Guardhouse, when she brought me here from the Veil. This was all her idea. To kidnap you. I’m to take you to see her."

Lelet stared at him for a moment. Tears were building behind her eyes. "You’re mad. Oh no, you’re a lunatic after all." She punched her fist against her palm. "Dammit! Why are all the pretty ones crazy?"

"You know perfectly well I am not a lunatic. Please don’t do that." She took a hitching breath. "There have been times you’ve asked me things and I couldn’t tell you."

"Yes," she said, "and I thought you were just being difficult and evasive." But she did recall the times he looked as if he was struggling to speak. Could this be true? "What in the world is a binding spell, and what does it have to do with my sister?"

He was silent for a long moment. They leaned against the cart. She was sorry she’d ruined his joyous mood, and hoped he had an answer that she could believe.

Finally he said, "I have a great deal to tell you, and you aren't going to like any of it."

***

"T
ell me again. From the beginning," she said. Before he could try and figure out exactly where the beginning was, she continued. "Are you one hundred percent sure we're talking about Scilla? Because she isn't anything at all like you're telling me."

"I am sure. And she's very angry at you. I think she feels as if you've neglected her. And she thinks you're spoiled. And selfish. And, um, loose?"

"Oh, come on!" She glared up at him. "I think I know my own sister better than you. And I'm trying to imagine her somehow dragging another person through this Door you keep talking about, and basically making them her servant. She's barely more than a little girl, it’s not possible."

"It's not 'another person' and it’s not 'them', it was me." She looked away. "Why do you think I took you from that alley? Did you think it was my own idea?"

"No, it was Rane's. We talked about this. You said he was the one that got you to do this." Hadn’t he? She struggled to recall. It seemed a long time ago, that night.

"No," he said. "No, you talked about it, you decided it was his doing, and I couldn't say anything at all. There's more, I'm afraid." He looked at the ground, his face grim. "Scilla made me go to your house."

"Well, obviously, that's where you threw me in this stupid cart." She looked at him, willing it not to get any worse.