But Ilaan was gone. His room and his door and the people on both sides were gone. Eriis was gone. It was dim and quiet and cool, and completely deserted.
He was in the Veil.
Chapter 32
"I heard voices, my Lord" said Gwennyth.
The Duke turned, trying to block what she already had seen.
Cybelle dos Shaddach lay upon the stairs, her head at a most alarming angle, her face quite blue.
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 110
Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)
Mistra
100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar
20 years later, Eriisai calendar
The Guardhouse
Disaster, my sister.
That was the message Scilla saw when chores were done. She'd returned to her cell and eagerly reached for her notebook. The Voice had been telling her about the seasons. They had been discussing whether snow and ice were more beautiful on Eriis or Mistra and she wanted to continue the conversation.
Disaster, my sister.
But how? What did it mean? She quickly dashed a note—could she help? Was her Voice in danger? She paced through the night.
Finally, near dawn, a message. A most disturbing one.
One of our own has fled into the Veil. This degraded creature thinks to escape its rightful place as our prisoner and wreak havoc among you humans. We cannot reach this monster from Eriis.
Let me help—let me go after it! I know I can do it.
We cannot justify putting you in such a dangerous position. I argued against it myself—even knowing as I do, your cleverness and strength. It is simply too much to ask.
You don't have to ask! I want to do it! Just tell me how. If we work together, I know I can capture this beast.
You would do this for us? For me? I won't forget your bravery when the time comes to stand on the City Wall and receive the thanks of all of us in Eriis. Here is what you must do....
And this, the most important part:
As soon as you sense it, it is vital you bind it. It must not be allowed to escape. Capture it, bind it, and hold it. Bring it back with you thus contained and wait for me. I will explain how to dispose of the creature and our gratitude—my gratitude—will be boundless.
Scilla already had the rare and exotic books she'd need to complete the binding spell. In fact, the best and most valuable parts of the Order's library now resided in her own room. No one ever noticed. The rest of the night was spent racing between her notebook and the piles of books on her bookshelf, shoved under her bed, and stacked in her wardrobe.
Finally, with the sky barely lit with dawn, she was ready to go.
She lit the candle and read the words she’d so painstakingly transcribed and translated. Maybe this was the first time anyone had ever said them out loud, she thought. Certainly the first time they’d been read in this place.
I am breaking a window a generation old. I am climbing through the window.
She never stopped to wonder if anyone dedicated to patrolling those windows would notice a broken pane. She never considered she might fail. She said the words, she made the shapes, she created the hole. And last and most importantly, she took a needle and pricked her finger. Just a tiny drop—barely enough to see in the dim candle light. But the blood made it work. Without blood, she and the Voice would do nothing but shout at each other through the locked Door until the moons fell into the sea.
The blood hit the page.
She pulled back the Veil and went through.
Her room was gone, and Scilla knew she was in an in-between place. The light, what there was of it, was dim. It was very quiet and it smelled a bit stuffy—like a long neglected closet. It seemed both limitless and cramped. It felt heavy. She waited. Would the escaped prisoner come to her? It was important that she sense it before it found her. She realized with a thrill, that she was a little bit scared.
A long time later, or maybe just a moment, she decided to look around. She walked for miles—possibly the length of her room. It looked the same. There was no way to tell. It all looked the same. It all was the same, really. She was no longer scared or even particularly excited. She felt as if the strange place was seeping into her brain and pushing her own thoughts to the side. Knowing this, she realized she didn’t really care.
"I'm looking for something... What was it? Oh well. I guess I'll know it if it happens to come by."
Despite her strangely languid mood, a tiny flare of anxiety lit in her belly. This place—the Veil—looked like nothing, was made of nothing, and what if she couldn’t find her way back? She tried to retrace her steps, but it was all the same—cool, dark, and quiet. She felt a strong desire to sit down. Maybe take a nap. The Voice would just have to wait. Her mission drifted until it was a boring story she'd heard ages ago. Unless she'd dreamed the whole thing. Yes, that was likely. She’d been here in the dark forever. It was so perfectly simple. This was real and it was so wonderfully quiet....
Then she knew she wasn’t alone. Nothing changed, but Scilla sensed a ripple in the stillness. Something brushed her cheek and she felt the hairs on her arms rise. She heard a breath. Not her own.
"Don’t panic. Panic is for everyone else." She tried to slow her heart and control her terrified panting, but her body wouldn’t obey. "Say the words," she told herself. "The binding spell. I know them, I’ll say them, I’ll go back to the Guardhouse. Lower the Veil." She couldn’t remember how the words had started. Despite the cool, her shift stuck to her back.
Out of the dark haze, she saw a hand reaching out, blindly groping for purchase. Without thinking, she reached for it. She pulled. And then she screamed and let it go, because the hand was as hot as the inside of an oven. But she'd already said the words, and the Veil was falling back down around her.
She could hear screaming. She recognized the voice as her own. She was tumbling backwards, and the owner of the hand she'd pulled was tumbling with her. She was shrieking the words over and over. Then the Veil and the darkness collapsed on her and the air rushed out.
Chapter 33
Gweynth looked sadly back over her shoulder at her father's farmstead. She knew she'd never see it, or her brothers again. She opened her little bag and made sure for the hundredth time that it was there—her favorite book of children's stories. If she had nothing else to bring to the household of this Duke, at least she had her stories.
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 25
Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)
Mistra
100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar
20 years later, Eriisai calendar
The Guardhouse
Scilla opened her eyes. Same cell. On the bed. Candle still lit, and predawn light at the window, which was no light at all. But there was one new thing—crouching on the floor was a man. At least, it resembled a man. It seemed to have been recently on fire because wisps and curls of smoke rose from its dark grey skin. It looked soft despite the char. Scilla wanted to touch it but realized that would have been forward of her, even if her guest was a demon. She glanced at her hand. The palm was bright pink with a fresh burn. It smarted. She'd deal with it later. This had to be the escapee her Voice had warned about. And she'd captured it! That meant... well, what did it mean, exactly? Her Voice hadn't said. But the Voice had been abundantly clear on one thing; when you captured a supernatural creature, it was prudent—no, vital—to put a binding spell on it. Not only could it not set you on fire, or make you dematerialize, or turn you into some sort of lizard, but if you bound it, it had to obey you. The Voice would be delighted by how carefully she'd carried out her mission.
From the Voice's pained tone, she was certain this was a somehow inferior species. Maybe a lower-natured cousin, far removed from the race of elegant demons who walked the glass skyways over the glittering seas. This thing... this creature on her floor looked up at her now. Its eyes were a bright, clear red-gold
and it stared at her appraisingly. Other than the eyes, and the smoke, and the skin, it looked enough like a man to almost be one.
"Are you Malloy?" Scilla wasn’t sure she had heard it correctly. It repeated itself. "Are you Malloy Dos Capehart?"
"Who? No!" she replied. That name, it sounded familiar.
It sat back, obviously confused. "Then why did you bring me here?"
"I—" She paused. It knows I went hunting, but the binding should protect me. Just don't tell it anything. Don’t panic now. That's for other people. And demons. "I simply went fishing in the Veil, and look what I caught! You work for me, now."
"Release me at once," it demanded. "This is highly improper."
"Yes, I’m sure you think so, seeing as you're the one who’s been caught." She folded her arms and tried to look imposing, even a little bored by the whole thing. Who doesn't have a captive demon?
It leaned forward and she drew back despite herself.
It cocked its smoldering head and asked, "What if I were to kill you right now?"
She dared another quick glance at her burned hand. She had no doubt it could kill her easily. But would it? This had not occurred to her. The binding spell should protect her from any attack, but what if she'd gotten it wrong? She kept her face still and said, "If you killed me, how would you get home? You wouldn't."
It sat quietly for a while. She began to make a little list of jobs in her head.
"There will be repercussions for this," it finally said, running its hands over its head. As it did, ash fell to the floor.
"No doubt. But until they come due, you’ll have to do as I say." She had no personal evidence of this, but she had grown up on fairy tales and politics—and in any case the demon hadn’t argued. The room was starting to fill with smoke. "And can you not do that? It's getting hard to breathe. Can’t you do that thing where you hide your face and look like a regular person?" She'd done a great deal of research, her 'independent studies,’ on just this sort of thing.
"Not here." It pointed at her stacks of antique books, which she gathered were keeping it from transforming into something else.
"Who is—what was that name you said?" she asked.
"No one. Someone I wanted to talk to." It shook its head. "This is not what I expected."
Scilla felt the start of something—this was going to be thrilling. "Well, you can just talk to me instead! I have so many questions! Where to begin. Um. So, what were you doing so close to my... ah, net?"
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.
***
The 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.
Chapter 34
"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)
Mistra
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.
Chapter 35
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)
Mistra
100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar
20 years later, Eriisai calendar
Outside the Guardhouse
The Sand Prince Page 18
