The Sand Prince

by Kim Alexander

Rhuun put as much ground between himself and the Guardhouse as he could before he had to throw himself down under a tree and rest.

  "Hello, human person. My name is Moth," he said, trying it out. It wasn't bad, as names went, and he certainly wasn't going to tell that girl his real name. He'd heard about mages who could call you through time and between worlds by calling your real name. He doubted the girl was a real mage, but she had some odd sort of power. Why take a chance?

  This far from the influence of the books in the child's room, he found he was also able to hide his face. Eyes, though, still a problem. For the first time, right shape but wrong color. He'd have to figure something out to hide them.

  Why am I worrying about such silly things, he wondered. How long was I in the Veil? He was afraid it was a very long time.

  I’m part human. He was strangely relieved. He wasn't the worst demon who ever lived. He wasn't really a demon at all.

  For every answer—this is why I never fledged, this is why I have no fire—a dozen more questions. He knew he must have some Eriisai blood; he could do a few things. He could disappear, after a fashion. And he had his mother's eyes, everyone said so. His father's too, perhaps.

  He wished Ilaan was with him. He'd had plenty of time in the Veil to think about things, and much of that revolved around Ilaan.

  When he'd read the spell and left Eriis, he quickly realized he'd only made it halfway. The grey and oppressive space pressed down on him and he knew the other side—the human world—didn't look like a dark cave. He knew less about the mechanics of the Veil than he should, although in retrospect he guessed he knew less about every single scorping thing in his life than he should. With that knowledge bitter in his mouth he’d decided to take a walk in what resembled a dimly lit corridor, although he couldn't say how long he’d sat before he rose to go. And he didn't really know how far he'd gone. And really, what did it matter? He’d sat back down—was it where he'd started? Or somewhere else? He tried to put together what Ilaan had told him. Human. The concept flew around his head like a little mouse with wings. Half-human? Had his mother accepted the spark from a human person? It seemed unthinkable. She never once expressed an interest in anything other than the superiority and safe keeping of Eriis. But would she take on the responsibility of raising someone else's crippled human child, and never say a word?

  He’d wandered the Veil for what felt like days, or minutes. He’d felt himself drifting....

  The questions that followed him around had faded away until his mind was as still as a stone. He’d spent a long time sitting in a dim, quiet space watching a dark spot on the wall. Then he’d realized there was no wall and maybe no spot and he'd been literally staring into space. Eh, that was fine. The view had been the same with his eyes opened or closed. Finally he’d closed them and prepared to drift off, maybe for a really long time. Maybe for just a few seconds. Maybe forever.

  Then, in the middle of all that nothing, there’d been something. A flash of light at the edge of his field of vision. He’d regretted the interference in his perfect still nothingness, but went to investigate.

  He’d followed tiny flashes of light, random sounds—like the sound a candle makes as it burns—and the smell of a library. As he’d become more interested, the flashes grew brighter and stronger. He saw color—real color. As red as a woman's hair and as blue as a scrap of silk. He’d eagerly gone towards the source.

  It was a mistake. It had been some sort of snare. The control he maintained over his physical form—his temperature, his True Face—was dragged away. He was freezing. He was burning. Then he’d felt as if someone had thrown a rope around his mind. He’d tried desperately to back away from the glowing colors but someone was pulling on the rope and he was yanked closer. He’d thrown his hands out to keep from falling forward.

  Someone had taken his hand. Then they were gone and it was all screaming. Then the strange little girl in the stone room. He’d tried to hide his True Face from the human girl at once, but something in those old books pressed down on him like a fist. He could only try to hide his confusion. Ilaan had been right, as he usually was. Naked as a sand hill. And it had been horrible, not funny at all.

  He didn't blame Ilaan. What else could he have done? If you thought about it (which he had done at great length) from Ilaan's perspective it had worked as well as it could—they'd known it wasn't quite complete. How could Ilaan have known there'd be a girl waiting in the Veil to pull him through? And where was Dos Capeheart in all this? He'd expected to be greeted by his author, not some random child, certainly not by a child with some sort of power. Ilaan would be interested to hear that binding spells worked on this side.

  They'd have a lot to talk about when he got home.

  But for now he was here. He'd made it to the human side. He caught his breath and took a look around. Almost immediately he had to clap his hands over his eyes—he had never seen so many things all in one place.

  "Start slowly," he told himself. "Let's start with this tree."

  He spent a long time with the bark before moving on to the leaves. He was a little stunned when he realized the tree had always been a tree—it hadn't been transformed from something else. He finally let himself look up at the leaves, and even though the constant motion made him feel a little queasy, he couldn't bring himself to look away from the color and light. The sky (which was the same sky on both sides of The Door, it was said) had a sun that was made of light. Light and blue. His sky, the sky of Eriis, was low and grey brown. It was nothing but clouds and most of the time you couldn't see through them. He knew his mother's Mages worked tirelessly to finally break the clouds apart, but it hadn't happened yet and they made no promises. He'd heard about a clear sky over Eriis from stories about before the War. Had the sky back home ever been this bright? And he realized with a start that there was what you might call a breeze, but no wind. He was very far outside, far from any structure or gate or wall, and there was no need for a scarf. His eyes, now more accustomed to the bright day, weren't stinging from sand or grit or ash.

  The book had been true. This place was magical.

  Ilaan had sworn he'd find a way to bring him home. Rhuun thought about the way the paper had burned to ash in his hands. He hoped his friend had gotten to work. In the meantime, he had to obey the strange child who had caught him. He laughed grimly to himself. I guess my big plan of living on my own terms is off the table for a while. The wind that blows me around now comes from a human. Would she follow the law and release him when she was done with him? She seemed a bit... off. But how could he be sure? Maybe the human persons were all like her, not sweet like Gwyneth, or strong like the Duke, or even sly like Cybelle. That was a concern, but things in their order.

  When he could look around and handle the color, light, and motion without getting dizzy, he decided to explore. Why not? None of his people had been on this side of the Door in his lifetime. He wondered what people were saying about him, how Aelle had taken the news, if his mother was in trouble. He realized he might be on this side for a very long time.

  He walked until he came to a river (with many interruptions to observe leaves and stones) and that stopped him dead in his tracks. He knew what it was—in The Claiming of the Duke the characters were always sailing from one river town to the next—but to see one in person! It was nothing like the vast, moving sand rivers beyond the city walls. He forgot his precarious circumstances and crossed the broad swath of green grass that formed a natural border to the bank. He gingerly walked out onto the muddy shore, sinking just a bit, and spent some time squishing the mud between his toes. It was warm from the sun and not unpleasant, although very strange. It clung to his legs much like the dust back home. He supposed mud and dust were cousins. He looked at the water for a long time, at the way it threw back bits of light and the way it never stopped moving. Water couldn't be that different from air. Air was full of light and never stopped moving. He could see the bottom for a few feet, then it quickly got too deep to foll
ow. He waded out until he was knee deep, to where it dropped off, looked at the sky, and stepped off the edge.

  After he'd managed to get himself back to the grassy shore, and had stopped coughing up river water, he lay in the sun and turned his heat up. In a moment he was dry. He laughed weakly. So that was what they call cold! Also I can't breathe underwater. So—water is not like air. And I don't seem to be able to float very well, either.

  He heard voices and quickly retreated to the dense growth that marked the edge of the forest.

  A young man and woman strolled out onto the grass, setting down bags and baskets. The woman, like the lady on the cover of his book, wore her hair unbound—which, he decide, was much to his liking. They quickly shed their clothes and jumped—on purpose—into the water. There was much splashing and laughing. The young man would disappear under the dark water and surface somewhere different, and the girl would shriek with laughter every time. Eventually, she complained of being cold. He watched as they got out of the water. There were sprays and drop of water flying everywhere as they shook out their hair. So far, he thought, water is my favorite part. They continued to laugh, but now seemed more interested in kissing. Very much like in my book! he thought with satisfaction. Those people were always kissing when they weren't arguing or traveling.

  When they began to make love on the warm banks of the river he knew he should look away, but it was all so interesting. The boy and girl had completely different colored hair, and the skin of his body was darker than hers. Their bodies were hypnotic flashes of color and shape. He was too far to tell for sure, but they didn't appear to ornament their flesh with ink or gold. And that wasn't the only peculiarity—he was surprised to see how gentle they were, as if afraid the other would break. The young man touched the girl's body in a way that looked correct, but no blows, no slaps. No sparks or flames at all. Were all humans like that? How did they know anything had happened? He had to find Dos Capehart. The end of the book surely would make it clear.

  As the couple slept the afternoon away, he stole the boy’s clothes and the girl’s bag. He hadn’t gone far before he went back and took the boy’s wide brimmed hat.

  The river still captured his attention more than the land, and he found a quiet, secluded spot to watch it rush past. Eventually the moons rose, and he understood why people talked about them so much. As it got darker, it also got quieter, and that made it easier to think.

  He slept under a tree with the bag rolled up under his head, totally alone, never noticing that every animal in the wood, when it sensed him, turned and went the other way.

  ***

  Very early the next morning, he heard Scilla call, a tug in his mind. There was just enough light to cast shadows, and that was how he traveled to meet her, practically unseeable. He felt much more at ease and could look around without getting dizzy, so he could both watch where he was going and use his one useful ability. Oddly, it seemed easier to vanish in this strange place. Maybe there were just more shadows. Still, he had to step away from shade here and there and stop and look at some really sparkly rocks. Rocks! But they somehow added to the beauty of the scene. This place was full of wonders.

  She met him in a clearing in the woods. Still going unseen, he took a look at her in the daylight. She was very young, he'd been right about that. She had long brown braids that were slightly mussed. She wore a heavy cape which looked well used but expensive over what appeared to be a nightdress. She appeared to be anxious, looking behind her back towards the great stone heap of a building she'd trapped him in the day before. Well, she could just wait. Before he let her see him, he spent some time looking at the tree stumps, draped with velvety moss. The green of the moss was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Except, perhaps, light on water.

  Chapter 36

  The beast was huge, Gwenyth imagined it weighed nearly as much as she did. She held out her hand, palm up. The breast of capon had been intended for her dinner, but this seemed a more sensible course. The dog sniffed it, then picked it up delicately between its massive jaws. It was gone in one bite. The wolfhound licked her hand, its tail thumping against the floor.

  -The Claiming of the Duke, pg 49

  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

  Scilla didn't have to wait very long for her demon to show up, which was a good thing because she did not want to be missed at the Guardhouse. So the creature was punctual, that was good to know. She wasn't sure what to expect; would it still be a frightening vision of grey skin and smoke? She took a jump back when a tall young man appeared out of nowhere in front of her. This was called ‘Hiding Its True Face,’ she knew that from her studies. She noted that the creature had somehow procured a loosely woven shirt of plain dark brown cloth with large bone buttons. It fit well enough, unlike the trousers, which were a good handspan too short. It was barefoot and had a broad brimmed straw hat jammed over its long dark hair. It now looked like a poor farmer. Then it took off the hat so she could see its eyes, and it looked like nothing she'd ever seen.

  "I see you have some clothes," she said by way of greeting.

  It said, "I see you have something for me to do, little wench. Will you set me free, then?"

  "Demon, I think you ought to look at this as an ambassadorship to our side. Think of everything you’ll learn here. And when I feel it’s time, off you’ll go on your own. So stop asking." It nodded unhappily. Good, so it knew this was not a request. "That thing you did, where you are hard to see? I saw you do it when you left my cell. Can you do it whenever you want?" It nodded again. She blew a breath out. "Excellent. That makes this so much easier."

  "What am I doing on my great quest to learn about your world?" it asked, rather rudely, she thought. "I feel certain you have some very specific ideas."

  She smiled and held out a twist of paper. "You’re going to a party and putting this in the wine."

  "What is wine?" it wanted to know.

  "Um, you drink it? It's red, I guess, it comes in tall bottles. It makes people act like idiots."

  "Oh, like sarave", it said, wincing slightly. "You call it wine?" It squinted suspiciously at the paper cone she'd handed it. "I won't take lives. I am bound to you but I'll take this myself before I take lives for you."

  "Oh, don't be so dramatic. It'll just give them headaches." It looked relieved. Would it really take its own life? There was so much to learn! "Then you’re going to a house and breaking some glass. You know what mirrors are?" She was shaking with excitement.

  "Mirrors and wine. So I’m an ambassador slash petty criminal?"

  This creature was as petulant as her sister! Scilla wished she could force it to be more enthusiastic, but she couldn't control its feelings, only its actions. She shrugged. "Think of all the people you’ll meet! Just don’t look them in the eye."

  It glared at her. Even in its human form, it was a little frightening to be on the receiving end of that gaze.

  "When you go to this house—" she continued.

  "The house with the wine? Or the house with the mirrors?"

  Now it was just being difficult, she could tell. She drew a deep breath. "The house with the mirrors, the second one. You might see me there. Maybe not. I don't know for sure. But if you see me, you must never try and talk to me or contact me in any way. In that house, you are always invisible."

  The demon considered this. She could see it trying to decide what to ask, and what it thought she would answer.

  Finally it said, "Tell me about the house. The mirror house. If I am to bring mischief it might be helpful to know who bears the brunt, no?"

  Scilla chewed her lip. "You'll find a family."

  "Your family?" it asked.

  "My family is the Order," she said with a great deal of conviction. "But they are my brothers and sisters, yes. The eldest two
are of no concern to you. They are called Pol and May, leave them alone. The next boy is Rane and the girl is called Lelet. Make trouble between them. It'll be easy, they hate each other."

  "Not as much as you hate them, I gather?" it asked in a lofty tone.

  This thing was turning out to be more intelligent than she'd planned. She could hear an echo of the Voice when it spoke. She hadn't thought about using it as anything other than a blunt instrument. Would there be other, more elegant uses for it? Suddenly curious, she asked, "Do you have a sister?"

  There came a pause. Why would it have to stop and think about that? Maybe they have nests, like snakes.

  Finally, "No."

  Scilla nodded and began to pace. She could feel her face getting warm. "Then you don't know what it’s like watching someone get everything. Is she smart? Is she kind? Is she clever? No! None of those things. And she gets everything she wants, all the time. She colors her hair pink like a clown. She's a drunk. She's a fool. She... sees men."

  "I see men," the demon smirked. "I see lots of things. I'm seeing you right now."

  "Not like that," she hissed. "You know what I'm talking about, I know you do. She'll act all sweet and like she cares, but she doesn't. She only cares about herself. She's the one. Do whatever you want to Rane, he'll be sent to our father out at the farms and it'll probably be good for him. But Lelet? She should bear the brunt. Let her know what it’s like to lose something she cares about."

  "What did this girl take away from you?" it asked.

  Scilla had tears standing in her eyes. Her face was bright red. The Voice had agreed with her, it wasn’t fair that Lelet got everything and she was left with nothing at all. And now her cow of a sister would find out what it was like when things didn’t go your way.

  My dresses, my party, my friends, my fancy shoes, my own room, my own house, she listed the stolen things in her head. The nice dinner because I'm coming home, which you won't be at because you're going to a party instead. There's something special waiting for you at your little party, Lelet. "She ruins everything." She wiped her face and took a breath. "That's all you have to know. You are filled in."