The Sand Prince

by Kim Alexander

  Moth wondered if Rane would be proud of his little sister's emotional development. He also wondered briefly what pie was. He asked, "What kind of a place is it, anyway?" There was an old expression on Eriis about knowing the mind of your master. "Why do they have her locked away?"

  "It's supposed to be a great honor—oh, thank you, I will take a splash more... more... more... that's fine—for the family. Fifth child goes to the Order. Stupid thing to do with some crazy old story about demons."

  Moth froze, the glass halfway to his lips. "But you don't believe in that."

  "No one does, I mean really! Demons!" Rane shook his head and continued with some real anger. "That's like the whole point of the school, they train the Fifths to keep some imaginary Door portal thing shut so the demons can't get in to invade the fair and innocent city of Mistra. Which, if you ask me, could use a good invasion. So the Families endow the Guardhouse, and it’s just a big scam. So yeah, that's where she lives. And from what she says, she loves it there! Spending her life keeping us safe from imaginary demons. If that isn't the stupidest thing you ever heard in your life. Er, afterlife. Apologies."

  "So no demons, but you believe in ghosts?" Tread lightly, he thought.

  "Well, obviously I've never drunk a bottle of very nice..." Rane peered at the bottle "... '87 Reserve with a demon, now have I? I guess if I wake up in the morning and there's only one glass the jokes on me and my brain tumor. Why? Do you have some sort of post-viability inside information?"

  "No," said Moth, "I think I know less than you. I was... away for a long time before I came here." He wished he could say more, although he could tell Rane was not one to trust with a secret. He'd been on this side long enough to know perfectly well that dogs couldn't talk. "Tell me why you fight with your other sister. She seems nice enough to me." At Rane's look he added, "It’s possible I'm wrong, of course. I could be a poor judge of character, being a ghost. Which I am."

  Rane laughed again and poured them both another healthy shot. "I could tell you stories that would make your hair fall out about that girl. Do you know, she put spiders in my shoes! Real spiders! But honestly, it’s just something we do. I can't remember a time when we didn't have some sort of grudge death-match going on." He looked slightly confused. "But it wasn't her that's been getting into my things recently, is it? So we really haven't been fighting for a while." He looked at Moth suspiciously. "It's you that's doing it." Rane stared down at his bandaged hand and back at Moth, who began to look around the room for a good, deep shadow.

  Rane lost color and set his drink down with a bang. "I may have done something bad," he said. "I may have made a mistake." He stood and began to pace. "I wasn't sure it was you, after all. It might still have been her. Birds and bats. I had my suspicions, but the mirror pieces in my bed, well, look!" He shoved his bandaged hand under Moth's nose. "I was angry. There was blood—my blood. What was I supposed to do? Nothing?"

  "It was me," said Moth, keeping an eye on a dark place behind the door, "and I am sorry about that, but I had my reasons. What did you do?"

  "It isn't my fault!" Rane's voice rose alarmingly. "I didn't know it wasn't her, and even if I did, she had it coming." He looked out the window, at the floor, anywhere but at Moth. "Whatever happens, it's her fault."

  Moth took Rane by the arm. He knew these humans liked to touch each other and found comfort in it. "Tell me what happened." He pitched his voice quiet and low, the voice he used with Aelle when she was trying to have a fight. "Just tell me and we can figure it out and fix it. Its fine, you'll see. Here, sit down. Here's your drink." Rane took another swallow of the liquor and a deep breath. When he looked up, Moth thought his eyes looked like that of a bird in the trees – shiny and blank.

  "I paid a boy to cut the girth on her tack."

  Moth knew what 'cut' was but the rest meant nothing to him. "I don't... why is that bad?"

  "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you? City ghost." He gave Moth a scorching look of disgust and spoke slowly. "The saddle. On the horse. It holds the whole thing together. And I had it cut almost through. So your little friend is probably lying in a ditch somewhere, and now that I think about it, it’s really all your fault. You did it."

  Moth still wasn't completely clear about what Rane had done, but he understood 'lying in a ditch'. "I'm going to find her. You're right, this is my fault." In a way, it was. Also, he figured it was best to just agree with everything Rane came out with. If Scilla had looked a bit off, Rane looked exactly like someone who had conversations with dogs. "Just stay here. Have another glass. I'm going to go make sure she's fine, and then we can talk some more."

  "You'd do that for me?" Rane looked so nakedly hopeful it made Moth afraid he'd never get out of the room if he didn't agree.

  "I owe it to you, don't I? Isn't this my fault?"

  "I'm feeling a little tired. Let me know she's fine, won't you?" Rane turned his back on Moth and looked out the front window, down towards the street and the horses and flowers and humans and dogs. "Goodbye. It was nice meeting you."

  Chapter 42

  The Duke slapped Mammoth on his shining neck. "You and me, my lad, that's all the company I could ever want or need."

  The horse rolled its great eye back at its master as if to say, "That's kind of you to say but not completely true."

  -The Claiming of the Duke, pg 71

  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

  Rosemont Park

  Mistra, as it turned out, hadn't satisfied itself with its network of bridges, neighborhoods of huge houses, cramped apartment buildings, theaters, universities, museums, and libraries. It also took into account that someone, one day, might like to go riding. So a long series of interconnected parks ran practically through the center of the city, perfect for a day out with your horse.

  Moth thought about Eriis—the Quarter he'd once found so enticing and dangerous, the Market where you'd meet everyone you knew. His family's quarters—which despite its grand size had only ever housed himself and his mother. His library. The school and the play yard. Burning plains outside the city wall. And all of it seen through a dim haze of ash.

  He wondered if he'd ever see it again. Every now and then he would ask himself if he still wanted to go home. And he did. But sometimes he couldn't remember exactly why, other than that it was his.

  Following a footpath to a pedestrian bridge to an ornamental roundabout and past a stable and restaurant (he kept well clear but even so, the horses could tell he was nearby) he found himself at the edge of a huge, velvety green, manicured lawn. How do they get the grass so perfect? He'd have to worry about that later. He could see buildings rising in the distance, on the other side of the parkland. He thought that was where he'd attended the party with the wine, but he couldn't be sure.

  Right now he was following the tiny spark which he recognized as Lelet. He thought again how much he didn't know. Why could he see them? He’d never seen such things back home, and it wasn’t likely this was some new skill he’d suddenly manifested. Was it because he was bound to the household? Like the mystery of the perfect lawn, it would have to wait.

  He'd stuck his head through the kitchen door and asked a maid, elbow deep in hot soapy water, if she'd seen Lelet. 'Riding, as usual', the woman responded without looking over her shoulder. He’d waited for the pull, the mental leash that kept him from leaving the house, or speaking Scilla's name, or the hundred other rules she'd made him follow. But this time, he’d felt nothing. He could go and look for Lelet.

  He'd retrieved his stupid hat from his pile of possessions on Lelet's balcony and left the house, reverting back to carefully slipping through shadows. He was surprised to find the ability felt easier and more natural than it ever had back home. I'm good for something after all. And then he thought, My blood likes it here. And then, Don't think abou
t that now. Everything in its order.

  He'd been strenuously avoiding that line of thought since he'd arrived in Mistra.

  What if she's lying with a twisted ankle in the middle of a field? What if I have to carry her back to the house? He wanted to throttle Scilla for putting him in the middle of this family of screamers, clowns, drunks, and outright lunatics. I fit right in. An occasionally invisible half demon who may also be either a ghost or a brain tumor.

  He followed a little stream, taking a moment to admire the rills and tiny falls it made over the rocks—water was still his favorite part, although the green smell of the park was a new and intense pleasure, huge and sweet, similar to his glass house (which was more intimate and a little bitter) and as he continued he could feel Lelet's spark growing brighter. He was close. If he kept on this particular path, at least he'd be close to the cover of the trees. He looked at the sky, noting it would be getting dark soon, and that was good news for being invisible, but bad news for finding one small woman in an unlit forest, or field, or up a tree, or wherever she was.

  From behind, he heard a series of muffled thumps, a sort of loud snort, and something that might have been a grunt. He turned to find himself eye to eye with the object of so much of his fascination. The horse, however, didn't seem so happy to see him, it made the angry little dogs look like stuffed mice. Its face, startling in its size, was dark brown with a big white stripe between the eyes, and it had huge yellow teeth. He was sure it was going to bite him, and quickly took a step back. It took a step forward. He backed up again, this time tripping and landing on the grass. It stood over him, giving him a good look at its teeth, but at least it did not seem like it would take his head off.

  Despite its general appearance of ferociousness, its nose looked so soft, he was touching it before he could stop himself. It blew into his hand and nodded with such enthusiasm he had to duck out of the way. Maybe it wasn't terribly angry after all?

  "It’s very nice to make your acquaintance," he told the horse as he stroked its nose, braving a tentative pat between the animal’s enormous brown eyes. "Are you Lelet's horse? Is that why you're upset? Because you have to deal with these crazy humans also? And why are you not nervous that I'm near you? This is one of Pol's shirts. Maybe you think I'm him." (It was tight through the shoulders, but Pol enjoyed his meals, so in other respects it was roomy enough.) The horse had no answer, but moved so fast that he had to roll out of the way to avoid getting stepped on. Its feet were huge and appeared to be made of bone. He noted the part you sit on—some sort of elaborate leather contraption—was twisted underneath. It looked uncomfortable. He gathered that was the reason it was in a bad mood. "I don't suppose you'll be leading me to her? Because that would be extremely useful."

  It snorted again and wandered back the way he'd come.

  "Well, it was nice to meet you," he called after it.

  He got to his feet and followed Lelet's spark deeper into the parkland. He thought it was possible that the horse was the most sensible creature he'd met so far. The Duke's enormous affection for his Mammoth became even more understandable.

  Well, Malloy, you got that part right. And if there's a Mammoth, maybe there's also a Gwenyth. In any event, I very much look forward to our sitting down for a talk.

  He continued to follow the little stream and follow the tiny light that led him towards the girl. Finally, he thought he saw something on the far side of the water, very close to the bank, breaking up the unending vivid green—although long shadows were starting to turn the meadow and the forest black. A bit of red, he thought, could that be her? He paled. Blood? What if she was dead? Rane was right, I've as good as killed her myself.

  He put on some speed, flowing invisibly along the darkening treeline. He got closer.

  He was too late.

  Chapter 43

  Eriis

  20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar

  100 years later, Mistran calendar

  Dzhura Square

  If it was the purpose of a party to fill the mouths of every gossip at Court and in the market square, then Yuenne's fete to celebrate his son's ascension to the Mages was the one to which all others would aspire, until the moons fell into the sand.

  'The Queen shimmering in as if it were her dry room and not the home of the Counselor, that was interesting, don't you think? She takes liberties, if you ask me.'

  'The Prince staggering off during an argument with poor Aelle, well, that was common enough, but still worth mentioning. And didn't that nice young Hollen pay her some proper attention? That would be a match that made sense to look at, too bad Hollen's family came from nowhere. Does he even have prospects at Court? Oh well. Yuenne would never allow it, he's already invested too much in the Prince.'

  'But hadn't you heard? That was the best part. The Mages came bursting through the door—Yes, I know, but there they were.'

  'Half a human? Things are starting to make sense regarding that unfortunate young man. And now he's nowhere to be found. I heard he went through the Door.'

  'I heard he's fled to the Edge, and his mother close behind.'

  'I heard young Ilaan had something to do with it. He may never get that Zaalmage robe, after all.'

  'And poor Aelle, no Seat for her. Yuenne is beside himself.'

  'Wouldn't have expected it of our Queen.'

  'You didn't know her in the old days. Before the War. Everything was different, then.'

  'Everything is different, now.'

  ***

  Standing in front of her son's door, Hellne put on her best smile, the one she saved for emergencies, and thanked everyone for their concern, but insisted the Mages were mistaken, and even to consider such a thing was preposterous. But she watched as Yuenne and the Zaal whispered together and knew it was only a matter of time.

  You are recorded, Princess. Payment due.

  She heard nothing from behind the door. Was Rhuun safely away or simply passed out? She wanted to kill him. She wanted to hide him.

  She couldn't hold them off forever; the Mages, Yuenne, and a handful of curious partygoers were pressing in. She made a note of which of them tagged along to Rhuun's door, and she wasn't going to forget their names. But finally she had to agree to let them 'just talk to him.'

  The room, she was relieved to see, was empty. The Mages made a show of looking under the bed and in the dryroom, and Yuenne stood in the doorway, sadly shaking his head.

  "Hellne, you should have told someone. You could have prevented this... ugliness. You should have confided in me."

  She barely glanced at him and said, "Can we reconvene this little carnival tomorrow before the High Seat?" She had to find Ilaan and make sure Rhuun was through the Door, and that meant she needed all these people gone.

  The Mages were loath to leave the room. The Zaal was in a blind rage, "You swore. You wrote it into law. The first and the best. Can you say you gave it to us?" He squeezed the bridge of nose. "The blood was here all along. I can still smell it." He pulled the coverlet from the bed and held it to his face. "It's in everything."

  Hellne yanked it out of his hands and snapped, "We are talking about the prince, not a bucket. Take your leave. All of you. Now." The Zaal, furious to be denied his prize, led his Mages back down the stairs, where they would no doubt open a special sarave of their own vintage in honor of being right all along. The partygoers wandered off, looking for places to spread this new, astonishing story.

  Hellne pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead. Was her debt cancelled with the death of the old Mage? Was Malloy still alive, and would Rhuun be able to find him? She needed to sit and think, she needed this night to be over. But like sand in your sheets, Yuenne was hard to get rid of. Yuenne colluding with the Mages. She should have seen it.

  "This isn't like hiding a torn dress from your father, Hellne. A human man? What in the world made you think it would never come to light?" Yuenne moved closer to her and made to touch her shoulder. "Let me help you n
ow. Just tell me where he is and we can deal with the Mages after that."

  She drew back from him. "'We can? Really? And how do you intend to do that? Give Rhuun up to the Mages? All at once or in pieces?" She narrowed her eyes. "How quickly can we get our children wed, do you think? And how long will he live afterwards?" She laughed bitterly. "I always wondered why you pushed her on him, all those years ago. I knew you disapproved of him, now I see what you were up to, you and your friends in the Raasth. Well, I guess the wedding's off."

  He shrugged. "Maybe not. Plans change. Perhaps we can salvage something from this after all. But you have to let me help you. Where is he?"

  She smiled, "The last place you'd look."

  Yuenne stopped smiling. "What do you mean?"

  "You're not the only one making plans. Well. Places to go. I suggest you go home and see to your party."

  Yuenne took another look around the room before leaving, "Human trash on the walls, well, aren’t you the permissive parent?" He let his little smile slip. "If Ilaan is mixed up in this, they’ll both find themselves in the Crosswinds with their mouths full of sand. And where will you be, Madam?"

  Hellne waited until he was gone before shimmering away, leaving a bright spot in the air of the dark little room.

  Chapter 44

  Gwyneth gave a little scream of laughter as he kicked Mammoth into a canter, and she let go of the pommel and clutched at his legs. "I’ve never felt anything so powerful. It’s so big!" She twisted in the saddle to look up at him, and as their eyes met he....