"You've been listening to talk in the Quarter," she said. Control the message, Yuenne had once told her. She had to admit, he’d been right. "It sounds like you believe it."
"There's been talk in the Quarter for a long time," Diia replied. "Talk about bringing back the rain. Young Ilaan only repeats what's been said since the Weapon. Since before Jaa and I bore your tales to town. The prince must come back, and he must follow you to the High Seat."
Hellne kept the phrase 'superstitious nonsense' to herself. Right now, being the mother of the prince was a more valuable weapon than being the queen. She would have to rewrite her plans accordingly.
***
It was second moonrise and Hellne was about to send for her dinner when Diia brought her a message.
"The Zaal wishes to see you."
"By all means, send him in. I'll receive him on the balcony. Have him wait the usual amount of time." That gave her half an hour to arrange her heavy quilted robe, this one in cream and in better condition than the black, and neatly recoil and ornament her hair. The Zaal found her admiring the burning plains. If he was annoyed at being made to wait he didn't show it.
"Zaal, this is a surprise, to say the least. Please do sit." She poured him water and they passed the cup. She found she didn't want to follow him in sipping, but it would be unspeakably rude not to drink. The Zaal remained as blank faced as the most experienced courtier, deftly not noticing when she turned the cup away from where his mouth had been.
"I know this has been a trying time for you, Madam, so I will not trouble you long."
"I suppose you'd like me to tell you where Rhuun has gone and that I ought to listen to my Counselor."
The Zaal shook his head. "No, Madam. We know where he is. And I come to you on my own errands."
She gave a gasp before catching herself. "You know where Rhuun is now?"
"Why yes, certainly." The Zaal paused. "Don't you?"
"Of course," she snapped. "Of course I know. But if you know, what brings you out of the Raasth?" She had to bite her tongue to keep from begging the Zaal to tell her where Rhuun was.
"I wish to give you a gift." He waited, and she nodded. "Yuenne will formally petition for your removal from the High Seat within days. Perhaps tomorrow. He will further petition for your immediate exile to a transform farm at the Edge and call for the breaking of the regency. He will arrange elections, and he will win."
She waved her hand. "I saw this on the horizon. I have enough followers to stall the petition, if not dismiss it outright."
"You do not," the Zaal said. "He has been busy, the Counsellor. We think he will have his way."
Hellne frowned. "Why would you tell me? Why do you give this to me?"
The Zaal smiled blandly. "I have something else. One I think will be of great interest to you. In fact, I believe you’ve been waiting many years for it." He pulled a stack of dirty paper out of his sleeve. There was a smell of age and dust. "Many of us went missing because of The Weapon. Including your brother."
She stiffened. "I know you have a good reason to mention Araan, rest him now."
"Perhaps he is not resting. Perhaps he is somewhere nearby, just out of reach."
"Not this rubbish again? The Hidden Cities theory has been disproven utterly."
"They are not hidden, Madam. They are behind another Door."
She couldn’t keep the startled look off her face. "Did you say another Door? You're certain?" Not dead, she thought, just gone. What if this is true? It changes everything. "Show me."
He was certain, and once he showed her what the Mages had found, what long years of work had yielded, what the maps meant, she was convinced as well. She wanted to snatch the maps away from him and examine them more closely, but he pushed them aside.
"This brings us to the matter of your debt," he said.
Finally. Well, let us see what he wants, and what I’m willing to give. She composed her face, showing him nothing. "What is the price, Zaal? I swore I would pay your old master, so I suppose now it falls to you. How convenient."
"I give you a chance to leave here under your own power, and a way to find not only your brother but the others we thought lost forever. Find them and bring them home. How fortunate for you that my Mages and I are otherwise occupied, or else this task would fall to us. But as it happens, this will cancel your debt, paid in full." That, she thought, is no price at all. The Zaal wasn’t finished. "But in addition, I have a request."
"I won't give you my son. You understand, even if I could, I would not." She gave him a hard look. "If the price of the charm did not involve him, he’s not a part of this."
He nodded. "You hid him from our sight his whole life. You broke your own law and sealed your own fate. It would be not only within my right, but my obligation to have you deliver him. But that is not what I ask. Only that you remove the guard from his door and allow my brother Mages access to his belongings."
She frowned. "That's it? Why bother with me at all? If Yuenne has his way, the guards will be following me to exile anyway."
The Zaal sniffed. "The Counsellor and the Mages do not always speak with one voice."
"He doesn't know you're here, does he?" She smiled. This was interesting.
"Once he moves against you, Madam, all our efforts will thenceforth be on his behalf, you will no longer be 'on the board', as your friends the humans might say. We think it better to keep all pieces on the playing field. If you return with those we lost, all eyes will turn to you, they will want to return you to your rightful place on the High Seat. And you will remember your good friends in the Raasth."
"Access to his room?" Hellne said. The Zaal nodded. "You'll get nothing else from me."
The Zaal smiled politely. "Eventually the prince will return to us. He will tire of the world of humans, or more likely, we will retrieve him. And we will have him with or without your consent. You should have given him over to us when he was an infant. You perhaps would have been less attached." He frowned. "Although it is true we’d have had less of the blood to work with."
"What an utterly repulsive thing to say." Hellne stood and turned her back on the Zaal, leaning against the stone retaining wall. She watched a firewhirl burn itself out in the distance and forced herself to breath normally. "Leave the maps. I'll remove the guard. But don't expect me to sit on my hands when my son comes home."
"Two gifts after all," the Zaal said as he rose to leave. "The prince's room, and a warning."
So, thought Hellne, my boy made it to Mistra after all. Thank you, Zaal, for your third gift.
***
Once the Zaal was gone, Hellne called for Diia. "It's time to go," she said.
Diia looked relieved. "Past time. We'll go to the tents first?"
Hellne nodded. "First the tents, and then..." She made a neat stack of the papers and maps the Zaal had left behind. "Please find something to put these in."
Diia peered at the scribbled over old pages. "What are they?"
"If that nasty creature is right, and I think he is, they are the key to a Door no one else knows exists. Our enemies don't trust each other, and that gives us an opportunity. Diia, release your kin from my service. Tell no one where we're going."
Diia paused in pulling garments from the queen's wardrobe. "Then you no longer fear for the prince when he returns?"
"You say he has friends? Let's make sure they are ready to help him on his way when he needs them." She folded her arms. "Not the heavy one, leave it behind. I won't be needing it for a while. I'll have to contact Ilaan, but we'd best be on our way first." She smiled. "And make sure to find the boots, they'd be in the back, I think. No more sandals for me, but at least I don't have to face Yuenne at the Seat anymore."
Now that she was ready to go, she felt a strange exhilaration. Might she be the one to bring her people home? It felt appropriate, since she'd allowed the humans into her home—and her bed—to be the one to set things right. The people in the Quarter would rise to help Rhuun, and h
e'd have Ilaan to whisper in his ear while he held the Seat. And when she returned with an army of those thought lost forever at her back, they'd beg her to reclaim it. She'd be the queen of a real kingdom, and Araan and his family would have children of their own to follow her. Her stain would be cleansed and her legacy would be of honor and pride, not betrayal and lies.
And if her son somehow managed to bring Malloy back to Eriis with him, that reunion would be short and sweet. Very short for Malloy, but what a nice gift for the Mages. And as for Rhuun, she'd find something for him to do. Maybe he could write a book.
Chapter 60
Lady Cybelle took the girl in at a glance—her flawless skin, wide blue eyes, her long blonde curls.
"We have much work to do if you are to be presentable," she said, picking up a pot of rouge.
"Are these your weapons?" Gwenyth asked.
Cybelle chuckled. "These are merely the foot soldiers. That," she said, pointing at Gwenyth's creamy bosom, "that is your real weapon."
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 80
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
Road through the Great Forest
Moth swam up through a river of pleasure and opened his eyes. He wanted to see the look on her face, but what he saw instead was two large men, armed, watching them. Lelet was still wrapped around him, arms and legs both, and hadn’t seen them. He got out from under her as quickly as he could without hurting her and leapt to the ground to meet them.
He took stock. He was in luck for once. The sun was behind him, so they couldn’t see his face clearly, or his eyes—most likely—at all. They no doubt would mistake him for a farmhand with his flame lit. Plus, there were only two. He figured neither one could fly or shower him with fireballs. He could protect Lelet and this would be fine.
The smaller of the two held the sword. He said, "By the Veil boy, did you roll around in baling wire?"
The other, the one with the club, was as tall as Moth and twice as fat. In fact, he was the biggest person, besides himself, Moth had ever seen.
The fat man said, "Maybe his girl’s got sharp teeth. He’s got some pretty jewelry through his titties, though. Don’t see that every day."
"Well," said the swordsman, "I’m not going to take them out."
The man with the club rolled his eyes and pointed to the knife in his belt. "Fine. I’ll do it. Bet they come out the same way they went in."
While they were chatting about dismembering him, the two were edging to the right and left.
That’s what I would do, if I were them. "Gentlemen," he said. "Nice afternoon. You’ve interrupted us, but I don’t hold a grudge. Why not move along now?"
They stared at him—shirtless, unarmed, and both burst out laughing. The club man continued to move oh so slowly to his right.
The fat man said, "Well, we’re certainly sorry, and we can see we busted in you for fair. But, the problem is this is our bit of forest. Ever since you two conducted that stunning farmhouse raid, we've been following you. See, we had our eye on that place ourselves. Especially since the previous owners were called away."
The sword man snickered. "A sort of permanent vacation, they're on."
"As my friend says, pressing business, and our little house empty. Us returned from a pleasant evening with friends to find our new home sweet home violated. So strike one, theft." He shook his head, still slowly moving to the right. "Very serious. And add to that, you've unfortunately violated our... ah... anti nudity ordinance. Shame. It’s new, so you might not have heard about it. You're in luck, though, because the penalty is one girl and one cart."
Several things happened at once.
Moth heard Lelet scream his name and without turning he fell into a low crouch. The sword whistled over his head. The man had elected to try and lop his head off rather than skewer him, which was good news.
Ilaan would be proud, he thought. All those hours, paying off. Never thought I'd be using any of that stuff here. And for the thousandth time: This place is not what I thought it would be.
The club man had decided to make his move and rushed towards him, swinging the stave. He sidestepped the man and managed to grab the business end of the club, gaining a palm full of nails but also knocking the fat man down with a hard elbow to the gut. He seemed in no hurry to get up so Moth turned back to the cart.
Stay down, fat man, he thought. Can I possibly do this without killing anyone?
The man with the sword was reaching across the driver's bench, and had managed to catch the sleeve of Lelet's dress. He yanked her off the cart and held her up by one arm. She was shrieking and pointing at Moth with her free hand, for some reason not paying any attention to her captor.
Moth hefted the club. More pain to put away, just put it with the rest. The thing was heavy and had nails poking out of it, some of which had been driven through his hand when he'd grabbed for it. He couldn't help but notice that along with his own new blood, the nails were crusted and brown, and there was even a little bit of hair stuck here and there. He felt more revolted than injured.
These people are disgusting. I'll be doing the human world a favor.
Pulling the nails out of his palm, he ignored the squelching, wet sound the meat of his hand made. He swung the club around so he was holding it properly, and started to line up his blow at the sword man, feeling relieved at not having to change his form. It was too dangerous to show himself that way, no one should see that. And once they'd seen his True Face, they'd have to die.
He took a quick glance back and saw the fat man still on the ground. He had gone quite purple in the face and was giving his prodigious gut an exploratory feel with one hand. Moth turned his attention to the sword man, who was trying to get a better grip on Lelet, who was still screaming and struggling madly. It sounded like she was saying 'Behind you', but the fat man was still down and looked to remain that way.
He just had to get in one good strike. He figured he was fast enough to knock the sword and possibly the man's whole arm off before he could use his weapon and hurt her. He'd certainly have to kill the man for laying hands on her but at least he'd spare Lelet the horror of watching him put them to death by cooking them from the inside out.
I'm going to kill human persons. This is not what I came here for. But he has his hands on her....
Even if he couldn't raise a flame, he was not without resources.
They'd be just like the rocks. Remind them of their very great heat. If I have to, I hope I don't have to. But I can do it, I think. I hope.
Anyway, the sword man. Well, that was odd. He was simply pinning Lelet's arms behind her back, he wasn't even holding his sword anymore. She was still screaming but it no longer sounded like words.
This would be over soon. He took a step forward.
The Duke would dispatch them quickly, then say something clever so the lady won't cry.
Something shoved him hard in the side of his head. It was hard to breathe. It got very bright and then dark.
Chapter 61
Gwneyth wiped away her tears and crept to her door. She turned the lock, and the ‘click’ sounded as loud as a whip crack. She pulled her old bag out from under the bed—the lovely soft bed, the lonely bed she’d never sleep in again, and began to toss her clothes in. Only the ones she’d brought with her. At the bottom of the bag she caught a gleam of light. It was the stolen jeweled necklace.
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 160
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
Road through the Great Forest
Once she had caught her breath and gotten her dress back in place, she tucked her bare feet under herself and waited for Moth to incinerate the armed men.
> What do they want? wondered Lelet. Why is he talking to them? He should just show his true face or whatever it’s called and burn them up! What is he waiting for?
Instead of making the pair burst into flame, he was talking to them as they all maneuvered around each other. The two villains were trying to place themselves on either side of Moth, who was trying to keep her behind him while keeping both of them in front of him. She realized with a sick feeling that she was the pivot around which they all moved. She looked around wildly. She had no weapons and there were two of them. Run away? Could she leave Moth to fight and escape on an ill-fitting pair of shoes? No, and probably not since the leather slippers were in her bag in the back.
She did have one thing she could use, and when the sword man, who was the furthest from Moth's eyeshot, began to raise his weapon, she screamed his name for all she was worth.
It was enough. He dropped to the ground and the man missed him completely, the sword passing over his head. But instead of trying again, the man raced to the cart, reached across the driver's bench and began to grab for her dress. She made for the far side, intending to jump down and run after all, but he snagged her sleeve and hauled her back, pulling her down next to him and holding her fast. Her feet barely touched the ground and she was afraid he might break her arm.
Moth was doing something with the club man—now the man was on the ground and he had the club! Moth's hands were covered in blood, and she realized with horror that it was his own. The end of the club had nails sticking out of it, but he'd grabbed it like it was nothing.
"He'll kill you both," she shrieked at the man who held her.
"He can try," said the sword man mildly.
That was when the third man stepped from behind a tree. He was holding a good sized rock. She screamed again, pointing at the man and struggling to get away from the sword man's grasp. Why won't he look behind? Her captor had tossed aside his sword and now had both her arms pinned behind her back.
The third man came up behind Moth and knocked him in the head with the rock. He fell instantly.
The Sand Prince Page 33
