The fat man and the third man stood over him.
"Put up a bit of a fight, this one," said the fat man. "Oh well." He kneeled down, pulling out his knife, and slit Moth's throat.
You will not faint, thought Lelet, although the world had gone grey. Maybe he's still alive and he'll need your help....
"Wake up," she whispered. "Moth, wake up." Her legs were gone. Her lips were numb.
The sword man said, not unkindly, "He'll wake up in the next world, sister. If you believe in that sort of thing."
The third man pointed at Moth's chest and said, "Get those."
The fat man laughed. "Said I would, didn't I?" He hesitated, pointing his knife at Moth's tracery of silvery scars. "Look at this boy. Must have used him for bait at dog fights."
The third man snickered. "Maybe he won those things for beating the dogs."
The fat man considered the corpse. "Strong, though. Got me right in the gut. Took on the both of us, and him without a weapon. Brave, your man was," he said over his shoulder to Lelet. She started to scream again, although now without much volume behind it.
The fat man said. "Yes, well, you ought to scream, dearie. That's what the dead like to hear as they leave us. Sends 'em on their way. Get that noise out of your system now, though. We can all sing proper songs of respect for your fallen hero later. We ought to be on our way."
The third man, who had dropped the gore-splashed rock, scratched his head. "What are we going to do with the girl?"
The fat man looked up at him. "What do we usually do with 'em?" He nodded at the sword man. "Phee, tie her hands and toss her in the back. No, don't toss her—place her." He bowed towards her dramatically. "My lady."
She tried to scream but could only whisper No, no no.
He looked back down and thumbed one of Moth's eyes open. "Look at that—full of blood. Must've had a soft head."
"I've seen it before. Startling, isn't it? They'll do that, if you hit 'em in the right spot. No one's head's harder than a rock, Beb, except maybe yours."
They all three laughed at that one.
The fat man—Beb—poked at Moth's torn and bloody hand with his knife.
"Never saw anyone grab the end of Barbara like that before, either. Like he didn't even feel it."
The third man frowned. "I thought that thing's name was Nancy."
"Nah. Nancy and me had a falling out. Can you believe it—she told me she thought I was getting too fat. Me, too fat! Have you seen the ass on that girl? I tell you, it hurt my feelings. So yes, it's Barbara now. Aren't you, my darling?" He picked the club off the ground and looked at it admiringly before setting it close by his side. "Barbara appreciates me just as I am. Maybe I'll make her a present of these. Just don't none of you tell her where they came from. She's got delicate sensibilities."
He lifted a gold ring with the tip of his knife.
"How'd he get 'em in there? It's a mystery of the age, why people do what they do to themselves."
He leaned over with his knife laid flat. There was a great deal of blood.
That was when Lelet fainted.
Chapter 62
"What is this trash?" exclaimed the Duke. "Who has turned her into such a slattern? Cybelle, I see your hand in this." The Duke swept the dainty pots of paint onto the floor. "Now wash your face and stop that infernal noise!" Gwenyth stifled her sobs as best she could.
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 89
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
"Wake up, sweetheart." Moth was whispering in her ear. "Wake up, now." She smiled. He had such pretty eyes. She'd tell him that, right away.
"Time to wake up, Missy." She opened her eyes.
Three dirty men looked down at her.
Moth was still dead.
They tied her hands behind her back and one of them—the sword man, Phee—lifted her into the back of the cart.
"My family has money," she whispered, but they didn't hear her. They were moving.
Beb climbed into the back of the cart with her. He laid his club by his side. She wondered if she could throw herself on it in such a way that it would kill her quickly.
He noticed her gaze and said, "Plenty of time for that, sweetheart. We'll get to camp and then have a nice evening together. You, me, and Barbara."
"Please," she whispered, hating herself for the begging whine of her voice, "please don't hurt me."
"Leave her alone," said Phee over his shoulder. "She's had a bad day." They all laughed.
"One might say!" said Beb. "Bad luck, wrong place wrong time, all that. Good luck for us, though. Can you cook, girl? Wash a pot? Keep three gentlemen of the road warm at night?"
"Not all at once, though," pointed out the third man, "We're not animals."
"My family has money," Lelet said again. "They'll pay you to bring me home." The three laughed again, taking in the leaves in her hair, her torn dress and her dirty, bare feet.
"What'll they do, trade us a cow for you? Give us a loaf of bread?"
"No," she said, trying to keep her voice even, "I live in Mistra, in the city. Big house. Money."
Beb shook his head, chuckling. "And I'm Loquacia, King of the Fairy People. Pleasure to make your acquaintance!"
"Check her hands," advised Phee. "That'll tell where she was raised."
"Smart boy," said Beb. "That's why I love you like a brother." He reached out a huge hand and swatted Lelet to one side. With no way to brace herself, she fell on her face. Beb took his time rooting around, getting big handfuls of her legs and thighs before looking at her hands.
"Funny," he mused. "She's as skinny as a fence post, no more ass than an old chicken, and hasn't got a rough spot anywhere. Despite her outwardly slattern appearance and overall loose demeanor, this girl hasn't scrubbed a floor in her life. I may have to go back and check the front—just to be on the safe side."
She turned so she could see his knobby shaved head outlined against the sky.
"My family will pay if I'm unharmed." He pulled her upright, helping himself to a generous squeeze of her breasts.
"Well, there's unharmed and then there's unharmed." He pinched her leg—the tender part just above the knee, and she screamed through her teeth. "See? You're still 100% intact, arm and leg-wise."
The third man said, "Find out about the money, Beb."
"Ah! Excellent. Important to focus, keep one eye always on our objective. Not be distracted by a yard or so of very nice looking girl meat." She shrank back, trying to pull away from his huge hand, which still rested lightly on her knee. "So, dearie, where is this magical family estate that turns into a bank?"
"In the city. I don't know how far from here. Please, don't hurt me."
"Well, there's plenty of time over a nice dinner to talk about the future. Maybe we'll find out why a nice city girl like you was out humping a recently deceased farm boy in the middle of nowhere. Maybe you'll tell us where your pretty clothes vanished off to. Or why you're vacationing in the woods with no shoes. All sorts of interesting things may come to light." He turned to the third man, who'd taken the reins. "Pull over, I have to respond to nature's call."
As he relieved himself against a tree, Beb sang:
"Oh the Demon Queen
Loved mortal peen
And that was her undoing
She picked the lock
And licked—"
"Beb, there is a lady present!" said Phee. Lelet huddled in the back of the cart. She missed her family with a pain that surprised her. She wished she was sitting in the garden with May, or even arguing with Rane. She didn't want to even think about Moth. Time for that later.
If I can convince them I am worth something maybe they won't rape me to death. The big one—Beb—he'd do it for fun. Maybe the other two wouldn't? I don't want to die in the dirt. I
want to go home.
She was sitting on something that was jabbing her in the rear. She shifted slightly and looked down dully at one of her white satin pumps. The heel had broken off and it was more grey than white, but the sight of it filled her with rage. Less than a week ago her biggest worry was getting these shoes dirty. There were no such things as demons. She'd never been hungry or cold a moment in her life, and she'd never seen a dead body, much less witnessed a murder. Or given someone his very first taste of pear.
This is your fault, Moth, she thought, How could you leave me? She hid her face in her shoulder so no one would see her cry.
Beb climbed back in and picked up the wrecked shoe.
"One mystery solved! You do have shoes! Or at least, you did. You won't be running away on this thing." He tossed the shoe out and they were on their way.
Please don't hurt me.
***
Hours later the three decided to make a temporary camp for the night. Killing Moth had taken a bite out of their schedule and they hadn't made it back to their base after all.
"We should leave her in the cart," said the third man. "I don't want to listen to her crying for her boyfriend all night."
"She won't cry, will you sweetheart?" asked Beb. "She's a good girl. She's got new boyfriends now. And I like to look at her. Tie her to that tree. No tears, am I right?"
Realizing he expected an answer, she stammered, "No, I won't cry. I'll be good. Just—"
"Yes, I know, 'please don't hurt me.'" His imitation of her voice was a simpering whine. "I won't hurt you, dearie. I think we'll get along just fine. After all, you like 'em big, that man of yours was good sized."
"Went down fast enough, though," observed the third man. She began to cry. Beb cuffed her head.
"I thought we agreed there'd be none of that."
She bit her lips hard to stop crying. Her head swam and she thought she might vomit.
He'll kill you just like he did Moth if you get sick on him. She took a deep breath and forced her face into something like a normal expression.
"Can I have some water?" she asked. "I promise I won't cry." Beb shrugged and Phee held a cup while she drank. Then he tied her to a young pine, taking a little care not cut off the blood to her arms.
"Help me," she whispered. He laughed.
"Not a chance, sister. Don't worry, I expect it'll all be over by morning. Tell you what. I'll make sure it's quick."
"You two making friends over there?" Beb called. "Get back over here and let’s get a fire started. Dinner won't cook itself. Although this little white rabbit certainly jumped into our pot." He laughed at his own cleverness and the other two chimed in from long practice.
***
"Time for a serious discussion, lads," said Beb.
They had eaten their stew and drunk up their beer, and Phee had even held the spoon while Lelet ate a few bites. She found it vile and her throat tried to clamp shut but she forced herself to swallow the shreds of meat and bits of onions. If I eat, she thought, I can run. If I can run I can grab a rock.
"Now," continued Beb, "Miss... uh, what's your name, sweetheart?"
"May," she replied. It made her feel closer to home somehow.
"Ah, now, our Miss May Morning, she says she owns a big pile of gold in the middle of Mistra City. All we have to do is deliver her to the doorstep."
"Sounds like a reasonable plan," said the third man. "Mum and Da will be happy to see us. Open the vault for us, most likely."
"See, but there's only one small hitch in this otherwise foolproof endeavor." Beb screwed his face into a dramatic version of a sobbing mother. "'Our darling girl,' Mum will say. 'Our darling girl restored to us—but where's her kit? Her fancy capes and hats and jewels what we sent her off with? Where's her luggage? Where's her chaperone?’ And who'll take the hit?"
"Might be us," nodded Phee. "We should end this quick and forget about her."
"They won't blame you," said Lelet, "I'll tell them you were... you took me in when I was lost in the woods. I was robbed, and um, I was left for dead, but you showed kindness and fed me and brought me home. For a reward." She hoped she sounded more enthusiastic than she felt.
"Who was that fella? He was no city man," said Phee.
"No one," said Lelet.
"That was a lot of screaming and crying and carrying on for no one," said Beb, "I say that he turned your head and you run off with him, leaving a life of comfort for one of adventure and uncertainty. Well, you got yourself a bucketful of that! These mythical parents of yours, would they still pay for a runaway dragged home after leaving with... honestly, Miss May, that wasn't your garden variety lothario. What was he? And how did he lure you from your cushions?"
"What's the difference?" she snapped. "He's dead."
"Care to explain this to the assembled?" Beb put out his hand. The gold rings lay on his palm.
"I put them in," she hissed. "Myself. With a needle."
All three men winced. Then they laughed and Beb put the rings back in the little leather pouch.
"Well, there's no accounting for taste. Anyways, they're Nancy's now."
Phee tentatively put his hand up. "I thought you and Nancy was on the outs."
"I am having second thoughts. Barbara, recall, let me down at a most critical juncture. I tend to follow my gut in matters of the heart. If the namesake fails me at just the wrong time, might not the lady follow suit? Thoughts, gentlemen. Thoughts that are best sorted out in the embrace of slumber. Gentlemen, I propose we table the ultimate fate of our May Morning here until the actual dawn. My brains are tired after a long day of rescuing wayward maids from roving bands of... of... whatever your friend there was." He paused and frowned. "Something about that boy was... Well, it’s behind us now. Miss May, I bid you a pleasant night, and tomorrow we'll get to know each other better. I've got a friend I'd like you to meet!"
He roared with laughter, which the others, on cue, joined in.
Finally, the third man and Phee both wrapped themselves in blankets and turned away from the fire. Beb yawned hugely and threw the last bottle he'd emptied into the darkness.
"Nature’s call," he told her. "Back presently."
He wandered off towards a tree yet again. She thought, How can one man piss so much? He's got to have something wrong with him. Maybe he'll die soon. She listened to him sing again.
"Keep the Door well locked, boys
Keep the Door tight shut.
For if ye don't—"
There was a soft cough and a rustling.
Maybe he peed himself to death she thought. Has that ever happened?
That was when the fire exploded.
Chapter 63
"You will pay for what you've done," snarled Sir Edward.
"With my life?" asked the Duke.
Sir Edward replied, "You have nothing else of value."
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 172
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 came awake with a great start and leapt to his feet, and his knees immediately buckled. He sat back down. He was covered with blood. Dried blood. How long had he been lying there? His throat ached horribly and he leaned over and spat out a mouthful of thick black fluid. Almost immediately, his stomach heaved and he retched great gouts of half congealed gore. The smell and taste of it burned his nose and made his innards twist, but finally there was nothing left. When he could raise his head, he touched his neck, afraid of what he'd find, but there was nothing but the slightly raised band of a new scar where the knife had cut him. His hand bore a constellation of pink circles, each no bigger than a nail, and there was also a knot on the back of his head.
As soon as he'd lifted his hand to feel the back of his head, he felt a horrible, tearing pain in his chest. He looked down.
"Awww, rushta," he muttered. He took a moment to be grateful they hadn't stripped off his trousers—that would have been even more unpleasant.
He found a chunk of rock with a splash of blood on it on the ground next to him.
"Well, I've solved this crime."
He looked around but the cart, the two—no, there must have been three men, and of course Lelet, were all gone. He couldn't even see her tiny light in his mind, but that didn't mean anything, did it? He could barely see what was right in front of him. The late afternoon sun gave everything shimmering halos and there were shadows everywhere.
He stumbled to his feet.
He tried to remember what direction the horse had been facing, and began to walk that way. He couldn't think of what else to do—he couldn't sprout a pair of wings and fly over the trees, or somehow hear them talking across the miles....
This had to be the right way.
He tried to make his legs move faster, although the big muscles in his thighs burned and he saw black spots in front of his eyes. He could barely swallow for the pain in his throat.
Ilaan was walking next to him. He was happy to see his friend of course, but it was strange how Ilaan was wearing the handsome blue silk coat from the party where he'd learned about music. Wasn't that a human's coat?
Before he could ask, Ilaan said, "You should have killed those human creatures when you had the chance. I had no idea you were so squeamish, Beast. I am seriously disappointed."
Aelle was on his other side. She was wearing Lelet's ugly brown dress. She wore it like her robe of office. Her hair was decorated with shards of broken glass. "It was a mistake for you to come here at all, of course. You can’t say I didn’t try to warn you." She wrinkled her nose. "You smell terrible, by the way."
"Shut up, Aelle," said Ilaan.
"Shut up Aelle," he whispered.
Ilaan continued. "Boy, talk about a lost opportunity! I think you were getting somewhere with that human girl. Another couple of minutes and you would have had the boring human joining you've always wanted. You had the advantage and didn't use it! One little change, a little smoke—bam, those men are dead and you're a hero. Why didn't you show your True Face? Is it that much worse than the one you're walking around with?"
The Sand Prince Page 34
