“You can't,” she said.
“Gianelli?” Shara said to D'Arbignal.
He shook his head.
“Not likely,” he said, “and it wouldn't be good news for us if he did.”
Throughout all this, the elderly man at Perleanane's side had not moved. But now he had developed a pronounced list, which increased until he fell to the ground. He did not move.
“Your friend's seen better days,” D'Arbignal remarked dryly.
“Artisimize?” Perleanane said with a wicked grin. “Don't worry about him. He's unharmed.”
“That's Artisimize?” D'Arbignal said.
“He doesn't look like he's fine,” Shara said.
Perleanane looked annoyed.
“Yes, that's Artisimize,” she said. “And I didn't say he's fine. I said he's unharmed. He's also been dead for seventy-five years. Now if you don't mind …”
Perleanane resumed her gorging.
“Who are you?” Shara said. “What is this place?”
Perleanane grinned evilly.
“Join me for lunch,” she said, pushing Artisimize's tray forward towards Shara, “and I'll tell you.”
Chapter 32
“What's the matter, dearie?” Perleanane said, leaning in closer and leering. “Aren't you hungry? Scrawny thing like you? You must be famished.”
And Shara was, too. As much as she knew she shouldn't, she wanted so badly to eat that juicy meat and succulent fruit. Sweat dotted her forehead as she stared at the food, trying to take her eyes away.
“Come on,” Perleanane said. “Just a little nibble.”
Against her will, Shara reached her hand forward toward the platter.
“I'll have some,” D'Arbignal said, and pulled the entire platter away from Shara toward himself.
Shara blinked her eyes, the spell broken. She had been so close, so—
“D'Arbignal!” she shouted. “No!”
But it was too late. He ripped off a piece of meat and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Oh, that's good!” he said.
“Oh no,” Shara lamented. “What have you done?”
“What have I done?” he said. “I've accepted our kind hostess's hospitality. You wouldn't want me to be rude, would you?”
Her eyes teared up and she shook her head.
“Well done,” Perleanane said, leaning forward and watching D'Arbignal closely. “And how do you feel?”
“Hungry!” he said, and stuffed another piece of meat into his mouth.
Perleanane's smile broadened.
“But you were going to tell us about yourself and this bag,” D'Arbignal said. “Please continue!”
“Of course,” Perleanane said, ingratiatingly. “You keep eating, dear, and I'll tell you everything.”
Chapter 33
Once upon a time, there was a great and powerful wizard named Artisimize, who lived for hundreds of years and crafted many a fantastic and miraculous item. His renown was so great that kings and warriors came from every corner of the land seeking his council and his magic, and this he gave them freely, for he was a good and kind man.
His life was full of adventure and mystery, and it was a good life, but eventually, all men crave the same thing: a home of one's own in which to retire, free from the troubles of the world. So one day, without warning, Artisimize literally vanished from the court of the King of Bryanae, never to be seen again by mortal man.
Except that's not quite what happened. Artisimize had long ago encountered an idyllic village, whose name has been lost to time, and it was to there he retired, intending to spend the rest of his days in comfort among simple and kind people.
But magic was a demanding mistress, and a peculiar idea kept rolling around the wizard's head. A great planar traveler was he, and he had long ago learned that the sizes of things were relative to the universe in which they were contained. So, then, he posited, what if he wrapped the contents of one universe inside a boundary of another, and then contained the entire composition within an ordinary space that existed in this universe? Why, it would be like the trick of perspective whereby a man could be seen to squeeze the entire Moon between his thumb and forefinger, only on a vastly larger scale!
Even as his lifespan was coming at last to its natural end, he still had one great artifact yet to build. The concept plagued him endlessly until he relented and began its construction. The villagers were supportive and helped him where they could, fetching materials or cooking him meals. Sometimes, some of the older ladies would massage his aching shoulders while he worked.
And work he did, endlessly, until at last, his creation was completed: an ordinary-looking burlap sack inside of which one could house an entire universe. You could fit an endless number of items into it, and yet, each could be retrieved in an instant simply by reaching your hand inside and calling forth that which you wanted. The ultimate trick of perspective.
At last he was done with his labors, but he worried that others would learn of his creation and try to take it by force. The thought worried him night and day until he decided to do something about it.
He would summon a demon, one whose job was to protect the sack from all who would take it from the village. And while he was at it, he would have the demon protect him, too, lest some harm befall him when the robbers tried to wrest the bag from him.
In fact, not only would he have the demon protect the bag and himself, why, he would have the demon protect the entire village! They had been so kind to him, welcoming him as one of their own and treating him so well; it only seemed fair to reward them in some way.
Chapter 34
“He was pretty fucking stupid for a wizard,” Perleanane said, chuckling. “'Here, Perleanane: protect me, the village, and this fucking infinite amount of space contained in this teensie-weensie little sack.'
“‘No problem, boss,' I said, and stuffed them all into the sack, village and all. Much easier to look after them all when they they're all in one place.”
“But weren't you required to protect the village?” Shara said.
Perleanane rolled her eyes.
“You're not too fucking bright yourself, either,” she said.
Shara looked at D'Arbignal for support but his eyes seemed to be getting the same kind of glazed look that the Rat and Sulaire had both had. She felt the cold hand of fear wrap around her heart and squeeze.
“Of course I had to protect them, dumb-ass,” Perleanane said as though speaking to a slow child. “But there's protecting and then there's protecting. For an educated guy, Artisimize didn't know a lot about demons, least of all how to make a pact with one. I promised to protect him and the village from harm, and I kept that promise.”
“But they all died!”
“So? They all died from lack of food and water. It wasn't like any harm came to them.”
Shara's head was spinning. It was like arguing with a madman. Perleanane seemed to have her own internally consistent, but completely twisted, sense of logic by which she played her games. Shara glanced at D'Arbignal and was dismayed to see a trickle of drool trailing from his mouth.
“So why the trap to drag us into the bag?”
Perleanane shrugged. “Figured it was the best way to deal with those who'd try to steal it. I'd bring them in here where, darling, I make all the rules. Not exactly a fair fight, but hey, what do you expect? I'm a fucking demon.”
“And the phantom village?”
Again Perleanane shrugged. “No clue. I guess the souls of the dead villagers got a little confused about where they lived, tried to recreate their little oasis of joy in the middle of fucking nowhere. But then, if they was smart, then they wouldn't be fucking villagers, would they? They'd be kings or shit like that, or hey, even better, they'd be demons like me!”
Perleanane looked over at D'Arbignal. “So, how are feeling now, Mister Swordsman?”
D'Arbignal looked at her blankly.
“I feel …” He fumbled for words. “I feel … fine.”
>
Perleanane grinned, showing those hideous jagged teeth of hers.
“Oh, Mister Sulaire!” she called.
The mage poked his bald head in from the other room. “Yes, ma'am?”
“I've just hired your replacement, Mister Sulaire,” Perleanane said, her voice dripping with malice. “So your services will no longer be required.”
“What does that—?”
He never finished the sentence. His eyes widened in abrupt horror. Then he screamed as the flesh melted from his body. Somehow, he continued shrieking even after he'd been reduced to a bloody skeleton, eyes bulging, and then the bones, too, began to melt. The screams ceased as the remainder of Sulaire seeped into the cracks between the floorboards, and he was no more.
Perleanane clapped her hands in delight, the fat around her hands and arms jiggling as she did so.
“Oh, I do so love doing that!” she squealed.
“Now,” she said to D'Arbignal, “why don't you come around here, Mister Swordsman, and rub my tired neck and shoulders? The little mouse and I need to hammer out an agreement.”
“An … agreement?” Shara said.
“Yes,” Perleanane said. “An agreement. An agreement of what role you shall perform here in my little universe if you're to get any food or water at all. Otherwise, you can just starve to death right in front of this lovely little banquet I've prepared in your honor.”
Chapter 35
D'Arbignal seemed to be trying to regain his wits, but without success. He kept blinking his eyes, as if to wake from a dream. Perleanane watched with sadistic glee as he succumbed to her power.
It occurred to Shara that now she was all alone. D'Arbignal had slain the ravenous mob, then the Rat, while Perleanane had slain Sulaire. With D'Arbignal under Perleanane's control, Shara literally did not have a friend in the world.
Soon, she too would be Perleanane's slave, to serve or cavort for the sake of her amusement. The thought was a soul-crushing realization. Who knew how long she would be kept alive in hellish torment?
Better to die.
D'Arbignal turned to walk around to Perleanane's side of the desk. As he did, Shara leaped forward and snatched his rapier from its sheath. She whirled about, and without another word, drove the point of the rapier deep into Perleanane's throat.
For a moment, nobody moved. Then Perleanane rolled her head back and laughed, the rapier sticking out of her like the gnomon of a sundial. Her globular hand grasped the rapier by its blade and yanked it from her throat, where there wasn't so much as a scratch.
“Well, aren't you just full of surprises, mouse?” Perleanane said.
She handed the rapier back to D'Arbignal, who stared at it blankly.
“Put the fucking thing away,” she said to him, and after a moment, he complied. “Now, get to rubbing my shoulders.”
She reached under the desk and pulled out a shiny box that was slightly larger than Shara's sewing kit. The box appeared to be made from solid gold and was studded with dazzling red gems. Perleanane flipped open the hinged lid and removed a pinch of a brownish powder, which she jammed into her nostril and sniffed deeply. She repeated the action with her other nostril.
She shook her head.
“Lovely,” she said, and then pushed the box towards Shara. “Would you like some snuff, dear?”
Shara felt the contents of her stomach heaving and she fought to keep it down. Perleanane was invincible and she was eternal, and there was nothing Shara could do to escape.
If only she could find a knife, she could cut her own throat and escape that way. Or perhaps she could find some rope with which to hang herself.
D'Arbignal started rubbing Perleanane's shoulders.
“Is this too hard, ma'am?” he said, his eyes glazed.
Perleanane seemed annoyed at the distraction. She waved her hand.
“Yes, yes, that's fine,” she said. Then addressing Shara, she said, “Go on, dearie. Try a little snuff. It'll help you clear your head.”
Perleanane smiled wider than any human could smile, and there were more teeth in that mouth than any human possessed.
She felt the power of that malevolent will weighing down upon her, and she fought to resist it. She reached forward and deliberately closed the heavy lid of the golden box. Despite being constructed of massive material, the lid closed smoothly and without a sound.
D'Arbignal began to cough. He brought a hand to his mouth.
“Excuse me, ma'am,” he said.
His coughing did not abate, however, but instead increased in ferocity. Then, with one great hack, a piece of meat flew from his covered mouth to land on the desk in front of Perleanane's bosom.
“What the fuck?” Perleanane said.
D'Arbignal continued to cough, and then another piece of meat fell to the desk, and then another. D'Arbignal seemed to be gagging on something, and he reached into his mouth and pulled out a red scarf. The red scarf seemed to be attached to a blue one, also stuck down his throat. D'Arbignal continued pulling, and the blue scarf proved to be connected to a green one, and the green one to a yellow one. He pulled them out hand-over-hand. There seemed to be no end to the scarves!
The last scarf seemed to be stuck. He pulled and pulled at it to no avail. At last, he propped one of his legs up against the canvas-covered walls and with one enormous yank, he pulled out the last scarf, which turned out to have been wrapped around a shiny red apple.
“Whew,” D'Arbignal said. He unwrapped the apple and tossed it to Shara, who, bewildered, caught it. “That feels so much better!”
Perleanane's face turned a mottled purple color and her eyes seemed to burn yellow.
“You think that's fucking funny, do you?”
“I do have my moments,” D'Arbignal admitted. He winked at Shara and she could not refrain from an amazed chuckle.
“I think it's time we were leaving.” He drew his rapier.
“Yeah,” Perleanane grumbled. “Lots of luck to you with that.”
She squared her shoulders to D'Arbignal, pulling down the neckline of her dress to bare her chest to him.
“Go on, asshole,” she said. “Take your best shot.”
D'Arbignal wrinkled his face.
“Oh, would that I be stricken blind!” he lamented. “But no, that's not what I had in mind.”
He turned his back to Perleanane.
“Then what—?”
D'Arbignal drove his rapier through the wall. It passed through it with a sharp ripping noise and a flash of brilliant green light.
“You mother-fucker!” Perleanane shrieked. “You tore my bag!”
D'Arbignal dropped his rapier to the ground and shoved his arm through the hole in the wall. His eyes bulged and his face went through numerous contortions. He grunted and moaned as he reached further in.
Perleanane's entire body seemed to have turned the same mottled purple color. Talons sprouted from each of her chubby fingers, and each talon was somehow longer than the finger from which it sprung. She heaved her massive bulk from her chair and plunged those talons into D'Arbignal's shoulders, attempting to wrest him away from the breach in the wall.
D'Arbignal howled in agony but held steadfast, fishing for something on the other side of the wall.
You can't hurt her while she's on her mission.
The Rat had said that to D'Arbignal. Perleanane had said that her mission had been to protect the bag. And hadn't D'Arbignal just ruined that bag?
Perleanane withdrew her claws from D'Arbignal's shoulders and pressed them against his throat.
Shara shoved the tray of food off the desk and climbed onto the cleared surface. She grabbed Perleanane's golden snuff box and stuffed it in her sack with the mutton and her sewing kit. She twisted the end of the sack in both hands, then lifted it high above her head. The sudden motion caught the demon's eye, and she turned.
“Oh, fuck,” Perleanane said, and then Shara brought the massively-weighted sack down onto Perleanane's head.
She'd e
xpected that blow would bounce off the demon's skull, and was surprised when Perleanane's head caved like a crushed grape.
Shara climbed over to the other side of the desk, stooped, and grabbed D'Arbignal's rapier. Perleanane looked dead enough, what with a head the shape of a half-filled wineskin, but Shara was not about to take any chances. She stabbed Perleanane in the chest with the rapier, and then kept on stabbing her.
“Ah,” said D'Arbignal. “Here we go.”
“What?” Shara said. “Here we go what?”
“Shara,” D'Arbignal said.
“What? What do you—?”
And then she was hurtling towards the ceiling, only she passed through it as though it had no substance. She soared up into the muddy sky, then felt a hand grip the back of her neck and yank her upward.
Upward, and out, out of the bag and back into the haunted village. Back into the home of Artisimize the mage, where they had found the bag.
Shara reached around her neck and pried the hand off it. As she pulled it from her neck, she saw that the arm attached to it had white frilly lace at the cuff. D'Arbignal's shirt!
Her eyes tracked the length of that arm, and she was astonished to see it protruding from a tear in the side of the bag. For a moment, she was frozen in astonishment. Then she collected her wits and stuck her own hand into the bag.
“D'Arbignal,” she said, and a moment later, she felt her hand clasp the collar of D'Arbignal's coat.
She pulled as hard as she could. She felt him moving toward her. Incredibly, his arm receded back into the hole in the bag—but at a speed disproportional to that which she was pulling him free.
With one last great effort, she heaved D'Arbignal free from the mouth of the sack.
“Wow,” D'Arbignal said, grinning. “That was—”
Now that his arm was no longer plugging the hole in the bag, a hissing sound emanated from it. The sound grew louder, and then bits of meat and fruit began to fly from the hole.
“Now, that's odd…” D'Arbignal said.
Perleanane's corpse popped from the hole. Then there was a rumbling; D'Arbignal tackled Shara just in time to drag her out of the path of Perleanane's desk, which flew from the hole in the bag and shattered against a distant tree. Then other items began spewing out, spilling haphazardly across the sky.
Shara and the Haunted Village: Illustrated Edition (Bryanae Series Book 1) Page 9
