The Heart Collector

by Melinda Salisbury

  He has commandeered the ground-level rooms in the Tower of Hope, and barricaded the windows, lighting the room with candles and torches. He refuses all offers of aid from the servants. He locks the door behind him when he enters and then works from dawn until long after nightfall.

  It is not gold he makes, deep in the belly of the tower, but golems: small homunculi barely five inches high that he animates with his blood. He makes and destroys a dozen a day, trying to find the commands that will instruct them to slay the rats. They attack him, or each other, or else do nothing, and he smashes simulacrum after simulacrum, crushing some underfoot, throwing others into the walls. But he does not give up. When he masters control of them – and he will – he plans to make an army and send them into the rats’ own nests to kill them, young and all.

  On the table, a rat sits in a cage, one ear torn off, watching him with malevolent eyes. He found it in his rooms one day, picking through the remains of a chicken carcass a careless servant had not cleaned away. He recognized it instantly – recognized that tattered ear, that insolent gaze. When it ignored him in favour of its meal, Aurek removed his cloak and threw it over the creature, chicken and all. He fought to subdue it, received bites he later had to ask his sister for elixir to treat, but he captured it. He locked it in an old hummingbird cage and peered at it through the bars. When it hissed at him, yellow teeth bared, he hissed right back. As soon as he finds the right commands to give his golems, he will have this rat killed first. Then he’ll have it skinned and make a coin purse from its pelt.

  He will save Tallith with his golems, he decides. Forget the rat catcher, and forget his daughter. He will be their saviour. He will be their hero.

  It is immersed in this work that the rat catcher’s daughter finds him when she bursts through the old door at the far end of the room.

  Aurek starts when she enters, lashing out and knocking the homunculus he was working with to the floor, cursing when it shatters. “I almost had that one,” he says.

  The rat catcher’s daughter stares at him. Gone is the sleek, pampered prince, almost doll-like in his delicacy. Before her stands a man, his white hair tied back from his face, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular arms. He is covered in dust, dried clay and ink, a smear of it on his left cheek. This new Aurek arouses her curiosity, a feeling that grows when he looks away from her – after all those days of watching her, he looks away – and returns to his work.

  “What are you doing?” she asks.

  “Your job.”

  He begins to fashion another golem from a pile of clay, his deft fingers pinching out arms and legs, and she steps closer, closer, watching him. He spares her a quick, irritated glance and then continues. She moves closer still, until she stands by his side, staring as he manipulates the clay.

  “I’d forgotten about the tunnels,” he murmurs. “We used to play in them when we were little. How long have you been using them?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “And have you found anything that interests you?”

  She does not reply.

  Aurek is aware of her closeness, can smell the sweet almond scent of her skin, and is not immune. But he’s both annoyed with her for not wanting him and anxious to peacock his talents for her, so he keeps working until the clay takes on the crude form of a man. He ignores her gasp when he pulls his knife over his palm and drips blood on to it, taking a sip of elixir as the blood sinks into the clay and the golem begins to move.

  “Magic…” the rat catcher’s daughter breathes as the cut on his hand seals itself. But she’s not looking at Aurek. Instead she watches the golem.

  “Alchemy,” he replies.

  At that she looks up at him, and find herself pinioned by his golden eyes, not wholly sure why they repulsed her before. “So this is the real reason your father thinks you too good for me?” she asks.

  Aurek shrugs and they both look back at the golem. Aurek picks up his writing stick and dips it in the ink, scrawling a miniature command on a tiny fragment of parchment. He presses it into the chest of the golem and the rat catcher’s daughter holds her breath as it’s absorbed.

  “The trick is finding the right words,” Aurek murmurs as the golem rises unsteadily to its feet. “I have to keep the instructions simple and clear.”

  “What did that one say?”

  “Rise,” he says. “I have to train them slowly. Tell then to wake, then rise. Then walk. One step at a time. Eventually, I’ll find the command to make them hunt and kill the rats, seeing as your father won’t.”

  He is impressed when she doesn’t flinch, or blush, or apologize, waiting instead for him to continue.

  “The longer I have them, the more they can do – but the harder they become to control. They can learn too much.” He smiles ruefully and shows her the underside of his left wrist. “You can’t see it now, but two days ago one took my own knife to me. I wasn’t specific enough with my order to kill.” He shrugs. “But I learnt.”

  “Why can’t I see it?”

  “See what?”

  “This supposed wound.”

  Aurek looks at her and snorts. “I’m not the only one whose blood gives gifts.”

  “Your sister?” the rat catcher’s daughter guesses. She grabs for his palm and pulls it to her, studying it, her dark brows rising when she sees it unmarred. “Alchemy,” she says softly.

  Aurek says nothing, looking back at his golem. It stands on the table, doing nothing.

  “Can you make it dance?” the rat catcher’s daughter says suddenly.

  Aurek looks at her, then at the golem. “I’d have to teach it to walk first,” he frowns.

  The rat catcher’s daughter looks at him, then smiles. Aurek smiles back.

  That afternoon, they teach the golem to walk, then dance. They teach it to hop, and jump, and almost to cartwheel. The rat catcher’s daughter laughs and Aurek laughs with her, saddened only momentarily when it collapses mid-turn and smashes apart. The golem ruined, they pause and the air is heavy with something both sweet and sour.

  “Can I come back tomorrow?” the rat catcher’s daughter asks finally.

  “Yes, please,” Aurek replies.

  He watches her run from the room, closing the old door behind her. Interesting, he thinks.

  She returns the following day and watches him work. Then again, and again. Each day they stand a little closer together, their eyes lingering on each other’s a little longer. She brushes dust from his shoulders. He gently touches her hips and moves her aside when she’s in his way. By the end of the week he is standing behind her, chest pressed to her back, his hands around hers as he helps her to fashion a golem of her own, though it still takes his blood to bring it to life. It sits up when Aurek commands it to wake.

  “What now?” he asks the rat catcher’s daughter. “What is your command?”

  She frowns, then takes the writing stick and paper from him. She writes quickly, and then thrusts the paper towards him.

  Kiss me, it says.

  He pulls her into his arms and thinks, Finally. He does not need any further commands from her.

  It is sunset when they finally separate, both damp with sweat and covered in dust. Above them, the golem sits waiting on the table, and Aurek feels oddly exposed when he stands, legs still shaking slightly as he pulls his breeches back on. The rat catcher’s daughter lies, looking up at him through half-closed eyes, a lazy smile on her face. He gazes down at her, noting how lovely her form is. He’s pleased with himself, very pleased. And she was just as sweet as he’d hoped she would be.

  Aurek has never had a favourite flavour before.

  “We should go,” he says. “We’ll be missed.”

  A frown crosses the face of the rat catcher’s daughter as she looks at him, meeting his steady gaze, receiving his utilitarian words. “It’s to be like that, is it?” she asks coldly. “You’ve had your fun and now I am to inconvenience you no longer?” She is unashamed of her nudity, her hands on her hips, and
Aurek feels his interest stir again. He reaches for her and she steps back, a warning in her eyes.

  “No, sweetling. I simply mean we have to be careful,” he cajoles. “We have to play this right if we want to win. You heard what my father said.” She watches him, her expression unchanged. “Look,” he continues. “If you want this to end here and now, so be it. But if you want what I want then we have to be cunning.”

  “And what is it that you want?”

  “You,” Aurek says simply.

  The rat catcher’s daughter pulls her dress on slowly, looking at him, assessing. “So I will see you again? Tomorrow?” she asks.

  Aurek pulls her into his arms. “Come early,” he says, before pressing his mouth to hers.

  They don’t even pretend to be interested in the golems the next day. Or the next. Or the next. Instead he takes her in his arms, and pulls her to the floor with him. He’s forgotten his idea of being the hero of Tallith; what she’s offering him is much more to his taste. When she tries to talk to him about their future, he kisses her words away, until the only thing she can say is his name, over and over, as her fists clench in his hair.

  “Where do you go, daughter?” the rat catcher asks one morning over breakfast. “All day. Where do you go? I have called for you many times and you have not come.”

  She has tried to speak to Aurek about what would happen if they are discovered before they are ready, but he prefers to occupy his mouth in other ways. He claims he is addicted to her, he can’t keep his hands from her. As she recalls his touch, a dozen lies form in her mind but not one manages to slide from her tongue. “I spend my time with the prince,” she says finally.

  Her brother looks up from his food, frowning.

  “With the milksop?” her father says. “Where?”

  “I visit him.”

  “I did not know you were leaving the tower.”

  “You did not forbid me to.”

  It is the rat catcher’s turn to frown. “I thought you despised him.”

  “I did not know him before.”

  “And you know him now?” The question is loaded.

  The rat catcher’s daughter pauses, her hand moving to her stomach. Though less than a week has passed, she knows. Something within her is altering. Growing.

  The motion is not lost on the rat catcher, nor his son. The rat catcher slams his hand on the table. “I forbid you to see him again. We leave in two weeks. You will stay in your room until then and I will deal with you when we are home.”

  “I will not.”

  “Do not disobey me, child,” the rat catcher shouts. “I’ve heard rumours of a nursery full of his children. And where are their mothers? Is this what you want?”

  The rat catcher’s daughter flees from the table and barricades herself in her room. The rat catcher pulls a fresh sheet of parchment towards him.

  The King of Tallith is at first surprised to receive word from the rat catcher, and hopeful. But his hopes quickly turn to white-hot fury: selfish, stupid Aurek and his inability to control his lust. The king had still not given up on the hope the rat catcher would do what he had been sent for, but with Aurek laying with his daughter – shaming her, as her father has written – it will never happen.

  Then he pauses.

  His hands scrabbling to keep up with his mind, he fumbles for a new sheaf of parchment and begins to write.

  Aurek looks guilty as he enters the throne room, his eyebrows rising when he sees the rat catcher and his children there, Aurelia too.

  “Aurek,” the king booms when he has taken his seat. “You know why you are here. My honoured guest, the rat catcher, tells me you have made advances to his daughter. Is this true? Have you courted his child, knowing nothing could come of it, by my own order?”

  The rat catcher’s daughter looks at the table as Aurek meets his father’s gaze. “Yes,” he says. He feels the eyes of the rat catcher and his family on him and he continues, “I have come to care for her.”

  He doesn’t look at his paramour, nor at her father or brother, keeping his eyes fixed on the king. “I know you said she might not become my wife, but I ask you why not? Did you not marry my mother for love?”

  The king replies so smoothly it’s as though he has rehearsed it. “You talk of marriage?”

  A beat before he replies. “I do.”

  “And if I do not consent?”

  “Then I shall leave with her and her father, and marry her in her homeland. If you’ll permit it?” He looks at the rat catcher, whose mouth gapes wide.

  “You would leave your place as my prince and heir?” the king asks.

  “Sire, I would,” Aurek says simply.

  “Then you leave me no choice.”

  Aurek hangs his head as though waiting for the axe to fall.

  “If the rat catcher keeps his word and rids the kingdom of rats, I will give my consent and you may wed tomorrow. I will throw the feast here.”

  Aurek looks at the rat catcher, who narrows his eyes.

  “Wait,” the rat catcher’s daughter cries. “Will no one ask if I consent to this wedding?”

  Everyone turns to her, surprised.

  “You would refuse me?” Aurek asks, at the same as time the king says “You would spurn my son?”

  “Silence,” the rat catcher’s son hisses, but his sister holds up her hand.

  “I told you once before, I would not be bartered or traded like goods.”

  “But now you are used goods,” the rat catcher says slowly, unable to meet his daughter’s eye. “Now you have no value.”

  “Because I gave myself to him?” she stares at her father. “Because you have more to consider now than just your life,” the rat catcher says. “So do the right thing.” His daughter bows her head. “Your word on this?” the rat catcher says, looking back at the king.

  “I give you my word,” the king says. “Kill every single rat in my kingdom, and by sundown tomorrow your daughter will be a princess of Tallith.”

  “Wait,” says the rat catcher’s son. “I would like for my betrothed to attend the wedding.”

  They all turn to look at him.

  “But your bride surely lives many weeks from here? Do you wish to delay for so long?” says the king.

  “She can travel swiftly, if I ask it of her.”

  The king and Aurek glance at each other, and Aurek shrugs.

  “So be it,” the king says. “We will hold the wedding as soon as she arrives. With your agreement?” he looks to the rat catcher, who is watching his son.

  “I agree,” the rat catcher says finally.

  “Ring the bells!” the king commands. “My son has chosen a bride! Three days from now they will wed. Send word to every corner of the land.”

  The rat catcher’s daughter looks at Aurek, who crosses the room and murmurs into her ear softly until the frown melts from her face. The rat catcher rises and shakes hands with the king before they embrace like brothers. It makes a beautiful tableau – save for Aurelia and the rat catcher’s son, who sit sullen and silent. No one mentions the possible child again. There is no need, with the wedding so close. They’ll barely have to lie at all.

  The next morning, the rat catcher takes a pipe from his bag and begins to play, marching from the Tower of Courage, through the courtyards of the castle, and down through the streets and lanes of Tallith. From across the kingdom the rats follow, filling the roads with warm, squirming bodies. They follow the rat catcher past the fields, through the woods and across the scrub until they reach the sea. He stands waist deep, playing and playing until the water is roiling with rats, almost bubbling as they swim frantically towards him. He pipes three sharp notes and the rats dive.

  When they surface, all the rats are dead.

  When the rat catcher returns to the castle, his son’s betrothed, the supposed witch princess, has arrived and is closeted with his son. The only explanation is that she was there all the time, unknown to anyone. His daughter is busy with the seamstresses,
making her wedding gown. He celebrates his accomplishment alone with half a bottle of brandy and slices of beef so thin he can see through them. He does not feel as though a wedding is approaching. It feels more like a funeral.

  The rat catcher’s daughter is dressed in blue as she makes her entrance. Aurek stands before the altar in Tallithi military dress, watching her walk towards him. The ceremony is small but ornate: candles blaze; there are flowers everywhere, the room heady with their perfume. The king beams at the rat catcher when his daughter, flanked by Aurelia, as maid of honour, reaches Aurek and they both kneel. The rat catcher’s son stands with his affianced, a small, thin woman with flaming red hair and a pinched expression. Neither of them is smiling.

  Aurek is just about to place the ring on the finger of the rat catcher’s daughter when the doors are thrown open. A guard rushes forward, something held in his hands. As he gets closer, they see it’s a cage. And in the cage is a rat, with one torn ear.

  “He lied!” the guard roars, pointing at the rat catcher. “We caught this one sneaking into the wedding feast! Who knows how many more still live! He tricks us!”

  Aurek staggers back theatrically as the rat catcher’s daughter reaches for him.

  “But it’s yours,” she says. “It was in your chamber. In the cage.”

  Aurek shakes his head at her as though she is mad.

  Then she understands. Aurek has used her. When she fell for his lies and confessed to her father, the king took advantage of it to get what he wanted all along.

  She would never have been permitted to marry Aurek.

  “I never wanted this!”

  Her scream is lost in the cacophony that erupts. The king of Tallith roars at the rat catcher, shouts of treachery and betrayal and treason. The rat catcher’s son seizes his sister and pulls her away from the approaching guards. The rat catcher begs for mercy, swearing he has done his job properly.