"The elders don't generally include me in their planning sessions, dear. Just tell the truth of your tale and hope for the best." The nurse paused and then asked. "What made you take up with the red eyes, anyway?"
Scilla teared up. "They threatened my family. They said terrible things would happen if I didn't do what they said."
"Settle your bones, Miss. Don’t start in with all that wailin’ again, Light preserve us. Let me take a look." She kissed Scilla on her forehead, looked in her eyes, and declared her fever and dullness free, and sent her to her room to wait for the elders’ call.
The call came before lunch, which gave Scilla plenty of time to poke through the remains of her fire, but sadly the only thing left of her precious notebook was the spine. The rest was completely burned away. Too bad, but it was a small sacrifice. If the elders had read it, they'd do far worse than just send her packing. Her hysterics and subsequent trip to the infirmary had been just the thing—when she’d woken up from the sleeping draught in the middle of the night, she'd managed to swipe a twist of lacgma. It cured the kitchen dog of worms but gave people a vicious headache.
And she'd had time to perfect her story,
and
send her demon off on its journey. Funny, it had looked terrifying in its native state, but in human form, it looked like a handsome young man—one with very peculiar eyes, of course. She snickered. Her sister would make short work of it, if she ever met it. That was something else to think about, actually....
She was ushered in to Brother Blue's study, and took the seat across from him at his desk. To her surprise, he was the only one to question her. At first, she was pleased, feeling he'd be the easiest to lead about, but she quickly realized he was no simple old fool. He knew just what to ask, somehow, and her story became more and more elaborate. She knew the first law of the lie is pick a simple story and do not waver, but his probing questions made that nearly impossible.
They talked for what felt like hours. Who contacted whom? What did you promise the creatures? What did you tell them about The Door? Why did you enter the Veil? What did you find there? Why did you never ask for help? Through her sobs, she told Brother Blue they hounded her with voices in her head and never left her in peace until she thought she was going mad. They made her promise not to ask for help or her family would pay the price. She didn't know how the Veil lifted, it just did. She didn’t know how the books got in her room—maybe they had her under a spell? Maybe they were trying to kidnap her? She didn't understand and prayed they were gone for good.
Eventually, she began to believe her own story. Finally, it appeared, so did Brother Blue.
Yes, everything was falling into place. She'd convinced the elders she was blameless and contrite, and she'd promised old Blue that she'd spend at least an hour every evening in contemplation and reflection. An hour, it was agreed, at second moonrise.
Ultimately they agreed to let her remain at the Guardhouse. They'd have to watch her closely for signs of corruption, and there was no question about her being allowed back into the library. Pots and pans were her new friends, and she smiled through her tears and thanked the elders for helping and protecting her.
Properly replacing the notebook turned out to be the most difficult task. She wrote and wrote (and burned the pages every morning—she was being watched like a hawk), but the Voice remained silent.
––––––––
“My Lord!” Gwenyth cried in shock. “But how—I saw you die!”
Sir Edward laughed. “And I thought performance class at University was a waste of time. It appears not.” He advanced on her.
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 181
Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)
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M
istra
100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar
20 years later, Eriisai calendar
The Guardhouse
"Come in," said Brother Blue to his young assistant's knock. The boy settled himself in a comfortable chair in the corner of Blue's study—you only sat across from him at the desk if you were in trouble. They shared some warm cider, and after he'd asked after the boy's family and general health, "What did we learn today?"
That was nearly always the first question Blue liked to ask when it was time to talk business.
"She snuck out," said the boy. "Just like you said she would. I followed her to that place, the stumps." In Blue's experience, every lonesome, homesick, angry, displaced child to join the Order eventually found their way to the stumps. "She met someone there."
"Ah, now things grow warmer," said Blue. "How close did you get?"
"Not as close as I would have liked. It's just very quiet out there at that hour—it was just barely sunup. Nothing about, not even a bird." The boy paused, and frowned. "Usually birds are up at dawn. I wonder...."
"Who was this person she spoke with?"
"Not sure. Never seen him before. And me too far away to see his face, even." The boy looked crestfallen. "Next time I'll get there first, climb a tree. That way I can hear them better too."
"Please, Olly—let us focus on the task at hand, hmm? What did you see?"
The boy screwed his face up in concentration. "She waited, I think. Then he just appeared, which struck me odd. I didn't see him walk up the path to her like he was coming from the Guardhouse, and he would have walked past me if he'd come from the road the other way, although he might be stealthy. Maybe he knew about another path."
"And his appearance?" asked Blue. He was prepared for the answer: slender, dark, small.
"Big. Tall man, long black hair. He had a hat so I couldn't get a gander at his face, then he took it off but he had his back to me. Had some sort of bag over his shoulder. No shoes. And his pants were too short, isn't that funny?" Olly added, "Like, odd funny, not joke funny."
"Are you sure? You could tell he was tall? Like as tall as yourself?"
Olly looked confused. "Tall as you, sir. I could see the two of them standing next to each other. That’d be a hard one to get wrong."
Blue frowned. "And her demeanor?"
"Well, I was on the lookout for untoward behavior, of course, but it didn't seem like that at all." Olly was obviously relieved at not bearing that sort of news. "It was more like she was ordering him around, and he was just shaking his head about it. I think she was angry at him. Oh, and she gave him a candle."
Blue's brows shot up. "A candle? That is interesting."
You could do a lot of things with a candle
, he thought. You could keep track of a candle, and the one who lit it as well.
"Finally, she turned around and stomped away." Blue gave the boy a curious look. "Yes, I said stomped and I'm sticking with it. Those two are not friends, whatever else may be going on. And then he put the candle in his bag and he sort of disappeared into the trees."
"And our sister Scilla?"
"She snuck back the way she went out, went straight to the infirmary. And I went to morning chores." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "And then I came here. And after this—"
"That’s fine, Olly. Let us keep a sharp eye out for this mysterious hat wearer, shall we? And if you can climb that tree, please do get a closer look. We’ll just check on Sister Scilla’s predawn antics for the next few days, you don’t mind getting up a little early?" The boy agreed that he did not. "Then for now, perhaps you’d go fetch her and bring her here for a chat. I’ll bet it’s an interesting story."
"va’Everlys," he thought after sending Olly on his way. "Nothing but trouble."
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E
riis
20 years after the War of the Door, Eriisai calendar
100 years later, Mistran calendar
Royal Family Quarters
"Do I get to come home?" Rhuun had asked.
Ilaan was sick with dread; he could hear a crowd coming down the hall, and the Mages with them. "I don't know. No, I
do
know. I will figure this out. I won't leave you there, I swear it."
Rhuun heard them, too. They both looked at the door, and then back at the page. "So. What now, Ilaan? Fight?"
Ilaan nodded at the paper. "Fly. I won't leave you there. I'll bring you home." Although he had no idea how to do it or when it might be safe, at that moment he would have staked his life.
That's exactly what I've done,
he thought.
Not only my life but both of ours.
"Take care of my mother," said Rhuun. "Take care of Aelle. Lock the door. And let's get started."
And he had started, reading the charm slowly but clearly, properly hitting all the difficult letter combinations. Nothing happened. Ilaan thought
It's not working, I'm going to lose him, it was all for nothing
, and then he saw that the page was on fire, burning away from the top. The smoke smelled like meat, too much smoke for such a small piece of paper. It caught him in the eyes and he blinked once, twice, and Rhuun was gone.
Ilaan realized he'd been holding his breath, and now gave a great gasp and took a hold of the edge of the big wooden dresser to steady himself. The room looked too bright and for a moment he thought he might faint. Then he straightened up and went to the door to listen.
"I don't know where you get your ideas," that was Hellne's voice, no mistaking the cool, amused tone. "But I can assure you my son is... I can't even bring myself to repeat these ridiculous accusations." She gave a little laugh. "Yuenne, surely you don't give any credence to this nonsense? You've known Rhuun since he was a child."
"Yes, a very peculiar child, Your Grace." His father sounded just as cool and twice as bored. Ilaan knew what that meant. It was all true, and Yuenne was about to use it to his own advantage. "I recall a close relationship between you and one of the humans, before disaster struck. What was his name again?"
"I will not be accused in my own home, and I will not listen to gossip that was trash twenty years ago. I suggest you all go back to your homes, or back to the Counselor's lovely party. I believe there was still some water left. Be sure to get one of those lovely crystal cups." Hellne still sounded cool, Ilaan thought, but he could feel fear in her voice. He had to leave. They'd get this door open soon enough, and if they found him here they might be able to make him tell them where Rhuun had gone—who knew what the Mages were capable of? As long as it remained a mystery, Rhuun was safely in the Veil, or through the Door and among the humans. Maybe not safe, but not here. Ilaan looked again around the little room, really more suited to a child than a prince, and shimmered away.
––––––––
The Duke extended a hand, and Gwenyth shyly reached out to take it. She'd never seen so many fine people in one room before. He led her to the groaning buffet table—the smells were so enticing but there was so much she'd never seen and she was desperately afraid of embarrassing him again. She finally picked out a sandwich of good fresh bread piled with meat and cheese. At least she knew how to eat a sandwich. He frowned, displeased.
-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 120
Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)
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M
istra
100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar
20 years later, Eriisai calendar
The road through the Great Forest
When Rhuun realized his goal was a house in the center of Mistra City and not a farmstead in the Great Forest, he was elated. After following the horrible child's instructions on where to go, he'd been doing nothing but looking at trees, bushes, and rocks (and of course, the lovely, wonderful river) for three days. He chased the little creatures which at first he thought were mice in the trees; when they flew away, he understood they were birds. When he was a child, someone had told him stories about birds. He was certain it wasn't his mother, but couldn't quite recall who the storyteller might have been. He liked the noise the birds made, and was disappointed they wouldn't let him get close.
The first evening, he'd found a quiet spot with a nice view of the water, and carefully set out some of the food he'd taken from the couple on the riverbank. The first was an item wrapped in wax paper. It was, he was delighted to recognize, a sandwich. He spent some time pulling it apart and examining the layers—the cheese was rather like back home, and the bread could be nothing else, but the meat parts—they were struck through with white bits and were several shades of pink and red. Finally, he reassembled the thing and took a bite.
Instantly, he spat the mouthful onto the grass. It was overwhelming—oily, sweet, salty—the bread was dry and the cheese was damp. People ate this? He tried again, a much smaller bite. This time, knowing what to expect, he had more success. And by now he was hungry enough to eat the parts he liked—the cheese and bread—along with the meat. Next out of the bag was an apple. The Duke fed Mammoth apples all the time, so he figured they were also good for humans. He gingerly bit into it and was rewarded with sweet, and again, sort of wet. The bag held another few wrapped morsels and another three apples, so he imagined he'd live long enough to get to the city. After that, well, he'd figure it out.
Feeling much restored, he waited for second moonrise. When the smaller Fire moon rose in pursuit of the larger Pearl moon, as instructed, he pulled the white candle out of the bag, and sat and looked at it.
Not as smart as you think you are, little sister
, he laughed, and tossed it back in the bag.
He had no way to light it.
***
S
everal hours later, he awoke in the dark with a strange, sharp pain in his stomach. It felt like something was trying to escape through his midsection. Then the awful sensation moved up towards his throat.
Two unpleasant hours later, he made his way to the river, which flowed into a small and quiet cove no bigger than his childhood bedroom. He eased himself into the water and slowly leaned back. This time he had better luck floating. He felt empty, but in a strangely satisfying way, and looked up at the cold and distant stars.