The Sand Prince (25 page)

When he could look around and handle the color, light, and motion without getting dizzy, he decided to explore. Why not? None of his people had been on this side of the Door in his lifetime. He wondered what people were saying about him, how Aelle had taken the news, if his mother was in trouble. He realized he might be on this side for a very long time.

He walked until he came to a river (with many interruptions to observe leaves and stones) and that stopped him dead in his tracks. He knew what it was—in
The Claiming of the Duke
the characters were always sailing from one river town to the next—but to see one in person! It was nothing like the vast, moving sand rivers beyond the city walls. He forgot his precarious circumstances and crossed the broad swath of green grass that formed a natural border to the bank. He gingerly walked out onto the muddy shore, sinking just a bit, and spent some time squishing the mud between his toes. It was warm from the sun and not unpleasant, although very strange. It clung to his legs much like the dust back home. He supposed mud and dust were cousins. He looked at the water for a long time, at the way it threw back bits of light and the way it never stopped moving. Water couldn't be that different from air. Air was full of light and never stopped moving. He could see the bottom for a few feet, then it quickly got too deep to follow. He waded out until he was knee deep, to where it dropped off, looked at the sky, and stepped off the edge.

After he'd managed to get himself back to the grassy shore, and had stopped coughing up river water, he lay in the sun and turned his heat up. In a moment he was dry. He laughed weakly.
So that was what they call cold! Also I can't breathe underwater. So—water is not like air. And I don't seem to be able to float very well, either.

He heard voices and quickly retreated to the dense growth that marked the edge of the forest.

A young man and woman strolled out onto the grass, setting down bags and baskets. The woman, like the lady on the cover of his book, wore her hair unbound—which, he decide, was much to his liking. They quickly shed their clothes and jumped—on purpose—into the water. There was much splashing and laughing. The young man would disappear under the dark water and surface somewhere different, and the girl would shriek with laughter every time. Eventually, she complained of being cold. He watched as they got out of the water. There were sprays and drop of water flying everywhere as they shook out their hair.
So far
, he thought,
water is my favorite part
. They continued to laugh, but now seemed more interested in kissing.
Very much like in my book!
he thought with satisfaction. Those people were always kissing when they weren't arguing or traveling.

When they began to make love on the warm banks of the river he knew he should look away, but it was all so interesting. The boy and girl had completely different colored hair, and the skin of his body was darker than hers. Their bodies were hypnotic flashes of color and shape. He was too far to tell for sure, but they didn't appear to ornament their flesh with ink or gold. And that wasn't the only peculiarity—he was surprised to see how gentle they were, as if afraid the other would break. The young man touched the girl's body in a way that looked correct, but no blows, no slaps. No sparks or flames at all. Were all humans like that? How did they know anything had happened? He had to find Dos Capehart. The end of the book surely would make it clear.

As the couple slept the afternoon away, he stole the boy’s clothes and the girl’s bag. He hadn’t gone far before he went back and took the boy’s wide brimmed hat.

The river still captured his attention more than the land, and he found a quiet, secluded spot to watch it rush past. Eventually the moons rose, and he understood why people talked about them so much. As it got darker, it also got quieter, and that made it easier to think.

He slept under a tree with the bag rolled up under his head, totally alone, never noticing that every animal in the wood, when it sensed him, turned and went the other way.

***

V
ery early the next morning, he heard Scilla call, a tug in his mind. There was just enough light to cast shadows, and that was how he traveled to meet her, practically unseeable. He felt much more at ease and could look around without getting dizzy, so he could both watch where he was going and use his one useful ability. Oddly, it seemed easier to vanish in this strange place. Maybe there were just more shadows. Still, he had to step away from shade here and there and stop and look at some really sparkly rocks. Rocks! But they somehow added to the beauty of the scene. This place was full of wonders.

She met him in a clearing in the woods. Still going unseen, he took a look at her in the daylight. She was very young, he'd been right about that.  She had long brown braids that were slightly mussed. She wore a heavy cape which looked well used but expensive over what appeared to be a nightdress. She appeared to be anxious, looking behind her back towards the great stone heap of a building she'd trapped him in the day before. Well, she could just wait. Before he let her see him, he spent some time looking at the tree stumps, draped with velvety moss. The green of the moss was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Except, perhaps, light on water.

––––––––

The beast was huge, Gwenyth imagined it weighed nearly as much as she did. She held out her hand, palm up. The breast of capon had been intended for her dinner, but this seemed a more sensible course. The dog sniffed it, then picked it up delicately between its massive jaws. It was gone in one bite. The wolfhound licked her hand, its tail thumping against the floor.

-The Claiming of the Duke, pg 49

Malloy Dos Capeheart, Little Gorda Press (out of print)

––––––––

M
istra

100 years after the War of the Door, Mistran calendar

20 years later, Eriisai calendar

Outside the Guardhouse

Scilla didn't have to wait very long for her demon to show up, which was a good thing because she did not want to be missed at the Guardhouse. So the creature was punctual, that was good to know. She wasn't sure what to expect; would it still be a frightening vision of grey skin and smoke? She took a jump back when a tall young man appeared out of nowhere in front of her. This was called ‘Hiding Its True Face,’ she knew that from her studies. She noted that the creature had somehow procured a loosely woven shirt of plain dark brown cloth with large bone buttons. It fit well enough, unlike the trousers, which were a good handspan too short. It was barefoot and had a broad brimmed straw hat jammed over its long dark hair. It now looked like a poor farmer. Then it took off the hat so she could see its eyes, and it looked like nothing she'd ever seen.

"I see you have some clothes," she said by way of greeting.

It said, "I see you have something for me to do, little wench. Will you set me free, then?"

"Demon, I think you ought to look at this as an ambassadorship to our side. Think of everything you’ll learn here. And when I feel it’s time, off you’ll go on your own. So stop asking." It nodded unhappily. Good, so it knew this was not a request. "That thing you did, where you are hard to see? I saw you do it when you left my cell. Can you do it whenever you want?" It nodded again. She blew a breath out. "Excellent. That makes this so much easier."

"What am I doing on my great quest to learn about your world?" it asked, rather rudely, she thought. "I feel certain you have some very specific ideas."

She smiled and held out a twist of paper. "You’re going to a party and putting this in the wine."

"What is wine?" it wanted to know.

"Um, you drink it? It's red, I guess, it comes in tall bottles. It makes people act like idiots."

"Oh, like
sarave"
, it said, wincing slightly. "You call it wine?" It squinted suspiciously at the paper cone she'd handed it. "I won't take lives. I am bound to you but I'll take this myself before I take lives for you."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic. It'll just give them headaches." It looked relieved. Would it really take its own life? There was so much to learn! "Then you’re going to a house and breaking some glass. You know what mirrors are?" She was shaking with excitement.

"Mirrors and wine. So I’m an ambassador slash petty criminal?"

This creature was as petulant as her sister! Scilla wished she could force it to be more enthusiastic, but she couldn't control its feelings, only its actions. She shrugged. "Think of all the people you’ll meet! Just don’t look them in the eye."

It glared at her. Even in its human form, it was a little frightening to be on the receiving end of that gaze.

"When you go to this house—" she continued.

"The house with the wine? Or the house with the mirrors?"

Now it was just being difficult, she could tell. She drew a deep breath. "The house with the mirrors, the second one. You might see me there. Maybe not. I don't know for sure. But if you see me, you must never try and talk to me or contact me in any way. In that house, you are always invisible."

The demon considered this. She could see it trying to decide what to ask, and what it thought she would answer.

Finally it said, "Tell me about the house. The mirror house. If I am to bring mischief it might be helpful to know who bears the brunt, no?"

Scilla chewed her lip. "You'll find a family."

"Your family?" it asked.

"My family is the Order," she said with a great deal of conviction. "But they are my brothers and sisters, yes. The eldest two are of no concern to you. They are called Pol and May, leave them alone. The next boy is Rane and the girl is called Lelet. Make trouble between them. It'll be easy, they hate each other."

"Not as much as you hate them, I gather?" it asked in a lofty tone.

This thing was turning out to be more intelligent than she'd planned. She could hear an echo of the Voice when it spoke. She hadn't thought about using it as anything other than a blunt instrument. Would there be other, more elegant uses for it? Suddenly curious, she asked, "Do you have a sister?"

There came a pause.
Why would it have to stop and think about that? Maybe they have nests, like snakes.

Finally, "No."

Scilla nodded and began to pace. She could feel her face getting warm. "Then you don't know what it’s like watching someone get everything. Is she smart? Is she kind? Is she clever? No! None of those things. And she gets everything she wants, all the time. She colors her hair pink like a clown. She's a drunk. She's a fool. She... sees men."

"I see men," the demon smirked. "I see lots of things. I'm seeing you right now."

"Not like that," she hissed. "You know what I'm talking about, I know you do. She'll act all sweet and like she cares, but she doesn't. She only cares about herself. She's the one. Do whatever you want to Rane, he'll be sent to our father out at the farms and it'll probably be good for him. But Lelet? She should bear the brunt. Let her know what it’s like to lose something she cares about."

"What did this girl take away from you?" it asked.

Scilla had tears standing in her eyes. Her face was bright red. The Voice had agreed with her, it wasn’t fair that Lelet got everything and she was left with nothing at all. And now her cow of a sister would find out what it was like when things didn’t go your way.

My dresses, my party, my friends, my fancy shoes, my own room, my own house,
she listed the stolen things in her head.
The nice dinner because I'm coming home, which you won't be at because you're going to a party instead. There's something special waiting for you at your little party, Lelet.
"She ruins everything." She wiped her face and took a breath. "That's all you have to know. You are
filled in
."

"This is a waste of time," declared the demon.

"I have nothing but time. I will be locked up here for the rest of my life." Scilla put on her back-to-work face and said, "What is important to remember?"

The demon sighed, she thought, again rather dramatically. "Timing. The wine. And then two nights later, the mirrors. And don't talk to you. Can I go now?"

"Here," she said, handing the creature a fat white candle. "You'll need this."

It examined the candle. "For a romantic dinner?"

"It's so I can talk to you,
of course
. Unless you can
fly
back and forth from the city to the Guardhouse." She frowned. "Can you?" It crossed its arms and looked at the sky. "I guess not. Light it at second moonrise and I'll be waiting."

"Wine, mirrors, candles, houses. Can I go
now
?"

"This is important, demon. Our people, have they ever worked together like this before?"

"We are not together. And whatever you’re doing, it won’t work. The boy won’t love you, the house won’t be saved from the fire, the horse will still break a leg. And even if she throws herself out of a window to the cliffs below, your older sister will always be older. Set me free before you damage yourself."

"The... what? What boy? What are you talking about?"

The demon looked down its nose at her. "Go read a book."

She put on her best at-breakfast smile. "Mmm hmm. See you soon. Timing, remember." She turned and walked back to the Guardhouse. The day was brightening and she had to hurry to get back to her infirmary bed.

It’s wrong. It’s wrong. He’s wrong.

***

A
t dawn, the elderly nurse came through to check on her only patient. Scilla heard the old lady muttering complaints to herself about ‘silly children, it’s either falling down the stairs or burning themselves on a candle, or they’re complainin’ about their tummies’ Scilla worked on breathing slowly, so she'd appear to still be asleep. Oldest trick in the book.

"I can see you're awake, Miss. Might as well open your eyes."

Scilla blinked up at the nurse. "Hmm? What time is it?" Scilla yawned and stretched and accepted a mug of chocolate the woman handed her. "Will they send me home today?" she asked, trying to look small and downcast.