The Beggar Prince, page 11
part #1 of Unbroken Bond Series
“My dear, unless you wish to wake that snoring mound behind you, I suggest you keep your voice down.”
“But…what we ever do to you?”
“Child, your stupidity is beginning to offend me. Did I not already say Davian is enamoured with that boy? And I can't very well have that boy under my roof without having you under my roof, now can I?”
“But…but you could've asked!”
“Davian did. Repeatedly. And you refused. Repeatedly. So, I took matters into my own hands.”
The numbing cold within the pit of Marshalla's stomach spread all about her.
“You need to understand one thing, child,” Thuridan continued. “I always get what I want, and right now that is what Davian wants. You will say yes to him, or I will destroy you utterly and completely. But, and this is truly important so do please pay attention, should Davian lose interest in you, my offer fades with that interest. And with where you are in life right now, well…”
Vehemently, Marshalla shook her head.
“No!” she exclaimed. “No, no, no, no, no! You won't own us! Rather die than go anywhere near you!”
“With winter coming, that's very likely.”
Marshalla moved to speak, but stopped, gritting her teeth instead.
“Now, as for–”
“We'll leave, Tip and me, we'll leave Merethia.”
Thuridan sighed as he shook his head at her. “And go where?”
“Don't know, somewhere.”
“Look, you–”
“Tealan. We'll go Tealan, it's close. We'll find work there.”
Thuridan shook his head, sighing once again. “So you would swap being a gutter rat in a place like Merethia to being a gutter rat in Tealan. Truly? And this work you will find, what kind of work do you think someone like you would find in a place like Tealan? And the men there, do you think they will be as…civil…to someone with your…endowments?”
“Nothing civil about the men here,” Marshalla snarled.
“If you truly think so, then you are in for a treat in Tealan,” Thuridan replied, chuckling at Marshalla as he spoke.
“We not working for you, and you can't stop us leaving!” Spinning on her heels, Marshalla marched back towards Tip.
“Get back here, I'm not done with you yet.”
But Marshalla ignored him and carried on walking.
“Or would you rather I make an example of your sleeping friend.”
Stopping, she turned to face him. “You wouldn't dare.”
“Are you sure?”
Marshalla stared at him in silence for a spell before at last doing as he bid. As she reached him though, he fixed her with a most curious stare. Unsure what to make of it, she stared back at him.
“You're a curious one,” Thuridan said at last. “I know not if it's stupidity or courage that's driving you, but either way you're clearly set on refusing me, aren't you? Even if it means freezing to death, or worse.”
Marshalla stuck her chin out at him in response.
“Very well,” he continued. “I shall ask one favour of you, and if you succeed I shall leave you be.”
Marshalla frowned at him. “Leave us be…for good.”
“Yes.”
“Ok….”
“Good.” Nodding, Thuridan parted his coat, revealing his money purse.
“Steal my purse.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Steal my purse. Like you did the first time we met.”
“Wasn't me–”
“I know, Tip did. So, come over here and do the same.”
Marshalla hesitated. But his promise rang in her ears still, so at last she walked over to his side. She looked from his purse to him.
“Go on.”
Frowning still, she looked back at his purse, then lunged for it. But the moment her fingers clasped round it, her eyes went wide as a defiling blaze erupted in her hand. It was like nothing she'd ever felt, for it was corrupting and burning all at once. It shot up her arm at such an alarming pace, spreading through her body, down to her legs, and up into her head. Within moments, her entire body felt engulfed in a blazing inferno whilst drowning in a sea of vile corruption. She tried to scream, but her voice failed her. She tried to release her grasp, but her fingers failed her. All she could do was stand staring at Thuridan with her eyes wide and her mind screaming in pain and terror.
With a single word, Thuridan ended her suffering.
“Gods above!” she whispered as she cradled her hand, backing away quickly from him.
“What you felt, my dear,” Thuridan said as he took a step forward, “ is what that friend of yours should've felt the moment his fingers closed around my purse. But he didn't, did he?”
Marshalla stared Thuridan, lost for words.
“Did he?”
At last, she shook her head.
“Why?”
She shook her head once again, but this time looked over at Tip.
“Liar,” she replied at last, turning to face him. “It wasn't there when Tip touched it.”
“Oh, but it was. Do you remember how I turned the purse over in my hand? When you returned it? I was checking the wards. They were still active, every single one of them.”
“But…didn't feel anything.”
“Precisely, your friend over there not only stole it, but gave it to you in a manner that meant you were shielded from its effect.”
“Tip?”
“Yes, my dear, Tip. So, how did he do it? How did Tip take the purse from me without suffering any of its effects? And how was he able to give it to you without you suffering any of its effects?”
Marshalla didn't have an answer.
“How well do you know him?”
“He…” Marshalla began, but her voice trailed away as she turned to stare at him once again.
“You know nothing of his past, do you?”
Still no answer.
“I mean to learn his secret, girl. I mean to learn how he was able to get past my wards so easily and so quickly. And that is why I want you and he to accept Davian's offer.”
“He'll never tell you,” she replied at last, turning to face him once again. “He hates you.”
“You let me worry about that. All you have to do is convince him to accept Davian's offer.”
“He hates you,” she repeated. “Can't talk him into saying yes if he hates you.”
“Of course you can. He listens to you, he trusts you and looks up to you. And, judging from today's events, I daresay he'll do absolutely anything you ask of him.”
Marshalla shook her head, looking back at Tip once more. This time, though, it was the familiar jingle of coins that drew her gaze back to Thuridan. As she looked at him, her gaze quickly settled upon the money bag in his hand, one almost as large as his whole hand. Marshalla stared open-mouthed at it. Then, Thuridan tossed it at her. Catching it, she looked up at him, her gaze one of puzzlement and quite some guilt.
“One more of that if you succeed in convincing him, and a final one if I get what I'm after.”
Marshalla looked down at the bag in her hand.
“I will not harm him. In fact, I intend to teach him the ways of the arcane to gain his trust.”
Marshalla stared at the bag in her hand, unmoved.
“You lose nothing by this, and I will not throw you both out once I have what I want, you may remain under my roof for as long as you wish. You will be fed while under my roof. And a wage, of course.”
Marshalla looked up at Thuridan once more.
“Well?”
“Uhm…” she looked over at Tip, then looked back at Thuridan.
“Doing this for him, not me.” she said at last.
Thuridan smirked at her. “Of course you are. Oh, one more thing. We never spoke. Understood?”
Marshalla glowered at him for a spell.
“Yes,” she whispered at last.
“Good.” And with that, he turned and left. Marshalla watched him leave, her guilt growing with each pace he took. She looked down at the bag in her hand. It seemed to have gained in weight. Gritting her teeth, she pulled out the enchanted money purse Mardaley had gifted her to hold their coin, and carefully emptied the bag into it before shoving both the purse and the bag into her pockets. She looked over at Tip once more.
“Doing this for him…” she muttered. “For him.”
Taking a deep breath, she walked over to where Tip lay, and sitting beside him, she shook him awake as gently as she could.
“Hey, Tip.”
Tip looked up groggily at her. “Marsha?”
“Listen, been thinking…”
Mortal Machinations
Stifling a yawn, Magister Meadowview rose from the bench where he sat. No matter where he sat within the Gardens of Taith, be it by one of its many fountains, or on one of its benches in shade, the peace and tranquility always lulled him to eventually. Shaking himself awake, he rose to his feet. It was past time he left.
“I thought I might find you here,” a voice called out to him from behind. Turning, he watched as an unfamiliar elderly woman made her way towards him.
“Do we know each other?” he asked once she reached him, his curiosity piqued.
“Yes, I believe we do.”
Frowning, the archmage stared at his new guest, trying hard to place her face.
“You have me at a disadvantage, my lady,” he said at last. The lady before him smiled.
“Good to know my illusions are good enough now to fool even you, Baern.”
Magister Meadowview's eyes went wide. He'd recognise that voice anywhere.
“Mardaley?” he whispered.
“Hrm? I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear that,” the elderly lady replied in her earlier voice.
“Oh, very funny, Mardaley,” Baern growled. “So, what do I call you?”
“Emaline.”
“Ema–oh very funny indeed!”
“Thought you might like it,” Mardaley replied, grinning.
“What are you doing here looking like that?”
All at once, Mardaley's grin dissipated.
“We have trouble,” he muttered.
“Trouble enough that you'd go though all of this.”
Grimly, Mardaley nodded. “Sit with me.”
“I can't, I need to head back.”
“Then I'll walk with you.”
Pausing, Baern stared at his friend in silence for a spell.
“Very well,” he said at last. Turning, Magister Meadowview began walking towards the entrance with Mardaley in tow.
“So, what's happened?”
“Marshalla's accepted Thuridan's offer.”
Stopping dead, Baern turned to stare at his friend, fixing him with a haunted gaze. Mardaley nodded in response, his eyes forward.
“When?” Baern whispered once he found his voice, his feet finding their rhythm as he spoke.
“They changed their minds a couple of days ago,” Mardaley replied as he fell in step beside his friend. “She came in this morning, her and Tip. Both said they had something to tell me, and then just…blurted it out.”
Baern stared hard at his friend. His face was set, as if chiselled in stone, but he knew Mardaley better than most, and that knowledge worried him greatly.
“They told Davian yesterday,” Mardaley continued, oblivious to the strength of his friend's stare, “and he went and told his father. They told me after they told Davian, Baern. Me!”
“Mardaley–”
“Emaline, Baern.”
“Whatever. Look, we need to be calm about this.”
Abruptly, Mardaley turned to stare at him, the pained expression in his eyes further confirming Baern's fears.
“Calm, you say?” Mardaley asked through gritted teeth.
“Yes, calm.”
“Baern, we're about to lose Marshalla to that self-serving monster, and you preach calm to me?”
“Look, Ma…Emaline, we–”
“I am calm, Baern. I am very calm.”
“You…good.”
Scowling, Mardaley turned his gaze forward. “Damn it all, I should've offered them room and board with their wages!”
“Emaline, no, we–”
“But, if I had we wouldn't be in this mess!”
“No, we wouldn't, we would be in an even bigger mess. It would be only a matter of time before she'd stumble onto something that told her of her past before she was ready to learn of it. Your words, not mine.”
Mardaley glared at his friend with gritted teeth before finally sighing.
“I'm sorry, it's just...I don't know what to do here.” Stopping, Mardaley turned to stare at his friend, his gaze one of such great pain. “I don't know what to do.”
“Well…” Baeri said as he fought to keep his composure. Rarely did he ever see Mardaley so vulnerable, and such sights always bore into him. “When do they join into his household?”
“He's meant to come over this evening to discuss the terms of their new employment. We're to discuss when best they can leave.”
“That's quite…noble of him,” Baern said as he resumed his earlier pace.
“Isn't it just?” Mardaley replied as he fell in step.
“Still, it doesn't give us much time to think this through.”
“You don't say.”
“Emaline, please. We're together in this.”
Mardaley turned to glare at his friend, but even as he did so, his anger left him.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered. “It's just…Gods, I can't believe I'm about to lose her to him!”
“It's not over yet.”
“What do we do, then? How do we stop this? She can't just go to him.”
“Is there anything at all you can do to delay this?”
“Oh, I can do a lot of things.”
“Ok then, is there anything you can do to delay this that doesn't involve reducing him to ash?”
Mardaley cast an angry sideways glance at Baern, but kept his peace.
“Right, well, he's caught us off-guard, and pretty badly too. With luck, it will be a few days before they move into his home, it should at least give us some time to–”
“No, we have to stop it all now, right now.”
“It's too late for that, she's accepted.”
“It doesn't matter, we have to think of something. We have to stop it.”
“You're not thinking this through, Emaline.”
Fuming, Mardaley rounded on his friend.
“I am not losing her again!” he snarled
“Mardaley, you need to remain calm a–”
“I am calm!” Mardaley bellowed, his words echoing angrily about them as lightning flashed briefly between his eyes. An unsettling silence fell upon the pair as Baern stared worriedly at his friend. At last, Mardaley brought his ire under heel, and as he did so, he cast a furtive glance about him at the many faces staring at him with a mix of worry, anger and simple curiosity.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered as he quickened his pace. Shaking his head, Baern hurried to keep pace with him.
“I'm sorry,” he repeated once Baern was beside him, the elderly archmage nodding at him in response.
“We have to do something.”
Sighing, Baern nodded. “I know.”
“Once she moves into his home, I'll be out of her life.”
Baern sighed once again, but then, at that moment, he knew just what he had to do.
“Then, maybe it's time I entered it.”
Frowning, Mardaley turned to stare at Baern.
“What do you mean?” he asked. Baern smiled.
“The boy wants to learn magic, correct?”
“Yes…”
“And Marshalla loves that boy, correct?”
“Yes…”
“Well, given the Tower's current policy, I think I may be able whet his appetite some. And what better way to make sure Thuridan stays on his best behaviour than him knowing the Tower's taken an interest in them.”
Mardaley frowned at his friend.
“What about Naeve?” he asked after a brief silence. “We can't have her meet Marshalla before they're both ready.”
“We'll have to tackle that later. Right now we have to save them from Thuridan.”
Mardaley's frown remained for a spell, but soon a grateful smile parted his lips.
“Thank you.”
Baern shook his head in response. “Don't thank me yet, I still need to bring it to be.”
“You will, you always do.”
Baern smiled at his friend. Turning, he looked up about them. People were still staring.
“Come, let's get out of here before rumours start spreading about me.”
Mardaley chuckled. “Yes, I suppose we'd better.”
*****
With a guilty frown, Tip stared at Mardaley. The little boy sat hugging one of the balusters of the small staircase tightly, his head resting upon the same baluster as he watched Mardaley restock his wares. When they'd told him earlier that they that they intended work for Thuridan Grovemender, Tip wasn't quite sure how Mardaley would react, but even if he was, the cold silence and the look of pain upon Mardaley's face were not what he'd have expected. Since then, the elderly storekeeper had been distant, and that hurt Tip, it hurt a great deal. But even more biting was the guilt. He'd been so happy, so eager to go live with Davian, he didn't once stop to think about how Mardaley would feel about them leaving. Not once.
Tip looked over at Marshalla sat at the table behind him. She, too, was staring at Mardaley. Briefly, their eyes met. She, too, was wracked with guilt. Betrayed, that's what Marshalla had called it. Mardaley was feeling betrayed. And there was nothing they could do about it. Just then, the door opened as two visitors entered the store. As they entered, the sight of one filled Tip with joy, while the other filled him with dread.
“Good evening,” Thuridan said as he took in all within the store.
“Good evening, Thuridan,” Mardaley replied. “Please, come in.”
Tip frowned deeply as he watched Thuridan close the door behind him, but as his eyes fell back upon Davian, his frown was quickly replaced by a warm smile as Davian waved excitedly at him.
“Marsha, look after the store, would you?” Mardaley asked as he beckoned Thuridan to join him before heading for the back room.
