NaNoWriMo '09//Wonderland Burning
Nov. 7th, 2009 09:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
caffeine_buzzTitle: Wonderland Burning Chapter 4 & Chapter 5
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG. I guess.
Notes: More NaNo! Chapter titles are random and subject to change at my discretion.
4.
one night I followed some holy men
Dinah shifted restlessly in her chair by the window. Her bed was usually perfectly comfortable, but some nights her leg just wasn't happy with it and so she slept in a comfortable chair by her window. The window faced out into the garden, and as far as Dinah was concerned it was the best room in the palace. Her room had once been on the highest floor, but when necessity forced her to take a room on the lowest level she'd taken the old unused one that had once belonged to the gardener, another victim of the plague. The room had been scrubbed from ceiling to floor, as had all the rooms in the palace, and the new gardener had been given separate rooms in another part of the palace. The new room was smaller and less ornate than her old room, but Dinah liked it better. The view alone was worth it.
The night was cool, but she left the window open so that the breeze could touch her face. The flowers and trees swayed in the wind, glowing softly in the light of the moon.
There was a flash of something, like moonlight glinting off silver, and Dinah leaned forward off her chair. She had definitely seen something that time.
There. She could definitely see it now, movement in the trees. It had been only a momentary glimpse, a form covered in robes moving between the leaves, but she had definitely seen it.
Dinah considered for only a moment before pushing herself out of the chair, taking hold of her cane. She limped over to her closet and took out her oldest coat, a drab gray thing that she'd had even before the plague. Dinah draped it around her shoulders then, almost as an afterthought, took the hated black veil and put it on but kept it turned so her face was for the moment uncovered. Then she went back to the window and waited.
After a moment she saw movement again. Now that she knew what to look for it seemed that Dinah could see it clearly, a small procession of people in robes moving through the garden.
Being careful to keep most of her weight on her good leg, Dinah slid onto the windowsill and carefully pushed herself onto the ground. She wobbled just a bit, biting her lip against sudden pain as he bad leg hit the ground, and steadied herself with her cane and the wall. As quietly as she could, Dinah made her way across the garden and into the trees.
It was a bad idea, she knew. The best thing would have been to call for the guards, for Uncle, or at the very least Lily, who slept only two doors down. Her leg was already throbbing slightly, still not recovered from the long afternoon of standing at the ceremony, and she wasn't certain she'd be able to keep up with the forms she could only just see moving in the darkness ahead of her. And there was no telling what these strangers might do to her if they discovered who she was.
But there was something in the air, something in the moonlight and the feeling of stillness that surrounded her that made Dinah want to follow. She could almost see light ahead.
The royal garden was known for being large and sprawling, and at the edge of the flowerbeds grew a forest, contained entirely within the palace grounds, once used for royal hunts. As a child Dinah recalled running through them, pretending to be the ruler of the forest. She had gotten lost more than once and had to be brought back by the gardener. Her father had always been frantic about it, but her mother the queen, who had played in these trees herself once upon a time, had always been serene.
"This is Dinah's forest and Dinah's kingdom," Mother had always said. "The trees would no more hurt her than they would rise up from the earth and march away."
At the time Dinah had wondered what her mother had meant, but on this night she thought she understood. As she brushed her way haltingly through the foliage she could feel only an immense sense of kindness. The trees knew who she was, and welcomed her.
She supposed Aidan would call that blasphemy, too close to the worship of nature practiced by heretics. But Father Elliot had always said that nature was created by Lael as well and was His most beloved canvas, and so was a holy thing.
As she followed the men deeper into the forest Dinah began to hear singing. The sound was low and musical, and coming from somewhere up ahead. Her leg throbbed, but she steadied herself with her cane and kept walking. She was starting to fall behind the strangers and she didn't want to lose sight of them. She was getting closer to the light and the singing was growing louder. Dinah drew her veil over her face and pulled her coat up around her and stepped into the circle of light.
There were at least twelve people standing in the circular clearing, singing. They were all wearing hoods or robes with their faces hidden, and no one seemed to even notice that Dinah wasn't one of them. Their clothing hung loose around their frames and she wasn't certain if they were men or women, though the low singing voices definitely sounded male. In the center of the clearing was a flat, oval-shaped stone, upon which balanced an eight-armed candelabra. The candles burned different colors, blue and yellow and red, casting strange shadows all around. Dinah felt her chest tighten.
There was no doubt about it. She had stumbled into a heretic ceremony, and in the middle of the royal forest, no less. Her hands clenched tighter on the head of her cane and she quietly cursed her own stupidity. If they discovered who she was she would certainly be in danger.
The singing faded away into nothing as one of the robed figures stepped forward, hands raised. The figure stared around at the circle for a long moment and then reached up and removed his hood, revealing long blond hair and striking green eyes. Two angry red scars marred his forehead.
Dinah bit back a gasp of surprise. Everyone in the kingdom knew that description. Cornelius Fabrain, the leader of the heretics. The man who had outwitted the high priests in the capital city not two weeks ago, now hiding in sight of the royal palace itself.
"My friends, I welcome you." Fabrain's voice echoed in the trees. "The moon has almost reached its zenith, and the time of blessings has come. The Queen of Hearts grows ill, they say, and so our power wanes. But I say it is not true. Our power remains strong as ever, our blessings as potent and true as those of the mongrel priests that lie in the temple, begging for scraps from their false king. We are the true believers, we are the faithful. Though they may mark us traitors to their faith, though they hound us and even burn us, our belief remains strong. We remain true. We remain united. We remain, as ever, strong. And never stronger than on these nights, when the moon glows full in the sky and the trees sing our praises."
"So it be," intoned the rest of the company, bowing. Dinah adjusted her cane and did her best to follow suit.
"Now we shall speak our praises to our Queen, so that she may give us strength in these times." Fabrain raised his hands and two of the robed men standing behind him stepped forward. One held a dried and dead rose in his hands, the other a silver chalice. It was the light shining off the silver that Dinah had seen from her window. They placed the items on the stone before the candelabra, and Fabrain pulled a small pouch from his robe. He opened it and pulled out a handful of small shining grains, tiny as sand but luminescent in the light, and brushed them over the items.
"For Her trees and Her secrets, we give praise," he murmured. The words made Dinah think of Aidan and his blessings, but there was none of Aidan's bombast. Fabrain’s voice had gone quiet but full of reverence, as if his god stood in the room before him. Dinah found herself leaning forward to hear better in spite of herself.
"For the magic She has entrusted in us, we give praise," Fabrain continued. As he spoke he began to walk around the circle, scattering the shining grains on the ground as he went. As he passed each of the worshippers, he pressed his hand to their heads, just as Aidan had done to the generals.
"For light, for life, we give praise," he continued. "We ask for strength to endure this. We ask for beauty eternal, strength unending, will unmoving. We ask only for this, on this night when Faerie and human worlds connect in song and spirit."
He stopped in front of Dinah, who stood rigidly in front of him. She held her breath as he pressed his hands to her forehead.
"Would you like to lead us in the next set of praises, my little nymph?" Fabrain asked in low tones. Dinah's eyes widened, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Even if her leg worked as it should, she wouldn't have been able to escape, not surrounded on all sides by heretics as she was.
"Well?" With a start Dinah realized that Fabrain's voice was sincere, not mocking. He didn't know who she was, she realized. Even within the palace walls few knew what the princess looked like, much less that she walked with a limp. Fabrain only knew that there was a girl here who he didn't recall being allowed to come along. He winked at her and she was glad the veil hid her slight blush. "The most devout say only men may be present for the blessings, but I am never one to say no to a beautiful maiden when she appears in my midst."
He stared at her expectantly, and Dinah wasn't sure what to do. At last she shook her head and gestured to her throat.
"Ah. I see." Fabrain’s eyes softened and he pressed his hand to her forehead again. "Then may we bless this lost voice, and offer praise for the strength gained in its stead."
With that he moved on to the next worshipper, intoning praises. He continued until he had blessed each worshipper and then went back to his spot before the stone and the artifacts. The chalice was starting to glow with bluish-light. Fabrain looked around at each of the robed figures, his gaze resting at last on Dinah. He grinned widely, spreading his hands wide and he went down on one knee.
“And now,” he said, “the true magic begins.”
The ground below their feet began to glow, and for once Dinah was thankful to have no voice, or else she would certainly have cried out in shock. On the stone tablet, the rose that had been dried and dead suddenly burst into bloom, its petals a pure and shining white. Blue light flowed down the sides of the chalice like water, spreading along the grass to form a pool at the feet of each of the worshippers.
Something in the air changed. Dinah could feel it. Everything suddenly seemed warmer and brighter, and even the trees appeared to be bursting into flower just as the rose had. The trees nearest to her bent forward just a bit as if buffeted by a strong wind, their branches just brushing her shoulders. Dinah felt a shiver run up her spine. There was something strange about those trees.
The rest of the worshippers lowered themselves onto their knees, heads bent, but Dinah had no choice but to remain standing. As she watched, the rest of the trees standing nearby seemed to bend a bit, all towards where she stood, as if bowing.
“This is Dinah's forest and Dinah's kingdom.” In her mind’s eye Dinah could see her mother smiling gently down at her. “The trees would no more hurt her than they would rise up from the earth and march away."
They knew. Dinah had felt it before, when she’d been walking through the forest, but now she was certain of it. The trees knew her. And they welcomed her.
Small lights hovered everywhere around her, small and soft like fireflies. Dinah wanted to reach out and touch one, but she didn’t dare move. The rest of the company was still on their knees, heads bent. Fabrain’s eyes were closed, but Dinah had the sudden feeling that despite that, he knew exactly what was happening.
Something laughed behind her, a sound like the tinkling of bells, and then a bright figure flew by her. It was small, only about the size of a sparrow. Its body was much like that of a human, two arms and two legs, but it wore nothing and seemed to have no identifiable sex. Its eyes were like those of a mouse, small and black, and its hair wavered like a flame on the top of its head. On its back was a pair of small, delicate wings.
It flew up to her, its queer animal-eyes staring straight into hers, and laughed again. At the sound of the second laugh the little round firefly lights that had been hovering in the air burst into bright multi-colored flames, red and blue and green, and each lengthened until the circle was filled with tiny fairies, laughing and singing in a tongue Dinah had never heard before.
Dinah’s heart was racing and she knew that she was shaking, but she couldn’t look away.
Aidan would call this heresy. Aidan would have these people taken to the town square and burned for practicing such arts. Magic like this was forbidden.
But standing there, surrounded by the bowing trees, watching the fairies as they swirled and danced in the air before her, Dinah could only feel breathless with joy.
In the midst of all the lights and colors, Fabrain’s dark robes couldn’t help but catch her eye as he slowly made his way to his feet, eyes opening. He gazed around at the rest of the still-bowing worshippers, and then looked again at Dinah, and past her.
The trees! she realized. They were still bent around her.
Fabrain’s face went dark for a moment, and the fairies closest to him swerved wildly, as if frightened. Two of them flew straight towards Dinah, trying to hide behind her dark hair. He gazed around at the trees and the fairies, and then at last looked back at Dinah and smiled wildly.
He raised his arms and the light began to grow brighter and brighter, until it was almost overwhelming. The trees and the fairies blurred before Dinah’s eyes and all she could see was Fabrain, with his wild hair and dark robes.
He raised a single finger in front of his mouth in a secretive gesture, and then the light curled in over him as well, and Dinah fell forward into a cushion of light.
5.
trouble is a friend
“Are we there yet?” Alis crouched in the back of the hay cart, playing with the meager piles of straw piled up. “I’m bored. You didn’t say it would take this long. And I don’t like wearing a dress.”
“Alis, if you ask me one more time I swear I will dump you on the side of the road,” Xerxes warned from where he held the reins of their poor old cart horse. “You know there was no way around this.”
“Xerxes just likes putting me in a dress,” Alis sang. “And I won’t wear the veil. Won’t.”
“You will, if you don’t want to be stuck with the cart while I get the things we need,” Xerxes admonished. “I know you don’t like it, Alis, but we’re going to be moving again. We don’t have any way around it, not if we’ve already been found once. We’ve got to send a letter to Father to let him know what’s happened, and then we’ll need supplies for the road. And this cart is about to break down into a heap at any moment, I need someone to ride in the back and make sure the flap doesn’t fall open again on the way back and dump all our supplies in the road like it did the last time. Vincent’s leg is still sore, so it has to be you.”
“And someone has to watch Mother,” Alis said in quiet, vindictive tones. He was rewarded with the sight of Xerxes’ shoulders stiffening.
“She’s not well, Alis,” Xerxes said tightly. “She was attached to the farm. But she’ll—she’ll get better.” He took a deep breath. “Vincent can handle her.”
“But I thought Vincent’s leg hurt,” Alis said mildly, slurring the words as he rolled over onto his back and kicked his legs in the air.
“Alis!” Xerxes half-turned to scold him. “For Lael’s sake, would you please stop doing that? I know this isn’t the way you wanted to visit the town, but we haven’t much of a choice. We look too much alike. Even in Vincent’s clothes you couldn’t pass for anything other than my twin brother.”
“Vincent’s clothes were too big,” Alis reminded him.
“Yes, that as well,” Xerxes said, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice. “This is the best we could do. It’s not ideal, but it’s easier to pass you off as a little sister. As long as you put the veil on and keep your head low, no one should be able to see your eyes and we’ll be able to get our business taken care of without trouble. But it won’t work if you don’t at least attempt to act like a lady.”
Alis ignored him and rolled over onto his stomach, reaching for where he’d left the Book lying on the ground in between the hay piles.
“Alis, are you listening to me?”
“Lis-ten-ing,” Alis sang, pronouncing each syllable as a separate word. He opened the Book to a random empty page and stared at it for some time. “These were Leda’s clothes.”
He wasn’t looking up, so he didn’t see if Xerxes’ shoulders tightened at that. His brother’s voice betrayed nothing.
“I know. Last year, when she was more your size.”
“We’re running out of servants,” Alis observed.
“Alis! How can you--” Xerxes began to scold again, then cut off disgustedly. “Never mind. Just—just try not to be…” Xerxes struggled for a word. “…yourself while we’re in town. We can’t do anything to make these people suspicious of us, do you understand?”
Alis gave a high, barking laugh.
“Too late,” he giggled. “Too late, too late. We hide at the very edges of the province and only come into town once a month. Xerxes is already a suspicious person.”
“Perhaps,” Xerxes said tightly. “But we’re already being hunted, Alistair. Do you understand that? We were already found, and we don’t know if those people who attacked us the other day have friends or associates or a master awaiting their return. It’s bad enough we had to leave Vincent on his own with Mother back at the farm, not to mention you and I taking this road on our own with only my sword as protection. You should know better than any of that this is not a game. Any small things we can do that will help ensure our safety, I will do. You should be willing to do the same.”
“But Xerxes does not wear the dress,” Alis muttered into the pages of his Book.
“No,” Xerxes said, and the sound of the smile in his voice made something in back of Alis’s mind twitch. “I don’t.”
They rode the rest of the way in relative silence, the only sounds the horse’s hooves and Alis’s pen scribbling furiously in his book.
Sable was not a particularly large town, not compared to the sprawling cities that were said to surround the royal capital. It paled even in comparison to the provincial capital where Duke Albarn’s mansion resided. Despite this, it served its purpose well enough. Located at the skirts of two trade routes, it had just enough contact with the outside world for the locals to feel they were at the center of everything, and just enough shops and houses of entertainment for traveling merchants to feel they were getting their money’s worth. As much of the land surrounding Sable was farmland, much of the town’s wealth came from farmers, and at any given season there tended to be booming farmer’s market, as all the nearby growers brought their extra crops in and tried to sell them off in exchange for money or goods.
Xerxes stopped just outside the main gate and had Alis climb out of the back of the cart and sit next to him.
“Keep your head down and put the veil over your face,” Xerxes ordered severely. Alis smiled vacantly at him and did as he was told.
The gatekeeper nodded to Xerxes as they passed into the city.
“Been some time since I’ve seen you,” the man remarked to Xerxes as they passed. “And this isn’t the lady you were with last time, I believe.”
“My sister Alice,” Xerxes replied. “We have some business to take care of.”
“You didn’t bring anything to market,” the gatekeeper observed mildly.
“We’re only here to buy, I’m afraid,” Xerxes told him.
“Nothing wrong with that,” the gatekeeper laughed, and waved them past.
The cobblestone streets were narrow and crowded, and Xerxes had to maneuver the cart carefully.
"We'll have to leave the horse and cart at the stables," Xerxes said. "These roads weren't made for heavy traffic. We'll pay for our supplies and have them delivered to the stables so we don't have to drag them through the streets, and by the time we've taken care of everything that needs to be taken care of our purchases should be waiting for us."
"We'll have to walk," Alis said, swinging his legs and smoothing a wrinkle in the hem of his gray dress.
"I know that. There are plenty of places you can rest if you get tired. And stop doing that with your legs! You're supposed to be my meek, shy little sister."
Alis giggled at that, but he stopped swinging his legs and began rocking back and forth in his seat instead.
When they reached the stable Xerxes left Alis standing outside while he went in to pay for the lodging of the horse and cart. Alis leaned against the door and began writing in his Book, doing his best to draw a picture of the nearest shop.
"Ah, careful there, little lady!" Someone jostled roughly by him and Alis stumbled back against the wall, holding grimly onto the Book. A large, broad-shouldered man stood looking curiously down at him. "Sorry about that. You all right, missy? You shouldn't block the door like that."
"Shouldn't be so big and wide like that," Alis muttered petulantly. The sudden shove had caused him to mess his lines and there was a large black stain in the center of his picture.
"Excuse me?" The man seemed equal parts offended and amused. "That's a smart tongue you have there."
"Should be," Alis sang, weaving about a little. "It's smarter than your whole head."
"Now wait a moment here." The man was glowering at him now. "I apologized for my part in almost knocking you down, but you were blocking the door." The man's eyes narrowed. "Whose servant are you, anyway? I'll need to have a word with your master."
"Nobody's servant and you messed up my Book," Alis said in wounded tones. "You should go away."
"That's big words from a little girl with her face all hidden," the man scoffed. "You say you're no servant, but you're certainly no woman of decent family. That leaves only one thing, and in that case I wonder why you've left your pretty face all covered up." The man began to reach for Alis's veil.
"Alis!" Xerxes suddenly stepped between them. "I'm sorry, sir, was my sister bothering you?"
"Your sister, eh?" The man studied Xerxes' face for a long moment. "Farmer's brats, eh? I generally expect better manners of you lot."
"My sister is a bit eccentric," Xerxes said smoothly, grabbing Alis's arm in an iron-tight grip. "This is her first time in town; she was probably a little overwhelmed. She hasn't had much contact with people outside of our family. I apologize if she offended you."
"Apology accepted," the man said. "But if I were you, I'd keep a close watch on that girl. She needs a lesson in manners, farm or no farm."
"I will keep that in mind," Xerxes said as he began to lead Alis away. "Again, I deeply apologize. She will certainly be scolded for this, trust me." Alis made a snorting noise and Xerxes shot him an irritated look. Bowing one more time, Xerxes turned and dragged Alis away from the stables.
"What did I tell you?" As soon as they were out of sight of the stables Xerxes pulled Alis to a stop in a small, deserted corner of the street, his hand still holding tight to Alis's arm. "What did I say three, four times on the road, and outside of the town, and everywhere? And here we are, barely started with our errands and already you're getting into fights and causing problems! What would you have done if that man took off the veil and saw your eyes?"
Alis considered that for a moment.
"Smiled," he said at last, unconcerned.
"You-you--" Xerxes sputtered. "This is serious, Alis. Do you get that? Does any part of that labyrinth you call a brain understand that we cannot afford trouble right now? If anyone finds out who we are, who you are, we could be killed right here. You said before, that they were burning witches in the capital. If that's true, nothing's to stop them from burning another heretic. Do you want that to happen?"
"I was only bored," Alis said, rolling his head around. "Xerx, you're hurting me."
Xerxes' hand was still holding onto Alis's thin arm with a white-knuckled grip.
"I shouldn't have even brought you along," Xerxes said. "You can't follow any directions but your own."
"Xerxes can't follow directions either," Alis said nastily. "Xerxes went beyond the fence, after all, and look what happened."
Xerxes' face went white and his grip on Alis's arm tightened.
"Is that why you're mad?" Alis purred. There was a dark and petty feeling stirring in his chest, and he enjoyed Xerxes' stricken look. "Because pretty Miss Alice followed directions and stayed in the right place, and Xerxes went beyond the fence and bad things happened to Leda, and for once the bad things were all Xerxes fault. For once--"
His words were cut short as Xerxes hand flashed out and slapped him hard across the cheek and knocking the veil askew. Alis fell to the ground, his glasses flying off and his Book clattering to the ground as it was jarred from his hands. Alis pressed a hand to his cheek, disbelieving. He'd pushed Xerxes before, but all those times, he'd never been hit.
All those times, Vincent or Leda had been there, and pulled them apart before Alis could push that far.
Xerxes was standing above him, face white, breathing hard. He was shaking slightly.
"We don't have time for this," Xerxes said at last. "I can get the supplies we need by myself. You go back to the stables and wait quietly with the horse. I'll meet you back there in a few hours."
Without waiting for a reply or even to see if Alis got back to his feet, Xerxes turned and walked away.
Alis stared after him, unsure what to do.
"Stupid," he muttered petulantly, and he wasn't sure if he was talking about Xerxes or himself. He felt around for his glasses, which were thankfully undamaged. He put them back on and his gaze traveled over to the Book, which had landed partly in a small puddle of mud a little ways away. Alis immediately started to crawl over it, fussing irritably with his dress.
"My, my, my," an amused voice said as a gloved hand reached down and took the Book off the ground. "That's not very lady-like of you, is it?" Alis stopped and looked up.
A well-dressed man stood before him. His clothes were in the style of the gentry, though the top hat he wore on his head was oddly worn and weather-beaten. His hair was a silvery gray color despite his youthful appearance, and partially obscured his right eye, over which he wore a richly beaded black eye patch. He was looking through the pages of the Book with an air of mild interest.
"Give it back," Alis said firmly, though he remained crouched on the ground. "It's mine."
"And you haven't been taking much care of it, I'd think," the man observed mildly. "The cover's all worn."
"It got messy," Alis said. "It's important, so it goes everywhere. Give it back."
"Give it back? In such condition? How heartless," the man muttered, shutting the Book. "I'll make it better instead. Come along." He held out a hand.
Alis wavered for a moment, remembering Xerxes' face. But this man had the Book, and he couldn't lose the Book. Alis took the gloved hand and allowed the man to help him to his feet. The man was staring at him intently, and Alis suddenly realized that his veil was still askew, and his face was clearly visible. He quickly readjusted the veil.
"No need for that." The man was smiling. His single visible eye was a strange shade of blue, and it seemed to be looking at something beyond him. "But if it makes you feel better, go ahead. Now, come along. I'll get you a treat."
"I'm not a dog," Alis sniffed.
"I didn't say you were," the man said amicably. "May I ask a beautiful lady's name?"
"Alice."
"Miss Alice, then," the man said.
"And your name?" Alis prompted. "Miss Alice can't go anywhere with strangers."
"Miss Alice is already walking with a stranger," the man said. "But you can call me Sir William, if you'd like."
"But that's not your name," Alis said shrewdly.
"No," the man agreed, not missing a beat, smile unwavering. "But Miss Alice isn't your name either, is it?"
"No," Alis said, then paused thoughtfully. "Or yes. It is in a way."
"'In a way' does not equal 'yes,'" Sir William said cheerfully. "But as long as we understand each other it'll do for an answer."
Sir William linked his arm through Alis's and led him through the darkened back streets of the town and into the brightened and busy town square. Alis stumbled to a stop, gazing around wide-eyed at the sudden flux of people moving all about. Stalls lined with various merchandise lined the streets and people were everywhere, buying and selling and going about their business.
"You'll be mistaken for a fish, if you keep gaping like that," Sir William said lightly.
"No one can tell I'm gaping behind this veil," Alis said defensively.
"I can barely see your face and I can tell," Sir William stated. "It's all in the posture." He waved the Book in the air. "Remember the sight and you can write it in your book later."
"Book," Alis corrected him.
"Excuse me?"
"It's called a Book. Significant capitalization. You aren't pronouncing it right at all."
"I see." The smile grew wider still. "My apologies. It's a very important thing, then."
"The most important," Alis said quietly, jumping from foot to foot.
"But is what you write here" -- Sir William waved the book in the air again -- "what you really want to write?"
"What I...really want to write?" Alis repeated curiously.
"This is all just a chronicle," Sir William said. "Dry stories of daily life. Is that what you really want it to be?"
"It has to be like that," Alis said, fidgeting. "Because I'm going to give it to Frances, so she'll record it properly."
"Frances?"
"My sister. She's going to be a historian, and I promised her history."
"And why did you do that?" Sir William promoted. "Is that all you want to be? The footnote in a historian's works?"
"So I have something," Alis said. "Something that proves I was here and did things."
"Only history proves that, then?" Sir William stared intently at him. "But that's not what you want to write, is it? Is that all you've ever written, even when you were a child?"
"I couldn't write when I was a child," Alis murmured. "Couldn't...see right."
"Just because you couldn't see doesn't mean you couldn't write," Sir William replied. "Nor does all writing require pen to paper. Even now, there's more writing in you than this Book, isn't there?"
"I...sometimes," Alis said, struggling to find the words. "I think of things sometimes, things that aren't real and haven't happened, and I think of what would happen if they were and they did."
"But you don't write it down."
"I only write what happens. I only write history in the Book."
"I see." There was something triumphant in Sir William's smile, and Alis had the strange feeling that the man had been waiting for this admission all along.
"Are you going to give it back now?" Alis asked.
"I haven't fixed it up for you yet," Sir William said, waving a finger. "Come along, Miss Alice."
"Where are we going anyway?" Alis wondered as they made their way through the bustling streets.
"Somewhere nice," Sir William assured him, handing him an apple Alis didn't remember seeing him buy.
"Shouldn't take food from strangers," Alis said dutifully, even as he took a bite.
"You're very full of rules you don't follow," Sir William observed pleasantly.
"Those are boring rules," Alis said, stretching his vowels and rocking his head from side to side. "But if I don't memorize them Vincent gets worried and Xerxes gets bad-tempered."
"Xerxes being the one who slapped you?"
"Did you see that?" Alis asked, surprised.
"Of course." Sir William gave him a charming smile. "How could I miss such a delicate young girl being so cruelly treated?"
Alis made a noncommittal noise and threw his apple on the ground.
"My fault," he said at last. "That...that was my fault."
"Was it?"
"Yes. But I didn't feel like apologizing."
"That's perfectly all right, for you. Ah, here we are." They had stopped in front of a small building with a thatched roof. A wooden sign hung above the doorway, but the paint had faded long ago and Alis could barely see the words that had once been there.
"Now, you wait here," Sir William said, and disappeared inside before Alis could think to stop him.
"My Book!" Alis stood on the tips of his toes and tried to peer through the small decorative window that adorned the top of the door. The veil made seeing inside even harder and he pushed in away irritably. He had never liked being without the Book.
"Blocking doorways again, eh, my dear?" a familiar voice asked, and Alis leaned his head backwards to look. The same tall man he had met by the stables was standing on the street behind him. The man had two sacks of flour hoisted up on his broad shoulders.
"Just waiting," Alis drawled. "Don't follow me around."
"I'd say you're the one following me," the man stated. "My bakery's just next door here. And what business have you here, my pretty little miss with the rude tongue?"
"No business." Alis stood on one leg and turned in a half-circle, stumbling a bit so his back was leaning against the door. The baker snorted and opened his mouth as if to reply, then stopped for a moment and seemed to regard Alis far too intently.
"You shouldn't be here all alone," the man said. "A farm girl like you wouldn't know much of this town. Your brother back there said you'd never been out before."
"I'm exploring," Alis said defensively. "I'm allowed to explore. Xerxes isn't here, so that means he let me explore. And I'm not alone anyway, so there. So there."
"Is that so?" The baker managed a half-shrug despite the flour sacks. "Well, I'll leave you to your unlucky companion, then." With that he brushed past Alis towards the nearby bakery.
Alis stared after him for a moment, fiddling idly with his veil. He was starting to feel tired, and he wondered how far he was from the stables. He hadn't been paying attention to where Sir William had been leading, after all.
Alis wondered if Xerxes would leave him behind, if he wasn't at the stables when his brother finished the rest of the errands.
He cocked his head, considering this new thought carefully. It might be best to go back to the stables right now, but there was still the matter of the Book. He couldn't possibly leave without the Book.
The door behind him opened, and Sir William emerged, smiling. In his hands was the Book, newly bound with gilded edges.
"My Book!" Alis snatched it and held it possessively against his chest. He turned it around in his hands, making certain it was still his Book.
"I told you there would be a treat," Sir William said. "Now, I believe it's time to escort you back to your honored brother."
"Suppose," Alis mumbled, his nose still buried in the pages.
"Now, now, don't be rude," Sir William chided, forcibly linking arms with Alis once again. "Miss Alice is most certainly not a lady."
"Sir William is most certainly not a gentleman," Alis retorted.
"No, but your servant nonetheless," Sir William replied, and there was a heavy seriousness hiding behind the layers of false cheer in his voice.
"I already have a servant," Alis said.
"You have many servants, I imagine," Sir William said. "I am but one in a sea of them."
"I only have one servant," Alis replied. "Only one."
"Miss Alice sells herself short," Sir William said. "Indeed. You don't know your worth, my dear. But we'll leave it that way for now, hmm?"
Alis shrugged, humming to himself.
As they neared the stables, a commotion nearby caught Alis's eye. Sir William, too, seemed to notice it, as he stopped to observe.
A man stood in front of one of the town's fountains, surrounded by a group of curious passers-by. He had blond hair and wild eyes, and around his neck he wore a medallion that reminded Alis of the one Vincent usually wore.
"For too long the priests have grown fat off blind devotion!" the man was saying. "Will you stand by and let them burn all who disagree with them? They only fear the world of the faeries and the powers found there. They fear the strength of our faith, fear that, given a choice, the populace will abandon the god of the church and all their fine houses of worship and fat coffers will stand empty."
"You speak heresy!" one woman shouted at him. "How dare you come to this town!"
"I only speak truth!" the man said fiercely. "If your guards burn me for it, then so be it. I will die with the name of my Lord on my lips, and be content in it!"
Sir William chuckled darkly, and Alis turned to look at him. There was a darkly amused smile on the man's face.
"Well, well," Sir William said. "Well, well. This is amusing, indeed. I've certainly not wasted a trip."
"Idiots get burned at the stake," Alis murmured. "That man is an idiot."
"Perhaps," Sir William said. "He may well be. But a useful idiot, I think, in time. Well, we'd best move on. Such words aren't for Miss Alice's ears."
At last they returned to the stables. Xerxes was nowhere to be seen, but the horse and cart were still there, and there was a small pile of goods already piled into the hay cart.
"And here we must part," Sir William said grandly. "For now."
"I'm leaving," Alis drawled. "So for good."
"For now," Sir William repeated, smiling like a contented cat as he turned to leave. "Oh, one last thing...your eyes are lovely, Miss Alice. Take good care of them."
With that, he turned a corner and was gone. Alis stood alone in front of the stables, Book still clutched tightly in his hands. Now that he was alone he was started to notice the ache in his legs, so he made his way inside and climbed into the hay cart, burrowing between the boxes and staring at the blank pages of the Book.
"What I really want to write..." Alis murmured.
"Alis!" Xerxes' voice made him jump. Leaving the Book where it was, Alis leaned over the back of the cart to watch as Xerxes came back towards him.
"Xerxes." Alis stared down at his hands nervously, pulling back his fingers. "I'm here."
"I can see that." Xerxes seemed equally ill at ease. "It seems everything's been delivered and I sent out a letter to Father. We should start heading back home. You stayed put?"
"Yes," Alis lied, and for once felt a little ashamed of it. He started to rock back and forth. "Xerx...I'm-I'm sorry. Sorry. Um...it was my fault."
Xerxes couldn't hide his look of surprise.
"That's--" He swallowed hard. "That's all right. I shouldn't have hit you."
"Yes," Alis replied, and wasn't sure what he meant by it. He turned away and clambered back over to where he'd left the Book as Xerxes went to get the horse.
"Are you tired?" Xerxes asked. "There's food in one of the boxes too, if you're hungry."
"I'm fine," Alis sang. "Can we go? I don't like town. Don't like it much at all."
"We can go," Xerxes said quietly. "Keep an eye on things back there, all right?"
He finished securing the horse and started down the road back to the farm.
--
"That was beneficial," Sir William mused as he entered the cafe and made his way to the table nearest to the window. The pretty red-haired girl sitting there looked up as he approached. She wore a large ostentatious pink bonnet on her head.
"Did you meet him?" she asked eagerly. "Is he perfect?"
"Yes," Sir William said, sliding into a chair across from her. "And no. In that order."
"Oh." The girl seemed to wilt a little. "Will that be a problem?"
"On the contrary, Jane," Sir William said, smiling his widest smile. "I think that will suit our purposes just fine."
Fandom: Original
Rating: PG. I guess.
Notes: More NaNo! Chapter titles are random and subject to change at my discretion.
4.
one night I followed some holy men
Dinah shifted restlessly in her chair by the window. Her bed was usually perfectly comfortable, but some nights her leg just wasn't happy with it and so she slept in a comfortable chair by her window. The window faced out into the garden, and as far as Dinah was concerned it was the best room in the palace. Her room had once been on the highest floor, but when necessity forced her to take a room on the lowest level she'd taken the old unused one that had once belonged to the gardener, another victim of the plague. The room had been scrubbed from ceiling to floor, as had all the rooms in the palace, and the new gardener had been given separate rooms in another part of the palace. The new room was smaller and less ornate than her old room, but Dinah liked it better. The view alone was worth it.
The night was cool, but she left the window open so that the breeze could touch her face. The flowers and trees swayed in the wind, glowing softly in the light of the moon.
There was a flash of something, like moonlight glinting off silver, and Dinah leaned forward off her chair. She had definitely seen something that time.
There. She could definitely see it now, movement in the trees. It had been only a momentary glimpse, a form covered in robes moving between the leaves, but she had definitely seen it.
Dinah considered for only a moment before pushing herself out of the chair, taking hold of her cane. She limped over to her closet and took out her oldest coat, a drab gray thing that she'd had even before the plague. Dinah draped it around her shoulders then, almost as an afterthought, took the hated black veil and put it on but kept it turned so her face was for the moment uncovered. Then she went back to the window and waited.
After a moment she saw movement again. Now that she knew what to look for it seemed that Dinah could see it clearly, a small procession of people in robes moving through the garden.
Being careful to keep most of her weight on her good leg, Dinah slid onto the windowsill and carefully pushed herself onto the ground. She wobbled just a bit, biting her lip against sudden pain as he bad leg hit the ground, and steadied herself with her cane and the wall. As quietly as she could, Dinah made her way across the garden and into the trees.
It was a bad idea, she knew. The best thing would have been to call for the guards, for Uncle, or at the very least Lily, who slept only two doors down. Her leg was already throbbing slightly, still not recovered from the long afternoon of standing at the ceremony, and she wasn't certain she'd be able to keep up with the forms she could only just see moving in the darkness ahead of her. And there was no telling what these strangers might do to her if they discovered who she was.
But there was something in the air, something in the moonlight and the feeling of stillness that surrounded her that made Dinah want to follow. She could almost see light ahead.
The royal garden was known for being large and sprawling, and at the edge of the flowerbeds grew a forest, contained entirely within the palace grounds, once used for royal hunts. As a child Dinah recalled running through them, pretending to be the ruler of the forest. She had gotten lost more than once and had to be brought back by the gardener. Her father had always been frantic about it, but her mother the queen, who had played in these trees herself once upon a time, had always been serene.
"This is Dinah's forest and Dinah's kingdom," Mother had always said. "The trees would no more hurt her than they would rise up from the earth and march away."
At the time Dinah had wondered what her mother had meant, but on this night she thought she understood. As she brushed her way haltingly through the foliage she could feel only an immense sense of kindness. The trees knew who she was, and welcomed her.
She supposed Aidan would call that blasphemy, too close to the worship of nature practiced by heretics. But Father Elliot had always said that nature was created by Lael as well and was His most beloved canvas, and so was a holy thing.
As she followed the men deeper into the forest Dinah began to hear singing. The sound was low and musical, and coming from somewhere up ahead. Her leg throbbed, but she steadied herself with her cane and kept walking. She was starting to fall behind the strangers and she didn't want to lose sight of them. She was getting closer to the light and the singing was growing louder. Dinah drew her veil over her face and pulled her coat up around her and stepped into the circle of light.
There were at least twelve people standing in the circular clearing, singing. They were all wearing hoods or robes with their faces hidden, and no one seemed to even notice that Dinah wasn't one of them. Their clothing hung loose around their frames and she wasn't certain if they were men or women, though the low singing voices definitely sounded male. In the center of the clearing was a flat, oval-shaped stone, upon which balanced an eight-armed candelabra. The candles burned different colors, blue and yellow and red, casting strange shadows all around. Dinah felt her chest tighten.
There was no doubt about it. She had stumbled into a heretic ceremony, and in the middle of the royal forest, no less. Her hands clenched tighter on the head of her cane and she quietly cursed her own stupidity. If they discovered who she was she would certainly be in danger.
The singing faded away into nothing as one of the robed figures stepped forward, hands raised. The figure stared around at the circle for a long moment and then reached up and removed his hood, revealing long blond hair and striking green eyes. Two angry red scars marred his forehead.
Dinah bit back a gasp of surprise. Everyone in the kingdom knew that description. Cornelius Fabrain, the leader of the heretics. The man who had outwitted the high priests in the capital city not two weeks ago, now hiding in sight of the royal palace itself.
"My friends, I welcome you." Fabrain's voice echoed in the trees. "The moon has almost reached its zenith, and the time of blessings has come. The Queen of Hearts grows ill, they say, and so our power wanes. But I say it is not true. Our power remains strong as ever, our blessings as potent and true as those of the mongrel priests that lie in the temple, begging for scraps from their false king. We are the true believers, we are the faithful. Though they may mark us traitors to their faith, though they hound us and even burn us, our belief remains strong. We remain true. We remain united. We remain, as ever, strong. And never stronger than on these nights, when the moon glows full in the sky and the trees sing our praises."
"So it be," intoned the rest of the company, bowing. Dinah adjusted her cane and did her best to follow suit.
"Now we shall speak our praises to our Queen, so that she may give us strength in these times." Fabrain raised his hands and two of the robed men standing behind him stepped forward. One held a dried and dead rose in his hands, the other a silver chalice. It was the light shining off the silver that Dinah had seen from her window. They placed the items on the stone before the candelabra, and Fabrain pulled a small pouch from his robe. He opened it and pulled out a handful of small shining grains, tiny as sand but luminescent in the light, and brushed them over the items.
"For Her trees and Her secrets, we give praise," he murmured. The words made Dinah think of Aidan and his blessings, but there was none of Aidan's bombast. Fabrain’s voice had gone quiet but full of reverence, as if his god stood in the room before him. Dinah found herself leaning forward to hear better in spite of herself.
"For the magic She has entrusted in us, we give praise," Fabrain continued. As he spoke he began to walk around the circle, scattering the shining grains on the ground as he went. As he passed each of the worshippers, he pressed his hand to their heads, just as Aidan had done to the generals.
"For light, for life, we give praise," he continued. "We ask for strength to endure this. We ask for beauty eternal, strength unending, will unmoving. We ask only for this, on this night when Faerie and human worlds connect in song and spirit."
He stopped in front of Dinah, who stood rigidly in front of him. She held her breath as he pressed his hands to her forehead.
"Would you like to lead us in the next set of praises, my little nymph?" Fabrain asked in low tones. Dinah's eyes widened, but she knew there was nothing she could do. Even if her leg worked as it should, she wouldn't have been able to escape, not surrounded on all sides by heretics as she was.
"Well?" With a start Dinah realized that Fabrain's voice was sincere, not mocking. He didn't know who she was, she realized. Even within the palace walls few knew what the princess looked like, much less that she walked with a limp. Fabrain only knew that there was a girl here who he didn't recall being allowed to come along. He winked at her and she was glad the veil hid her slight blush. "The most devout say only men may be present for the blessings, but I am never one to say no to a beautiful maiden when she appears in my midst."
He stared at her expectantly, and Dinah wasn't sure what to do. At last she shook her head and gestured to her throat.
"Ah. I see." Fabrain’s eyes softened and he pressed his hand to her forehead again. "Then may we bless this lost voice, and offer praise for the strength gained in its stead."
With that he moved on to the next worshipper, intoning praises. He continued until he had blessed each worshipper and then went back to his spot before the stone and the artifacts. The chalice was starting to glow with bluish-light. Fabrain looked around at each of the robed figures, his gaze resting at last on Dinah. He grinned widely, spreading his hands wide and he went down on one knee.
“And now,” he said, “the true magic begins.”
The ground below their feet began to glow, and for once Dinah was thankful to have no voice, or else she would certainly have cried out in shock. On the stone tablet, the rose that had been dried and dead suddenly burst into bloom, its petals a pure and shining white. Blue light flowed down the sides of the chalice like water, spreading along the grass to form a pool at the feet of each of the worshippers.
Something in the air changed. Dinah could feel it. Everything suddenly seemed warmer and brighter, and even the trees appeared to be bursting into flower just as the rose had. The trees nearest to her bent forward just a bit as if buffeted by a strong wind, their branches just brushing her shoulders. Dinah felt a shiver run up her spine. There was something strange about those trees.
The rest of the worshippers lowered themselves onto their knees, heads bent, but Dinah had no choice but to remain standing. As she watched, the rest of the trees standing nearby seemed to bend a bit, all towards where she stood, as if bowing.
“This is Dinah's forest and Dinah's kingdom.” In her mind’s eye Dinah could see her mother smiling gently down at her. “The trees would no more hurt her than they would rise up from the earth and march away."
They knew. Dinah had felt it before, when she’d been walking through the forest, but now she was certain of it. The trees knew her. And they welcomed her.
Small lights hovered everywhere around her, small and soft like fireflies. Dinah wanted to reach out and touch one, but she didn’t dare move. The rest of the company was still on their knees, heads bent. Fabrain’s eyes were closed, but Dinah had the sudden feeling that despite that, he knew exactly what was happening.
Something laughed behind her, a sound like the tinkling of bells, and then a bright figure flew by her. It was small, only about the size of a sparrow. Its body was much like that of a human, two arms and two legs, but it wore nothing and seemed to have no identifiable sex. Its eyes were like those of a mouse, small and black, and its hair wavered like a flame on the top of its head. On its back was a pair of small, delicate wings.
It flew up to her, its queer animal-eyes staring straight into hers, and laughed again. At the sound of the second laugh the little round firefly lights that had been hovering in the air burst into bright multi-colored flames, red and blue and green, and each lengthened until the circle was filled with tiny fairies, laughing and singing in a tongue Dinah had never heard before.
Dinah’s heart was racing and she knew that she was shaking, but she couldn’t look away.
Aidan would call this heresy. Aidan would have these people taken to the town square and burned for practicing such arts. Magic like this was forbidden.
But standing there, surrounded by the bowing trees, watching the fairies as they swirled and danced in the air before her, Dinah could only feel breathless with joy.
In the midst of all the lights and colors, Fabrain’s dark robes couldn’t help but catch her eye as he slowly made his way to his feet, eyes opening. He gazed around at the rest of the still-bowing worshippers, and then looked again at Dinah, and past her.
The trees! she realized. They were still bent around her.
Fabrain’s face went dark for a moment, and the fairies closest to him swerved wildly, as if frightened. Two of them flew straight towards Dinah, trying to hide behind her dark hair. He gazed around at the trees and the fairies, and then at last looked back at Dinah and smiled wildly.
He raised his arms and the light began to grow brighter and brighter, until it was almost overwhelming. The trees and the fairies blurred before Dinah’s eyes and all she could see was Fabrain, with his wild hair and dark robes.
He raised a single finger in front of his mouth in a secretive gesture, and then the light curled in over him as well, and Dinah fell forward into a cushion of light.
5.
trouble is a friend
“Are we there yet?” Alis crouched in the back of the hay cart, playing with the meager piles of straw piled up. “I’m bored. You didn’t say it would take this long. And I don’t like wearing a dress.”
“Alis, if you ask me one more time I swear I will dump you on the side of the road,” Xerxes warned from where he held the reins of their poor old cart horse. “You know there was no way around this.”
“Xerxes just likes putting me in a dress,” Alis sang. “And I won’t wear the veil. Won’t.”
“You will, if you don’t want to be stuck with the cart while I get the things we need,” Xerxes admonished. “I know you don’t like it, Alis, but we’re going to be moving again. We don’t have any way around it, not if we’ve already been found once. We’ve got to send a letter to Father to let him know what’s happened, and then we’ll need supplies for the road. And this cart is about to break down into a heap at any moment, I need someone to ride in the back and make sure the flap doesn’t fall open again on the way back and dump all our supplies in the road like it did the last time. Vincent’s leg is still sore, so it has to be you.”
“And someone has to watch Mother,” Alis said in quiet, vindictive tones. He was rewarded with the sight of Xerxes’ shoulders stiffening.
“She’s not well, Alis,” Xerxes said tightly. “She was attached to the farm. But she’ll—she’ll get better.” He took a deep breath. “Vincent can handle her.”
“But I thought Vincent’s leg hurt,” Alis said mildly, slurring the words as he rolled over onto his back and kicked his legs in the air.
“Alis!” Xerxes half-turned to scold him. “For Lael’s sake, would you please stop doing that? I know this isn’t the way you wanted to visit the town, but we haven’t much of a choice. We look too much alike. Even in Vincent’s clothes you couldn’t pass for anything other than my twin brother.”
“Vincent’s clothes were too big,” Alis reminded him.
“Yes, that as well,” Xerxes said, exasperation beginning to creep into his voice. “This is the best we could do. It’s not ideal, but it’s easier to pass you off as a little sister. As long as you put the veil on and keep your head low, no one should be able to see your eyes and we’ll be able to get our business taken care of without trouble. But it won’t work if you don’t at least attempt to act like a lady.”
Alis ignored him and rolled over onto his stomach, reaching for where he’d left the Book lying on the ground in between the hay piles.
“Alis, are you listening to me?”
“Lis-ten-ing,” Alis sang, pronouncing each syllable as a separate word. He opened the Book to a random empty page and stared at it for some time. “These were Leda’s clothes.”
He wasn’t looking up, so he didn’t see if Xerxes’ shoulders tightened at that. His brother’s voice betrayed nothing.
“I know. Last year, when she was more your size.”
“We’re running out of servants,” Alis observed.
“Alis! How can you--” Xerxes began to scold again, then cut off disgustedly. “Never mind. Just—just try not to be…” Xerxes struggled for a word. “…yourself while we’re in town. We can’t do anything to make these people suspicious of us, do you understand?”
Alis gave a high, barking laugh.
“Too late,” he giggled. “Too late, too late. We hide at the very edges of the province and only come into town once a month. Xerxes is already a suspicious person.”
“Perhaps,” Xerxes said tightly. “But we’re already being hunted, Alistair. Do you understand that? We were already found, and we don’t know if those people who attacked us the other day have friends or associates or a master awaiting their return. It’s bad enough we had to leave Vincent on his own with Mother back at the farm, not to mention you and I taking this road on our own with only my sword as protection. You should know better than any of that this is not a game. Any small things we can do that will help ensure our safety, I will do. You should be willing to do the same.”
“But Xerxes does not wear the dress,” Alis muttered into the pages of his Book.
“No,” Xerxes said, and the sound of the smile in his voice made something in back of Alis’s mind twitch. “I don’t.”
They rode the rest of the way in relative silence, the only sounds the horse’s hooves and Alis’s pen scribbling furiously in his book.
Sable was not a particularly large town, not compared to the sprawling cities that were said to surround the royal capital. It paled even in comparison to the provincial capital where Duke Albarn’s mansion resided. Despite this, it served its purpose well enough. Located at the skirts of two trade routes, it had just enough contact with the outside world for the locals to feel they were at the center of everything, and just enough shops and houses of entertainment for traveling merchants to feel they were getting their money’s worth. As much of the land surrounding Sable was farmland, much of the town’s wealth came from farmers, and at any given season there tended to be booming farmer’s market, as all the nearby growers brought their extra crops in and tried to sell them off in exchange for money or goods.
Xerxes stopped just outside the main gate and had Alis climb out of the back of the cart and sit next to him.
“Keep your head down and put the veil over your face,” Xerxes ordered severely. Alis smiled vacantly at him and did as he was told.
The gatekeeper nodded to Xerxes as they passed into the city.
“Been some time since I’ve seen you,” the man remarked to Xerxes as they passed. “And this isn’t the lady you were with last time, I believe.”
“My sister Alice,” Xerxes replied. “We have some business to take care of.”
“You didn’t bring anything to market,” the gatekeeper observed mildly.
“We’re only here to buy, I’m afraid,” Xerxes told him.
“Nothing wrong with that,” the gatekeeper laughed, and waved them past.
The cobblestone streets were narrow and crowded, and Xerxes had to maneuver the cart carefully.
"We'll have to leave the horse and cart at the stables," Xerxes said. "These roads weren't made for heavy traffic. We'll pay for our supplies and have them delivered to the stables so we don't have to drag them through the streets, and by the time we've taken care of everything that needs to be taken care of our purchases should be waiting for us."
"We'll have to walk," Alis said, swinging his legs and smoothing a wrinkle in the hem of his gray dress.
"I know that. There are plenty of places you can rest if you get tired. And stop doing that with your legs! You're supposed to be my meek, shy little sister."
Alis giggled at that, but he stopped swinging his legs and began rocking back and forth in his seat instead.
When they reached the stable Xerxes left Alis standing outside while he went in to pay for the lodging of the horse and cart. Alis leaned against the door and began writing in his Book, doing his best to draw a picture of the nearest shop.
"Ah, careful there, little lady!" Someone jostled roughly by him and Alis stumbled back against the wall, holding grimly onto the Book. A large, broad-shouldered man stood looking curiously down at him. "Sorry about that. You all right, missy? You shouldn't block the door like that."
"Shouldn't be so big and wide like that," Alis muttered petulantly. The sudden shove had caused him to mess his lines and there was a large black stain in the center of his picture.
"Excuse me?" The man seemed equal parts offended and amused. "That's a smart tongue you have there."
"Should be," Alis sang, weaving about a little. "It's smarter than your whole head."
"Now wait a moment here." The man was glowering at him now. "I apologized for my part in almost knocking you down, but you were blocking the door." The man's eyes narrowed. "Whose servant are you, anyway? I'll need to have a word with your master."
"Nobody's servant and you messed up my Book," Alis said in wounded tones. "You should go away."
"That's big words from a little girl with her face all hidden," the man scoffed. "You say you're no servant, but you're certainly no woman of decent family. That leaves only one thing, and in that case I wonder why you've left your pretty face all covered up." The man began to reach for Alis's veil.
"Alis!" Xerxes suddenly stepped between them. "I'm sorry, sir, was my sister bothering you?"
"Your sister, eh?" The man studied Xerxes' face for a long moment. "Farmer's brats, eh? I generally expect better manners of you lot."
"My sister is a bit eccentric," Xerxes said smoothly, grabbing Alis's arm in an iron-tight grip. "This is her first time in town; she was probably a little overwhelmed. She hasn't had much contact with people outside of our family. I apologize if she offended you."
"Apology accepted," the man said. "But if I were you, I'd keep a close watch on that girl. She needs a lesson in manners, farm or no farm."
"I will keep that in mind," Xerxes said as he began to lead Alis away. "Again, I deeply apologize. She will certainly be scolded for this, trust me." Alis made a snorting noise and Xerxes shot him an irritated look. Bowing one more time, Xerxes turned and dragged Alis away from the stables.
"What did I tell you?" As soon as they were out of sight of the stables Xerxes pulled Alis to a stop in a small, deserted corner of the street, his hand still holding tight to Alis's arm. "What did I say three, four times on the road, and outside of the town, and everywhere? And here we are, barely started with our errands and already you're getting into fights and causing problems! What would you have done if that man took off the veil and saw your eyes?"
Alis considered that for a moment.
"Smiled," he said at last, unconcerned.
"You-you--" Xerxes sputtered. "This is serious, Alis. Do you get that? Does any part of that labyrinth you call a brain understand that we cannot afford trouble right now? If anyone finds out who we are, who you are, we could be killed right here. You said before, that they were burning witches in the capital. If that's true, nothing's to stop them from burning another heretic. Do you want that to happen?"
"I was only bored," Alis said, rolling his head around. "Xerx, you're hurting me."
Xerxes' hand was still holding onto Alis's thin arm with a white-knuckled grip.
"I shouldn't have even brought you along," Xerxes said. "You can't follow any directions but your own."
"Xerxes can't follow directions either," Alis said nastily. "Xerxes went beyond the fence, after all, and look what happened."
Xerxes' face went white and his grip on Alis's arm tightened.
"Is that why you're mad?" Alis purred. There was a dark and petty feeling stirring in his chest, and he enjoyed Xerxes' stricken look. "Because pretty Miss Alice followed directions and stayed in the right place, and Xerxes went beyond the fence and bad things happened to Leda, and for once the bad things were all Xerxes fault. For once--"
His words were cut short as Xerxes hand flashed out and slapped him hard across the cheek and knocking the veil askew. Alis fell to the ground, his glasses flying off and his Book clattering to the ground as it was jarred from his hands. Alis pressed a hand to his cheek, disbelieving. He'd pushed Xerxes before, but all those times, he'd never been hit.
All those times, Vincent or Leda had been there, and pulled them apart before Alis could push that far.
Xerxes was standing above him, face white, breathing hard. He was shaking slightly.
"We don't have time for this," Xerxes said at last. "I can get the supplies we need by myself. You go back to the stables and wait quietly with the horse. I'll meet you back there in a few hours."
Without waiting for a reply or even to see if Alis got back to his feet, Xerxes turned and walked away.
Alis stared after him, unsure what to do.
"Stupid," he muttered petulantly, and he wasn't sure if he was talking about Xerxes or himself. He felt around for his glasses, which were thankfully undamaged. He put them back on and his gaze traveled over to the Book, which had landed partly in a small puddle of mud a little ways away. Alis immediately started to crawl over it, fussing irritably with his dress.
"My, my, my," an amused voice said as a gloved hand reached down and took the Book off the ground. "That's not very lady-like of you, is it?" Alis stopped and looked up.
A well-dressed man stood before him. His clothes were in the style of the gentry, though the top hat he wore on his head was oddly worn and weather-beaten. His hair was a silvery gray color despite his youthful appearance, and partially obscured his right eye, over which he wore a richly beaded black eye patch. He was looking through the pages of the Book with an air of mild interest.
"Give it back," Alis said firmly, though he remained crouched on the ground. "It's mine."
"And you haven't been taking much care of it, I'd think," the man observed mildly. "The cover's all worn."
"It got messy," Alis said. "It's important, so it goes everywhere. Give it back."
"Give it back? In such condition? How heartless," the man muttered, shutting the Book. "I'll make it better instead. Come along." He held out a hand.
Alis wavered for a moment, remembering Xerxes' face. But this man had the Book, and he couldn't lose the Book. Alis took the gloved hand and allowed the man to help him to his feet. The man was staring at him intently, and Alis suddenly realized that his veil was still askew, and his face was clearly visible. He quickly readjusted the veil.
"No need for that." The man was smiling. His single visible eye was a strange shade of blue, and it seemed to be looking at something beyond him. "But if it makes you feel better, go ahead. Now, come along. I'll get you a treat."
"I'm not a dog," Alis sniffed.
"I didn't say you were," the man said amicably. "May I ask a beautiful lady's name?"
"Alice."
"Miss Alice, then," the man said.
"And your name?" Alis prompted. "Miss Alice can't go anywhere with strangers."
"Miss Alice is already walking with a stranger," the man said. "But you can call me Sir William, if you'd like."
"But that's not your name," Alis said shrewdly.
"No," the man agreed, not missing a beat, smile unwavering. "But Miss Alice isn't your name either, is it?"
"No," Alis said, then paused thoughtfully. "Or yes. It is in a way."
"'In a way' does not equal 'yes,'" Sir William said cheerfully. "But as long as we understand each other it'll do for an answer."
Sir William linked his arm through Alis's and led him through the darkened back streets of the town and into the brightened and busy town square. Alis stumbled to a stop, gazing around wide-eyed at the sudden flux of people moving all about. Stalls lined with various merchandise lined the streets and people were everywhere, buying and selling and going about their business.
"You'll be mistaken for a fish, if you keep gaping like that," Sir William said lightly.
"No one can tell I'm gaping behind this veil," Alis said defensively.
"I can barely see your face and I can tell," Sir William stated. "It's all in the posture." He waved the Book in the air. "Remember the sight and you can write it in your book later."
"Book," Alis corrected him.
"Excuse me?"
"It's called a Book. Significant capitalization. You aren't pronouncing it right at all."
"I see." The smile grew wider still. "My apologies. It's a very important thing, then."
"The most important," Alis said quietly, jumping from foot to foot.
"But is what you write here" -- Sir William waved the book in the air again -- "what you really want to write?"
"What I...really want to write?" Alis repeated curiously.
"This is all just a chronicle," Sir William said. "Dry stories of daily life. Is that what you really want it to be?"
"It has to be like that," Alis said, fidgeting. "Because I'm going to give it to Frances, so she'll record it properly."
"Frances?"
"My sister. She's going to be a historian, and I promised her history."
"And why did you do that?" Sir William promoted. "Is that all you want to be? The footnote in a historian's works?"
"So I have something," Alis said. "Something that proves I was here and did things."
"Only history proves that, then?" Sir William stared intently at him. "But that's not what you want to write, is it? Is that all you've ever written, even when you were a child?"
"I couldn't write when I was a child," Alis murmured. "Couldn't...see right."
"Just because you couldn't see doesn't mean you couldn't write," Sir William replied. "Nor does all writing require pen to paper. Even now, there's more writing in you than this Book, isn't there?"
"I...sometimes," Alis said, struggling to find the words. "I think of things sometimes, things that aren't real and haven't happened, and I think of what would happen if they were and they did."
"But you don't write it down."
"I only write what happens. I only write history in the Book."
"I see." There was something triumphant in Sir William's smile, and Alis had the strange feeling that the man had been waiting for this admission all along.
"Are you going to give it back now?" Alis asked.
"I haven't fixed it up for you yet," Sir William said, waving a finger. "Come along, Miss Alice."
"Where are we going anyway?" Alis wondered as they made their way through the bustling streets.
"Somewhere nice," Sir William assured him, handing him an apple Alis didn't remember seeing him buy.
"Shouldn't take food from strangers," Alis said dutifully, even as he took a bite.
"You're very full of rules you don't follow," Sir William observed pleasantly.
"Those are boring rules," Alis said, stretching his vowels and rocking his head from side to side. "But if I don't memorize them Vincent gets worried and Xerxes gets bad-tempered."
"Xerxes being the one who slapped you?"
"Did you see that?" Alis asked, surprised.
"Of course." Sir William gave him a charming smile. "How could I miss such a delicate young girl being so cruelly treated?"
Alis made a noncommittal noise and threw his apple on the ground.
"My fault," he said at last. "That...that was my fault."
"Was it?"
"Yes. But I didn't feel like apologizing."
"That's perfectly all right, for you. Ah, here we are." They had stopped in front of a small building with a thatched roof. A wooden sign hung above the doorway, but the paint had faded long ago and Alis could barely see the words that had once been there.
"Now, you wait here," Sir William said, and disappeared inside before Alis could think to stop him.
"My Book!" Alis stood on the tips of his toes and tried to peer through the small decorative window that adorned the top of the door. The veil made seeing inside even harder and he pushed in away irritably. He had never liked being without the Book.
"Blocking doorways again, eh, my dear?" a familiar voice asked, and Alis leaned his head backwards to look. The same tall man he had met by the stables was standing on the street behind him. The man had two sacks of flour hoisted up on his broad shoulders.
"Just waiting," Alis drawled. "Don't follow me around."
"I'd say you're the one following me," the man stated. "My bakery's just next door here. And what business have you here, my pretty little miss with the rude tongue?"
"No business." Alis stood on one leg and turned in a half-circle, stumbling a bit so his back was leaning against the door. The baker snorted and opened his mouth as if to reply, then stopped for a moment and seemed to regard Alis far too intently.
"You shouldn't be here all alone," the man said. "A farm girl like you wouldn't know much of this town. Your brother back there said you'd never been out before."
"I'm exploring," Alis said defensively. "I'm allowed to explore. Xerxes isn't here, so that means he let me explore. And I'm not alone anyway, so there. So there."
"Is that so?" The baker managed a half-shrug despite the flour sacks. "Well, I'll leave you to your unlucky companion, then." With that he brushed past Alis towards the nearby bakery.
Alis stared after him for a moment, fiddling idly with his veil. He was starting to feel tired, and he wondered how far he was from the stables. He hadn't been paying attention to where Sir William had been leading, after all.
Alis wondered if Xerxes would leave him behind, if he wasn't at the stables when his brother finished the rest of the errands.
He cocked his head, considering this new thought carefully. It might be best to go back to the stables right now, but there was still the matter of the Book. He couldn't possibly leave without the Book.
The door behind him opened, and Sir William emerged, smiling. In his hands was the Book, newly bound with gilded edges.
"My Book!" Alis snatched it and held it possessively against his chest. He turned it around in his hands, making certain it was still his Book.
"I told you there would be a treat," Sir William said. "Now, I believe it's time to escort you back to your honored brother."
"Suppose," Alis mumbled, his nose still buried in the pages.
"Now, now, don't be rude," Sir William chided, forcibly linking arms with Alis once again. "Miss Alice is most certainly not a lady."
"Sir William is most certainly not a gentleman," Alis retorted.
"No, but your servant nonetheless," Sir William replied, and there was a heavy seriousness hiding behind the layers of false cheer in his voice.
"I already have a servant," Alis said.
"You have many servants, I imagine," Sir William said. "I am but one in a sea of them."
"I only have one servant," Alis replied. "Only one."
"Miss Alice sells herself short," Sir William said. "Indeed. You don't know your worth, my dear. But we'll leave it that way for now, hmm?"
Alis shrugged, humming to himself.
As they neared the stables, a commotion nearby caught Alis's eye. Sir William, too, seemed to notice it, as he stopped to observe.
A man stood in front of one of the town's fountains, surrounded by a group of curious passers-by. He had blond hair and wild eyes, and around his neck he wore a medallion that reminded Alis of the one Vincent usually wore.
"For too long the priests have grown fat off blind devotion!" the man was saying. "Will you stand by and let them burn all who disagree with them? They only fear the world of the faeries and the powers found there. They fear the strength of our faith, fear that, given a choice, the populace will abandon the god of the church and all their fine houses of worship and fat coffers will stand empty."
"You speak heresy!" one woman shouted at him. "How dare you come to this town!"
"I only speak truth!" the man said fiercely. "If your guards burn me for it, then so be it. I will die with the name of my Lord on my lips, and be content in it!"
Sir William chuckled darkly, and Alis turned to look at him. There was a darkly amused smile on the man's face.
"Well, well," Sir William said. "Well, well. This is amusing, indeed. I've certainly not wasted a trip."
"Idiots get burned at the stake," Alis murmured. "That man is an idiot."
"Perhaps," Sir William said. "He may well be. But a useful idiot, I think, in time. Well, we'd best move on. Such words aren't for Miss Alice's ears."
At last they returned to the stables. Xerxes was nowhere to be seen, but the horse and cart were still there, and there was a small pile of goods already piled into the hay cart.
"And here we must part," Sir William said grandly. "For now."
"I'm leaving," Alis drawled. "So for good."
"For now," Sir William repeated, smiling like a contented cat as he turned to leave. "Oh, one last thing...your eyes are lovely, Miss Alice. Take good care of them."
With that, he turned a corner and was gone. Alis stood alone in front of the stables, Book still clutched tightly in his hands. Now that he was alone he was started to notice the ache in his legs, so he made his way inside and climbed into the hay cart, burrowing between the boxes and staring at the blank pages of the Book.
"What I really want to write..." Alis murmured.
"Alis!" Xerxes' voice made him jump. Leaving the Book where it was, Alis leaned over the back of the cart to watch as Xerxes came back towards him.
"Xerxes." Alis stared down at his hands nervously, pulling back his fingers. "I'm here."
"I can see that." Xerxes seemed equally ill at ease. "It seems everything's been delivered and I sent out a letter to Father. We should start heading back home. You stayed put?"
"Yes," Alis lied, and for once felt a little ashamed of it. He started to rock back and forth. "Xerx...I'm-I'm sorry. Sorry. Um...it was my fault."
Xerxes couldn't hide his look of surprise.
"That's--" He swallowed hard. "That's all right. I shouldn't have hit you."
"Yes," Alis replied, and wasn't sure what he meant by it. He turned away and clambered back over to where he'd left the Book as Xerxes went to get the horse.
"Are you tired?" Xerxes asked. "There's food in one of the boxes too, if you're hungry."
"I'm fine," Alis sang. "Can we go? I don't like town. Don't like it much at all."
"We can go," Xerxes said quietly. "Keep an eye on things back there, all right?"
He finished securing the horse and started down the road back to the farm.
--
"That was beneficial," Sir William mused as he entered the cafe and made his way to the table nearest to the window. The pretty red-haired girl sitting there looked up as he approached. She wore a large ostentatious pink bonnet on her head.
"Did you meet him?" she asked eagerly. "Is he perfect?"
"Yes," Sir William said, sliding into a chair across from her. "And no. In that order."
"Oh." The girl seemed to wilt a little. "Will that be a problem?"
"On the contrary, Jane," Sir William said, smiling his widest smile. "I think that will suit our purposes just fine."