The beggar prince, p.8
The Beggar Prince, page 8
part #1 of Unbroken Bond Series
“Stop sulking. Both of you.”
Both boys looked at each other before staring at her.
“Well, fine, then.” she muttered before laying back down onto the Aqueduct's edge, her left hand going into the waters once again.
“So, did you reconsider my offer?” Davian asked after a moment's silence. Slowly, Marshalla rose her head, looking first at Tip, then at Davian.
“Yeah, did,” she replied at last.
“And?” he asked, grimacing.
“Answer's still no.”
Davian dropped his gaze to his knees as he pouted. Sighing, Marshalla sat back up. She looked over at Tip once again, but Tip was now pouting too. For a moment, their eyes met, only for Tip to shrug at her before turning his gaze to Davian.
“Look, Davian,” Marshalla began, turning her gaze back to little Davian. As she spoke, Davian looked up at her. “You really fun to be around, really. Been forever since Tip this happy around anyone. But your father…no.”
Davian shook his head.“You're wrong, Marsha.”
Marshalla smiled sadly. “Been through this already.”
“My father doesn't hate you!”
“Davian, you wasn't there. Tip almost fell over, and your father didn't even stop to say sorry or nothing. And, when we gave his purse back, should've seen how he was staring at us. As if we was going to give him a sickness standing so close to him. And then, there's the day when we first met. Remember what he said? Remember what he called us?”
“But–”
“He hates us,” Tip said softly. “He really hates us.”
“If we take the offer,” Marshalla continued, “time will come when he'll do something to Tip or me that'll make me yell at him. He'll yell at me, and we'll be yelling and yelling until he kicks us out and Tip and me end up with nothing. At least now we got coin coming in. Not as much as if we came to work for your father, yeah, but we got almost enough for our own place.”
“You've been saying that since we first met,” Davian protested. Marshalla smiled at him, but kept her peace.
“And besides,” Davian continued. “If you take my offer, you can use your money for something else.”
Marshalla shook her head at him. “No, Davian. Sorry.”
“It's not fair, Marsha,” Davian mumbled. “it's just not fair.”
“No, it's not.”
“Doesn't matter anyway, does it?” Tip asked. “We're happy, you're happy. Right?”
Marshalla looked at Tip, a knowing smile on her lips. “We're street rats, Tip. People don't like seeing Davian playing with us.”
“But doesn't matter what people think though, you say that all the time.”
Marshalla's smile widened. “Doesn't matter to us, but matters to Davian's father.”
“Oh.”
“At least, let me give you some money,” Davian said. “You can have a place of your own sooner.”
Shaking her head, Marshalla reached out and ruffled Davian's hair.
“Nothing like your father, you are. If you got coin to spare, won't say no, but doubt your father would like that.”
Davian moved to speak, but then fell silent, pouting instead as he dropped his gaze to his lap.
“You know what? Enough sad talk. Let's just sit here a bit so you two can dry off, ok?”
“Ok,” Tip mumbled.
“Ok,” Davian echoed.
“Ok!” Marshalla exclaimed, and promptly laid back down.
*****
“And would you like to take this with you now, or delivered straight to your home?” Mardaley asked the well-dressed elf before him.
“Deliver it, please. I have quite a few places I still need to visit before the day's over.”
“Of course,” Mardaley replied, grinning. Just then, an elderly elf wandered into Mardaley's store. With his head bowed low, his lips buried behind the blue scarf wrapped about his neck and jaw, the elderly elf shuffled into the store, his eyes scanning Mardaley's window displays.
“I'll be right with you, sir,” Mardaley said, paying the man little mind. Furtively, the man stood back while Mardaley served the other customers in the store, until at last he and Mardaley were alone in the store.
“I have need of your special skills, good sir,” the elderly elf said as the last customer left.
Ah,” Mardaley replied, smiling slightly. “A…private order?”
“Very.”
“Then, step this way please.” Turning, Mardaley led the elf deeper into his store, until at last they were both in the back storeroom. As they both entered, however, Mardaley whispered a few words of arcane under his breath as his guest ripped his scarf off.
“Gods, it's hot in this thing.”
“Then, why wear it?”
“Oh, don't start with me, Mardaley.”
Chuckling, Mardaley moved to sit in a nearby chair. His companion stared at him intently.
“From your missive, I was expecting you in a much fouler mood.”
Mardaley looked up at him. “Perhaps I'm just that good at hiding it.”
“Perhaps.” Looking round, the elderly elf sat down on the table behind him as he regarded Mardaley once more.
“So, what's so incredibly urgent that we have to speak?”
“You should've been here two days ago.”
“I know, and I'm sorry. I couldn't get away any sooner.”
Mardaley frowned at his friend.
“Believe me, Mardaley, if I could've gotten here sooner, I would've.”
Nodding at last, the elderly storekeeper shifted in his seat, his frown lessening somewhat.
“So, what's this all about?”
Mardaley frowned. “Thuridan is up to something.”
“Thuridan's always up to something, that's what makes him so insufferable.”
“This time, it involves Marshalla.”
Mardaley's friend leant forward at this, his face twisted with worry. “He knows about Marshalla?”
“I…I'm not sure.”
“What are you sure of?”
Mardaley sighed. “His son, Davian, he's been spending quite a bit of time with Tip and Marshalla lately.”
“Tip…is that the urchin Marshalla's taken under her wing?”
Mardaley nodded.
“I'm not following, how does this concern us?”
“They're street children, Baern. You truly think Thuridan Grovemender is going to allow Davian of all people to mingle so freely with them? This is Davian we're talking about, not Thalas.”
“Hrm…you do have a point,” Mardaley's companion said, musing as he spoke. “But…to what end? And how in the hells did he find out about her?”
Mardley shook his head. “I wish I knew.”
Gritting his teeth, Baern rose and paced the little storeroom.
“Forgive me, old friend,” he said after a brief silence, “but this isn't making any sense. We looked for that girl for years.”
“I know, Baern.”
“Years, Mardaley, and came away with nothing, only to find her living right her under our noses. And, you're about the only person left alive outside of her own kin who could recognise her, yet it took you almost a year to finally accept it was her. If she could manage to elude us for so long, elude you for so long, how in the hells did Thuridan find out about her?”
“I was outside his house, Baern. I heard him twist his own son into fostering closer ties with Marshalla.”
“How?”
“Davian's to try to get Marshalla to take a post in their household.”
Baern rose an eyebrow at Mardaley.
“That's what I heard.”
“Has he succeded?”
Mardaley shook his head. “Thus far, Marshalla's said no. Tip, too, actually”
“I see. Why?”
Mardaley smiled proudly. “They see Thuridan for the worthless snake he is and want nothing to do with him.”
Baern couldn't help but smile himself, but his smile was fleeting. “Mardaley, you're sure this isn't just a doting father relenting to the wishes of an over-indulged son?”
“Thuridan Grovemender is not a doting father.”
“But–”
“No, Baern. I know what I heard, and I know what I've seen. Thuridan knows, he knows something, and he's plotting on using that knowledge. How, and for what end, I cannot fathom just yet, but plotting he is. Without a doubt.”
Baern stared intently at his friend. “Are you sure you're not getting too involved here?”
Mardaley smarted visibly at this. “I know what I heard, damn it!”
“I don't doubt that, but…you're jumping to conclusions here. This isn't like you.”
Fuming, Mardaley rose, shoving his hands roughly into his pockets as he turned his back to his friend.
“Are you positive you're not losing your objectivity?”
Wheeling round, Mardaley glared at Baern. “I am perfectly capable of seeing this through.”
“Are you? Your actions of late have been one of a man lashing out, lashing out seeking…I don't know…redemption maybe?”
Mardaley moved to speak, but his voice died in his throat.
“Is it her mother? You never did get over how she died.”
“It's not her mother, alright? Please don't bring that up.”
“Then, what is it?” Baern stared hard at his friend. Mardaley stared back, but he soon felt his resolve wilting until at last, he sighed and shook his head.
“It's…we failed her, Baern,” he replied. “I failed her. She's suffered living out there on those streets, she's faced horrors she's had no right to face at that age. Would that you could've heard how dismissive she was of what that Toriel did to her. He ravaged her, and she talked about it as if all he did was smack her the once. And it's all something we could've stopped.”
“Yes, we could've,” Baern replied, nodding as he spoke, “but then we'd have had thirty other Marshallas living on those streets. We made the best decision we could in those dark times, and I stand by them, yours and mine. Besides, it wasn't your task to protect her.”
“Well, it is now,” Mardaley said through gritted teeth. “And I'll be damned if I let that bastard use her for one of his schemes.”
Frowning, Baern cocked his head to the side before shaking it slowly. “No, Mardaley, no. This can't be it, not after all this time. I know you too well. What else is it?”
“Nothing,” Mardaley replied curtly.
“Mardaley, it's me you're talking to, we've been through too much for me to fall for this. What is it?”
Mardaley glared at his friend for a spell before finally walking over and leaning onto the table beside Bearn.
“The boy, Tip,” he sighed.
“Yes?”
“He…he reminds me Aldurn.”
Baern's eyes went wide as he stared at Mardaley. “Aldurn? Gods above, that was decades ago! You and I were miles away when it was destroyed! Do you truly mean to blame yourself for that too?”
Shrugging, Mardaley turned his back to his friend as he walked back to his chair.
“So…you think to protect these two to…make amends?”
Mardaley turned to stare square at Baern. “Is that so wrong?”
“Oh, goodness no. In fact, I'm surprised there's still any feeling in that shrivelled old heart of yours.”
“Funny, very funny.”
Baern grinned, but it was fleeting. “Can you say truly that Thuridan knows about Marshalla?”
“Can you say truly he doesn't?”
“Ah…”
“And don't forget the listening stone he attuned near the door. Why go through the trouble to do that if he had no interest in her?”
“Are you sure it was him, though?”
“I told you, I make his listening stones. I'm sure.”
“I….Fine, we'll have to watch him closely, uncover whatever he's plotting before it goes too far.”
“That is all I ask.”
Just then, the sound of the door opening reached the men. As one, both turned to stare at the door.
“I'd best let you get back to running your store,” Baern said as he wrapped his scarf back about him. Mardaley nodded distractedly in response.
“Just let me know as soon as you learn anything,” Mardaley replied as he headed for the door.
“Of course.”
Stepping out, Mardaley returned to his store, a ready smile on his lips to welcome his new customer.
“See! Told you we'd make it!”
“All thanks to me.”
Shaking his head, Mardaley watched as the pair made their way towards the short stairs.
“I'm surprised, you two are actually early for once.”
At this, Tip stopped and glared hard at Marshalla.
“Oh, don't start.”
“But–”
“And I see you actually kept yourselves dry this time,” Mardaley continued. Marshalla turned from Tip to smile at Mardaley.
“Yeah, these new clothes dry off great!”
Mardaley grinned. “I'm glad you like them.”
Just then, Baern appeared from the back room, standing beside Mardaley as he stared at the two children from above his blue scarf.
“Oh, hello,” Marshalla said briefly at Baern before turning to stare at Mardaley. “You need us gone?”
Mardaley shook his head at her. “It's ok, but you might as well start your noon deliveries early.”
“Haven't filled the bag yet.”
“I did.”
Marshalla grinned. Hurrying over, she grabbed the bag and, throwing Bearn a polite nod, turned and hurried out, Tip in tow.
“That's her?” Bearn whispered once they were out of the store. Mardaley nodded, his eyes still on the door.
“You were right, she really does look nothing like her grandmother.”
“Hard to imagine, isn't it?”
“Yes, very. And the little boy was Tip?”
Mardaley nodded once again.
“I see what you mean about Aldurn, the resemblance with Therese is quite striking.”
“I know.”
Then, Baern turned to stare at his friend, a slow smile parting his lips as he shook his head.
“What?”
But Baern merely stared, smiling.
“Whatever,” Mardaley said haughtily, eliciting a chuckle from his friend. At last, Baern turned to leave. But as he turned, he stopped suddenly, as if remembering something.
“Oh, and, uh…” Baern whispered again, turning to face Mardaley once more, “was that chimera leather I saw them both wearing?”
Mardaley grinned. “Amongst other things.”
“Uh-huh. And how much did it all set you back by?”
“Don't ask.”
Shaking his head, the elderly high elf turned and finally headed for the door.
*****
Groaning, Thalas rolled over to his back as he groggily opened his eyes. His mouth tasted like sawdust, and his head felt thick and heavy. Licking his cracked lips, he turned to stare at his beloved sprawled beside him. Raising his head, he cast a slow lustful gaze over her naked body, his eyes slowing at her bare behind. As he stared, he felt a familiar and most welcome stirring from down below, but with it came a most unsettling headache. Sighing, he closed his eyes as he fought down his passion, and finally opening his eyes once more, he swung his feet gingerly off the bed before rising and heading over to the nearby table.
There was a slight, cold breeze within the room, but Thalas didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed it, for the slight chill that ran all about his nude frame calmed his head somewhat. Reaching the table, he picked up the nine bottles upon it one by one to inspect their contents. Empty. Every single one.
“She drinks like a fish,” he croaked. Sighing, he turned and shuffled over to his clothes, but the sounds of stirring from the bed brought him to a halt. Turning, he smiled as he watched his beloved Neremi rise to her elbow, staring at the far wall.
“Sleep well?”
Turning, Neremi stared at him with a contented smiled before lowering her head back to her pillow as she nodded. “You?”
“Well enough,” he replied, smiling. Turning, he made his way to his clothing once more.
“Any more drink?”
“No,” Thalas replied as he began searching his pockets. “You drank it all.”
“Oh, right. Mist?”
“Gone. We finished it last night.”
“Oh, right.”
Pulling free his purse, Thalas counted out some coins before shuffling over to a little panel on the wall near the door.
“At least we've still got one vice we can indulge in,” Neremi said with an alluring smile. Shaking his head, Thalas pulled open the panel and, dropping the coins within, whispered some words into the panel before closing it and tossing his purse back onto his clothes.
“Come on, then, Thalas, don't keep a lady waiting.”
Turning, Thalas stared at his beloved. The light that shone through the curtains upon her basked her in an unearthly, yet radiant glow. And with her long golden hair splayed across her pillow, her bare breasts exposed for his pleasure, Thalas couldn't help but smile at her, the stirring returning with renewed vigour. Unfortunately, so did the headache. Closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly, he shuffled back towards the bed.
“What is it?”
“I need a drink first.”
“You seemed more than capable last night, and we didn't start drinking until after our third go.”
“Yes, well, right now my head is threatening to explode,” Thalas mumbled in response as he sat on the bed.
“I could heal you if you'd like.”
Thalas looked at her. “No thank you, I've still got the scars from the last time you tried to heal me.”
Sticking her tongue out at him briefly, Neremi pouted as she turned her back to him, clearly incensed. Smiling, Thalas laid down beside her, kissing her shoulder as he did so.
“Thank you for the offer though,” he said. But Neremi shook him off her.
“I expected better from a Grovemender, Thalas,” she grumbled.
“Oh, don't start, Neremi,” Thalas growled as his mood darkened greatly. “I get enough of that nonsense from that old fool at home, I don't need to hear it from you too.”
Neremi turned to stare at her beloved, her face one of great concern. “That was in jest, Thalas.”
