The beggar prince, p.9
The Beggar Prince, page 9
part #1 of Unbroken Bond Series
Thalas glared at her in silence, and in response, Neremi raised a loving hand to caress his cheek.
“It was in jest, truly.”
At last, Thalas relented, his face softening as he looked from her to her hand.
“I'm sorry,” he muttered as he sat up at the edge of the bed. Going onto her knees, Neremi shuffled behind Thalas, and, placing her chin on his shoulder, wrapped her arms about him and held him close. Closing his eyes, Thalas placed a hand on her arm as he savoured her affection until at last a sigh escaped his lips. In response, Neremi kissed his neck before placing her chin on his shoulder once more.
“What is it, Thalas? What ails you?”
“It's nothing, it's…”
But Neremi kissed his neck once more, this time biting him lightly as well. “Thalas, my darling, what is it?”
Frowning, he turned to stare at her before staring forward once more.
“Thalas, you need to be strong, you need to not let your father get to you so. This isn't the first time he's chosen Davian over you. He's been doing it ever since the little snotspit was born. You need to be strong, my darling, your time will come. One day soon, you will be able to stand on your own without him. You just need to be strong till–”
“It's not that, it's…”
“What?”
Thalas looked at her, then looked forward once more.
“Talk to me, what is it?” Neremi whispered.
Once more, Thalas looked at her, but this time, he did speak.
“Aren't you sick of waiting? I mean, look at us. This is all we can afford on our own, after all this time. This cheap hovel.”
Sighing, Neremi let him go before shuffling to sit beside him.
“Thalas, we've spoken about this. We have to be patient. Right now, they have everything, we have nothing. We need to be patient, feather our nest with care, away from their gaze. When we started this, we both knew it would be long and arduous, but you need to be strong, my darling. We can't leave here without money. Without it, we will never be able to escape your father, or my parents for that matter. So, we need to be patient, we need to wait and–”
“I am sick of waiting, can't you hear me?” Thalas hissed through gritted teeth.
“Then, what do you propose?”
Thalas moved to speak, but shut his lips instead.
“Look, Thalas–”
“No,” he said as he shook his head before turning his gaze to his beloved. “It is taking too long. We've been at this for much of the year, and we still can't afford better lodgings than this. At this rate we'll be old and grey before we are ready to depart.” Thalas looked away from her. “We need a better way, a faster way.”
“What do you have in mind, then?”
Thalas stared into the ether, frowning deeply. At last, he looked over at her, his face set.
“You said it yourself, they have everything, we have nothing. What we need is to have something they need, something he needs.”
Neremi frowned. “We've tried, many times, and each time it ended badly.”
“Not this time.”
“What's so special about this time?”
“This time, we won't be stealing from him, not directly at least.”
“Thalas, you're not making much sense.”
“The gutter rats, Neremi. The little one, the secret my father wants.”
Neremi stared confused at him for a spell, but as she finally realised what he meant, a worried frown twisted her lips.
“No, listen!” Thalas exclaimed as he sat upright, turning to face her square. “I'm going to learn that little bastard's secret, I'm going to learn it before my dear father does, then he'll have to listen to me, to us!”
“You said your father warned you against that.”
“To the hells with him, I'm going to learn it and I'm going to use it to make him listen to us. He won't hurt me if I learn it, he can't risk me dying and taking the secret to my grave.”
“Don't talk like that, you know I hate it.”
Grinning, Thalas caressed Neremi's cheek. “Sorry.”
“And besides, the boy won't just tell you, you know.”
At her words, Thalas' smile took on a much darker tone. “Would be too easy if he did, wouldn't it?”
But Neremi was unmoved. Abruptly, Thalas reached out and clasped her hands. “I can handle my father, Neremi, I've lived with him all my life. In all our past schemes he's had the upper hand throughout, but this time, this time the advantage will be ours. Trust me.”
Neremi looked down for a brief spell at her hands in his, then returned her gaze to Thalas' smiling face.
“Trust me,” Thalas repeated as he leant in and kissed her lovingly. As they parted, a slow smile parted Neremi's lips.
“Well…the boy'll have to die, of course.”
“Of course, we can't have a monopoly on the secret if he still lived.”
“And the girl?”
“They're each other's shadow, she'll have to go too.”
Neremi's smile grew. “And then we can have your father give us anything we wished.”
Thalas' own smile grew. “Precisely.”
Abruptly, Neremi leant in and kissed him deeply.
“I can taste our freedom already,” she said as they parted. Thalas laughed with glee at her words, a laugh that soon infected Neremi.
“You know,” Thalas said once the laughter left the both of them. “it would be a shame to just kill her.”
“Oh?” Neremi asked, frowning.
“Oh yes, very.”
“A shame how?”
“Well, you remember the street whore in the Garden?”
Slowly, Neremi casted a sideways glance at her beloved, a playful smile upon her lips. “Yes…”
“Well,” Thalas continued a playful smile on his lips. “this gutter rat is just as…blessed.”
“Is that so?”
Thalas nodded, his smile growing.
“It truly would be a shame to waste such a blessing, wouldn't it?”
“Hrm, wouldn't it just?” Neremi replied as Thalas chuckled.
“And speaking of wasting,” Neremi continued, a slow seductive smile replacing her earlier one as she laid a hand on her beloved's temple, “we have this room till noon-chime. We wouldn't want to it to go to waste, would we?”
Thalas smiled at her in much the same manner.
“No, we wouldn't.”
A brief moment's silence fell upon the pair as both closed their eyes while Neremi healed her beloved, then as their eyes opened once more, fair Neremi lowered herself back on the bed, her gaze on her beloved throughout. But as Thalas began to clamber upon her, there was a knock on the door. Both stared at the door.
“Your order, sir.”
Thalas stared at his beloved. “Drinks first?”
Neremi grinned. “Why not?”
*****
Sighing, little Davian shuffled through the door, handing his coat over distractedly as he stared off into the ether, a sad frown on his face. Thuridan watched his son from the base of the stairs where he stood with a frown of his own. He waited patiently for his son to notice him, but so engrossed in his thoughts was Davian that he didn't so much as acknowledge his father's existence as he made his way toward the tutoring room. Thuridan looked over at his doorman, who stared back at his master with worry in his eyes. Taking one last look at the forlorn little elf, the doorman left to hang little Davian's coat. Thuridan stared back at his son.
“You're truly not going to say anything?”
Startled, Davian turned to face his father. “Sorry, Father.”
Thuridan gestured his son over while he sat on the stairs. Sighing, Davian complied, and as he reached his father, the elder elf picked up his son and sat him on his lap. Davian smiled shyly at this, though his smile was fleeting.
“And what ails my dearest Davian this day?” Thuridan asked, cocking his head to the side as he spoke. Davian looked up at his father before turning his gaze to his knee.
“Well?”
“Nothing…”
“Nothing?”
Davian nodded, dejected.
“Then why do you look like you've lost your very best friend in the world?”
Davian's frown deepened.
“Did you and Tip have a fight?”
Davian shook his head.
“Then what?”
“Marsha doesn't want to live with us,” he replied softly. “She keeps saying she'll end up fighting you and you will throw her and Tip out. I keep trying to tell her you're not heartless, but she won't listen. She doesn't want to listen. I don't know what else to tell her, she just won't listen.”
“And what does Tip say?”
“Tip doesn't want to come either. He thinks you hate them.”
Thuridan took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
“I see,” he replied at last. Davian nodded at him.
“So…the reason they're not wanting to come over is because they think Marsha and I will be at each other's throats, is that correct?”
Davian nodded once more.
“Then, I suppose the only way to settle this is if she and I were to reach some understanding.”
Davian looked up at his father, his face brightening up with each passing moment. “You mean you'll go talk to her?”
Thuridan smiled. “Yes, I'll go talk to her, get this whole affair straightened out.”
Grinning, Davian hugged his father with all his might. Thuridan laughed hugging his son back.
“Thank you, Father!”
“Oh, don't thank me yet, I have yet to to talk to her.”
“Sorry. I know! You can go talk to her at Mardaley's now!”
Thuridan chuckled. “I'm afraid I have responsibilities to attend to, my dear son.”
Davian grinned sheepishly at his father.
“Sorry. Maybe later, after work? I think Tip said they'll be bedding down at the Priory of the Kindly Goddess tonight. Do you know where that is?”
Thuridan nodded. “Yes, I believe so. We'll see how the night goes. For now though, enough worrying. Off to your tutor with you.”
Grinning once again, Davian gave his father one final hug before hopping to his feet and running to the tutoring room. Thuridan watched him go, but it was only when he disappeared from sight did his smile dissipate.
“It's not his fault…” he muttered. “He's too young. You'll have to see this through yourself.”
Rising, Thuridan turned and headed up the stairs, his mind already awhirl.
*****
Humming happily to himself, High Priest Drumold Etherspire sat by his modest desk, scribbling away contentedly. It always filled him with a great joy penning letters of thanks to the benefactors of his priory, and this one letter in particular was truly well-deserved after such a bounteous and unexpected donation.
Sitting back at last, the high priest re-read the letter, checking his punctuation and turns of phrase. But as he read through his words, a soft tapping drifted to his ears. It came from behind. Frowning, he turned round. Staring at the window behind him, Drumold watched as a moth flew into his window again, and again, and again. Curious, he rose and walked over to the window, opening it as he reached it. As the window opened, the moth stopped, hovering where it was for a spell before diving to the earth. Curious still, High Priest Etherspire watched it flitter away, but as he watched, he at last noticed the figure in the shadows below, and with that came the realisation of what was required of him. And there was only one person he knew who would make such a demand of him at such a time.
Gritting his teeth, High Priest Etherspire closed his window before hurrying out of the room, his letter all but forgotten. Making his way outside, the portly elf slowed his steps as he neared the spot where he'd seen the shadowy form. As he neared it, his frown deepened greatly.
“You know, most people would simply come up to my office and knock on the door,” he snarled. There was no response.
“Look, Thuridan, I have a lot to do, we have yet to prepare–”
“Then cease your incessant prattling and join me,” Thuridan replied from the darkness.
“Do not presume to give me orders, Thuridan.”
“Very well, you stand there talking into the shadows. Let's see how long it'll take for your little peons inside to start thinking their beloved leader has gone mad.”
Growling under his breath, High Priest Etherspire glowered for a spell before finally stepping into the shadows.
“What do you want?” he demanded the moment he was stood before Thuridan.
Thuridan smiled, a smile that lack warmth of any kind. “It never ceases to amaze me just how welcoming you can be, Drumold.”
“What. Do. You. Want?” Drumold repeated.
Thuridan's smile grew. “Very well, we shall skip the pleasantries. You're going to do me a favour, you–”
Drumold shook his head at Thuridan's words, a snarl twisting his lips. “No more favours, Thuridan. I told you, the last one was to be the last. That was the arrangement.”
Thuridan chuckled. “Is that so?”
“Do not test me, Thuridan, our business is concluded. I owe you nothing now.” Glaring at the high elf for a spell, Drumold turned and made to leave.
“And if I were to tell you I still have proof of your little antics with those young gutter rats…?”
Slowly, Drumold spun round to face Thuridan once more, but with a cold smile of his own. “And here I thought you wouldn't stoop so low. You have no such proof, Thuridan. I compelled the truth out of you. When you said you had no other items of proof, that was no lie.”
Grinning, Thuridan reached into his coat and pulled out a small, smooth stone, and, showing Drumold briefly, he tossed it at him. Frowning, the high priest caught it and placed it to his ear, but what he heard drained all blood from his face.
“But…I compelled you!”
“Yes,” Thuridan replied, nodding, “yes you did. And yes, I truly did tell the truth then when I said I had no other forms of proof. But you see, I've been doing this sort of thing for quite some time now, so I was expecting you to compel me. I made arrangements, old friend. for one of those little boys to pay me a visit before he left Merethia and, well, the rest I believe you just heard.”
The high priest stared at Thuridan with barely suppressed rage.
“And I suppose your part in it all was forgotten?” Drumold hissed after a spell.
“Why Drumold, you wound me. Of course we spoke about it. The little boy and I spoke at length about everything. I just decided to keep hold of the more interesting bits for later…use.”
Snarling, Drumold flung the whispering stone at Thuridan, who caught it and shoved it into his pocket in one deft motion.
“What do you want?” the high priest demanded through gritted teeth.
“Two of your street rats are due to spend the night here. I want you to evict them. Permanently.”
“Who?”
“They go by the names Marsha and Tip.”
“Why?” Drumold asked, frowning.
“That's my business.”
Drumold stared at the scheming high mage as a knot formed in the pit of his being.
“What do you mean, permanently?” he asked after a spell.
“I mean precisely that. From tonight, they are to receive no succor or aid from you and yours again, ever.”
“You can't be serious.”
“I'm very serious. And that goes for your sister priories and hospices. I want those two shunned from every single one of them.”
Drumold took a step towards Thuridan.
“Thuridan,” he pleaded. “they depend on us. Why condemn them?”
“That's none of your affair.”
“Is this about Davian? Does it really grate you that much that your son is mixing with–”
“I'm getting rather tired of repeating myself, Drumold. Will you do as I ask or not?”
Drumold stared with his lips slightly ajar. “Thuridan, winter's coming. Without aid, they'll–”
“Will you do as I ask or not?”
A cold shiver ran down Drumold's spine as waves of revulsion washed over him. There could only be one answer.
“I will do as you ask.”
Smirking, Thuridan nodded.
“I knew you would see reason, old friend. Take care.” And with that, Thuridan left. The broken elf watched Thuridan leave before turning and heading back into the Priory, his shame already drowning him.
Yawning widely, Tip tried to rub the sleep away from his eyes. Marshalla stared at him with a smile, but that soon disappeared behind a yawn of her own.
“So tired,” Tip muttered as they neared the entrance to the Priory.
“Yeah, me too,” Marshalla replied as she reached for the door. “But Mardaley paid us extra at least, so suppose was worth it.”
As Marshalla's fingers closed round the handle however, a hand grasped her other arm, holding it in a vice-like grip before pulling her roughly away from the door.
“Wha–?” she stuttered in surprise as she stumbled backwards. It was Maline.
“Maline, what you–?”
“Hush!” Maline spat back. It wasn't the fire in her one word that stilled Marshalla's tongue, it was the fear behind it. Regaining her balance, Marshalla rounded herself as much as she dared to better follow Maline. As she hurried on, she threw a glance at Tip. He was hurrying on behind her, his fear and worry plain in his gaze.
At last, they reached some nearby trees. It was only then that Maline let her go.
“Maline, what you–?” Marshalla began, but Maline would have none of it.
“Shut up!” she threw back, raising a hand for silence. “Just shut up and listen, please!”
Marshalla clammed up in response. Sighing, Maline looked from Marshalla to Tip, her brow furrowing deeper.
“You scaring me, Maline,” Marshalla said after a brief silence. “What is it?”
Maline held her peace for a spell, but at last spoke up.
“Word's going round the Priory, and going round strong, that Tip stole the Priory's take.”
“What?”
“You heard. They saying they only got enough for two more nights, then the Priory's all dry.”
“Who in the hells–?”
