The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  “What?”

  Marshalla nodded.

  “So who did?”

  “She said Tip did it, said something in Tip woke up and…did them things. She said it was that same thing that got her out of the circle too.”

  Mardaley stared at the girl seated beside him, his face speaking volumes about his thoughts on her words.

  “It’s what she said.” The young girl shrugged.

  “Something in Tip woke up…”

  Marshalla nodded.

  “Woke up, as if from slumber…”

  Again, she nodded.

  “And wielded power enough to not only dispel a fully formed banishing circle, but kill a storehouse full of sellswords.”

  Once more, Marshalla nodded, grinning. “Crazy, hunh?”

  But Mardaley did not grin, nor did he speak. Instead, he merely stared, the intensity of his gaze undiminished. It wasn’t long before Marshalla’s smile faded.

  “What is it?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

  “What did this other Tip say?”

  “What you mean?”

  “When he took over. What did he say?”

  Marshalla pondered the question a spell before shaking her head and shrugging.

  “Don’t know,” she said, “Ani didn’t say.”

  “Did she say anything else?”

  “She…” Marshalla began, but her words faded as her brows furrowed deeper.

  “What is it? Marsha?”

  Marshalla stared at the storekeeper seated beside her for a spell before at last parting her lips once more.

  “She said something…weird.”

  “Weird…how?”

  “Weird like…she gone mad, weird.”

  Mardaley cast a slow sideways glance at her. “What did she say?”

  “She said…she said she was scared when that thing in Tip woke up. Said she tried to run, to enter me, but it didn’t let her.”

  “You what?”

  Marshalla nodded. “Crazy hunh?”

  There was an edge to Marshalla’s words this time, a plea behind them. But, rather than smiling or reaching out to comfort her, Mardaley instead leant towards her, his gaze fiercer than Marshalla had ever seen it.

  “Are you sure that’s what she said?”

  Marshalla swallowed hard before nodding. “Swear.”

  Leaning back, the elderly storekeeper stared into the ether as his hand rose to his chin almost of its own accord to stroke his beard as he stared at sights unseen. In the silence that followed, Marshalla watched as Mardaley pondered her words.

  “This cannot be right,” he muttered at last.

  “Mardaley, what’s going on?”

  “What am I missing here?” he said, shaking his head. “To wield power enough to bind the Kin-Slayer herself… No mere mortal can have have such power within them, and yet, be unable to…this goes beyond a fractured mind, for sure of it. What am I missing?”

  “Mardaley,” Marshalla pleaded as she placed a hand upon the storekeeper’s shoulder.

  Mardaley turned to face her.

  “What is it?”

  Once more, he shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense, Marsha.”

  “You telling me!”

  “No, Marsha, you don’t understand. Tip is just a boy, nothing more. He’s just a simple little elf. How could he possibly be able to do something of this magnitude and I not sense anything of note from him?”

  “Well,” Marshalla replied, “Ani said she wasn’t even sure Tip was elven.”

  These words were as a thunderbolt, their utterance making the storekeeper sit ramrod straight as he stared wide-eyed at the red-haired girl beside him.

  “Good gods!” he said, his mouth agape. “Good gods!”

  “Good gods…what?” Marshalla asked.

  In response, Mardaley learnt towards her, his eyes boring into her with the same intensity as before.

  “Marsha,” he said, “answer me truthfully. Did Tip ever tell you about his mother?”

  “His mummy?”

  Mardaley nodded, the fire in his eyes unwavering.

  “Yeah, some.”

  “Describe her.”

  “What?”

  “Describe her, Marsha, describe her.”

  Marshalla paused as she pondered the question a spell, than shook her head. “Tip never told me what she looked like. Just that she was really pretty.”

  “You never pressed?”

  Frowning, Marshalla shook her head.

  “She had a pet name for him though, did she not?”

  Marshalla’s frown deepened. “How you know that?”

  “Say it.”

  Marshalla shook her head once more. “Mardaley, what’s going—”

  “Say it, Marsha,” Mardaley interjected. “Please. I need to hear you say it.”

  “Uhm…” Marshalla frowned, staring into the ether as she searched her mind for the answer.

  “Starlight,” she said at last. “Think he said it was Starlight.”

  “So, it is him,” Mardaley whispered as he shook his head, his eyes glazed and his face ashen.

  “He’s who?” Marshalla asked. “Mardaley, you scaring me, Tip is who?”

  In response, Mardaley shot to his feet.

  “Mardaley, wait!” Marshalla exclaimed as she too rose. “What—”

  “I need you to bring Tip to my house tonight, Marsha,” Mardaley said as he spun to face her square. “Use any excuse you can, but bring him. Tell no-one, and bring him right after you’re done at the Pens, not a moment later.”

  “Mardaley, you scaring me.”

  Smiling, Mardaley caressed Marshalla’s cheek. “All will be well, upon my honour.”

  Marshalla stared in silence for a spell, but soon nodded.

  Nodding in turn, Mardaley smiled. “Bring him, Marsha, bring him. I’ll tell him to expect you.”

  And without another word, the elderly storekeeper spun about and hurried back, the beating of his heart ringing loudly in his ears.

  *****

  With a tight frown, Anise stared at the door before her.

  “Perhaps they’re not in,” she said as Baern knocked once more.

  “They’re in,” Baern replied, a smile upon his lips. It was the same smile he’d worn when she’d answered his summons and returned to his office, the same smile he’d worn when he’d asked her to accompany him to the storekeeper’s home that very moment, and it was the same smile he’d worn for the entirety of their journey. The same wooden smile.

  “Look, Baern—” Anise began as she rounded on him, but at that moment the door swung open.

  “Ah, Maline!” Baern exclaimed at the woman standing in the doorway, his smile warming for the first time that evening.

  Forcing a smile of her own, Anise turned to the door, but as she locked gazes with Maline, her smile dissipated.

  “This the one, then?” Maline sneered.

  It wasn’t so much the words the woman said to her that irked Anise, rather the coldness within them.

  “Now, now, Maline,” Baern replied. “Anise is merely doing what she thinks is best.”

  The woman stood unmoved. A tense silence fell upon the three as the woman held Anise in a freezing glare. Anise had heard of her, of course; Marshalla had spoken of her many a time, each time singing praises of the woman’s love and care for both Marshalla and Tip, and so her disdain was understandable. But Anise would not be cowed, and thus did she hold the woman’s gaze, her calm stare to the woman’s glare.

  “Let’s talk inside, Maline,” Baern said at last. “It’s cold out here.”

  Tearing her gaze from Anise, the woman turned to Baern.

  “Mardaley said you was coming tomorrow.”

  “I’m…what?” Baern frowned.

  Maline shrugged. “Asked him earlier if you was going to make it for supper. He said you was coming tomorrow.”

  Baern’s frown deepened as he turned to Anise briefly.

  “But you here now, so…” Mali
ne added as she stepped aside.

  “You said he was expecting us,” Anise said as she turned to her companion.

  “I did,” Baern replied as he entered, “and he is. There must be some mistake.”

  “Hrm,” Anise muttered as she followed the Magister in.

  “In the kitchen,” Maline said as she closed the door behind them.

  “Very well,” Baern replied, and, with a nod to Anise, headed for the kitchen.

  With a nod of her own, and a purse of her lips, Anise followed him. As she walked through the house of the storekeeper, however, she found herself marvelling at how neat and simple it all was. To be serving the calibre of clients he was, this Mardaley was a man of wealth, Anise was sure, but walking through his abode, it was hard to see any signs of it.

  Before long, though, both she and Baern had entered the kitchen, Maline close behind. In the corner of the kitchen was a table, simple in design, much like all the other furnishings Anise had seen thus far, and seated at its head was the storekeeper himself, but from the look on his face, it was clear he truly wasn’t expecting them.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked as he rose.

  Baern frowned. “What do you mean? We agreed we’d all meet here.”

  “You didn’t get my missive?”

  “Of course I did! I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

  “No, Baern, I sent another. There’s been developments. Tip and Marsha are coming over and—”

  “But isn’t that what we—”

  “No, no!” Mardaley exclaimed as he cast a furtive glance at Anise. “There’s been a change, we can’t—”

  Shaking her head, Anise smiled. “What your friend is trying to say, Baern, is he’s not prepared to be as forthright with me as you are.”

  Then, she turned to the Magister. “Forgive me, Baern, but there’s nothing here that’ll change my mind.”

  “Wait, Anise,” Baern replied as he placed a gentle hand upon Anise’s arm before turning to Mardaley. “We’re supposed to be open and honest, Mardaley. Whatever it is, I’m sure there’ll be no harm in bringing Anise into it.”

  “Baern, you don’t understand, there’s—”

  “We gave her our word, Mardaley.”

  Just then, there came a knock at the door.

  “Damn,” Mardaley muttered, staring through the open kitchen doorway. “It’ll be them.”

  “Best let them in, then?” Maline asked as she rose.

  “No.” Mardaley shook his head. “Ask Marsha to come back tomorrow, we’ll—”

  Anise scoffed at this, an act that earned her a heated glare from Mardaley and Maline both.

  “No more secrets, Mardaley,” Baern said. “Not today.”

  “You don’t know what you ask, Baern,” Mardaley replied as he turned to his friend.

  Baern smiled. “I do.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  The knock came again.

  “No more secrets, old friend,” Baern repeated. “Not tonight.”

  “Very well,” Mardaley muttered as he stared from his friend to the open doorway and back. “But you stay here. You both stay here.”

  “I did not—” Anise began.

  “I don’t care what you think or how you feel about it, damn it!” Mardaley snapped as he rounded on Anise. “You stay here!”

  With eyes ablaze, Anise took a step forward, but a hand upon her shoulder stilled her tongue.

  “We’ll wait here,” Baern said.

  Glaring at the fuming storekeeper for a moment longer, Anise then turned to her companion, then back to the storekeeper.

  “Very well,” she said as she crossed her arms.

  “Good.” Mardaley nodded, then went to answer the door, closing the kitchen door behind him as he went.

  “You sure Mardaley said to come straight here?”

  Turning to the little boy beside her, Marshalla smiled.

  “They in, Tip,” she said. “Maline probably got Mardaley washing plates again and not wanting to leave him till he done.”

  Grinning, Tip chuckled. “Yeah, probably.”

  Smiling herself, Marshalla moved to knock once more, only for the door to swing open.

  “Hey, Mardaley!” Tip grinned at the storekeeper in the doorway.

  “We came like you said,” Marshalla added, staring intently at Mardaley. “Told Tip about the surprise you got for him for doing so well with you and Baern.”

  “Surp… Marsha, you weren’t supposed to tell him that, you were only supposed to bring him! If he knows about it, it’s no longer a surprise, is it?”

  “Well, sorry!” Marshalla exclaimed, her relief hidden within her words.

  “Can pretend to be surprised, though!” Tip offered.

  “Hrm,” Mardaley replied as he cast a critical eye at the child, who beamed at him in response.

  “Oh, what’s the use,” Mardaley said at last as he stepped aside. “Surprised or no, you’d better come in and get it.”

  “Yay!” Tip exclaimed as he darted in, his little legs carrying him to the sitting room.

  As Marshalla entered, her eyes went to Mardaley. For the first time since her journey over, her mask slipped, and as she stared at Mardaley her pain and worry were plain for the elderly storekeeper to see. But it was brief, her smile back in place as soon as Mardaley began closing the door behind her.

  “Right,” Mardaley continued as he entered the sitting room behind Marshalla.

  “You sit here, Tip.” He gestured to a chair whose back was to the kitchen door. “And I want you to act truly surprised when Maline brings your present out, alright?”

  With his eyes wide as saucers, Tip stared at the kitchen door for a spell before nodding eagerly at Mardaley and darting into the chair.

  “Good. Oh, and close your eyes.”

  Grinning, Tip obeyed.

  “Good,” Mardaley added. Then, he turned to Marshalla, and as he stared at her, his smile faded.

  “Come, Marsha,” he said. “Maline needs some help in the kitchen and I think she’s tired of having me underfoot.”

  Sharing a knowing glance both Tip and Marshalla giggled as Marshalla moved to follow Mardaley. As she turned her back to Tip, however, her smile faded, but it wasn’t until the kitchen door had closed behind her and Mardaley that she spoke.

  “What you planning, Mardaley?” she frowned. “Why you n…”

  As her gaze fell upon the two figures seated at the kitchen table with Maline, her frown turned into an open snarl.

  “What she doing here?” she seethed, glaring at Anise.

  “You will not speak to me that way, Marshalla,” Anise replied, her tone brooking no insolence.

  “Will speak to you how—”

  “Marsha,” Baern pleaded. “Now’s not the time. Anise is not your enemy.”

  “You sure, Baern?” Maline said.

  “Now’s not the time for this,” Mardaley replied before Anise could. “The night is delicate enough as is without having you all at each other’s throats.”

  “Not at each other’s,” Marshalla growled, “just hers.”

  “Marsha…”

  Turning, Marshalla shrugged at the wizened storekeeper before fixing her gaze upon the now seething Archmage.

  “You mentioned there’s been developments,” Baern said when all others fell silent. “I take it they’re about Tip?”

  “What,” Marshalla replied, “you want to talk with her in the room?”

  “I don’t like it any more than you do, Marsha,” Mardaley said, “but like it or not she must hear this too.”

  “This is so stupid,” Marshalla muttered.

  “Alright, that is enough!” Anise barked as she sprang to her feet. “I will not sit here and be insulted by—”

  “No, instead you will stand and make a spectacle of yourself,” Anieszirel said as she swam into view, an act that elicited one ear-splitting shriek, two loud gasps and a plea to the gods.

  “What?” Anieszirel asked innocently as
she stared with a barely suppressed smile at the faces about her.

  “You enjoy doing that,” Marshalla said. “Don’t you?”

  Anieszirel grinned. “It is rather entertaining.”

  “Except, thanks to you, Tip is going to be bounding through the door any moment now,” Mardaley growled as he turned to leave the kitchen.

  “No, he won’t,” Anieszirel replied. “I placed a sound barrier before the door.”

  “Be that as it may,” Mardaley replied, shaking his head as he turned to the chronodragon square, “you mustn’t be here. Go to him, keep him calm.”

  A dark frown twisted Anieszirel’s lips. “And what precisely gives you leave to command me, storekeeper?”

  “Mardaley, who is this?” Baern asked, his gaze upon the phantom.

  “This,” Mardaley replied, his eyes going from Anieszirel to the three at the table, “is Anieszirel in astral form.”

  “Kin-Slayer outside her host?” Anise asked, a deep frown upon her lips. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “You’re an expert on the abilities of a chronodragon, are you?” Anieszirel asked, arching an eyebrow at the Archmage.

  “Nevermind all that!” Mardaley snapped, glaring at Anise before turning to Anieszirel. “Return to the boy! Please!”

  The chronodragon stared at him for a spell, her lips pursed into a thin line.

  “Most mortals would be beside themselves seeing me like this for the first time,” she said, “and yet here you are giving me orders.”

  “Wait, first time?” Maline said, turning to Mardaley. “You didn’t even blink when she showed up.”

  “Yeah…” Anise added as she sat.

  “Marsha told me of her astral form,” Mardaley replied, his gaze softening as he turned to Maline, only for it to harden once more as he turned back to the chronodragon.

  “So, what’s this about Tip anyhow?” Anieszirel asked before Mardaley could speak. “What have you learnt?”

  “Please,” Mardaley replied, “you must return to him! We can discuss all this with you later!”

  “Mardaley, the only thing stopping Tip from eavesdropping on your little talk here is my promise to come do the eavesdropping for him.”

  “But—”

  “Be grateful I chose to reveal myself in the first place. Now, what have you learnt?”