The Beggar's Past

by J B Drake

  “Leave my home,” Mardaley said as he turned to sit. “Your presence here offends me.”

  As the storekeeper sat, Anise moved to speak, but even though her lips moved no words came.

  “Come, Anise,” Baern said, placing a hand upon her shoulder.

  Turning, Anise stared at Baern, and as she stared into his eyes, the pain she saw within them broke her heart.

  “I didn’t—”

  “Come,” Baern replied as he gently ushered her to the door.

  They left in silence, Baern closing the kitchen door behind them as gingerly as he could. They walked through the sitting room in that same silence, Anise staring at the sleeping child as she walked past him.

  “So peaceful,” she thought. “So innocent.”

  It was not until she set foot outside that she spoke, spinning to regard her mentor as he stood within the storekeeper’s doorway. Only then was the silence finally broken.

  “Is it true?” she said.

  “Is what true?”

  “What he said? Did my parents truly wash their hands of me?”

  Taking a deep breath, Baern let it out slowly, then nodded.

  “And Naeve?” Anise asked, fighting back the tears.

  Again, the Magister nodded.

  “But you came for me anyway.” Anise smiled, gritting her teeth to keep the tears at bay.

  Baern smiled. “You deserved a second chance.”

  “Like Tip, you mean.”

  “Yes,” Baern nodded. “And Anieszirel.”

  Anise’s smile faded. “Even with that thing in him?”

  “Especially with that thing in him.”

  “But this is folly, Baern. That thing’s power is too great for us to keep this to ourselves. You can’t hope to contain this!”

  Once more, Baern smiled. “You’re not seeing past your fear, Anise.”

  Anise frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “For all the creature’s power, for all its posturing and grand statements, it is still under the boy’s thumb.”

  Anise’s frown deepened. “What in the world do you mean by that?”

  “Tip’s been in our lives for quite some time and yet that creature’s never manifested, not once. In fact, were it not for Mardaley’s over-eagerness, we still wouldn’t truly have known it was there.”

  “So?”

  “A creature that powerful, and it cannot exert its will over a child like Tip? Why?”

  Anise’s eyes lit up at this.

  “Precisely.”

  “Perhaps…Anieszirel’s presence—”

  “Her presence didn’t stop it manifesting today.”

  “Well…perhaps it never truly wished to?”

  Baern smiled. “A demon with that much power at its fingertips? I doubt that. That creature would love nothing more than to claim Tip’s body for its own and run amok in our world.”

  “So, what’s stopping it?”

  Baern nodded. “That is the question we should be asking.”

  “With the Tower on our side we will find the answers sooner.”

  Baern shook his head. “The Tower cannot afford to be on our side, Anise, there’s too much power at play here. If you take this to Naeve, you’ll end up putting her in a horrible position. She will not be able to contain this, and she’ll know it; she’ll have to involve other people, lots of people, and news like this never stays secret for long in the Tower. It’d only be a matter of time before the Tower’s allies hear about Tip, and they’d will either make a play for Tip themselves, or demand Naeve rid the world of his presence. And if Naeve refused, they, and just about everyone else would distance themselves from us, and gods only knows how we’d survive then. Faced with those choices, Naeve would have to end Tip. It’d the safer play.”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  Baern stared at Anise as if slapped. “Tip is innocent in all this! Sacrificing him is wrong!”

  “Even for the greater good?”

  Slowly, Baern stood tall, his gaze hardening. “That’s what Naeve said about you.”

  Those words bored into Anise, and bored into her deep.

  “Listen, Anise,” Baern continued, “it’s best—”

  “You’re ashamed of me.”

  Baern stared at her in silence as his gaze softened.

  “I’ve always believed you should follow your heart,” he said at last.

  “But you’re ashamed of me.”

  Baern sighed as he stared at her in silence once more.

  “Yes,” he whispered at last. Then, lowering his gaze, he turned and closed the door as gingerly as he could.

  Never in all her years had Anise felt so alone.

  *****

  Opening the door of her home, Marshalla stepped through as she watched the events at Mardaley’s abode replay in her mind’s eye, a deep frown upon her lips.

  “What time do you call this, then?”

  Startled, she looked up to see her silver-haired room-mate staring at her with arms crossed and a worried frown upon her lips.

  Smiling, Marshalla sighed. “Sorry, lost track.”

  Her words were meant to placate Amala, but instead, as Amala stared, her frown deepened.

  “You’ve been crying,” she said as she hurried over to Marshalla.

  Smiling still, Marshalla clasped Amala’s hand as it neared her cheek.

  “It’s nothing,” Marshalla replied. “Just—”

  “Marsha, please,” Amala pleaded, lowering her arm as she spoke. “In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve never once seen you walk through that door with eyes this red. I can just about stomach you telling me you’re fine in the morning when I clearly heard you crying into your pillow the night before, but this?”

  Marshalla frowned. “You heard?”

  Amala nodded.

  “You got ears like a cat, you,” Marshalla smiled.

  Amala smiled in turn. “It does help that our rooms are so close.” Then, her smile faded. “Is it…her?”

  As Marshalla’s smile also faded, she stared at Amala in silence for a spell before nodding at last.

  “Seeing her face everywhere now,” she said as she stared down at her hands. “Her and that knife.”

  Sighing, Marshalla closed her eyes and rested her head against the door. “Can’t even close me eyes anymore. She’s there, waiting. And all that blood!”

  “There, there,” Amala soothed as she held Marshalla’s hand before gently leading her to the sofa.

  A sharp sigh escaped Marshalla’s lips, but she didn’t resist, and before long she was seated, Amala moving to sit beside her

  “You’re a brave woman, Marsha,” Amala said, sitting cross-legged upon the sofa.

  Marshalla scoffed at this.

  “No, I’m serious,” Amala continued. “You’re falling apart inside, and yet you carry around this brave face all day so as not to upset Tip.”

  Marshalla smiled in spite of herself.

  “Why don’t you tell me what happened at the storehouse, what truly—”

  “Already told you.”

  “Not all of it.”

  Marshalla fell silent as she stared at Amala, her room-mate’s eyes boring into her.

  At last, Amala smiled. “You’re truly not going to tell me, are you?”

  Marshalla bit her lip as she lowered her gaze.

  Sighing, Amala reached forth and raised Marshalla’s eyes to hers. “Then I shall stop asking.”

  Taking a deep breath, Marshalla sighed and smiled.

  “So,” Amala continued as she let Marshalla’s hand go, her look one of great seriousness, “what can I do to help you end this nightmare?”

  Marshalla shook her head slowly as her smile faded.

  “Don’t know what to do, Amala,” she said. “Never killed someone before.”

  “Yes,” Amala said, a sad smile parting her lips as she sighed, “killing isn’t exactly something either one of us can speak to, sadly. And with this secret you keep—”

  �
�Not keeping any secrets!”

  Amala smiled.

  “In any case,” she said, “talking to me isn’t going to help, and I take it Anise is still avoiding you?”

  Marshalla scoffed as a sneer twisted her lips.

  “Then perhaps…perhaps what you need is the benefit of another woman’s wisdom. Someone who’s…you know…killed, and knows how best to deal with it.”

  Marshalla frowned. “Like who?”

  “Well,” Amala continued, “I’ve been asking around the Tower, seeing who might help you—”

  “You been telling people about me?”

  Amala smiled. “I do know how to be discreet, you know.”

  Marshalla scowled in response.

  “Anyhow,” Amala continued when Marshalla stayed silent. “I heard the Matriarch often grants audience to any who feels overwhelmed or needs advice on a point of great intimacy…”

  Marshalla’s scowl deepened.

  “…so perhaps you could take advantage of that. Share your burdens with her, see what advice she can give.”

  “You want me to go talk to that old bitch,” Marshalla snarled.

  “Oh, come off it, Marsha.” Amala straightened. “That whole business with Thuridan and his storehouse was a lifetime ago. Do you not wish for peace from those nightmares?”

  Marshalla scowled once more, but kept silent.

  “I worry about you, Marsha,” Amala continued. “If you won’t talk to her, and you won’t talk to Baern or Mardaley, and you won’t confide in me, who’s left?”

  Marshalla moved to speak, but no words came.

  “Well?”

  Again, Marshalla’s lips moved, but words eluded her still.

  “You can’t hold something like this in forever, Marsha, you just can’t.”

  Slowly, Marshalla rose, one hand upon her upper arm as she walked towards her room.

  “Maybe just need to get away, you know?” she said, spinning to face Amala once more.

  Amala frowned. “Away where?”

  Marshalla shrugged. “Anywhere. Everything here reminds me of that night. Maybe just need to get away, to forget.”

  Amala smiled. “Like a breather.”

  Marshalla shrugged, then nodded. “Yeah, like that.”

  “Excellent idea!” Amala exclaimed as she too rose. “I know a few places we can go, and—”

  Marshalla shook her head. “No, just me.”

  “Just you?” Amala frowned.

  Marshalla nodded.

  “On your own?”

  Again, Marshalla nodded.

  “Without Tip?”

  Marshalla paused briefly, but soon nodded once more.

  “Marsha, what’s going on?” Amala asked as she made her way to Marshalla’s side. “You never go anywhere without that boy.”

  “That’s just it, though. Always doing something for someone else. For Tip, for Baern, for Mardaley…always someone asking me for something. Not got any time to meself, not got any time to stop, to think, to…”

  “Heal.”

  Sighing, Marshalla nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I understand,” Amala replied as she placed a hand upon Marshalla’s elbow. “But will Tip understand?”

  Marshalla smiled, albeit sadly. “Yeah, think so. He won’t like it, but he’ll understand. He got Baern and Mardaley anyway, and all them lessons.”

  “Ah, yes.” Amala grinned. “The all-important Birthing.”

  Marshalla grinned. “Yeah.”

  Amala sighed. “So, you’ll go see Anise tomorrow, then?”

  Marshalla scowled. “Don’t matter to her anymore, so why bother?”

  “Well, for one thing, so you have a position to return to.”

  Marshalla shrugged. “She boot me, will go find work somewheres else.”

  Shaking her head, Amala smiled. “You are as stubborn as a mule, you know that?”

  Marshalla smiled. “Been told that a few times, yeah.”

  Amala sighed as she shook her head once more.

  “I suppose it couldn’t hurt being away for a spell,” she said, then frowned. “What about Gray?”

  “Can’t she…stay with you?”

  “Oh, no!” Amala exclaimed with a vehement shake of her head. “You are not leaving me all alone with that hell-cat! She’ll tear the whole place apart the first night you’re away! No!”

  “But—”

  “No, Marsha! She’s going with you, and that’s the end of it.”

  “But—”

  “No!”

  “Can’t you just—”

  “No!”

  “She won’t—”

  “No!”

  “It’ll just—”

  “No! No! A thousand times, no!”

  “Fine, then!” Marshalla bellowed as she crossed her arms beneath her bosom. “Gods, and you call me stubborn!”

  The duo glared at each other in silence, till at last Amala sighed.

  “Go on, get changed. I’ll call you when supper’s ready.”

  Marshalla frowned. “You not eaten yet?”

  A cheeky smile parted Amala’s lips. “I wouldn’t say no to seconds.”

  Marshalla sighed as she headed for her room. “You and Tip got to stop spending so much time together. You eating as much as him now.”

  Amala’s chuckle filled the air, and as Marshalla opened her bedroom door, she couldn’t help but smile. But as she closed it, her smile faded. Closing her eyes, she leant upon the closed door.

  “I’m sorry I’m using you like this, Amala,” she whispered. “You’re a good person, you don’t deserve this. But the rumours must sound real.”

  A soft rustle pulled Marshalla’s eyes open, and as she turned to the source she found herself staring deep into her dear Gray’s eyes.

  “We’re going on and adventure, Gray!” she said, grinning. “You, me and Drake! What do you think of that?”

  The panther blinked but remained otherwise unmoved.

  Marshalla sighed. “Yeah, me neither.”

  Then, with a shake of her head, she turned and began loosening her tunic.

  *****

  Biting her lower lip, Archmage Anise Fairweather stood before the Matriarch’s door, staring at its handle. It had taken all she had to make the journey over. And now that she was there, it was taking all she had to not turn around and walk away.

  But she had to do this, she’d never live with herself if she walked away now. And so, with her heart in her throat, Anise raised her hand and knocked on the door.

  “Come!” came a voice from within.

  Taking a deep breath, the Archmage swung the door open and marched inside.

  “Matriarch.” Anise bowed slightly, then closed the door behind her.

  “Anise.” Matriarch Earthchild smiled, placing the parchment in her hand upon her table as she sat deeper into her chair. “What brings you here?”

  “Matriarch, I…” Anise began, but her words died away.

  “Anise, what is it?” the Matriarch frowned.

  “I…uh…”

  Slowly, Naeve sat forward, her brow furrowing deeper as she locked her fingers upon her desk.

  “Take your time, child,” she said. “Take a breath.”

  Smiling, Anise nodded and did precisely that, and as she breathed out, her words returned.

  “Matriarch, I’m here to…ask you about my past,” she said.

  “Your past?”

  Anise nodded.

  The intensity of the Matriarch’s gaze grew as she nodded at Anise.

  Taking it as a sign to continue, Anise ploughed on. “When I was…during my exile, did Magister Meadowview come for me on the Tower’s orders, or in defiance of them?”

  “Ah.” Naeve raised her chin, then sighed as she sat back once more.

  A charged silence fell upon the pair as they stared at one another.

  “Matriarch, I need to know,” Anise pressed, chasing away the oppressive silence.

  “Do you now?”

  Anise
nodded.

  “Some things are better left unsaid, Anise.”

  “Not this.” Anise shook her head. “I need to know.”

  “Why?”

  “Because…because I just need to know. Please.”

  The silence returned, and while it wasn’t as oppressive, it was every bit as charged.

  “Where is this coming from, Anise?” Matriarch Earthchild asked. “Baern would never have brought something like this up.”

  “He didn’t.”

  “Then, what has brought it up?”

  “I was speaking to Mardaley Templeton and—”

  “Mardaley!”

  Startled, Anise stood silent. The venom behind her Matriarch’s utterance of that name was something she did not expect.

  “What nonsense did that old fool fill your head with, then?”

  “He said you and my parents ordered Baern not to come for me.”

  “And I suppose that fool human left out the fact that he, too, opposed your return?”

  As Anise stared hard at her Matriarch, her heart broke. Mardaley was right all along. And to think, she’d spent the whole night wishing it to be false.

  The silence returned, and its presence now was the most painful of all.

  “Well?” Matriarch Earthchild demanded. “Did he?”

  Gritting her teeth, Anise shook her head. “He didn’t.”

  Then, as Anise lowered her gaze, the blood drained from the Matriarch’s face.

  “Anise,” she said, “listen to me carefully. What we’re talking about happened a long time ago. No good will ever come from opening old wounds like this.”

  “Old wounds,” Anise muttered as she shook her head, her eyes boring into her Matriarch. “They wished me dead.”

  “It wasn’t quite that simple.”

  Forcing a smile, Anise shrugged as she shook her head. “Wasn’t it?”

  Sighing once more, Naeve frowned at the woman before her.

  “Sit, child,” she gestured to the chair near her. “Sit. This is no way to talk about something like this.”

  “Uhm,” Anise replied as she reached for the door handle, “I should head back to the Pens. I’ve been gone too long as is.”

  “They can manage without you a little longer,” Naeve replied. “Sit.”

  “I truly should go, they—”

  “Sit!”

  But Anise shook her head as she spun round, her hand again making for the door handle.