The Beggar's Wrath

by J B Drake

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he snarled after a spell.

  Stopping, Marshalla stared at him with a look of confusion and innocence. But that look soon faded as her lips split into a wide grin.

  “Yeah,” she replied before continuing her task.

  Muttering a few choice words that would make the most hardened sailor blush, Thane threw himself into his task, and neither spoke to the other until the sound of hooves drifted to them.

  “Damn it!” Marshalla exclaimed as she stared through the stable doors. From where he was, Thane couldn’t see what she saw, but when she stared at him, the worry in her eyes unnerved him.

  “Quick, put that down and come.”

  Frowning, Thane did as she’d bid, but once they reached the stable doors, Marshalla turned to him.

  “Get your coat and hide behind the hay.”

  “Wha—”

  “If they see you in here, they’llll bite you.”

  Thane smiled. “I’ve been bitten by worse, Marsha.”

  “Oh, you have, yeah? How many of them things got spit that can boil your blood, eh?”

  Thane frowned. “But, the anti-venom…”

  “Not strong enough for their bite!”

  “Wait, so—”

  “Go!” Marshalla exclaimed. “Hide!”

  Darting forth, Marshalla stopped far enough before the hay to afford Thane space to sneak out without being seen. Gritting his teeth, Thane did as she’d instructed, bending low and hurrying past the haystack before darting behind it, pulling his coat to him once he was hidden. Crouching low, he hid where he was, listening to the hooves draw nearer, then stop.

  “Two pails?”

  It was Archmage Fairweather.

  “Yes…” he heard Marshalla reply.

  “Who was it?”

  “It…was Thane.”

  “Truly, Marsha? If they smell him, you know how unsettled they’ll be.”

  “They won’t, he’s covered in muck.”

  Frowning, Thane looked down at his clothes. It was then he noticed the splashes of muck about him. Worse still, it was then he noticed the hem of his coat had been rubbing against the sole of his boot as he lay crouched, and now it too was covered in muck. It was all he could do to not scream.

  “Well, I hope you’re right,” he heard Anise reply before the sound of hooves went past him.

  Just then, Marshalla’s face came into view as she gestured for him to follow. Biting down his rage, Thane did as he was bid and followed her past the open stables as Anise sought to calm the night mares, and on towards the entrance. It wasn’t until they stood before a cleaning fountain near the main entrance that they stopped.

  “Clean up there,” Marshalla said, pointing to the fountain.

  Thane glowered at her.

  “What?” Marshalla demanded.

  Thane glowered still. That she was suppressing the urge to laugh stoked his ire all the more.

  “You…you got some…” she began as she reached for his face.

  With a snarl, he smacked her hand away before storming off to the fountain, and once he’d cleaned the muck off his face and his clothings as best he could, he finally turned back to Marshalla.

  “Happy now?”

  She’d been smiling, but as he stared at her, her smile waned.

  “You really want to be friends so bad?”

  Thane moved to speak, to scream in frustration at the sheer stupidity of the question, but biting back his words, he instead smiled.

  “Yes, Marsha, I do.”

  “Because you sorry.”

  “Yes.”

  She stared at him in silence for a spell, but there was something in her gaze, something he’d never seen before. Was he finally thawing her heart?

  “Gods be good,” he thought. “Tell me the harridan’s finally changing her mind.”

  But then her gaze hardened once more, and she walked over to a nearby bench.

  “Come,” she said as she sat. “Let’s play your stupid game so you’ll leave me alone.”

  Thane stared at her with a calm air, but inward, he was glad. He knew what he’d seen, and it filled him with hope. Sighing, he walked over and sat beside her.

  “Very well,” he replied as he sat. “Let us begin.”

  “Remember,” he thought to himself, “appear pained. Let her think her questions are boring into your heart. You’ve broken countless women with this before, Thane, don’t fail now.”

  “Okay,” Marshalla replied. “First question. You really want to be friends, or you just want me to spread my legs?”

  Sitting up straight, Thane stared hard at the girl beside him. This was not the tone he was expecting. But as he stared, he soon saw the question for what it was. She was expecting him to lie. Well, two can play at this game.

  “Both,” he replied.

  It was a response Marshalla was not expecting, and it pleased him to see her surprised.

  “What you mean, both?” she asked once she’d composed herself.

  Thane shrugged. “You’re beautiful, Marsha, and the gods have blessed you with a body many a woman would, and have, killed for. Yours is a beauty that will fill anyone with fire in their loins with want, and I am no exception. Yes, I have dreamed of you spreading your legs to me, and yes, given the chance, I will not refuse. But that is not why I am here. I do want your friendship, and were I to choose, I would choose friendship over want.”

  Marshalla glowered at him, but Thane kept his peace, his smile warmed by the heat of Marshalla’s glare.

  “Why you hate poor people?” she asked next.

  Thane shrugged. “I don’t hate all the poor, just the lazy ones.”

  Marshalla shook her head. “Truth, Thane.”

  “That is the truth.”

  Again, Marshalla shook her head. “You hated Tip and me before you knew us. Hated us before you knew if we was lazy or not.”

  Thane smiled. “Well, I suppose I’d just assumed it.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “Look, Marsha—”

  Abruptly, Marshalla stood. “If you not going to tell the truth, no sense playing.”

  “Alright!” Thane exclaimed.

  Sighing, he watched as Marshalla grudgingly sat. It was clear stock answers were not the way forward. But then, what was he to say?

  “Well?” Marshalla asked as he stared, searching for an answer. When none was forthcoming, Marshalla sprang to her feet, rolling her eyes at him as she turned away.

  Then, just as she was about to take her first step, a thought forced its way to the fore of Thane’s mind. It was a trick he’d never tried before, but it was one Eldred had once sworn by. There was a reason he’d never tried it before, a reason strong enough to have him swear never to try it, but as he watched Marshalla make to storm away from him, he knew he had to.

  “Because you remind me of my childhood!” he exclaimed, stopping Marshalla cold.

  “Me?”

  As Thane stared, he swallowed hard. For the trick to succeed, he would have to show Marshalla a part of him she’d never seen before, share a truth about himself that sounded personal and intimate. But it also meant appearing hurt and vulnerable, two things he’d always guarded against.

  “But it might work,” he thought, then ploughed on.

  “I grew up…poor, Marsha,” he said as he held her with a pained gaze.

  Marshalla stared at him in silence for a spell before sitting once more. “Yeah?”

  Staring straight at her, he nodded, then and stared into the ether as he continued.

  “My grandfather was in the King’s Guard, the youngest to ever join.” Thane smiled in spite of himself. “He was the toast of our family. They told me his skill with a blade rivalled that of the king himself. It was a skill that made him respected in all the King’s Guard.”

  “What happened to him?” Marshalla asked once Thane fell silent.

  Thane smiled, his gaze still in the ether. “He died, in active se
rvice to his king. My grandmother was carrying my father when it happened. But she was a seamstress, with little money of her own, and so, when my grandfather died, and his wages halted, she…struggled. I know not how many menial jobs she took, or how menial they were, she refused to speak about them, but I do know she was left on her own.”

  “What you mean?” Marshalla asked.

  Her voice was tender, soft, and it hurt to listen to her.

  “Eyes on the prize, Thane,” he warned himself. “Eyes on the prize. You’re only pretending, remember that.” Then, taking a deep breath, he carried on.

  “Her parents had disowned her for marrying my grandfather, and my grandfather was an orphan. When he died, she had no-one.”

  As he fell silent, Thane felt the air between them change. It was subtle, but he felt it. Not just that, Marshalla’s gaze had changed too, gone was the rancour, gone was the steel edge to it. It was as if she saw him as more than just a nuisance now. It was a triumphant thought, to be sure, and he knew all he had to do now was stare deep into her eyes, beg for forgiveness and she would be as good as his. He knew this to be true.

  Except he didn’t feel triumphant. Instead, he felt the stirrings of an emotion he’d long thought buried, and as he struggled to contain the growing ache in his heart, his lips moved of their own accord.

  “When my father was born, my grandmother did everything she could to feed his dreams, and as he grew, he fought tooth and claw to make a living for himself and her. And he did. He built his empire from nothing, gave my grandmother the life she deserved. And do you know what that counted for in the eyes of the rich and powerful?”

  Marshalla shook her head, a slight haunted edge to her gaze.

  “Nothing. Oh, they patted my father on the back whenever he was around. ‘The son of a hero!’ they’d cry, but once his back was turned, they would laugh and sneer. It was enough to make you sick.”

  “They did the same to you.”

  It was not a question, but Thane nodded nonetheless. “When I was young, truly young, I didn’t understand it all, and neither did my friends at the time. But as I grew, and my friends grew, I saw them and their family for what they were. And it hurt.”

  “But Thalas was different?”

  Thane grinned, nodding. “My coming here, joining the Tower, it was Mother’s idea, and Father loved it. What better way to find my way through the corridors of power, what better way to endear myself to the lords of tomorrow than in the one place where all are treated the same. Except when I got here, well…the Tower treated us all the same, yes, but we sure as hells don’t treat each other the same.”

  Then, Thane stared back at her. “He found me, you know, came to me, he and Fallon both. He was the poorest of his group, the only one not born of nobility. And yet…and yet they all looked up to him. They all respected him. Hells, he even had a future lady of the court by his side!”

  Marshalla smiled.

  Blushing, Thane lowered his gaze as he shook his head. “Truth.”

  Nodding in response, Marshalla’s smile widened. Then her brow furrowed as she readied her next question.

  “Why you so cruel, then?”

  Thane stared at her in silence for a spell.

  “Eyes on the prize, Thane,” he thought. “Please.” But his words sounded hollow.

  “Power,” he replied at last. “When you’ve spent much of your life watching people wield power over you, once you become the one wielding that power, it can be…intoxicating.”

  “Don’t follow.”

  Thane smiled. “And I pray you never do.”

  At his words, Marshalla also smiled. “Someone once said to me, there is no vice more debasing, no want more corrupting, than the lust for power. The stoutest of hearts can falter from but a taste of it.”

  Thane’s smile grew. “Truer words have never been said.”

  Shaking her head, Marshalla dropped her gaze, but soon levelled it at him once more.

  “So what changed?”

  “Nothing,” he replied without thought, but as the word left his lips, his heart stopped.

  “Thane, what in the worlds are you doing!” he screamed in his mind as Marshalla’s smile dissipated. He had her, dear gods, he had her.

  “What you mean, nothing?” she asked, her gaze hardening.

  But Thane’s mind was empty. Even as Marshalla leant forward, he could not form his thoughts.

  “What you mean, nothing?” she repeated.

  Staring at her, Thane searched his mind for what he could say. Something, anything! This was a question he could never answer truthfully, but what else could he say?

  “I don’t know,” he said at last.

  “Which is it, nothing or you don’t know?”

  “I don’t know,” he repeated.

  “Then, why you here?” Marshalla demanded.

  He was there because Netari Fairshroud demanded it. He was there because of five hundred gold coins. He was there to steal her heart and give it to the one woman in all the world who hated her. That was the truth, but those were answers he could never utter.

  “I…” he began, but his mind remained scoured of thought.

  Then, Marshalla rose, and it was then that Thane realised he’d failed. It was over.

  “Marsha, wait,” he pleaded, but he knew not what else to say.

  “Wait for what, Thane?” she demanded.

  Thane’s lips moved, but no words came. But he needed to say something, anything.

  At last, Marshalla shook her head at him.

  “Son of a hero you are not,” she said as she turned to leave.

  Then, as she took her first step away from him, Thane blurted out words he’d never shared with anyone before.

  “I haven’t spoken to my father in two years.”

  Startled, Marshalla stared at down him. “What?”

  “Gods, Thane,” he thought, “just shut up!”

  But he couldn’t.

  “I haven’t spoken to my father in two years, Marsha. He’s ashamed of me. He’s heard the rumours, rumours of what I’ve done, and he can’t stand to look at me. My mother still speaks to me, but I can hear the sorrow in her voice. Every time. They’re ashamed of me, my own parents. My own parents wish I’d never been born.”

  Shaking his head, Thane lowered his gaze. “Son of a hero I am not.”

  At last, he fell silent, and in the silence that followed, Marshalla sat back down.

  “Maybe…we stop playing now,” she said.

  With a snicker, he looked up at her before nodding.

  “Yeah,” he replied as he rose. “We’d best stop.”

  Giving Marshalla one last pained glance, he rose and began to leave.

  “You can come visit tomorrow if you like,” she called after him as he left.

  Stopping, he turned to stare at her. She was smiling at him, and with a warmth he’d never felt from her before.

  Smiling back, he nodded. “I’d like that.”

  “Good,” she replied, nodding as well.

  Bowing, Thane turned and hurried away. As he hurried, he knew he should be jubilant, he had won his prize after all, but in truth, all he wanted was to get as far away from her as he could. The shame, it was suffocating.

  The Trap Is Sprung

  Sitting cross-legged upon his bed, Thane stared into the ether as a great struggle raged within him. With his shoulders slouched and heavy, and a deep frown upon his lips, he sighed as he fought to bring low the wave of emotions crashing within him.

  “What is wrong with you, Thane?” he whispered. “What in the hells is wrong with you? After all this time, you choose now to find your conscience?”

  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly as his eyes wandered to the seeking stone he’d flung away in anger the night before. And there it lay, taunting him. As he stared, his ears heard once more the words of his mother, a woman whose voice he’d heard so many times over the years, but whose pain he only truly heard the night before, and whose wo
rds from the night before burned him still. Raising a knee to his chin, he closed his eyes as he shook his head.

  Then, there came a knock at the door.

  “Who is it?” he sneered.

  “Eldred,” came the reply.

  Gritting his teeth, Thane raised his head, staring at the door in silence as his frown deepened.

  “Well?” Eldred said through the closed door. “Are you going to let me in?”

  With but a thought, Thane undid the door’s seal.

  “It’s open,” he said.

  In response, the door swung open as Eldred stepped in, his brow creased with worry.

  “There you are,” he said as he closed the door behind him. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Thane forced a smile as he shrugged. “Had a bit too much fun last night, needed the extra sleep.”

  Grinning, Eldred shook his head as he walked over to the bed Thane sat upon.

  “Well?” he said as he sat. “How did it go yesterday?”

  “How did what go?” Than replied, feigning innocence.

  “Thane,” Eldred begged, “now’s not the time. Is she yours or not?”

  Grinning, Thane chuckled at his friend.

  “What do you think?” he said at last, words that lit Eldred’s eyes and brought a wide grin to his lips.

  “So that’s what the fun was last night, then?” he asked, smirking.

  “Ugh!” Thane exclaimed as he wrinkled his nose. “Gods no. She was covered in muck, it was enough to turn my stomach.”

  Eldred chuckled. “Well, if it turned your stomach, it must’ve been pretty horrible indeed.”

  “Funny…”

  Eldred grinned, then sprang to his feet. “Well, come on, then. The others are waiting. After all the earache Netari’s been giving him, I’d wager Thalas’ll be itching to give her good news. And I’m sure you’d want to be the one to give this one to him.”

  Sighing, Thane shook his head as he stood. “Yes, I suppose we should go meet our glorious leader.”

  “Ha! Yes, and we’d best…” Eldred began, but as he spoke, his eyes fell upon Thane’s old seeking stone.