“‘It works . . . it works beautifully . . . you are once more the recipient of a tool that will bring me great joy.’
“He jumped up, filled with excitement.”
“‘Come . . . come, I already have prepared another experiment.’
“We walked to the same doorway, so I knew what his experiment would be before even opening the door. He held me back, and looked directly into my eyes.”
“‘This time, my beauty, we will accept no faltering in your duties to me. I . . . I would not like killing you, but I can always find another playmate if you disappoint.’
“He opened the door after first handing me the knives I’d chosen, and pushed me through. The lean-to was crowded with disgusting, filthy men. This time, I did not start to smile until I had killed half a dozen with the knives. Some tried to fight, most just tried to break down the door Poltarc had requested locked. When I finished, I had no feeling in either my mind or my arms. The knives slid from my bloody hands, and my legs gave way beneath me. I lay there in the blood and gore, not caring. Sleep came to me, and when I awoke the shed was empty, but I was a mess.”
“The door back into the warehouse was locked. The only choice I had was out through the door of the lean-to. Outside, men stared at me and backed away. I could imagine how I looked. I had picked up the knives, and carried them with a grip I thought might break even the solid wooden handles. No one even came close to me. Not one word was said in a disparaging manner. I must have walked past 300 men, and not one voiced an utterance.”
“When I reached the door Sadon had initially taken me through, he stood there with a blank face and motioned me to enter. He did not follow me to my bath, nor had he leered at me, as was the standard for all the men. From that day on, I wandered the city, knives in hand, as if I owned every stone in every street and in every building. No one confronted me unless they were drunk. The drunks gave Poltarc less pleasure than sober men, but he responded with merriment every time I returned to the warehouse with blood on my clothing.”
“It seemed only moments after I returned, he came to the bath doorway and knocked. He stood outside and talked through the open doorway, just out of sight.”
“‘My lady, may I have the pleasure of your company this evening for roast pig? There are so many things I wish to impart. Let’s say seven . . . I’m certain it will be joy for you to hear what I have accomplished in my little laboratory. So, my lady . . . is it a yes?’
“What could I say, other than, yes? Poltarc, would you mind if I came slightly earlier and sat quietly by the window? I enjoy watching the sea birds and the motion of the water, it calms me to do so.”
“‘No, I would not mind at all, come and relax while the servants prepare our meal. I will, however, be in my room until the appointed time.’
“I look forward to hearing what you have discovered.”
“‘Thank you, my lady, for your understanding and charity.’
“He left, and I finished cleaning up from my latest slaughter. I chose another dress, and finally awaited Poltarc’s entrance at seven. He arrived not a second before or a second after the time he had given me. I spent the moments in near trance staring out the window. His servants had set the table before I arrived. I dreamed of flying away with the cream and grey gulls. When he came, he was consumed with eagerness and could barely stand the common niceties of greeting.”
“‘You will love what I have devised for you, my lady. I have discovered a way to disassemble your atoms into a rather pleasing array, something to complement what we have accomplished. How would you like to fly my lady? How would you enjoy frightening your victims to death without raising a knife to their paltry throats? This I can do for you, if you only say yes.’
“Mother of God, I could say no, but he would kill me. It was as if he could see into my mind as easily as he looked from my eye. What he intended might just as well kill me. If I were about to die, I would enjoy his roast pig and dessert, and while he prattled on I would relive and enjoy the killing in which I had been able to repay in part the pigs out-of-doors. I must confess, I did not listen to Poltarc. I smiled and nodded, showing surprise when it seemed appropriate. My luck sustained the activities of the evening and even afterward.”
“After dinner, he instructed me to come to his laboratory after I had undressed. This I did, entering and laying upon his table without instruction. He placed a mask over my mouth, and asked me to breathe deeply. Looking up at him was all I remember.”
“When I awoke, I felt light of head and a little nauseated. I could not see Poltarc anywhere in sight, yet he came strolling in from his room. He apparently knew when I opened my eyes and surveyed the laboratory. He sauntered up to where I was seated on the table, and eventually smiled at me. He had given my body a thorough examination before the smile had come.”
“‘You look healthy enough, how do you feel?’
“Without waiting for an answer, he continued.”
“‘Doesn’t really matter, does it my lady? You will either survive the coming change, or you will not. Some of the things I have given you I can retrieve. Sadly . . . the machines you have consumed may never be replaced. Of course, their binding to your body is entirely my doing: I could not change or remove them if I wanted to. I could add something new and accomplish minor changes, but why so do when you are a perfect killing machine? Are you hungry? Perhaps a little drink by the window to restore the hours on the table would help. Come, we will watch the sun set across the Sound and be happy you lived. Or so it appears that will be the case.’
“He helped me from the table, and when we reached my dress he gently fitted it over my body. The warmth of it helped my roiling stomach. Poltarc led me to our chairs, and he personally poured us a goblet of wine. The wine did as he had predicted, and settled my stomach further. It was a pleasant moment. I found comfort in the wine, the view, the courteous give and take of a genteel man.”
“I will never forget the moment when the sun set, and twilight had settled over the city and Sound. I was relaxed in the chair, thinking of a bath, when my body seemed it wanted to explode. It was not the feeling as if my stomach, or any individual part of my body, wanted to swell until breaking, but my whole body, as to the tiniest component, wished to be free of itself. The next instant, my body dissolved into layers of black clouds . . . no . . . like the finest, most shear silk one could imagine.”
“I looked with astonishment at Poltarc, only to see complete wonderment and joy on his face. I floated up to the ceiling, where I stopped against the wood. I lifted my hands to my face and was surprised to see I did have arms and hands. The moment I touched my face I screamed. The shriek coming from my mouth went on and on. I found by willing myself forward. Whatever creature I had become moved in any direction I wished. I flew about the warehouse up next to the rafters. The shriek seemed it would never end. I simply could not control the sounds escaping my throat.”
“Prince Sadon, and a party of armed men, rushed into the main warehouse and could only gawk at what Poltarc had made circling about above their heads. They covered their ears with their hands, and could not stop staring at me. I realized no matter what form Poltarc had given me, I could still sense my old self. I was still me, or at least some form of me.”
“I swooped down upon the men without a single weapon in my hands, and shrieked in their faces. As one, they screamed and stumbled over one another in their attempts at vacating the warehouse. I dove upon them, shrieking and growling until they had left the building. When I turned around, Poltarc was back at the doorway of the enclosed area of my apartment, laughing with such intensity he finally lay on the floor, rolling around like a child. I did not know to join him or try to frighten him as I had the others.”
“I floated over to him until I was looking straight down, with him beneath my feathery, silken form. He laughed a moment more and then stopped, looking up at me.”
/> “‘You cannot harm me princess. Princess of the Reavers . . . that is what I have created. You are one of a kind, my dear princess.’
“He rolled out from under me and stood.”
“‘Come, my beauty, and tell me all you experienced. Don’t leave out a single detail. I wish to know every sensation . . . every feeling . . . every thought that went through that pretty head of yours.’
“‘Will I ever have my body back?’ I asked. He seemed less impatient than normal . . . more pleased with his accomplishment, than angry with my impertinence.
“‘Yes . . . yes, every dawn will bring back the body of the princess as likewise, will the deep shadows of the night bring this beautiful creation back for our use. No experiment will be necessary. The looks and actions of those stalwart men spoke much. Having you cordoned in a room with a few men, armed with your weapons, would be anti-climatic. Come . . . sit with me and talk of your change.’
“I followed, floating in the air as a puppy might on the ground its master. I conveyed all that would come to memory. I had to repeat what I told him a dozen times before he would leave me alone. He congratulated me for my stunning success. I watched him leave, and I floated to the ceiling as far away from the man as the building would allow.”
“What I cried were not tears. I followed them in their flight from my face. They broke apart, and became part of the blackness surrounding my awareness. The tears never stopped flowing until the dawn. The first sunlight through the windows caused me to begin coalescing back into the princess. I willed myself near the floor, and fell only a few feet before the body of the princess struck the floor.”
“Poltarc came to see what the noise had been. I forgot he was walking toward me altogether. I inspected every part of my body . . . it looked hale and without blemish. I had felt no pain at either time as my body had changed. I was in wonder at what Poltarc could do to me. My expression must have been apparent, for he added his thoughts to mine.”
“’Astounding . . . amazing . . . you must let me watch this evening and again in the morning. I can hardly believe my experiment worked so well. Even the most brilliant of my people have not accomplished such a feat. I would gladly parade you in front of them, had they not left me here to rot.’
“It was the first time I had noticed any sadness in his deportment. But he quickly changed into the gay individual I had somehow learned to enjoy.”
“‘Come, we must sit and you must tell me of the experience in full. Once more, I ask you leave nothing out of the telling.’
Mordon expected more, but found only silence beyond the door. Simper coughed and moved on his stool. Her voice came from the corner, inside the tiny shack, where the two bunks came together. Mordon could not sense her being there. There was a musky odor he had never noticed before; it wasn’t unpleasant, yet there just the same. She finally spoke.
“Remember . . . I see the heat from your bodies. I know exactly where you are. I would not advise your trying to touch me.”
Simper grunted, “Not likely, Princess.”
The laugh they heard wasn’t Raeah’s. The laugh was cold and calculating, hinting at the deviltry it had committed. Neither man spoke.
“Sir Mordon, what have you learned this evening? Have you found a desire to strike me dead yet, Sir Mordon? How about you Captain Simper, has my story pierced you with your own desire to crush my perversion?”
Simper released a small laugh, “You are not like anyone I’ve ever met princess, but the only perverted soul is Poltarc. He is a rabid dog that needs kil’n, if you ask me.”
Mordon knew their lives were in peril. She had never dared come this close to them before. Perhaps the reliving of her life in Poltarc’s hands had brought about a change in her attitude. She may have reassessed this attempt on Poltarc’s life as not worth the trouble. She may be deciding whether the killing would be just as pleasurable to her as it was for Poltarc. Mordon had never felt so close to death as that moment. Whatever he said, he would have to remind her of something worth her struggles to resist. Mentioning anything about the valley and women would surely end their lives. For the first time, Mordon realized Cutter had not responded to the wraith, why was that so? “The first time I met Cutter, he protected us from a small bear. He did not leave our side until dawn had come. Growing up around the castle, I was afraid of your father’s wolfhounds. They were constantly following me, rumbling deep in their throats if I placed even a shiny rock in my pocket. I was afraid of them, like I said, but they were the best parents beside Wicliff and Simper I could have had. I learned what was right, and what was wrong, from both people and animal.”
“Are you saying I am an animal?”
Her voice came to Mordon filled with indecision.
“I . . . I should not have been so explicit in my attempt of ridding myself of the last two years of my life. I realize now, not all things done to me were cruel. I . . . I wish this had not happened to me, but in some ways, I glory in what I’ve become.”
Mordon was grateful Simper was staying out of this conversation, “I, too, am amazed at what Poltarc is capable of doing. Without the man, alive, you would be a queen that no one could interrupt. With the powers, you have, you could ferret out any disseminating characters in your kingdom, and any other kingdom for that matter. You could clean out the thieves and murders, leaving a clean and safe place to raise children and run an establishment. If you so chose, you would have the power to bring together all the kingdoms of this island on which we live. But beyond that, you could live a real life while being the queen. The problem, if it is a problem, of your changing into the wraith at night could be used for good, as much as Poltarc uses you for his twisted pleasure. You could find pleasure of your own in rebuilding the island. We could turn it into a place everyone wished to live.”
Mordon was correct on all salient points. Raeah spoke sharper than she intended, “Enough, you manage to dredge me back from his bog with aplomb. You make me find reason in all this madness. I find it most difficult leading the two of you where death may wait. I wish I could give you the freedom to live your lives as I have not.”
Mordon leaned forward, “Then let’s go on with this journey, and let fate decided how we are all to live. I learned from your story that you, my lady, have the power to end his army. I have learned you no longer fear them. I have gathered from your words you would rather the men of his army try to harm you. I have learned you show a great deal of patience. I have learned you have become resigned to the person you now are. I have learned why men fear this form which you now take. I have learned Poltarc may not even be of this world. He speaks through you of migration, and our culture, and of his people throwing him away . . . probably from fear. I have learned they left him with magical machines he can change into things he can use on people . . . on you. Why he chose you, I can understand. You are not afraid of a fight. You apparently had talents he already knew about from Sadon. You are intelligent, and are capable of learning quickly. If you take away all the terrible things he has let happen to you, you must credit him for keeping you alive. He has treated you like the princess you are. He has taken the time, and made the effort, to improve your skills until you are a deadly adversary. I have learned he wants you to fear only him. I have learned the only thing keeping you from taking his life is your own self-doubt. I have learned . . . .”
“Enough, Mordon . . . you shred my heart with love for you.” Even now she could not help continue the rues. “In this form, I no longer can feel a heart beating in my chest. If this is what you believe we must do, then together we will end Poltarc’s life. But you do not know what Poltarc is for certain . . . I do. When next evening comes, you may still wish your sword in my heart. If . . . if you choose to kill me in this form, cut my head from me, it is the only way.”
Simper stood up from the stool, “No one is going to do any cutting on you, princess . . . not while I’m around.”
/>
“Oh, Captain Simper, I do care for you so. You will make a fine Captain of the guard when we rebuild Widley.”
Mordon could not see, but he could feel the man’s chest swell, “Take the eye patch, my lady, we look forward to the journey on the morrow.”
“Toss me the leather, Captain Simper.”
Mordon heard Simp feeling the table top for the eye patch. He could hear the soft brush of the man’s clothing as he tossed the patch toward the corner. A current of air touched against Mordon’s face, then the door opened and she was gone. He was shaking with released tension. Simper seemed completely oblivious of how close they had come to journey’s end. Raeah had teetered on the edge of her sanity, but had come back to join them once again. Sleep would be a long time in coming before he could bring himself to close his eyes.
The new day did come . . . finally. Mordon sat up from the bunk where he had lay awake for most of the night. Dealing with Raeah was like, he imagined, dancing with a mad God. They nearly lost their lives during the night. He had questioned his motives for so completely committing the two of them to her whims. She was the deadliest individual he had ever met. But he could not tear the sense of love he felt for her from his heart: he had tried last night and failed. If they were heading into a fight from which they had little chance of exiting, he would make Poltarc pay until there was no life left in his body.
He still did not fear Poltarc, but maybe he should start doing so. Fear had a way of sharpening the senses. The fight that was to come would be between Poltarc and him. Simper’s heart and soul wished to help the princess, but the older man’s body would betray him . . . sooner than later. Raeah may hesitate at just the wrong moment for her to take Poltarc’s life. It would be up to Mordon to accomplish the seemingly impossible feat of killing the man. They would have to devise a plan where each could give what they had to give. Maybe the three of them working together might succeed.
Mordon of Widley Page 26