Child Of Fear
William St.Romain
Issue #4 (June 2008)
Miranda moved through the tree tops, her feet barely touching them, with the reckless speed of the young. One older and wiser would have showed more caution, but then, Miranda wasn't known for having caution. The trees were large, towering over the wildlife below. They were old; old enough to make old men feel young. However, when compared to those of her home these were saplings. She was used to climbing giants as tall as mountains, grand enough to make any human feel small.
Not that Miranda was human, no matter how human she looked. She had never been human. To her the term referred only to the savages who co-inhabited her adopted world. Her parents originated from a very different place. As far from where she was as one world could be from another. Yet it was similar in so many ways.
None of this was on her mind at the moment, however. All she thought of was the pleasure she felt in flying through the branches at high speed, leaping from place to place past the startled looks of many eyes. She leapt from branch to branch, never once faltering or looking down. She did not need to, for to her the branches were a road on which travel to the furthest depths of the land was possible.
She approached the Great Rift, a giant canyon like a great cleft in the land. Rough sided, it was easy for even a novice climber. Assuming they dared challenge its great height. The soil thinned as she neared the rim, with the result that the trees decreased in size and age. The edges of the rift were granite, as was the mass of the canyon itself. Looking over the canyon from one of the surrounding trees offered a spectacular vista to the viewer. Miranda loved to come see it. She visited it regularly. Her mother repeatedly warned her about going so far alone. Miranda though was a very independent girl.
She reached the rim, standing upon an oak branch. This view always afforded new articles for study, so she never lacked something interesting to see. She spotted a dark opening on the other side of the cleft, a hole from which eagles flew. Miranda smiled. Her people had a special fondness for eagles.
She wanted to see their nest better. She spotted an old pine nearby which would give her a better position relative to the hole. It was a dead tree, half tilted over the edge. In her eagerness, she failed to use the careful skills of observation her parents had instilled in her. She moved to an advantageous branch, failing to note it was chewed through by worms, not to mention too thin to hold her weight in any event. She stood upon it, steadying herself against the trunk. A moment passed. She heard a crack and realized what had happened. By then it was too late. She started falling and made a desperate attempt to grab hold of the trunk. The bark was just as worm eaten as the branch and came off in her hands.
She fell over the edge, screaming. Falling, her body turned upside down. She tried to grab something to slow her fall, but only succeeded in wind-milling her arms. As she plummeted downward her right arm struck the edge of the cliff. A sickening numbness suffused it in an instant. By good fortune there was a ledge below the tree, so her fall wasn't lethal. However, it was far enough to knock her unconscious upon contact.
* * *
A man was moving through the woods not far from Miranda. He wore flea-infested rags and was not in the best state of health. He had managed to live as long as he had by his wits and by the talent of acquiring unconsidered trifles. He didn't have a name, not a permanent one. Indeed, he himself had long ago forgotten his given name and was now known only as The Rat. The appellation fit him quite well.
For the present, the reason he was traveling through the forest was because he was no longer welcome in the city. It was a common thing. He generally wore out his welcome sooner or latter, thereby making his retreat into the deep woods necessary until such time as he could return without being noticed. This was becoming more and more difficult, for the town guards were becoming tired of his antics. It was only a matter of time before he found himself at the end of a rope.
From far off to his right he heard a scream. It sounded like a woman's scream, but in the forest one could never be sure. The Rat was nevertheless a scavenger and in his own element he could be just as bold as anyone. So having heard a potential situation he took the opportunity to investigate. It took him about two candle marks to reach the spot, for the undergrowth was thick in this area. He found it disturbing that he was approaching the Great Rift, but hardly surprised. More than a few travelers had found misfortune there. Especially now, as the unseen sun was only a few hand spans from the horizon.
He looked about the rim, but couldn't find anything. Evidently whatever it was had fallen over the side. He looked down and sure enough, on a wide ledge ten feet below, lay a girl. She was an odd looking girl, seemingly younger than her size suggested. Her clothing was rich, such as a noble would wear. He knew she must have something of value. The noble born never went anywhere without something. He’d climbed quite a few walls in his time and the cleft was hardly a challenge for a man of his experience.
He searched the girl. At first he was disappointed. He had expected her to have money given the fact that she wore such rich clothes, but she didn't have a purse. Nor any rings or gems or any kind of jewelry. On the other hand, she did have a knife at her belt. He pulled it off her and glanced over it. It didn't appear to be a weapon specifically, more like a tool.
It wasn't until he drew it that he realized what it truly was. It was demon make, no question. The metal used, plus the skill involved, no mere man could forge a blade such as this. He looked at the girl fearfully, but she gave no indication of activity. Now he understood her strange appearance, but greed made him bold. Anything of demon make, especially weapons were incredibly valuable. Why the knife alone, plain as it was, was worth a king's ransom. So, having obtained his desire and seeing nothing further of interest, he climbed back up the cliff and disappeared.
The Rat wasn't the only one who’d heard Miranda's cry. There was another, someone of far nobler character, if not birth. Scara was one of the Sisters, one of the rare warrior-maidens of the kingdom. She was patrolling the woods, for the Duke who ruled them always maintained a watch here. On this occasion she was alone, for the Sisters traveled according to their own wishes. Not even the Duke could change that.
The cry came to her very faintly. She stopped her horse. At first she wasn't certain she had heard it. A feeling prompted her then, as if the trees themselves were calling out. It was odd. Turning her mount in the direction she thought the sound had originated, she set off. It took better than a hand span to reach the cleft. Even when she reached it she still wasn't certain that anything had happened. No trace of activity was immediately apparent. She looked for tracks or anything else to indicate a human presence. The signs were ambiguous. She rode back and forth along the rim for a candle mark, seeing nothing. She finally spotted an overhanging tree with a branch broken off. A quick examination revealed that it had been broken recently.
She dismounted and looked down the cliff. There, lying helpless was a girl, a very odd looking girl. She was extremely beautiful, a rather mature beauty. She looked to be only about fourteen. She was dressed in green cloth. Her boots and belt were brown. Although plain appearing at first glance, even at this distance it was apparent that they were well made. It was work done by a master tailor, not by some house tailor or journeyman. There was something really wrong here, but just what she couldn't guess. ‘How did a girl like this get to be here on her own? Where is her family and servants? Why would they abandon her?’ Something told her that she had things mixed up somehow.
A quick check of the tree showed it would hold her weight. She quickly rapped her rope around the trunk and rappelled down the cliff-side. This was a skill she used often. When she reached the ledge she noticed that the girl had started to become conscious.
'Tough little thing,' she thought. 'It's amazing she didn't crack her head.' She knelt down beside the girl. Only now did she realize what was so odd about her. 'She's a demon?' It now seemed so obvious. Scara was surprised she hadn't realized it before. The girl's skin was paler than usual and her size, so much larger than a human girl her age. Scara was now certain that she must be about twelve or even less, although how one judged a demon's age she had no idea. Her attractiveness was not that of any youth. Her hair was deepest black and her eyes, when she opened them, were a blue so deep that they looked like sapphires. One could drown in those eyes, ‘Pretty too.’
The girl opened her eyes slowly, tentatively. She spotted Scara and then closed her eyes reflexively. She shook her head slightly, as if uncertain of what she'd seen. When she opened them again Scara was still there. The girl gasped in fright. She would have moved away if she could, but her injuries hurt too much and she was still short of breath.
Scara smiled, doing her best to be friendly. She knew she should have been afraid. The demons were said to be vile and vicious. Instead Scara had the oddest sensation of longing. It was as if there was some force within the girl that drew Scara to her. Scara felt a desire to hold the girl, to mother and protect her. It was strange, but maybe it was in the nature of young demons.
The girl had grabbed her right shoulder protectively upon awaking. Scara reached down and carefully felt the arm. The girl hissed in pain. Her upper arm was swollen and she couldn't seem to move it. "Broken ay? Well, it should heal up all right given time. What's your name little girl?" The girl gave no indication of understanding a word she was saying. "Do not fear child. I'll not harm you."
The girl still failed to react, but she also showed no intention of becoming violent either. Having felt her arm, Scara now examined her head. The girl reacted with pain. There was matted blood in her hair. However, Scara could feel no cracks in her skull. She lifted the girl up carefully, the child neither helping nor hindering. She pulled the girl's left arm over her shoulder and latched the girl’s hand onto her sword strap. For an instant she felt a slight twinge of misgiving, having the girl so close. She dismissed the feeling and continued her work. She rapped the rope around them both, having to tie it because the girl was unable to grasp it herself. The child was a lot heavier than she had appeared. It took rather longer to go up than it had been to go down, but she managed it well enough.
On reaching the top, she let down the girl and went looking for sticks to use as splints. It didn't take long. When she returned she found the girl much calmer than when she'd left. Apparently, the child had decided that she could be trusted. She put on the splint, using lengths of rope to secure it. She took a handkerchief from her bags to make a sling. Another cloth served as a bandage for her head. It didn't look as if she needed anything else. The child looked confused, as if she didn't understand why Scara was doing this. "Well kid that makes two of us."
Scara wondered for a moment why this girl was here. Was she abandoned? As far as she knew the demons had never abandoned one of their own. Of course, nobody could be said to be an expert on the behavior of demons. Was she lost? This was possible, in which case the demons were likely to come looking for her. It didn’t seem likely. It was said that the demons lived within only a few days of here. Why they weren't here already, she had no idea. Had she run away? This seemed least likely. The girl looked well cared for. Yet anything was possible. Not that it would matter in any event. The Sisters were committed to aid any female in need.
Sighing, Scara gave up her musings. They served no purpose. Besides, she knew what her assigned duty was. She lifted up the girl and sat her down on the crupper of her horse. She then mounted up behind and turned her mount toward the city.
* * *
Some distance away another warrior was patrolling the woods. Lord Born was a viscount and veteran of many years. He led a force of soldiers as a defense of the land supposedly. His real purpose was more to keep the people and the demons separate than to protect either. Born himself had no opinions on demons. Truth be told, he believed, it was just a way to keep children from misbehaving.
It came as something of a surprise to him when, from out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a shadow among the trees that shouldn't have been there. He looked, but found that it had vanished when he'd turned his head. He dismissed it as an overactive imagination. After a candle mark’s travel, it had reappeared. Born tried to catch it out of the corner of his eye, but it proved to be stubbornly difficult to pin down.
After several minutes, his sergeant rode up beside him. "Did you see it?" the man asked.
"Of course, it's been following us for some time now."
"Why hasn't it attacked?"
"No idea. Somehow, I think it has a purpose of its own in being here."
"What?"
"How should I know? Look, it doesn't appear to be hostile. Maybe if we ignore it, it will go away on its own."
The sergeant gave him a look that clearly indicated what he thought of that possibility. He was a wise man and not one to believe nonsense arguments. “Well, maybe.”
The patrol continued on, a dark shadow following in its wake.
* * *
As Scara approached the city, she stopped long enough in the woods to put her cloak around the girl. Even though dusk was quickly descending, she wanted to take no chances that anyone would notice who she had with her. It was bad enough that she dared to bring a demon into the heart of the city. There was no need to send the residents into a total panic by letting them know it. Having covered the girl as well as she was able, the two continued.
The city was well developed by the standards of this world. It was fairly rich although it could not compete with the great cities of the Farthest East in either size or wealth. It was still the most important city in all the lands bordering the Inland Sea. The buildings were made largely of stone, not wood or daub, and cobbles covered the streets. Pedestrians walked about on random business. With the approach of night, the streets were not very crowded. Many shops and taverns lined the thoroughfare, selling all variety of goods, some from the far reaches of the world. Many visitors came here too, though not all were welcome.
Scara ignored all this. It was of no interest to her. As long as no one bothered her, she wouldn’t bother them. There was one person she spotted on the street however whom she was determined to avoid. Loum was the Duke's steward. He had some very pointed opinions, especially in regards to women. His hatred of the Sisters was well known.
Scara normally wasn't worried about him. This was, after all, her job. Although the Sisters were ostensibly warriors, their true purpose was very different. It was not unusual for Scara to be bringing a child into the city with her. Nor was it unusual for the gi
rl to be rapped up in a cloak, for winter was fast approaching. The only thing Scara worried over was that Loum would become suspicious. He had an annoying habit of finding out what was happening. Some said he had spies even in the Duke’s own family.
She tried not to look nervous as she rode past him, keeping her back erect and eyes straight. Loum spotted her, but thought nothing of it. He had seen sights like this often enough. His hatred of women in general and the Sisters in particular were well known. If he could he discovered some means of reproducing without them he would have done away with them all. In this matter he was helpless as the Duke did not share his opinions. He sighed with disgust and was about to turn away when he spotted something strange. He turned back and stared hard at the girl. Scara had done of good job of hiding her, but there was something about her she couldn't hide. He smiled with malicious glee. 'Finally!' he thought, 'I have what I need to destroy those viperous harpies!' As soon as Scara disappeared down the street, Loum took off for the Keep.
Scara was also heading for the Keep. This was the Duke's citadel and fortress, a huge building surrounded by a wall many cubits thick. A large parade ground was encompassed within it. A dozen towers were irregularly spaced around the circumference. The ground was separated into sub-plots by lesser walls. It was to one of these that Scara rode. Above the gate, the guard captain identified her and commanded the gate to open. Scara rode forward and braced herself for the trouble to come.
* * *
It was well into dusk when Born's patrol came upon the old man. He spotted a dark figure moving toward them in the growing moonlight. He stopped his patrol with a raised hand. The figure continued to approach, apparently unaware of their presence. It resolved itself into the figure of an old man. The old relic lifted his head and finally saw them. He stopped a look of panic spread over his face. Then he turned and ran for his life. In spite of his obvious age he moved fast.
Born pointed, "Bring him back here!"
The sergeant rode ahead with several soldiers running behind. It took only a few moments for them to return with the ancient. In spite of his age he was putting up quite a struggle, it took the combined efforts of two men who were twice his size and less than half his age to keep him restrained. Upon close inspection Born snorted in disgust. Although he had never actually met The Rat before, he had heard him described often enough. The sergeant pulled up with The Rat held between two men.
Born asked, "What are you doing here?"
The Rat answered in a rather surly voice. "You all keep driving me from the city."
"That's because you are a thief."
"I am no thief. I only take what is mine." The Rat's voice was an annoying whine.
"Including stuff that doesn't belong to you?"
"I have never taken things that don't belong to me."
"Really?"
It was apparent The Rat hadn't done anything in particular here, at least nothing Born would be concerned with. But Born was suspicious. That shadow had continued to follow them. From out of the corner of his eye, Born thought he saw it come closer. Perhaps it was for this that the shadow had appeared.
Smiling, he said, “You wouldn’t have stolen from demons, have you?”
The old man laughed rather nervously, “As if anyone could.”
"Have you seen anyone around here recently?"
The Rat stiffened and suddenly found something of interest over his left shoulder. "No, no one. Who did you have in mind?"
Born looked to his sergeant and tilted his head. The guards holding the old man twisted his arms painfully. "Do not lie old man, or I will have my men pull your arms out of their sockets."
The Rat squealed, "But I have nothing sir! Ah… I mean, I've seen nothing, nothing at all."
"Hear how the lies come from your lips. What are you hiding old man?"
The guards squeezed again. "Nothing my lord, nothing!"
The old man's squirming had opened up his cloak revealing his belt. The sergeant spotted something. "Hold it! What is that? What do you have there?" He pointed at The Rat's belt. The old man didn't answer.
Born ordered, "Bring it to me." One of his men pulled aside the cloak to take it.
"Wait! That's mine! It belongs to me. Give it back, you thieves!"
One of the guards punched him in the mouth. The sergeant asked, "Yours? And how long has it been yours?"
He spit blood from a split lip. Even so, his indignation didn’t lessen, “Years and years. My father gave it to me when I was young. It is my only remembrance of him.”
The guard handed the object to Born. “Your father, eh? Gave you this, did he?”
"Yes, yes he did!!" The old man's answer was a little too enthusiastic.
Born examined the knife, drawing it to do so. Everyone could see it clearly. Some of the guards gasped. Even in the dim light it shone. Born could almost feel the wealth in his hand. "Your father gave you this?" His scorn was obvious. The old man shrank into himself. "Where did you get this?" There was an unmistakable menace in his voice. The old man didn't answer. Born nodded to the guards, they twisted his arms until the old man screamed. "Where did you get this from?"
The guards twisted until old man answered. "I found it."
"Where?" The Rat didn't answer. "WHERE?”
"I… I'll show you."
“Good. You will do so now and be quick about it. I’m an impatient man.”
The guards released him, but remained standing to either side. The old man set off. Born followed, knowing that his shadow would do likewise.
* * *
The Sisters were eating when Scara entered the main chamber, carrying the girl in her arms. Even though the girl could walk on her own, Scara was trying to hold off the inevitable moment of discovery as long as possible. “Clear a spot. Someone go get Mother.” The Sisters moved aside, allowing Scara to put the girl onto the nearest table. "Someone get Majua too. She's hurt."
The Sisters responded with the usual questions: Who? Where? Why? She ignored them all. She glanced about, looking for someone. Nothing came to her eyes to give any assistance in this situation though. The moment of truth had finally arrived. Scara didn't know any good way of doing this. So she did it the quick and easy way, whisking the cloak aside. The response was instantaneous. After an instant of shock the Sisters grabbed up anything that came to hand. The girl screamed.
"Stop it! What are you all doing?"
Lado, one of the Sisters, demanded, “Scara, how could you bring such a monster in here with us?"
"She is not a monster!"
They didn't need Scara to say it. One look at the girl and all animosity died. Because the truth was she was absolutely terrified. Miranda was too scared and shocked to be able to read the minds of those around her clearly. All she could sense was their hate and fear. It drove her into absolute panic. She curled up on herself, trying to hide her head. Tears streamed heedless down her face. She wept with hysterical fervor, trembling hard. She was muttering something in a language none knew, perhaps begging. None of the Sisters could feel hate for this person. She was obviously nothing more than a very young, terrified child.
"Put your weapons down!" Everyone turned to see Mother Mori. Not their literal mother, of course. She was many years too young for that. By tradition the leader of the Sisterhood was always referred to as Mother. Various Sisters put down whatever makeshift weapons they had grabbed. "Now then, what have we here, Scara?"
Mori moved to touch the girl, but the child quickly moved away, trying to escape. She was stopped when she ran up against the Sisters at the other end of the table. She tried futility to shield herself with her one good arm.
Mori commented, "She's scared to death."
"Can you blame her?" Scara was worried over the girl's weeping, afraid the child would hurt herself. She desperately wanted the girl to understand their friendly intentions. She put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "Don't cry. It's all right," but the girl cried all the harder.
Another Sister, Yenta, said, "There's no need to worry." She looked at the chalice she herself was holding. She put it down on the table. "No one will do you any harm."
Mori said, "I'm glad to hear it. What is going on here? Who is she?"
Scara sighed. "I don't really know. I found her fallen over a cliff near the Rift. I think she's been abandoned."
"Abandoned? Why would her people abandon her? I've heard they never abandon anything, certainly not their own children."
Scara felt relief over the fact that Mori spoke of the girl as a person and not a thing. "To that I can't say. All I can say is that I saw no evidence of any others of her... kind."
While Mori thought this over, Majua arrived and went straight to the girl. Scara noticed that Majua demonstrated none of the hesitation or fear over the girl's nature that everyone else had. She only had interest in someone requiring her skill. "There-there child." She carefully stroked the girl's hair at the same time as she pulled the broken arm out of the embrace. The girl hissed in pain, but Majua succeeded in calming her to a degree that amazed them all. She talked constantly. "It's all right. Don't be frightened." A quick examination and she was done. She looked to Scara. “You did a good job.”
"Yes, I noticed that," said Scara.
Majua ignored the sarcasm. She took a brownish root, a Tanine root, from her bag. These were good for reducing pain, although not perfect. The girl evidently recognized it, for she took it without hesitation and started chewing. "Well, her people are familiar with the same roots as we are."
Mori said, "I would expect that. They do live in the same forest, you know. We can worry over the circumstances of her appearance later. Right now she needs food and quiet."
* * *
Born stood over the lip of the Rift, his sight lighted with torches. The Rat was beside him, the old man scared and confused. "She was right here. I swear it!"
Born didn't bother to say what he thought of The Rat's oaths. On this occasion, he believed him because he could see that someone else had been here. The sergeant confirmed it. "The ring on the tree is recent." He indicated the ring in the bark caused by a rope biting into it.
"So someone else has been here and retrieved the girl." It had taken hours to get The Rat to admit the truth, but they had convinced him eventually.
One of his men called, "Sir! There are hoof-prints here."
Born and the sergeant walked over to the man, The Rat hanging back behind them. Born examined the prints as best he was able in the dim light, but what little moonlight there was, was blocked by the trees. “I can tell nothing from these.”
The sergeant pointed out, “The prints do go toward the city.”
Born didn’t bother to mention that he could see this for himself. “Yes,” and he had a sense of who it was who had made them.
A soldier yelled, “Sir, the old man's gone!”
The sergeant yelled, “Get after him!”
“Leave him! He is not important.” Born had a feeling that none of them would be seeing The Rat again. Born drew forth the knife and gazed once again at its perfection. It shined brightly even in torchlight. Many would kill for such a blade. Fight wars for it. Not Born. Perhaps he might have been tempted under different circumstances, not these. "Only the girl matters." He now understood what it was their shadow was after, a shadow that no longer even attempted to hide itself. 'Demons always retrieve what is rightfully theirs.' It was an old saying. "Mount up! We're moving out." Born and his patrol started out for the city, a dark shadow following closely behind.
* * *
The Sisters continued their interrupted meal as before, only now the primary subject of conversation sat placidly in one corner all by herself. Mori had put her there because her presence had made so many of the Sisters uncomfortable. The new girls, the acolytes, were the most disturbed. They kept their distance. Even when sitting at table they tried to maintain a gap between them, in spite of the benches. All of them were constantly looking off in her direction. She didn't do anything though. Although they had placed food and drink by her she refused to eat. She simply sat staring at nothing.
Scara couldn't help but stare at her. “I feel as if I've done something rotten.”
Yenta asked, "What do you mean?"
Scara gave Yenta a glance. “It's as if being here is slow death for her.”
Somebody farther down the table said, "She's not the only one." Scara glared angrily down the table, but couldn't identify the speaker.
Mori sighed and got up. She took a plate from off the table and walked over to the girl. She took a hunk of meat onto a fork and tried to put it into her mouth, but the girl wouldn't eat it. Mori put the fork down. "Girl, you need to eat. You won't get your strength back this way." As before, the girl showed no sign of understanding anything. Mori took the girl's chin in her hand and forcibly lifted her head. "Look. It's safe." She took the fork and ate the meat herself. "See."
Whether she understood their language or not she did understand gestures. She took the fork with her left hand and started eating. Mori sighed with relief and returned to the table, leaving the plate in the girl's lap. Scara was relieved too. "Thank the gods for that."
Majua said, "She'll be fine now, I think. We should just leave her alone."
Yenta said, "That still doesn't decide what we're going to do with her."
"What can we do?"
Mori answered, "Simple. She'll become one of us."
A chorus of "WHAT!" resulted.
"I said she’ll be one of us.”
Lado jumped to her feet, as did several others. "You can't be serious? Do you think you can keep her nature hidden from everyone?"
"That is not our concern. All you need to be concerned with is the fact that we are commanded to search out and save all abandoned girls. Did you not say that you thought her abandoned, Scara?"
Scara, who wasn't exactly any more certain about this course than Lado, said, "Yes, I did say that, but I'm not certain of it."
Mother smiled. "There. That's all we need to know."
Scara asked what was foremost on her mind. “But...what if her kindred come looking for her?”
“We will do what we always do. She will return with them if that is her wish.”
Lado wasn't about to let it go at that. “I don't believe this! I can't believe you expect us to live with that monstrosity. She's an abomination!”
There was a collective gasp as several looked in the girl's direction. The object of their attention had stopped eating and had once again curled up into herself. Though she didn't understand their words she could comprehend their content. Majua yelled at Lado, "Shut your face!" She got up and went over to the child.
Lado knew she'd gone too far, but wasn't about to give in yet. "Well, its true, isn't it? She's a monster. Her kind destroys everything. We can't let this thing live here!"
It was apparent that many others felt the same. Mori didn't care. "I'll tell you what you can do. You can obey because this is an order. Understand?" The Sisters stood in silent submission, for none would dare to disobey Mother. "Take the girl to the dormitory and assign her to a cell. I expect you all to treat her with the same concern as you show all the other girls here."
The Sisters quietly left the room, taking the acolytes with them. Many muttered as they left. Majua took the girl’s hand and helped her up, leading her away. She and Scara took personal care of her themselves. They led her to the lowest cell, the one closest to the door. That way she'd be in constant view of the door ward, who was Yenta tonight. Majua assisted the girl to remove her clothing, allowing her to keep her undergarments. Miranda liked that. Even though these were all women, she didn't like her body being put on display.
After checking the arm, Majua put the girl in bed. "Now, you need sleep more than anything. Try to rest as best you can."
They left her then. The remaining girls had also composed themselves for sleep. The lights were slowly banked down until the only illumination came from the moonlight streaming through the windows. Miranda wasn't exactly comfortable. The bed was composed of a straw mattress. The blankets were rough and the root the woman had given for her pain wasn't nearly as effective as the medicines her own people made. In addition, Miranda was used to sleeping during the day and moving around at night. She had been unable to care for her personal needs adequately. She wasn't surprised that her mother thought these people unhygienic.
The combination of pain, fear, and fatigue finally took their toll. She slept well into the night. It was hard to say what actually woke her. All she knew was that she was suddenly awake. The light of the gibbous moon lit much of the room. Her own corner was pitch black. At least it was to any human. To Miranda it was merely dim, not dark. She became aware of a figure hovering at the foot of her bed. It was a small figure, not a full-sized woman, but clearly female. Miranda could smell her fear. The unknown girl hadn't realized yet that the demon was awake. Miranda gave her a lesson. She lashed out with a foot, receiving a satisfactory grunt in return. The mystery girl vanished.
Miranda struggled to get up, her body protesting loudly. Yenta was there quickly, "What are you doing?" Evidently she hadn't seen the intrusion into the cell. Miranda tried to tell her, but Yenta could no more understand her language than she could theirs. "Wait here. I'll be right back."
Yenta returned quickly with several Sisters in tow. One was Scara, bringing a lamp with her. "What is going on?"
"She just suddenly got up for some reason."
The demon girl was speaking and pointing. Scara was lost in the musical nature of her voice for several seconds before she caught the gist of what she must be saying. She looked down at the chest at the foot of the bed where personal items were kept. It was open.
"Here, take this." She handed her lamp to another and, bent down on her knees, searched through the chest. It didn't take long to see what was missing. "They're not here."
Yenta was confused. “What's not there?”
"Her boots," Scara rummaged through the chest just to make sure.
Yenta watched her over her shoulder, “You sure?”
Scara looked scornfully up at her. “Of course I'm sure. I put them in myself.”
Immediately the Sisters were on the move. This situation was not unfamiliar to them. One went for mother; the rest woke the girls. Within minutes all the girls were awake and standing just outside their cells, many in various states of awareness and dress. Pairs of Sisters went down the room on either side, searching each cell as they came to them. Mori stood by the door, hands on hips, grimly staring down at them. It took only a few moments to discover the culprit. A Sister dug under the bed of one of the older girls and came out with the coveted boots. They were unmistakable, for though plain, they were well made, soft and comfortable, yet tough.
Mori went to stand before the girl in question, who refused to look her in the eye. "You all know what the penalty is for theft. How dare you commit this crime here within the very sanctum of the Sisterhood? You will receive five lashes and stable duty for the next two months. Return the boots to their owner." The girl growled in suppressed anger, but was wise enough not to express it.
Having returned the boots, the girls, properly cowed, returned to their cells for sleep. This time two Sisters were left on watch. Before returning to her own bed, Scara noticed that the demon girl took the boots and placed them directly under her bed. Few slept well that night.
* * *
Dawn came slowly. Most people within the city remained sleeping at this hour, but there were those who moved even this early. At the entrance to the Sisters' compound was Loum with a platoon of guards at his back. "Open the gate!" he commanded. The guard at the top was in shock seeing Loum here, but he had no choice but to obey.
Loum and his men entered and knocked on the door of the Sisters’ sanctum. It was a fairly large building of stone with two floors. Bars and shutters were on all the windows. Wide, flat steps led up to the single door. Loum waited. It didn't take long. A Sister came out and stared at them in confusion. "What is this? What's going on?"
Loum wasn't interested in answering underlings. "Bring me Mori and the woman Scara, now!"
The Sister vanished inside. Mori and Scara appeared soon afterward. Mori wasn't intimidated in the least. Loum wasn't her superior. "What, by the gods, do you want here?"
He ignored her. "Scara, you brought in a girl yesterday."
"Yes." Scara had a bad feeling about this.
Her fears were justified. "Give it up. I already know what she is. Bring her out to me. If you're lucky, I'll be generous and let you off easily."
They didn't believe that for a moment. Scara went back inside for an instant to summon the girl. Upon returning, she asked, "What makes you so certain you know who she is?"
"You think I'm an idiot? You did a great job hiding her, but you forgot her boots. You think I'm blind? I saw what she was wearing. You think some peasant girl would wear boots like those? Just hand her over to me and you won't get hurt."
Scara suppressed a sigh of relief. He had got it wrong after all. It was something the Sisters had been accused of before, unjustly. Poor families might abandon their daughters, but rich ones did not. Noble houses knew the value of females, both for marriage or work.
He'd realize the truth soon enough. Once the girl came out he'd know what she was and they'd all be in trouble. Scara had no idea what punishment she would receive for bringing a demon into the city. It would be Mori who would answer to the Duke. Fortunately, she would never find out.
The two noticed movements near the gate, Loum saw them staring past his shoulder. He turned to see Lord Born and a force of soldiers ride through the gate toward them. Loum’s men moved aside for them. Born ignored Loum entirely and went straight to Mori, stopping his horse at the foot of the stairs. Without dismounting he addressed her. "Lady Mori, yesterday one of your Sisters brought a young maiden into your enclave. Would you bring her forth please?"
Loum, sensing victory, said, "Hah! I knew it. You're finished!"
Mori was worried. Things looked to be getting worse. "What concern is this girl to you?"
"Be quiet. You are commanded and must obey." Loum was practically dancing with glee.
Born didn't even turn around. "Shut up Loum. You have no business here." Born had no fear of either of them, for he was greater than both. Everybody else was rather surprised by his sudden attack.
Loum retreated in confusion. Mori asked again, "What is your concern here?"
Born drew forth a sheathed knife from his belt and presented it to them. He made a point of keeping it out of Loum's sight. The two Sisters recognized what it must be at once. They looked at each other. Born said, "Yesterday, the girl's kin came in contact with me as I patrolled the forest. I realized what had happened when I found where the girl had been injured. Now, if you have no reason to argue against it, I would like to return her to her kin. Immediately."
The two sucked in their breath, understanding him completely. Loum, not so fast, wasn't so prudent. "Her kin? Where are her kin? Why did you leave them in the forest? Why didn't they enter the city with you?"
“They did not choose to come. They have no desire to be involved with our city. Now be silent or I will cut out your tongue."
Loum retreated again in confusion.
Scara, knowing she had to do something quick to keep the girl's nature secret, went back inside. The girl was still in the dorm, having just been dressed by Majua. Many other girls stood there in silent resentment. "Majua, do you have a cloak? Lord Born is here to take her back to the forest. We'll need to hide her if we don't want to send the city into a panic."
"Won't that make Loum suspicious?"
"What can he do about it? The Duke will listen to Born before any of us."
One of the younger girls approached them then. She had a light brown cloak in her hands. "I don't know if this'll help, but it should fit her well enough." The Sisters were surprised, but Miranda felt real gratitude. She thanked the girl in her own tongue. The girl may not have understood the words, but she comprehended the meaning. She smiled with joy. They took the cloak, dressing Miranda with it, and left.
Once outside, the Sisters had a horse saddled for her. Mori and Scara mounted up as well, insisting that she was properly their charge and thus their responsibility. Then, surrounded by Born, his soldiers, and the two Sisters, Miranda left the city. Loum made no effort to follow. They rode into the outskirts of the wood as Born explained the circumstances of his involvement. "It figures that Loum would stick his nose in."
Mori said, "Yes, but typical of him. Are you sure about this shadow of yours?"
"Of course, you will see soon enough." They stopped in the first large clearing they came to. There, standing quite openly was a demon. His face was shrouded in the shadow of his hood, but they could tell by his great height what he was. Dressed in deepest black, he seemed to hold the night about him.
The demon girl gave a joyful cry and was off her horse in an instant. She ran to the demon man, the two holding each other. Scara felt a sudden burst of regret, almost as if she'd lost her own daughter. 'It's better this way. They are her people.'
Mori heard her sigh, “Feeling regret?”
“How can I not? She was a girl any mother would be proud of.”
“I think you long for a daughter of your own.”
“In time it will happen.”
A horse, huge and black, came from out of the woods without any prompting at all. Born moved forward and tossed the knife to the man, who caught it without a hitch. Scara watched sorrowfully as the girl and her guardian mounted the horse and, with a single backward glance and wave, disappeared into the forest.
* * *
On a bright, cold morning a week later Scara left the sanctum near the crack of dawn. She started upon seeing what had been left on the step. "Summon Mori, Majua, and Lord Born," she commanded an acolyte. The three soon arrived. What they saw amazed them too. Scara lifted the objects and handed them out. "I think this belongs to you." She handed Majua a small, leather bag. In it were several samples and packages that smelled like medicines.
"Demon cures?" Majua examined them with wonder, for no one knew what strength demon medicines had.
Scara handed Mori a small, wooden horse. It had been expertly carved, done by a master. She said, “This shows just how talented these creatures are, even with the simplest of things.”
She gave a knife to Born. It was an Eastern knife, not demon make, but it had been marked with the head of a wolf. He smiled. "They are odd, too. They understand gratitude."
She asked him, “Is that so strange?”
“I don’t expect demons to have human feelings.”
“Even animals have feelings.” Scara, whose gift was a necklace of stones, wood, and twine, knew that better than any of them. Hers was well made too, and the stones were somewhat valuable. It had obviously been made by someone of a very young age. Scara didn't have to guess who’d made it. "All they truly want is to be left alone. I think we all understand that now."
The last gift was perhaps the most precious of all, for it was a cloak of mixed brown and green, made by the same hand that had made the girl’s clothes. Mori took charge of this. "These are gifts of gratitude for those who show kindness to others."
The End
