Granny smiled. "Another rhyme?" she asked in mock-chiding tones. "Child," she said, "you will be the death of me." She smiled, and her eyes twinkled. "Ah, very well. But this will be the last tonight." The old rocking chair sighed along with her as she eased herself into a more comfortable position.
-------------------------
Jack and Jill
went up the hill
to fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down
and broke his crown
and Jill came tumbling after.
-------------------------
Jracc swore and kicked the dalong. It grunted and, if anything, slowed its pace. He brushed the sand out of his eyes for the hundredth time that day, turned, and looked behind him. There was nothing.
A few moments later, he looked again. Nothing.
And again. It might have been a second later. It might have been an hour. He could not tell. There was nothing. //There *is* nothing,// he thought. He sighed in relief and choked on the sand.
Jracc turned his head and began to spit out the grit that was in his teeth. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. Something. The soldiers.
They stood. Double-rowed. Their tan uniforms made them nearly impossible to see through the sandstorm - perhaps, it was just their tanned skin.
They stared back at him unblinking.
Jracc shivered. His three days' worth of sunburn suddenly felt as cold as the precious ice he had once demanded of a street vendor. //She will come,// he thought. //She will come.//
Gyeil crept forward over the sand. Then, she saw - no, heard - no, Knew that the dalong was coming. //I have found the Hill, the Erys,// she thought. She smiled. The Quanu, old as he was, had been right. Erys *did* sing to her blood. The sand here looked the same as the sand just two hark-wing's-lengths' away, but it was different. Her soul was different.
Jracc felt a presence in his mind. //She is there,// he thought.
He leaned forward and whispered into the dalong's ear. For a moment, nothing happened. //It's the wrong word,// he thought desperately. //She taught me the wrong pronunciation. That idiot keeper gave me the wrong dalong.// Then, he felt its muscles bunch under him. He gasped as it sprang forward and he nearly fell off, then wheeled the animal around and hung onto its harness. Three leaps, and the soldiers were only specks in the distance.
But they were rapidly growing specks.
Gyeil felt, on the other side of Erys, the sand-dunes shifting, the hissing of each grain of moving sand as Jracc stepped onto Erys. //He has come,// she thought. She waited. //Soon, he will Know.// She waited, then realized, //he does not Know.//
Then, she Knew. //He cannot Know. Liar. Heretic!//
Jracc smiled as he saw the woman waiting, crouching near the aquifer. //Foolish woman.// He handed the vial to her. "Put it in the water. A blessing from the nobles."
She did not move. //I do not deserve to live after bringing this man to Erys, then even to the water of Kali. He is no noble, no matter his title.//
He looked at her, then back over his shoulder. //Why does she not move?// he wondered. He jerked the vial roughly out of her hands and uncorked it. //I cannot let my plans of seventeen years come to this! Father, I have waited long enough. It is time for me to rule my own planet-kingdom. The crown of Lakos *will* be mine. Even if I have to poison your supporters' water supply to make it so.//
Gyeil stared at him. //Worse than heretic - fool! Does he not know? He tries to kill Kali, kill Erys. Lakos will die!// She felt Erys sing to her blood. She closed her eyes, begged forgiveness. And let her blood sing back.
"Ikassss!"
The soldiers heard the shout, looked at each other, and began to run up the side of the giant dune. The Rami Knew what had happened as soon as they set foot on Erys, and stopped. The Others, who did not stop, soon wished that they had known.
The Rami soldier bowed to the noble. "Noble king," he said. "Noble crownprince Jracc is dead."
The noble's eyes darkened, but he said nothing except, "Proof?"
"We Know."
The noble sighed. "Call another from the sunhawk regiment," he turned and said irritably. "Not a Rami."
The Rami quietly spoke. "The Oluri regiment went out Rami and Others. We returned Rami alone." The Rami let the noble alone see feral green flickering for an instant in his dark eyes, then turned and stalked soundless away.
The king shook his head, to clear it. For a moment, he had thought he had heard singing.
*****
The sign is the biggest thing in town. It is painted in splashy tropical colors and palm trees. Underneath, in smaller letters, a red starburst-shape announces that the rides have heated water. Most people come for that: the flume, the wave pool, the spectacular splashdowns. That's what brings in the money, now. The remains of the original park are shunted off to the side, hidden under overgrown trees. Not many people go there, now, unless they have small children.
The children know.
They look through the plexiglass at the plaster princess in awe, and try in vain to get Peter Pumpkin Eater to open the door of his orange house so they can go inside.
The parents look and see the flaking paint, the castle desperately trying to be Disneyland.
But the children know. And they leave happy at twilight.
----------------------
There was a crooked man
Who walked a crooked mile.
He found a crooked sixpence
Against a crooked stile.
He bought a crooked cat
Which caught a crooked mouse,
And they all lived together
In a crooked little house.
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard
To fetch her poor dog a bone;
But when she came there
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none.
-------------------------------------
The cat meowed, and the old man hobbled over. He tripped over the corner of the garish pink table - how he hated it - with picassoesque proportions. It took him a while to get back up, and longer to feed the cat. It ate dantily, but the old man went out of the house. He slammed the door behind him repeatedly, but it wouldn't quite fit. He finally gave up trying to lock it. //What would they want with it anyway?// he asked himself.
He tried to ignore the pitying glance the frong prince gave him as he passed the pond, but when the guard at Beauty's castle sniggered he whacked him with his cane. The guard backed into the rosevine-covered wall, and the man smiled grimly as he heard a muffled yelp. //Take that. I hope those thorns get stuck, ye bloody man.//
He did not get to Lana's until almost nine, as usual. He knocked on the door and heard Brownie yapping. "Come now, Brownie dear," she said. "It's only Jack." He heard the lock click, and Lana stood there, smiling. "Hello."
Brownie dashed out to sniff around his ankles, then ran back into the house and lay down by the fire.
"Good to see ye, Lana," he said.
She smiled wider, and motioned him inside. "I've got the chair for you the way you like it."
He sank into the padded chair gratefully, and looked at the firelight playing on the walls.
"No tea this week, I'm afraid," she said, and sighed. "Not even a bone for Brownie." The dog heard his name, and perked his ears. She cooed, "good dog," and his tail thumped the floor. She smiled a bit sadly, and turned back to Jack. "He's been feeling his oats, as usual. Willy Winkie's had to go on the night watch again to pay the bills for his children, and hasn't stopped by in a few days, poor man. I think he's not got much to spare."
"What about Dame Trot?"
Lana snorted. "She says she can't be bothered," she said bitterly. "Her cat eats better than I do."
He sighed. "'Tis no matter," he said, and smiled at her. She smiled back. //She looks so young when she smiles,// he thought.
They talked for nearly an hour. By the time they had finished, it was totally dark. He was glad to meet the lamplighter on the way home.
The lamplighter waved from his perch. " 'ello, Jack."
"Same to ye, Ben."
"Been to see Old Mother Hubbard?"
He frowned - she hated that name - but was glad Ben couldn't see it. The man had good intentions. "I have."
"Lovely woman. Kind."
"Yes," he said. "That she is." He smiled all the way home, and fell asleep contented. The cat curled up, purring, beside him.
*****
*"The cat came back the very next day.
The cat came back, they thought he was a goner!
But the cat came back the very next day..."*
Mr. Johnson noticed the little yellow cat when he opened up the door. It was just sitting there, quiet and patient. A ribbon the color of Caroline's eyes was tied around its neck. Another stray, he figured. One that his wife would have undoubtedly taken in and cared for, no matter how much he complained. He closed the front door and picked up the cat, carrying it over to his neighbor's yard. The cat looked up at him quizically, not even meowing at him. It didn't even make a sound when he dropped it over the fence... where his neighbor kept a pit bull. Johnson whistled a merry tune as he walked away, drowning out the sounds from the neighbor's yard. He smirked a bit. Things were picking up for the anniversary... of Caroline's death.
Johnson drove along the dirt road. It was a long way to their summer cabin. He and Caroline had always drove separately there, due to their schedules. It took most of a day to drive to the cabin, through forests, over rivers and mountains. It was easy to daydream here at the beginning of the ride. The last time he went to the cabin, he had been so jittery, he hadn't been able to properly enjoy the scenery. Up ahead, he saw a little yellow lump in the road. Another cat? Miserable things, always laying around the house. After Caroline's death, he had gotten rid of all of them. Johnson hit the gas and raced toward the lump. Closer and closer, until it disappeared from his sight, only the loud sound of a bump telling him he hadn't missed. Funny, it was wearing a ribbon the color of Caroline's eyes...
Two hours later, he stopped at a little diner for an early lunch. The food wasn't too bad. But when Johnson came out, the burger felt like lead in the pit of his stomach. There, sitting in the driver's seat, was a little yellow cat, wearing a ribbon. It looked at him, with that stare that Johnson hated. Like it could see all of his secrets, just like Caroline would look at him when he came home late. It couldn't be the same cat, could it? He looked around, trying to see if this was a practical joke. No one was around. The cat stayed as still as a statue, only its eyes tracking his every movement. Grabbing some rope from the back of his truck, he scooped up the cat in the other hand and dashed into the nearby woods. He headed farther into the woods until he couldn't see the road anymore. Swiftly he tied the cat to a tree and ran off. He could feel the cat's eyes boring into his back as he raced back to his truck.
Miles upon miles he traveled. And everywhere he looked, there was the little yellow cat with the ribbon. He tried everything he could think of to get rid of it. He stopped after hearing a sound from the bed of his truck. He left again after tying it up in a sack and dropping it into a rushing river. An hour later, another little yellow cat crawled out of the crawlspace under the seats in his truck. Scared him so bad, he almost drove off of the road and through a guardrail over a cliff. The cat was kicked over instead. After supper, the cat almost tripped him when he walked out of a rest area. He had grabbed it and thrown it down a dry well, up and over the railing to keep little kids out of it.
Now Johnson was skittish, staring at every turn in the road, holding his breath until he could see the entire road ahead of him. But no more cats appeared in the time it took to get to the cabin. Stopping the truck, he breathed a sigh of relief. Just make sure, he did a perimeter sweep around the outside of the cabin, fondingly kicking a mound of dirt in the back. It didn't have much grass on it.
He entered the cabin and breathed in the sweet cedar scent of the hand-made furniture. He put down his bags in the hallway and looked up... into the eyes of a little yellow cat that was sitting on the stairs leading to the second floor. It meowed innocently at him, its tail swishing back and forth. A red film flooded Johnson's sight and he roared at the cat. He grabbed a gun off of the wall of the cabin and loaded it. At his roar, the cat took off, running through his legs and out the front door. He chased it into the back yard, where the cat made a break for the nearby woods. Johnson drew a bead on him and fired. The little body, caught in the act of leaping into the brush, jerked to the right and laid still.
Johnson grunted, no longer afraid, the master of his castle once more. As he passed the mound of earth, he gave it another kick and returned to the cabin. He unpacked and went to bed.
Dawn came and went. Finally, about noon, Johnson got up. Freshly cleaned, he entered the kitchen... to find a mess as if a tornado had come through after a wrestling match had been held. Food was everywhere, the fresh food he had bought for his stay at the cabin was wilting since the refridgerator door was open. All of the cabinets were open, their contents spilled this way and that. White powder was everywhere as it seemed that the flour, sugar, and salt had been scattered to kingdom come, large drifts of each upon the countertops. And here and there were little paw-prints in the dusted surfaces.
Johnson had had enough. He grabbed some of the milk from the fridge and mixed it with a large heap of powdered rat poison in a saucer. He placed it outside by the back door deck. Satisfied with his handiwork, he re-entered the kitchen for a plan of attack. No sense in trying to fix something to eat until everything was cleaned up. But a pitcher of ice tea wouldn't be too hard to fix...
Growling, Johnson scraped what seemed to be the biggest and cleanest pile of sugar into a pitcher to make the iced tea. While it was brewing, he grabbed a broom and mop and cleaned the kitchen. The afternoon sun had heated the cabin to an oven-like temperature. That and the hard work of cleaning made Johnson so thirsty, he drank the entire pitcher. Feeling a little woozy from not eating since the little rest stop the night before, Johnson decided to sit outside on the deck and just listen to nature. Smirking, he noticed that the saucer was empty. He closed his eyes and fell asleep...
...to awake with a start when he felt a large weight settle on his lap. His eyes flew open to see the little yellow cat, nose to nose with him. Johnson scrambled up, pushing the cat away from him. The cat scampered away, looking back at him as if to laugh at his clumsy movements. The cat though wasn't as graceful as he had been seeing before. Come to think of it, _he_ wasn't being as graceful as before either. His vision was getting fuzzy too. Must be the lack of food. Well, food could wait. The cat jumped around the corner of the house, heading toward the back. Johnson followed, stumbling over his own feet. He made it around the corner of the cabin in time to see the cat collapse on the mound of earth. He yelped in joy and ran as well as he could to the mound. There, he fell to his knees and poked the cat in the ribs. Not finding any signs of life in the cat, he started to giggle hysterically.
"I got you! I got you!" echoed through the woods. Johnson tried to push himself to his feet but his legs had gone numb. His vision became even more blurry. He started to gasp, feeling lke he was being sufficated to death. He closed his eyes, to concentrate on his breathing. His eyes flew open, though, when he heard a loud meow from in front of him.
There was the little yellow cat, but it wasn't wearing a ribbon... instead its eyes were the color of the ribbon, were Caroline's eyes? His head swimming, Johnson tried to speak, but he couldn't find the breath.
"How does it feel, love?" Caroline's voice came to him. From... the cat? "A year ago, you poisoned me and put my body in the bed of your truck. Then you came out here for our yearly vacation and buried my body here in the backyard. You waited until a day had passed before calling home and our friends to 'see where I was.' The police never even suspected that I was here, because we always drove separately and my car was still at home. But I knew. And my cats knew. And you hated them! After they declared me officially missed, most likely dead, you sent all of my cats to the pound. Because they reminded you of me, you told everyone. They reminded you of your crime is more likely! And I know you paid the guy at the pound to have them destroyed after only one day! So cruel... then and now. You kept trying to get rid of me yesterday and today. But you're not always the brightest kitten of the litter, dear." The cat wound its way through his splayed legs, hopping over this limb and that as he flopped about on the ground like a dying fish. "Counters can be such nasty, dirty places. And rat poison can look an awful lot like sugar, doesn't it?" The cat returned to sitting near his head, just out of reach of his grasping fingers. "You've killed this form eight times. I still have one life left. I guess I win...." Johnson's eyes closed, wouldn't open. His mind screamed then, for help, for mercy, for anything but this. But no one was there to hear him...
*"As all cats are sacred, some are especially so. Those of black are avatars of the goddess Bast, while those of grey and white are of her priestesses. And those that are the color of sand are the souls of humans, murdered, given leave by the goddess to exact revenge...." -_Felinanomon_ *
*****
"Hm, child, you want to hear another? Well, you have been patient enough, I suppose. Now, stop tugging at my skirts and sit. Sit, child, and stop wriggling like a newt! That's better. Ah, my creaky old bones can rest here as well as anywhere, I suppose. You'll stay sitting, then? Good."
"Ride a fast horse to Banbury Cross,
To see a fine lady upon a white horse.
Rings on her fingers and bells on her toes,
She shall have music wherever she goes."
"Vekas!" The mid-morning chant escaped from the opened tower window, along with the traditional three birds. "Vekas im-hall im-dri im-ans!"
Inside the tower, Feriss joined in on the second repition of the chant, along with the others, along with half of Karoph. She translated in her head: Vekas, never-forgetting, never-leaving, never-sleeping. In her head, she recited the litany that dropped into her mouth and flowed out into the air. But her eyes, and heart, watched the birds fly out over the eastern gate.
The soft sound of something flying through the air came to her ears too late to avoid the stinging yalla-tree switch which followed, and stung twice: with the impact, and with the pricking-hairs. Feriss grimaced and turned her eyes once again to the mosaic of the top-sky on the cieling.
"White," she murmured into the air already drowsy with heat, "for those in the top-sky that give, black for the below-sky who only take, and gray for those of middle-sky, who both take and give."
Her pride stung her more than the yalla-tree did.
The yalla-tree burns lasted through the night, but in the morning the healer came by. Feriss went, and stood in line behind the other women with the more usual problems.
"Ey, Feriss-girl. Where did you get these?" The healer, old like a shriveled date, peered up at her.
"My horse ran away with me last night. It spooked and went into a patch of yalla before I could get off."
"Ah, I see." The woman applied an ointment that took away the burn, and smelled like pine wood.
"Thank you, mother healer." She pressed a coin into the old woman's palm.
The healer grabbed Feriss' hand with an unexpectedly strong grip, and would not let go. "Listen to me, Feriss-girl. I have more important things than you to take care of. Uma-girl is with child again, and Geriki-girl is having problems. I can tell: these burns were got yesterday morning, probably during prayers, and not yesterday night. I doubt that anything, in fact, was got yesterday night. At least you're saving your money."
Feriss sucked in a breath. /Crone,/ she thought spitefully.
"If this happens again, I am not going to bother with you. Next time do as you are supposed to."
She released Feriss' hand, and secreted the coin away. Feriss stared at the healer for a moment and then stomped off to her quarters, righteous and angry. Her bells tinged dully against the dirt floor.
The healer chuckled, and motioned the next woman forward.
"That heap of pickled fox-dung took nearly the last of my money," she complained to the mirror as she brushed her hair - black with red highlights - and piled one section into a braid on top of her head.
"If I was you, Feriss-girl, I'd not call the healer that." A face with mottled patches the colors of vanilla beans and mud appeared next to her own in the mirror. Feriss sedately pinned the end of the braid to the underlying hair, then slammed the hairbrush down on the dresser and turned around. "And what did the healer ever do for you, Achen?"
"Ey, nothing." Achen shrugged to hide the smoldering fire in her brown eyes. "But it's not like I wanted her to. There are always the ones who will want something more exotic, and pay extra for it." She grinned, showing filed teeth, and flounced out of the room, then poked her head back in. "Are you going out tonight?"
"Of course I am," Feriss snorted, and pointed to her hair.
"I just thought I would ask," Achen said, concernedly. "All of us are concerned about that horrible yalla-tree patch that you fell into the other day, and we wondered if you would be well enough to show us where it is tonight." She let the fire in her eyes burn into a flame, and watched with gratitude as Feriss' own eyes saw the flicker of hatred and widened. /She'd had no idea, that spoiled fool. None at all./ She turned and left, jingling three times for every step to Feriss' own two-tone melody.
Feriss reined up her horse along the side of the old road. It snorted once or twice, spattering saliva into the dust on its white legs, then stood still. She muttered into its ear. "Ey, Peric. Be good, now. I need some luck tonight, Vekas help me."
Dusk covered the city quickly like a fog on the mountains. The candle-men came by, lighting the tapers that burned lower as the hours passed. Half-shadow shapes moved and talked and laughed with low womens' laughs between the buildings. Every so often there was a nicker or jingle of bridle.
"Feriss. Are you going to catch another trout, tonight?"
"Achen! Make noise when you come up next to someone, you know that! What in the name of the three skies did they teach you in those camps?"
"Enough," she replied smugly, and patted her horse, a skinny dun. "Enough to know that Vekas would be my way out of this kind of thing."
Feriss rolled her eyes. "Never-forgetting, never-leaving, never-sleeping," she intoned, slurring the words like one of the chant-leaders, who always sounded like they were drunk on moonberry wine. She paused a moment. "That's all worth this." She spit on the ground. The blob caught the moonlight and gave it back like a fallen star.
"Speak for yourself, Feriss-girl. I will get into the monasteries in the hills. I will have food, shelter, prestige. And will not have to catch a trout to trick myself into thinking I am getting it. Admit it: even when you think you're getting that from them, you know they can take it away. This will be mine. Mine through minnows, maybe, but mine."
A carriage rolled by, a crowd of two or three women after it, their horses keeping up easily with the heavier draft animals. Soon, another carriage rumbled by. The man inside, red-haired, blue eyed, tattooed, winked at Achen as he passed. "And this'll be the last minnow I ever will have to catch, Feriss-girl. Think about it, when you hear them calling me Achen-woman, and when I have my last ring, my last bell." She turned her horse, and galloped after the carriage.
The carriages rattled along, then the men on horseback, proud and tall. Then the men on oxen, not so proud, and dirtier. A few, at last, went by on foot. None had whistled to her, nodded her way, even glanced to her alley. The birds had already begun to sing, heralding the false dawn, when a carriage, hung with burnt-silk drapery and pulled by a team of two stout bay horses, stopped and backed up to her.
Feriss blinked. /A fish bit after all,/ she thought, and smiled as a pair of green eyes peeked out from under the equally green drapery. The eyes looked her over for a few moments, then the door opened. "Leave your horse here, girl," a deep voice called out. "You won't be needing it anymore."
"Ey," Feriss called out, jumped off the horse, and walked slowly over to the door. She got inside, and the carriage began to move. The horse stared after the carriage for a few moments, then turned to go back to the stables.
The inside of the carriage was dark, very dark, and full of the smell of jasmine.
"You've trained your horse well, girl." The same deep voice spoke, but this time a face loomed up out of the darkness to match the voice. His skin was the brown of a muddy river, his skull was bald, but his eyes were so green they seemed to glow. He steepled his hands underneath his chin and peered over at her. "I wonder if they've trained you as well as that, in those places of yours?"
She raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps," she purred. "Wouldn't you like to come find out?"
He squinted at her. "What do they call you?"
"Feriss-girl." Some of the women used false names with every minnow they caught. But since Feriss was catching trout, she'd long ago resolved to at least give them a real worm as bait. If they wanted to bite again, they'd know where to find her.
"Feriss-girl." He rolled the name in his accent like honey. "I am Kao."
"It's nice to meet you, Kao." Her bells jingled as her foot inched forward to lay on top of his.
"Hm," he rumbled in his deep bass, and glanced down at her foot. "I almost forgot." He handed her a ring, made of twisted copper wire and tiny opal beads. "This is yours."
She slipped it on her left third finger, next to the pewter one she'd got from the one who hadn't bothered to learn her language, next to the aluminum one she'd got from one of the lesser Karoph court-nobles, and glanced at the rings on her right hand, which covered all five fingers up to the second joint. There were so many on that hand that she'd forgotten who had given each of them to her, but all the rings were of the best quality. /Even my minnows are trouts,/ she thought smugly.
"How many do you have?" He'd noticed her glance.
"Ey, I don't know. Fifty, maybe."
"You're picky."
"I only choose the best." She smiled and moved her other foot over, but he frowned and pointed to her toes.
"What's that?"
"For every seventy rings, I get a bell. When all my toes are belled, I'm free. You're not from around here, are you?" She could not think of a land she knew where this was not the custom.
"Does it not hurt? To walk on, I mean?"
"That's why we have horses. And... when we're not on the horses, we're not doing much riding. Or perhaps we are, if you know what I mean." She laughed.
He smiled, and took her in his arms.
The first night was a whiff of jasmine.
It was almost time for respectable people to be awake by the time he whispered, "the same tomorrow, ey, Feriss-girl?" and dropped her off.
Achen's things were gone from their room, and no new person had moved in yet. "Good luck in that monastery, you 'exotic' piece of horse-dung," she whispered under her breath. She sighed, and waited for night to fall.
The second night was honey, and the promise of a suprise for the night of the third.
"Feriss-girl." Kao smiled as she got into the carriage, and as the carriage lurched into movement.
"What's this about a suprise?"
"You know of the three birds of Vekas."
She nodded, her eyes wide. "Black for below-sky, gray for middle-sky, white for Vekas' top-sky. To go out in the morning over the cities and find the three skies, to come back in the evenings."
"Where do they go, when not in the cities?"
She shrugged. "I don't know." Then, more bitter: "I was not allowed to think about asking."
"Do you want to find out?"
She grinned, and moved closer to him. He backed away, shaking his head.
"No," he said. "Do you really want to know?"
She looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
He smiled. "They do not go to a where. They go to a who. One for each bird, one for each sky."
She blinked. "How do you know this?"
He shrugged. "I am Kao; all I know is that the gray bird comes to me. It tells me of everything that happens in middle-sky."
She moved to the far end of the bench, and was jostled against the green velvet when the horses stumbled. /He really is not from around here,/ her brain kept repeating in her head, stupidly.
He looked at her, with eyes as deep and green as the oceans she had never seen. "The other day, it told me you were looking at it. You should have been looking at top-sky."
She shivered, and closed her eyes. /Let this god-man kill me quickly./
Tingle. Tang. Tingle-tink-tingle.
She felt a movement on her toe, and opened her eyes. Kao was laying on his stomach, flicking the bell on her left big toe with one finger, and holding a box in his hand with the other.
She squinted, looking at the box for a moment. Then, her eyes grew wide, and she laughed. "A bell-box."
"Ey?" He looked up, and smiled. "So you see. I am no god." He smiled a secret, oyster smile, and opened the box. Inside, nestled in soft blue velvet, were eight golden bells, and the toe-attachments.
"Eight?" she looked at him, half-scared.
"Never-forgetting, never-leaving, never-sleeping," he whispered. "This is acceptable to you?"
She blinked. /This man just gave me my freedom,/ she thought. "Of course." /I will be able to do anything I want. I don't have to keep these promises. I would say anything./
The pain of the new bells was almost sweet.
The next month, he left. There was no smell of jasmine, no green burnt-silk. No more gifts.
But she was free.
She did as she wished - traveled to the lands beyond Karoph, and then the lands beyond that, reveling in her freedom. Stretching her wings, she called it, in remembrance of Vekas, who she had never really understood anyway. She heard stories, had men and wine and lived.
In time, she left her memories of Kao behind.
Then forgot them.
Eventually, she did not remember, even in dreams.
She woke up one morning, rolled over, and he was there.
"Ey! Kao!" She kissed him.
With voice as deep as the bottom of a deadfall, eyes the color of a storm-green sea, he said, "you do not keep promises, Feriss-girl." He did not smile.
"They were not mine to keep," she said, shaking. "With the bells, I am free."
"Ah. But you see - you promised before you had them. Yes," he said, guessing thoughts only half-formed, "Achen was right."
"How do you - " The room smelled of jasmine, rotting.
"I am not god. But nor are those of the middle-sky man." He smiled. "Remember your prayers."
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