The Sand Prince Read Free Page B

reminding him a little too much of the wings of a bat). The collar, layer upon layer of tissue thin fabric carefully arranged like flower petals—silk, he supposed—had come apart but still framed her face.
    Even though they'd had this conversation before, about unwrapping gifts, she wasn't going to look at the book. She might be a beauty and certainly charming in her own strange way, but it was a good thing her father was in charge and her brother a capable heir. He tried to imagine her leading a negotiating session and laughed to himself. Next time I'm here, I'll show her how it works. She’ll have read my book by then, and seen what I wrote for her on the back page. Another gift—a little insurance in case idiots take over and they actually shut The Door.
    He pushed the thought of closing The Door for good from his mind. No one in the Order wanted to be responsible for letting the demons slip through their hands—not while there was still a chance to learn how they did their astonishing magic. In Mistra, at the Guardhouse, magic was something that took a lifetime to master, at the cost of literal sweat and blood. Of course, the demons smiled politely when the humans called it 'magic', to them it was like walking or breathing—just something you did. Fire, for instance, they all had that to one degree or another, and they used it both in sport and in bed (as he had come to learn, to his regret), and he'd begged Hellne to show him what was called her True Face, turning herself into a living, flaming weapon, but she acted embarrassed and changed the subject. Well, he'd be back soon enough and he'd show her what the book, his key, meant. Maybe as a reward she'd show him what she looked like, transformed. He thought that change, showing her True Face (and confessing her true love) might make a good climactic moment for his next book. The Princess Revealed , how was that for a title?
    Would it be madness to think his affair with this lovely young lady would help to bridge the gap and bring real magic—magic that flowed from your hands, not dusty old books—into Mistra. Why shouldn't he be the one to bring that kind of power to the human world?
    Aim high, he thought, or not at all.
    He rose to his feet and stood next to her. The top of her head came up to the middle of his chest.
    "I don’t want you to worry. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Look for me at dinner soon, as usual," he promised her. "These talks back at the Guardhouse can't last that long. They'll send me back very soon." Was she worried? The Eriisai made the best card players he’d ever encountered: you simply could not tell what they were feeling. He found he was actually concerned—the Eriisai ambassador’s absence and his sudden recall back through The Door to Mistra were probably coincidence, but it felt... off.
    "I'll miss you." She affected a pout so he could see it. "It's boring without you. Just go and tell those silly old men what to do and come back to me."
    They kissed.
    "I'll see you soon, Hellne. This will all be over and we'll be together. I promise."
    Neither of them could guess how long that would take.

Chapter 3
    ––––––––
    E riis City
    Three hours later
    Under the palace
    "Rushta!" Hellne swore. The stair was dark and she’d caught the heel of her sandal on the hem of her sage and gold brocaded gown. She held the small, glowing chunk of crystal, the only light in the stairwell, higher up, but all it revealed were more stairs cut from dark tan stone, circling down and out of sight. It would have been so much easier, so much more convenient to shimmer to her destination—just think about where you’d like to be, and off you went. But where she was going, one did not simply appear, with or without an appointment. So she lifted her hem a little higher and continued down, down, far beneath the light filled palace she called home. Tonight she had a meeting with the Mage—the Zaalmage, as the chief of their mysterious order