The Story of the Steal-Me Book

A place to post the twistynesses.

The current tale

Well, what there is of it anyway... This will be the evolving tale, in which all of the pieces are in something approximating chronological order (I think) with the most recent updates.  Yeah.  Enough blathering... just read.

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Rhianna stalked through the door of the Ash Tree Tavern. Lana, the owner, glanced up, judged her friend's mood, and then poured a small glass of spirits.

"Hello, Ree," Lana said. "In a bit of a mood, are we?" she set the glass on the bar as Ree sat down on a stool.

"That bloody sister of mine. I swear, one day I'm going to strangle her in her sleep."

"What kind of trouble did you get sweet little Gwennie into now?" Lana asked, trying to hide a smile.

"Me?! I am completely and totally innocent!" Ree paused and thought for a moment. "This time," she added. She took a sip of the spirits, hoping it would calm her nerves and cool her anger.

Lana poured two pints of ale for a customer, then pulled a rag from her apron to wipe the bar. "I'll bet. So what is it that has you so worked up, or do I have to faint from the suspense?"

"The little wench is forcing me to go to some formal party thing tomorrow evening. She knows how much I hate doing all that girly junk! And then I have to stand there, because sitting is out of the question, and make small talk with some of the stupidest simpering idiots in the land!" Ree snarled into her glass. "If I'm lucky, I'll be able to nip out before they start that dreadful dancing." Cooling off, she turned and surveyed the tavern. "Not much business right now," she noted.

"They tend to scatter when an angry redhead stamps in with murder in her eyes," Lana said drolly, refilling Ree's glass.

"There's my darling little Lana! How about two pints and your fair hand in marriage?" said a tall man as he strolled up to the bar.

Ree was surprised to see Lana blush faintly before bending her head to pour the drinks.

"The drinks I think you can manage, Evan, but I shall have to refuse you my hand, fair or otherwise, yet again today." Lana replied with a smile as she passed the drinks over.

“Lana, my love, let me take you away from all of this. Be my bride and you shall never have to work again,” Evan grasped her hand and winked.

“If I were your bride, I would kill you within the first week. And if I did not have my tavern, I would probably die of boredom by the second.”

“Then I shall just have to console myself with this cold mug of ale, I guess,” Evan sighed theatrically.

“Looks like you shall. Tell Trevor not to break any more of my mugs or I shall beat him to within an inch of his life.” Lana chuckled as Evan carried the two mugs away.

Ree watched the exchange and rolled her eyes as Evan left. “Who is he?” she asked Lana.

“Oh, that’s just Evan.”

“Just Evan? What in the bloody hell does that mean? You know what, never mind. I think I don’t want to know, do I? He’s probably some rich man who has more money than brains. Gods, I hate those kinds of men.” Ree growled.

“Evan’s not so bad. He just takes some getting used to. I think you might even like him, if you gave him half a chance.” Lana grinned at the scowl Ree sent her.

The sound of glass breaking made Ree turn and scan the tavern. The Ash was a fairly tranquil place, especially before dark. An incident shortly after Lana opened - involving a few drunkards, Lana, and a length of ash wood - helped keep the worst of the ruffians away. It was easy to spot the source of the commotion. The man who Lana referred to as Trevor was holding the remnant of a glass mug, with ale dripping off the table and a sheepish expression on his face.

Ree couldn’t help but smile a little at this poor man. She leaned over the bar, picked up a cloth and made her way over to Evan and Trevor’s table. A few of the regulars she knew caught her eye and grinned as she passed. She felt her foul temper beginning to fade.

“Thank you so much,” Trevor said as Ree started wiping up the glass shards and ale from the table. “Tell Lana I will pay for this one too. And smile upon thee for helping.”

Evan looked Ree over with a smirk. He noted that while her dress was rather plain, it was of good quality. “I didn’t know Lana hired on another barmaid. Are you new here?”

“No. Lana and I have known each other for a long time.” Ree avoided looking at Evan to hide her annoyance at him thinking her a barmaid.

“Obviously, you aren’t married as you haven’t a ring on your finger.” Evan motioned at Ree’s hand with his mug. “Do you have a man to take care of you?” He took a drink of ale as if the question were of no importance.

“Some women don’t want or need some man to ‘take care of’ them, as you put it,” Ree replied haughtily. She felt her temper flaring dangerously close to flash point. “Would you like another mug of ale, Mr. …” she looked at Trevor, who was trying to brush the worst of the froth off his shirt.

“Trevor. Just, um, Trevor. I would, yes. Like another ale, that is. But you don’t have to get it for me, I’ll go and, um, just get it myself. Then I can apologize to Lana…again.” Trevor flustered. He really, really didn’t want to be anywhere close after he saw the barely controlled violence in her eyes.

“Then I’ll just leave Mr. …, what was your name again? Oh, that’s right. I’ll just leave Mr. Boorish Lout here to his mindless drinking.”

“Now, just a minute, girl!” Evan grabbed Ree’s hand, which was holding the rag she’d used to clean up the mess on the table. “There’s no need to be rude.”

Ree leaned down until her nose was an inch from Evan’s. “If you don’t release me this second, you will sorely regret walking in here tonight,” she said. Her voice was like a honeyed blade.

Trevor, who was backing away slowly, stopped and stared at the two, mouth agape. He had never heard anyone talk to Evan like this fiery redhead was doing.

“Is that so? What can you, a woman, do to me?” Evan patronized, squeezing her hand lightly.

One moment, Evan was sitting upright at the table, gripping Ree’s hand. The next, he was flat on his back on the floor, dripping ale. Ree had twisted her hand out of his grasp, seized his mug of ale with the other and dumped it over his head while simultaneously hooking her foot under the front leg of his chair and yanking it up.

Evan sat up, spluttering, and wiped the ale from his face. His eyes focused in time to see Ree walking out the front door, calling an apology to Lana over her shoulder.

***

“Gwennie, are you sure you can do this? I can go in and get it if you’re scared.” Ree tucked a stray lock of her baby sister’s midnight black hair under the cloak hood. “It’s no bother. You can stay here and keep watch.”

Gwendolyn sighed. She was terrified, but she would rather chew glass shards than let Ree know this. “I can do this, Ree. I’ve snuck into and out of more places that you would think. This should be simple compared to the last time we did this together.”

“Last time, you were eight years old and we were sneaking into Old Man Griffin’s apple orchard. You nearly got us skinned when you fell out of that tree, if I remember correctly.” Ree grinned in the moonlight at the memory. “This is a little more serious than that. If we get caught this time, we’ll be hanged for sure. And when have you snuck anywhere without me?”

“That’s neither here nor there right now, dear sister of mine.” she twitched her hood just a little lower on her brow to hide her porcelain skin. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have your precious book back in your rightful hands.”

“Fifteen. Any more and I’m coming in after you.”

“Fine. I’ll be back in ten.” Gwennie looked down at the peasant garb she was wearing. “Then I’m burning this horrific excuse for a dress. I do have perfectly respectable dark gowns, you know.”

“Yes, and they’re all made for a lady,” Ree spat the word. “We’re avoiding attention and suspicion this way.”

“Yes, yes.” Gwennie waved a hand irritably. She took a deep breath and started walking down the alley. Ree worried too much, she thought.

She glanced back one last time but Ree had already melted into the shadows. There were few people out at this time of night, it was nearing midnight. She saw two men stagger drunkenly into the far end of the alley and froze. The faint sounds of retching and laughter drifted through the night air.

Slowly, she edged closer to the wall. The men were getting closer now.

“Come on, Trevor. I know you can hold your drink better than that. I’m sure there’s a tavern we haven’t visited yet.” the taller of the two slurred.

“Aye, there’s several, I think. But I think you made a wrong turn somewhere, Evan. This road’s a bit too…something or other. Let’s go back to the last one. Some of the wenches there were smiling at me.” Trevor hiccupped.

“We can’t go back there. They tossed us out, didn’t they? But there’s one over there,” Evan waved vaguely toward the way they had come from. “Let’s see what more mischief we can make ‘fore this night is through..”

“Okay.”

They wandered back out of the alley and Gwennie breathed a sigh of relief. She hurried past two houses to the one she wanted and tried the latch half-heartedly. To her disbelief, it swung open a crack.

“Smile upon thee, Gwennie.” she murmured and slipped inside.

Since her eyes had already adjusted to the gloom outside, she did not have to wait long to see the shadows of the furniture in the dining room she had entered. Her booted feet made no noise as she padded past the chairs into the hall. From the hall, Gwennie quickly found the study and began scanning the volumes on the shelves.

“Where is the bloody book?” she muttered. She opened the desk drawers and rummaged through them, trying to remember what it was Ree told her not ten minutes before. When she was about ready to give up, her fingers brushed against something in the back of the drawer. Quickly, she pulled the object out and glanced it over.

“Thank the gods!” she sighed as she saw the familiar handwriting of her grandfather on the pages. “Now, to get out before Ree starts worrying even more.” Gwennie wrapped the book in the rags she had stashed under her skirts, and left the house as quietly as she entered.

She walked boldly back down the alley, no longer worried about being seen. She still had a few minutes before Ree would be coming after her, so she enjoyed the night air as she strolled.

“A lovely lass such as yourself shouldn’t be walking the alleys alone at this time of night.” said a voice in front of her.

"I've no quarrel with you, please let me pass." she said, with downcast eyes.

The man smirked, paused as if considering, and stepped aside. She noticed without moving her eyes that his breeches were of fine quality and his boots looked soft as butter. While she couldn’t make out the colors as it was darker here, she still filed this information away.

“My thanks, lord, and smile upon thee.”

She gave a small nod, slipped past him and hurried away, a package bundled in what looked to be rags clutched tightly to her chest. As he watched her go, he saw a piece of parchment fall from the rags to the cobbles, unseen by the girl.

***

Demona seated herself more comfortably in the deeply cushioned chair. “So tell me, Breda , what has Evan been doing lately? I haven’t seen him in positively weeks!” She smiled appreciatively as Breda served her a cup of delicately scented tea.

“I really don’t know what he has been doing. He rarely tells me anything important. He and Trevor spend a fair portion of their time in the library, but for all I know they are playing billiards or napping. I long for the day when he settles down and provides me with a few grandchildren, but lately it seems as if that day may never come. He used to be so intent on making his way in the world- I suppose that is a result of his father dying when he was so young and leaving us in such straitened circumstances, but,“ she shrugged delicately, “well, it’s hardly an issue any longer. Now, though, he spends all of his time doing things I’m sure I wish to know nothing about.

“Would you like some more scones? I just baked them this morning.” Breda knew her friend was appalled that she cooked for herself, as was her son, but what neither of them seemed to understand was that she found cooking soothing. It didn’t matter to her that now Evan was wealthy enough to hire far more servants than she could possibly need, the rituals of the kitchen- the rhythmic kneading of bread dough, the beauty of a perfectly prepared roast, the fun of tasting the dough when baking cookies- these all had a calming effect on her soul. Of course, she wasn’t a fool- she graciously allowed Evan to hire several biddable young girls to handle the less pleasant aspects of the kitchen. Breda firmly believed that she had wrung enough chicken necks and shed enough tears over sliced onions already to last her the rest of her life. She found no sorrow in turning over the cleaning of the kitchen to the staff, either.

Demona might not have understood a wealthy woman who did her own cooking, but she wasn’t about to turn down Breda’s scones. Light, airy, melt-in-your-mouth pastry that far surpassed anything her resident French chef was capable of producing. “Of course, dear, you know I adore your scones. Trevor certainly never tells me anything. I only know he is with Evan because he makes sure to let Graves know where he will be in case Melinda gets into trouble again, the little ingrate. How I managed to birth such a child I will never know. She is so high-spirited that I feel quite unequal to the task of restraining her. She needs to be married soon, and to a strong man- one capable of handling her little fits and starts.” She started to reach for the proffered plate of scones, but stopped mid-motion. “Why, that’s it! The answer to both of our problems. What if...” she trailed off, looking excitedly at Breda.

“What if,” Breda continued, “we married them off to each other. It’s a brilliant idea. Evan needs a wife, and he is definitely has a strong enough character to keep Melinda under control. But how would we go about it? What about a house party? We could all do with a pleasant journey out of town, don’t you think? It has been so muggy lately, and we have only visited that lovely country house twice since Evan purchased it a year ago.”

“Do you suppose Evan would be willing to host a house party? How many people would we need to invite to hide our true intent? We will need to make the numbers up with some of the younger crowd. Perhaps I could enlist Melinda’s aid in creating a suitable guest list,” Demona offered, her mind dancing with the thought of her daughter marrying such a wealthy young man. “Confidentially, she has been sweet on Evan since Trevor first brought him home during school holidays years ago. She used to trail after the pair of them like a little puppy. It was quite adorable, to be honest.”

“I do wish I could have been here to see that. I’m sure it was a sight. But,” Breda sighed, “my dear mother, gods rest her soul, needed me near in her final days.” Her eyes dimmed for a moment as she remembered her mother’s long illness.

“Yes, I’m sure. Oh, look at the time!” Demona exclaimed when the hall clock started chiming. “Thank you for the lovely afternoon, and I’ll be in touch about the house party. The scones were delicious.”

Breda escorted her to the door. Demona rolled her eyes at the informality. She had only seen two servants in the entire house, and she had taken as long as she dared to snoop while claiming to visit the powder room.

As she climbed into her carriage for the short ride home, her thoughts were already turning to the many details that needed arranging. At the top of her mental list was the house party. She needed to be sure Melinda understood the importance of this event. She only hoped her daughter wouldn’t embarrass the entire bloodline in some horrific manner, which seemed to happen quite often, actually. By the time she arrived home, her plans were already taking form.

“Graves, fetch Miss Melinda at once.” Demona swept into the hall, skirts swishing violently around her ankles. She pulled the pin from her feather-bedecked monstrosity of a hat and thrust both into the hands of the nearest footman. She ignored his flinch and exclamation of pain as the jeweled pin stabbed through his glove and into his flesh. “Have some tea and scones brought to my parlor, as well.”

Melinda sidled into the parlor just as her mother was sitting down. Her fearful expression showed her terror of Demona’s wrath. “Yes, Mother?”

“Come now, hurry up and sit down. We have much to discuss. Melinda! Stop fidgeting, ‘tis not becoming of a lady who is about to be betrothed to one of the wealthiest young men in town.”

Melinda’s eyes lit up. “You talked her into it?”

“I thought Breda would never come around to the idea. In the end, though, I got her to suggest it herself. We are planning a house party in two weeks time. Now, we must find you a suitable dress. Find anything that will fetch a good price at market. And do try to eat less of that chocolate you seem so fond of. We don’t want you breaking out in spots at an inopportune time, do we.”

Melinda froze, a piece of fudge halfway to her mouth. Realizing her mother was not looking at her, she shoved the fudge defiantly into her mouth.

“I saw that, Melinda Summers. Obviously, you care more about food than marrying Evan. I’ve put a lot of time and effort into this for your sake. I’ve wasted positively hours, if not days, making nice with that woman. She is so common. More money than the gods, and she insists on doing her own cooking. It’s appalling!” Demona paused a moment, reflecting. “Although I must admit, she does make some fine pastries. Which is why I am unable to draw my laces together now.”

“Don’t worry, Mother dear. Once I am wed, I shall make Evan buy you a house in the center of town. You won’t have to waste any more of your time cozying up to her. And I shall have dresses made of silk, and maids, and footmen, and then the women of this town will look at me with envy.”

***

“Gwennie, why am I doing this again?” Ree nearly whined the question as her sister finished tying her laces.

“Because you’re my sister and you love me. Also, because you promised me you would not miss this lunch like you have the last five. Now, let me do something with your hair,” Gwennie answered and pulled Ree to the vanity.

“My hair is fine. I always wear it like this. Besides, why do I have to do all this … this … whatever one calls this, for a bunch of old women and simpering girls who would go into shock if they had an original thought?”

Gwennie sighed and began to plait Ree’s wavy red hair. She was content with her own pin-straight, midnight hair, but wished it had some body. It took her maids hours to put even the slightest hint of a curl in her hair, and it always seemed to go flat within minutes.

“Is that what you really think of them? And me? That we sit around waiting for someone to arrange for us to marry some lord or other?”

Ree turned and looked at the expression on Gwennie’s face. “Oh, honey. Not you. Them, yes, but I know you better than that.”

“But they are who I am around all day, while you go trekking all over the place trying to find Grandfather’s book. Doesn’t that mean that, logically, they would rub off on me and, before you know it, I’m simpering and swooning and … and …whatever other horrid things you think of these people who just happen to be some of my friends. And by insulting them, you insult me. And why are you so intent on finding his book? I mean, wasn‘t it just a story he was telling us when we were little?” She yanked on the plaits in Ree’s hair and began to twist them into a fetching style.

“Ouch! Okay, okay. Point taken. I apologize. I don’t think you a simpering fool waiting around to be married off. And no, it was more than just a story. It was real. Gwennie, you weren’t in the library that day. You didn’t see those men, hear the way the one talked to Grandfather. No one would kill another human being for a simple fairy tale…” Ree trailed off, remembering that horrible day.

***

Ree giggled, both hands over her mouth. Gwennie would never find her here. Even Grandfather didn’t know she was hiding in the balcony of his library. The library was large, with many shelves of books lining its walls. The balcony was only accessible from the rarely visited green parlor that had once been used as her grandmother’s private retreat. Draperies on the library walls also helped camouflage the tiny overhanging area.

Suddenly she became aware of voices below. Grandfather only invited others into the library when he wished to conduct private business. The natural curiosity that had gotten Ree into so much trouble already in her eight years urged her forward to peek through the gap in the curtains guarding her hiding space.

Grandfather was sitting in his favorite chair, as always. Many a happy time had been spent in that chair with him, curled on his lap as he read to her or told her stories of his own boyhood, or hanging over the chair’s arm when it was Gwennie’s turn to occupy the coveted place on his knee. What she saw this time struck her dumb with fear. A cloaked figure stood before him, while another figure stood behind the chair, a gleaming knife held to Grandfather’s throat.

“Where is it, you old fool? Don’t pretend you know nothing. We know you have the book. Give it to us and we will allow you to live out your remaining years.”

“Do you think I am that stupid? You will not leave me alive to hunt you down. Why should I give you what you seek? You will kill me either way.” Grandfather’s eyes sparked with temper, despite the thin trickle of blood on his neck, which gleamed darkly in the candlelight.

The cloaked man laughed, but the sound held no humor. “Because if you give us the book, we won’t find it necessary to slaughter the remainder of your family as well. It has been made obvious that they know nothing of the tome, or of the secrets it contains. Resist us, and we will slay each of them before your eyes, starting with the youngest. Your littlest granddaughter has beautiful black hair, doesn’t she? It would be such a shame to end her life before she achieves the potential of her full beauty.”

Grandfather looked steadily into the eyes of his would-be murderer. “Idle threats don’t scare me, you foolish child. Do you honestly think I believe your threats?”

“Threats? I think not,” sneered the villain. “Dirk, fetch me the little brat. Then we’ll see who’s threatening whom.”

Ree knelt, frozen by fear as the grim-faced Dirk started toward the library door. He had almost reached it when Grandfather spoke.

“Wait! I’ll give you the damned book! Just don’t hurt my girls, you cursed spawn of darkness. Though you’ll not find the treasure you seek. It is far too complex for a simpleton such as yourself.”

At the first word from Grandfather’s mouth, Dirk had halted. He turned, waiting for further instruction from the cloaked man. Personally, Dirk just wanted to get out of this musty old room with the musty looking old man. He had little hope of that happening any time soon, though, judging by the expression on his boss’ face. His expectations were fulfilled when his boss beckoned him back.

“Glad you see things my way, old man. Now, where is the book?”

Grandfather pointed at a far end of the room. “There, under the candle holder on the left.”

“Dirk, keep him from getting any valiant ideas. I’ll just go get our prize and we can be out of here.” Dirk trudged toward the chair. He wasn’t looking forward to killing the old man. Some of the things he’d said to the boss had been so funny Dirk had nearly bit his tongue in two to keep from laughing. He held no real loyalty to the cloaked man, only to the goodly number of gold pieces that now weighed down his pocket, and to the promise of yet more gold when the job was completed.

The cloaked man reached the candleholder. Nothing was visible below it but smooth wood. “Well? Now what?”

Grandfather sighed. His shoulders slumped tiredly. “Turn the candleholder to the left and pull.” Metal squealed as the dark figure followed the directions. A section of the wall came with it, swinging on rusted hinges. The dust that billowed out made it apparent that the hidden space had not been opened in quite some time.

Ree watched, entranced, her fear forgotten for a moment, as the wall screeched open. She waited, breathlessly, as the man reached into the darkness. When his hand emerged, it was empty. “You fool, do you dare trifle with me? Your family lives only by my mercy, and yet you defy me at every turn. I will ask you only once more, where is the book?”

“If it is not in there, I have no idea. Many years ago I placed the cursed book into the hiding place and closed it, intending never to open it again. If it is gone it is through no fault of mine.” The words rang true, the voice shaking as the truly fearful are wont to do. “Perhaps it was stolen long ago. Perhaps another had beaten you to it. Perhaps even now the treasure has been found and spent.”

“Liar! I know you possess the book. I will have it, if I must tear the entire manor to the ground in the search.” He seethed, a madman pushed to the edges of his endurance. “Dirk. Slit his throat. He is obviously of no further value to us.”

Dirk hesitated just a second too long. He wasn’t sure the gold was worth it. The old man seemed harmless- what reason was there to kill him? He didn’t mind killing when it was a fair fight, but slitting the throat of a feeble old man just didn’t sit quite right with him. The choice was taken out of his hands. The cloaked man snatched a knife from his own belt and buried it to the hilt in the old man’s gullet.

The death rattle covered the sound of the young girl’s horrified gasp. Ree quivered in terror as the knife was twisted and yanked out of her beloved grandfather’s throat, blood gushing freely behind it. The force of the retraction pulled the body forward and off of the chair. His body slumped face down on the rug, the only visible sign of the trauma an ever-widening pool of blood beneath him. The man with the knife calmly wiped the blade on the arm of the chair before returning it to his belt. “Well? Start looking,” he ordered Dirk. “We may not have much time left before a servant comes to stoke the fire.”

The bang of books hitting the floor, the rattle of drawers as Grandfather’s desk was rifled through, the crash of a small figurine as it struck the fireplace after being thrown with great force, all conspired to hold Ree motionless in her spot. She could not move for fear of them seeing her. Even as a child of eight, she was aware that to be spotted meant certain death for not only herself, but most likely for the remainder of the family as well.

***

Ree shook herself as the memory faded. She walked over to the mirror, trying to get used to the way the petticoats swished around her. Her dress was a deep green with exquisite beadwork across the bodice. It was beautiful, if you overlooked the fact that breathing wasn’t figured into the design of it. “Gwennie, how in the world can you be comfortable in this? How are you supposed to breathe? Or sit?”

Gwennie chuckled at her sister’s discomfort. “It’s a talent, dear sister. Now come on! We don’t want to be late. I should warn you, however, that there will be several girls I don’t know so be nice.”

 

posted by: ButterflyLane at October 21, 2005 21:27 | link | comments |
the current tale

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