Page 98 of The Dungeon Book

In the bed lay an old man. His skin was waxy-yellow; his hands lay on the coverlet like the dried carcasses of cave spiders, brittle and unmoving. Bait was reminded of the corpse she’d once found in the manticores’ lair, many years before. She’d pretended that corpse was her father.

This was King Arus. This was her father.

She could see his features in Aldebara, in her own face. But they conjured no memories in her. In both Neb’s village and in Nala’s genealogies she’d seen what was the common shape of a family, and she knew intellectually she must have parents if she was human, but they were like two missing blocks in a still sturdy dungeon wall. There were gaps, yes, but there were plenty of other blocks to lend the wall stability and strength. The gaps did not need to be filled – but still she was aware of them. A disquiet like an unpaid debt or a promise not yet fulfilled.

Now she stood in the presence of her father, watching him draw what might be his final breaths, and she felt little. She knew that this man was her father, and she could still sense the absence in her, the shape of something that should have been there, but the two things seemed utterly unconnected.

Bait would have left without a word, left the two of them sleeping there, only Arus coughed and stirred in his sleep. His eyes opened, and his bleary gaze pinned Bait more surely than Balor’s magic.

“Aldebara?” he muttered. Then he frowned. “No. You’re the other. The changeling. Orphir told me.”

Bait nodded. Quietly, she let her sack of stolen bits slip from her shoulder.

“Where’s my daughter?” asked the old king. His voice was barely a whisper, but there was a note of terror and confusion in it, and that pained Bait in a way she had not expected.

“She’s right there. Other side.”

With a great effort, Arus turned his head. “It’s strange,” mumbled the king, half to himself. “When Orphir first brought her back, I thought she wasn’t mine. She’d changed. Months mean so much when they’re that age. She was difficult when she was young. Disobedient. Slow to speak. Now she’s perfect. My Aldebara.” He looked back to Bait. “Orphir says you can heal her.”

Bait shrugged.

“I would like that very much,” said Arus. “I hear shouting in the courtyard. Are they saying I am a bad king?”

The Denizens were still roaring and yowling. None of it was a commentary on the monarchy.

“No,” said Bait.

“I am a bad king. I would give up my kingdom for her.” One of his limp hands twitched towards Aldebara’s fingers. “How scared she must have been, alone in the dark.”

“It’s not knowing what a thing is that makes it scary,” said Bait. “Once you touch a thing, it’s different. You know it.” Gingerly, she picked up the king’s hand, noting how cold and clammy his skin was, the texture of his fingers. She put his hand into Aldebara’s and stepped away.

The king’s breathing slowed. Now it was Aldebara who awoke with a start.

“Oh! I fell asleep! Father?”

“He’s not gone.”

Were you surprised to see Bait there? I knew her as well as anyone, and I would have been surprised. Not that she’d gone after Orphir. After the dragon, I knew she was unreasonably brave.

But that she’d stay instead of slipping away.

Or did you know her better? It’s said that changelings read the minds of those they mimicked, the better to deceive.

“He’s nearly gone.” Aldebara wiped drool from her father’s mouth. “It won’t be long now. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I’m just so tired. None of Orphir’s curative spells have worked. I’m still . . . fading.” She glanced at a silver bell on a nearby table. “I should summon the Chancellor. Or call the guards outside the door. Why are you not in your cell?”

“I escaped.”

“So I see. What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to kill Orphir.”

Aldebara nodded. “I think I wish you the best of luck. Someone should have done it years ago. Although . . .” She stroked the king’s hand. “Then he’d have been alone at the end. I hang on for him. I’ll see him out, and then . . . well, I’m not sure if I’ve ever been truly alive, so I’m not sure if I can truly die.”

“You are, so you can,” said Bait. “I’ll wait with you.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

King Arus, third of his name, passed peacefully around the eleventh hour of the morning. The heralds recorded that he was alone save for his daughter when he died, for when the king had breathed his last, the Princess Aldebara rose and summoned the guards outside the door. She ordered them to fetch the Chancellor and tell everyone that the king was dead.