Prince of Time

Chapter Thirty-One - Darker Dreams Than Most

It was cool and quiet down in the crypt, far away from the hum of the funeral wake above. Up there, people talked and sympathised and told tentative jokes and ate, some in an effort to forget and others in effort to remember.

 The air was stifling above, too warm and too full of strangers claiming they cared and understood. Maple needed somewhere to escape. Noticing Tobiah’s own absence, she made her way down into the crypt.

“Um…” she hovered on the threshold of the family vaults, unsure whether she was allowed in.

“They’ve made her look like a little girl,” Tobiah informed her, without turning round. “Look.”

Maple looked at the fresh new tomb, carved of white marble. It showed an effigy of the young princess, hands clasped over her heart, eyes peacefully closed. She looked white and perfect, young and pure, a posy of flowers in her delicate fingers.

“It’s not her,” Tobiah sighed. “She looked like this in paintings, and to the public sometimes, but it’s not her. She was…more like me. Wilder. She laughed more than this girl could ever laugh. She was clever. She was fun.”

Maple sat beside him on the cold stone, staying nothing.

“Can’t stand it up there either?” Tobiah gave a small snort of almost-amusement. “They’re like crows, hovering around the dead and dying. They make the air foul.”

“I’m sure they mean well,” Maple attempted.

“Oh, they mean well,” Tobiah agreed. “But, in the end, that’s no justification of anything. Meaning well. Who cares? The world certainly doesn’t. Motives disappear in time but actions remain.”

“Tobiah, about Pepper…” Maple hesitated, uncertain how to breach the subject.

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“You forget who raised me,” Tobiah gave the shadow of a smile. “I know about duty, Maple. I know more about it than you do. I know about your honours and your codes. I know about doing the deeds no other will do.”

“So…you’re not angry?”

It was more than Maple had dared hope.

“Oh, I’m angry,” Tobiah reiterated. “Very. But it’s grieving anger. I know the difference. You should too. Pepper’s still alive.”

Maple lowered her eyes. “Yes. Well.”

They sat in silence for an endless moment. Time seemed to stretch out and slow down. The warm yellow glow of the torches spread over the carved stone faces, the wise and the kind and the beautiful and the regal. Maple felt as if she too were turning to stone.

“I have to ask,” she burst out. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask.”

“Ask away,” Tobiah seemed to shake himself slightly, as if arising from a dream.

“At the monastery,” Maple gulped. “The words on the wall. Pepper explained about Finem but…I can’t believe you passed out.”

Tobiah laughed humourlessly. “I deny myself fear, Maple. I deny myself emotion. When it hits, it hits harder than it will for you.”

“You were afraid?” Maple blinked. “I…I can’t picture you being afraid.”

“That’s surprising,” Tobiah looked at her for the first time in the conversation. “I’ve been afraid as long as you’ve known me.”

Maple opened her mouth to say something but closed it again. She didn’t know how to reply to that.

“He used to come in dreams,” Tobiah said, very softly. “He used to enter into my mind and invade my thoughts. He would leaf through them like a book, pointing things out and commenting on all my desires and my fears.”