Chapter Twelve: Stories
The three children pulled Sarah through the forest with the force of a whirlwind, a small tornado of arms, legs, and chubby cheeks. They pulled her off the pathway and through the dead leaves and damp ferns that lined the forest floor, obviously aware of a hidden shortcut. Sarah passed through the landscape with the barest impression of silver bark, new emerald growth, and cerulean sky overhead. After five minutes of dashing they reached a sudden precipice. It appeared out of nowhere, giving Sarah a small fright; without her guides, she might have just toppled over the edge. Below the cliff lay a tiny village of stone huts, centered around a modestly large dwelling of stone and daub. Gardens bound the village on one side; on the other was a small greensward, devoid of anything but grass.
Peter Pan, the Pied Piper, or the Seven Dwarves could have popped out of any of the houses and Sarah wouldn't have been surprised.
"How do we get down?" Sarah asked her three companions.
"Steps!" announced Plassa. Benedict rolled his eyes.
"There are steps cut in the side of the cliff," he explained. "You can't see them from here. But Plassa's not allowed to go on them. She could fall."
"I don't fall!" argued Plassa indignantly. "I'm a big girl."
Sarah looked down. It was a good twenty feet to the ground. She could see Benedict's point.
"I'll carry Plassa," she said sensibly. "You two can lead the way." The boys nodded seriously. The little girl pouted half-heartedly, but she let Sarah lift her up without any protest.
The stairs were carved across the length of the cliff, well hidden by the leaves if you didn't know they were there. They were wide, but there was no railing and they were steep. Between her dragging skirts and the foundling clinging to her front, Sarah was terrified that she would topple over and kill both of them. What a way to go, after all that she'd been through. Maybe she could conjure a trampoline to cushion the fall. Probably not.
They reached the ground safely enough, but Plassa seemed in no hurry to relinquish her grasp on Sarah's neck. Sarah, who was missing Toby all the sudden, didn't mind.
"Where is everybody?" she asked, looking back and forth at the clearing.
"The older ones aren't around," volunteered Antonius.
"They're in the woods like we were, or maybe in town," finished Benedict.
"The little ones are taking their afternoon nap," added Antonius.
"But not Plassa," grinned Sarah, beginning to become very fond of the girl. She had... spunk.
"Not me!" agreed Plassa.
"Addie's in her house, so we'll take you there."
A silent walk, making the final steps up to the biggest house. It was the closest thing to a normal house that Sarah had seen in the Labyrinth, though its walls were very smooth and the corners were rounded off. The roof was made of thatch and daub, sloping gently over the top of the building. Round windows punched the occasional hole in the thick walls. In truth, the house was heavy and rather ugly, but it had a certain earthy charm. It looked like it had grown there, with a fairy ring of smaller houses appearing like mushrooms around it.
The door of the house was heavy, dark, and very very old. The twins pulled it open together, revealing a light-filled front room dotted with low tables and stools. A screen was set off to the side, dividing the room into two spaces. A taller table with chairs lay beyond it. Plants hung from the ceiling rafters, drying—bundles of herbs that Sarah recognized as well as flowers of every color, even bunches of bark and berries. The walls were lined with shelves filled with pots and jars, piles of parchment, and tattered books. A couple of cats were sleeping on one of them, tortoiseshell and tabby.
"Addie!" yelled Benedict. "We have a visitor! A grown-up lady!"
Well, that was gratifying. At least someone considered her an adult.
"I can see that," spoke a warm contralto voice—hot spiced cider, Sarah thought, or mulled wine and honey. Something intoxicating that had grown better with age; that's what the sound conjured in her mind.
A woman stepped out from behind the screen, a book in hand. She was average height, slim but sturdy, wide high cheekbones lending her face dignity and strength. She might have been on the far side of middle age, moving gracefully toward the golden years. Her dark hair was shot liberally with white, her olive skin delicately lined and creased. The black eyes were bright.
Addie Otherwood looked as though she could chew nails and spit them out as thumbtacks. Sarah liked her immediately.
"Good day, my dear," she said to Sarah genially. Her gaze drifted toward the little girl in her arms. "I see you've found my escapee. Antonius, Benedict, could you take Plassa back to bed?"
"No!" cried Plassa adamantly. "Chocolate!"
"I promised them chocolate if they'd show me the way," explained Sarah quickly, hoping that she hadn't broken any house rules. She didn't want to cross the formidable woman standing in front of her.
"Well, I won't interfere in a business transaction," replied Addie after a thoughtful pause. "Though our young hellion will have to wait until after her nap to eat hers."
Plassa pouted furiously. Sarah set her down with an apology and stretched.
"Okay," she started, briskly. "I just learned this a few hours ago , but I think I can do it. I know chocolate pretty well. If not, I'll owe you. Maybe I can convince Ja—someone to conjure some."
The children looked at her blankly. Addie watched on.
"Here it goes," she sighed. Sarah closed her eyes, concentrated, and summoned a crystal. That was the easy part. Then she pictured three unwrapped Hershey's bars in her hand... milk chocolate, cool and dry, crisp but not crunchy, smooth and mellow, sweet and rich...
The crystal popped and there was a new weight in her hand. Sarah opened her eyes and looked down. One chocolate bar, not very big. But still something. Sarah whooped.
"I knew it! I just had trouble with the stupid pears. I hate pears, anyways. Chocolate is much better." She broke it into three pieces and stretched her hand toward the kids.
The children didn't take it.
"What?" asked Sarah uneasily. "It's perfectly alright. I have it from the best authority that eating conjured food has no ill effects. And I don't think he would lie about that."
"Ex-excuse me, my lady," stammered Antonius with wide eyes. "I m-mistook you for a human. I didn't know. I'm s-sorry."
"But I am--"
"They're just surprised," interrupted Addie, taking the candy from Sarah's hand and passing it to the three kids. "Run along now, children."
They shuffled out and Sarah was left in the wide room with the woman.
"I should introduce myself," said Sarah shyly to break the silence. Addie chuckled.
"There's no need. Your reputation, and Meggedy's gossip, has proceeded you. You are Sarah. With all that entails."
"What does it entail?" she asked nervously. Addie chuckled again.
"Calm down, child. Here—let's sit down. Would you like some tea?"
"No, thank you. Er. Ms. Otherwood. I don't really drink tea."
"Addie, please. And I understand the sentiment. I enjoy a good brandy much better, myself."Addie led her over to the table behind the screen. This part of the room was hung with samplers and a large window took up one wall. The floor was clay tile overlaid with a carpet. Sarah sat down and Addie joined her. They discussed simple things for awhile, and Addie found her a cup of water. Eventually, though, Sarah couldn't help but inquire what Addie had heard about her.
"Well, I know that you're the Human Girl who solved the Labyrinth," started Addie, "and I know that you've returned against all expectations. Meggedy told me that Jareth has apprenticed you."
"That's true."
"And unprecedented. But then, so are you." The older woman smiled kindly. "Don't be offended by the children's reactions to you. Humans can't do magic, you know. As a rule."
"So I've heard," muttered Sarah sardonically. "But I'm used gawking, believe me. I had to walk through the Goblin City in order to get here—they stared at me like I had three heads! I didn't even do any magic!" By the end, her voice was distraught.
"I'm sure they'd be far less surprised if you did have three heads—that's more usual down here than a human girl dressed in silk, staying in the castle under His Majesty's care. Everyone knows you by description, you know; the story spread around after you left the Labyrinth the first time. Now that you're back... why, you're the most interesting news we've had since Jeremial Dara accidentally transported himself into the Goblin City. And that was over a hundred years ago."
"Jeremiel is my step-dad," she blurted out, unthinkingly. Addie's mouth formed an 'o' of surprise.
"Is that so? Amazing. The Fates have certainly woven you a tangle of a life, perhaps even worse than mine. You are, after all, the only human to ever solve the Labyrinth in its current form."
"In its current form? So there were others?"
"One other." Addie's eyes went dreamy. "Just myself, when I was your age. A bit younger, actually. The Labyrinth was much, much smaller then. And less treacherous."
Synapses fired and Sarah's brain made connections. Addie... Labyrinth... Jareth's story... Addie...
"Ariadne!" Sarah shouted. Then she realized how loud that had been. "Sorry. But..?"
"Clever girl. Jareth must have told you the story."
"He did. But not all of it, apparently. He said that Daedalus had stayed in the Labyrinth, but not you." She blinked, the reality of the matter setting in. Here was the Cretan princess of legend, sitting right in front of her, a well-preserved old woman. Remarkably well-preserved for a 4000-year-old human. Sarah's mind reeled, as it had when she had learned Jareth's age. It just didn't compute.
"I didn't stay, originally. I went back home as spoiled goods. Father got rid of me to the first best offer he got—it was very good, in fact, for a deflowered daughter. I married an older man, bore his children, watched him die before they were grown. I spent years as a wealthy widow, lonely but well-dressed. When my youngest child married and left home I felt... extraneous. I had wasted my youth, and only now did I have the time for an adventure. I remembered Jareth, of course. He's not an easy person to forget. I... called him, was surprised when he answered. He looked just the same, but I was old." Another smile crossed her lips, this one slight and bitter. Sarah felt her stomach twist slightly, oddly.
"I came to the Labyrinth, surprised to see how it had grown. I visited with Daedalus. He was practically an uncle to me; I grew up around him, you see. He helped me adjust to the Underground. Then I learned about the children that the Labyrinth was taking. There were only a few then, a very few, but there was no one to care for them. I took up the job. And here I am, thousands of years and children later."
"How have you lived so long?"
"Oh, the Labyrinth has recognized my usefulness, taking care of its children. I suspect that I will always be here, unless I pass my job on to another. I suppose I will, someday, when I grow tired of life. But the children have kept me lingering here for longer than I had expected."
"Are there many?" asked Sarah, trying to steer clear of the melancholy note in the woman's voice. Addie's demeanor changed abruptly, becoming more brisk.
"Yes. Currently, around seventy-five, in various stages of growth. The eldest are young adults; they stay around to help care for the younger ones. The very youngest child is just a babe. About half of them are human, a quarter are of them are half-breeds, an eighth are purebred something-or-other, and an eighth belong to the Shining Ones."
"The Shining Ones?"
"You might call them the Fae, but of course that is only one culture's name for them. And confusing as well. Young Jeremiel is one of the Shining Ones. What we call the Fae are the lesser creatures of the Underground, the trolls and faeries and ogres."
"I see. Why so few of them? And why so many humans?"
"Because the humans don't tend to solve the Labyrinth, of course. Only you. The few young Shining Ones who are foolish enough to wish children away usually have enough magical knowledge to win them back. Occasionally there are people who don't want the children back, but that's rare."
"Oh." Sarah hesitated. "I wanted to come see how the children lived here. Since... my little brother might have been one of them. I wanted to make sure he would have been alright."
"Do you still feel bad about that?" asked Addie, peering at Sarah's down-turned face. Sarah nodded reluctantly.
"My girl, don't be too hard on yourself. We've all had our moments of weakness. You obviously care for the boy. Why worry about it now?"
"I can't help thinking about what might have been. I think it was luck, more than anything, that got me through. And I had help—Hoggle, and Ludo, and Sir Didymus. If I hadn't found them, or if I hadn't woken from the dream..." Sarah trailed off.
"We all have our moments of weakness, child. To wish a sibling away is a particularly egregious error, but one learns from them and one moves on. You've learned your lesson, I believe, which is the important part. Don't sell yourself short and don't discount your strengths." Addie patted Sarah's right hand where it rested on the table. "You're a good person and a fine woman."
"You can tell that after a few minutes?" asked Sarah dryly. A small smile appeared on her face of its own accord.
"More than a few minutes—nearly an hour. And yes, I can tell."
Sarah looked out of the large window. The sun was getting low in the sky, not far away from setting. She winced.
"Uh-oh. I didn't realize that it had been so long... I should go home before Jareth works himself into a fury."
"Home?" asked Addie blandly.
"For now. You know what I mean. Temporarily, it's home."
"Of course. You should be careful to make it back before nightfall. The Labyrinth becomes much less inviting then."
"Jareth gave me a pendant," Sarah said. She dragged it out of its hiding place in her bodice. "He said it would protect me from the Labyrinth's less-friendly inhabitants."
"... my." Addie looked down at the shining object in Sarah's hand, lips parting slightly. All traces of humor were wiped from her face. "My, my."
"What?" asked Sarah defensively.
"Yes, I should think it would do that," replied the woman absently. "They would not dare cross you..." She blinked rapidly and seemed to take hold of herself again. "Still, I think it best that you should go. It would be easy for you to lose your way, with or without the necklace. I'll send the twins with you to the edge of the wood. They know the quickest paths."
"Thank you, then. I'd like to come back someday again, if I may. To visit Meggedy. And Plassa." Sarah grinned. "She's adorable."
"Oh, you wouldn't say that if you had to care for her like I do," replied Addie with a groan. "She's quite a handful. But you're very welcome to come any time you like."
"Also... you don't know a dwarf named Hoggle, by any chance, do you? Or a fox named Sir Didymus, or a... a creature named Ludo?" Sarah's friends had been on her mind since she had returned, but she wasn't sure how to get a message to them. Especially to Hoggle, who lived at the very edge of the Labyrinth.
"I know all of them well," said the other woman. "Sir Didymus is a great friend of mine, and both Hoggle and Ludo were foundlings."
"What? Really?" Sarah's eyes grew wide with interest. "I had no idea."
"I'll try to contact them—I'm sure they'll be interested to see you. How about I send you a message when I hear from them?"
"That would be perfect."
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The sun was sinking below the horizon when Sarah finally returned to the castle; it was a dark silhouette behind the curtain of violet and carmine that the sky had become. She slowly ascended the stairs to the door, hands clenching in her skirts to keep them away from her boots.
Here I am, she thought grimly. Home again. Unless he's really angry. Then he might dump me into some oubliette until he cools off. Really, what's the worst he could do? He has no power over me that I do not give him.
It wasn't like she had done anything horrible. She had been truant for a few hours—a small sin, in the big scheme of things. But Jareth was unpredictable and maybe, just a little bit, her conscience was blowing things out of proportion.
The top of the stairs came into view, and then she was in front of the wide doubles doors. Two soldier-goblins stood at attention on each side; they hadn't been there that morning. They jumped to attention when they spotted her.
"Please let me in," she asked politely, while dread quietly weighed down her stomach. Surely they'd let her in?
"Hnh!" One of the goblins made a sharp noise, turned, and they both pulled at levers behind them. The doors opened smoothly.
"Thank you," she whispered, rustling past them. They bowed slightly as she went inside, armor clanking.
The doors closed behind her again with a quiet thump. Here she was in the familiar front hall. Torches lit the way before her, now that the sun had gone. Sarah hadn't been in this part of the castle past sun down—mostly she kept to her rooms and Jareth's small study. Except for dinner, of course, which was in a modest dining room close by. Not too big, it probably wasn't used for state functions, if Jareth had state functions...
Okay. Now I'm mentally babbling. Sarah Williams, shut up and walk.
She walked. She walked past the throne room, up the stairs, down the hallway... and there was light pouring from Jareth's door; it was cracked open. Sarah stopped mid-stride, right in front of the entrance. The goblin carved on it seemed to be sneering at her. Her mind warred with her gut feelings—should she get it over with or hide? Explain now, or hope he forgot by the next morning?
"Sarah."
She turned quickly, nearly tripping over her feet. Jareth was leaning against the wall several feet in front of her, at the foot of the stairs that led to her room. The torches left half of his face unlit—his hooded eyes glittered. His expression was impassive.
"Hello," said Sarah lamely. She raised her chin slightly, not willing to shrink beneath his gaze.
"Did you have a nice walk?" he asked silkily. Sarah hesitated.
"Yes, I did."
"I'm glad."
She had braced herself for a blow, but he seemed unwilling to gratify her by lashing out.
"I thought that learning magic was important to you," he said after a long minute of paralyzing silence.
"...it is." Her voice was small.
"I thought that you wanted to learn enough to return home. That you wanted to do so as soon as possible."
"Yes."
"Then why," and now his voice was icy, "did you see fit to miss one of your much-valued lessons? Do you not wish to return to the Aboveground? Do you now wish to explore a land that you so reviled before?"
"I needed a break!" she said, voice so incredulous that it cracked on the last word. "Is that so much to ask?"
"A break," he repeated. His lips curled upward, smiling, but it held no humor. Rather, he looked like he was about to say something unforgivable. And he knew it.
Sarah held her breath.
"I see," he commented finally. "Then... I guess... I will not work you so hard. You don't really need two lessons in a day, do you? One will suffice. Perhaps every other day, even... yes, I think that is a just solution." He turned sharply on one heel and began to walk down the corridor, boots clicking sharply. Sarah rushed after him, running to catch up and running to keep up.
"No! You can't... where are you going?"
"Dinner. Aren't you hungry? You've had a long day, I'm sure." He didn't turn to look at her while he spoke. Sarah frowned fiercely at him.
"Jareth! You can't just cut back on my lessons like that, I need them..."
She trailed off as they entered the small room they always ate in; it was stone-walled, like the rest of the castle, with a ten-foot long table in the middle. A chandelier, fitted with candles rather than the lightbulbs she was accustomed to, hung over the center. The ceiling was high and a few aged tapestries lined the walls. A chair sat at either end of the table and dishes ranged down the length of it. In the past evenings, she had practiced levitation by moving plates from the middle of the table to her place setting.
Jareth stopped at a sideboard, poured something into two fluted glasses, and passed one to Sarah. She took it without thinking, still caught up in his last words.
"You are my student. You learn at my discretion." He drank half of the glass's contents in one gulp. Sarah growled in frustration.
"I missed one lesson! You gave me that pendant this morning and said I could travel around the Labyrinth—you couldn't have seriously expected me to just stay put after that?"
"I thought you took your studies seriously."
Sarah let out her breath in a hiss and took a liberal sip of her drink... and then she swallowed heavily and blinked rapidly.
"What is this?" she asked, eyes narrowing at the glass.
"Red wine. Do you like it?"
Yes,she thought.
"It's a bit... strong."
"Not much a drinker, are you?" Oh, he was amused now. Great.
"Don't try to change the subject. You are not cutting back my lessons. I'll be here forever if I only have them every other day!"
"Sit down. The food will get cold."
"Jareth!"
He sat at his own spot and waved her toward hers. Sarah stomped over to the chair, grinding her teeth, and sat.
"Jareth."
"Yes?" He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly. Sarah's jaw dropped open.
"Are you intentionally trying to drive me insane?"
"Oh, definitely. Have no doubts on that account."
He was an absolute lunatic. There was no other explanation. How can someone go from that pissed-off to this complacent in the space of ten minutes? Sarah drained the rest of her glass, not particularly caring about little things like alcohol, the effects of alcohol, or her nonexistent alcohol tolerance.
"One lesson a day. That's all. Or else... or else..." Her mind stuttered to a halt. Or else what?
"You drive a hard bargain, Sarah," he murmured. He was laughing at her! Again! That bastard!
"I'll send a message to Grandmother Dara! She'll come to get me. She'll come to get me anyway in a few weeks—she said she would. If I didn't show up at King Thingummy's when Court convenes."
"What?" An edge crept into his voice again as he leaned forward. "When was this?"
"It was in a letter she sent me," replied Sarah, sensing that she had hit upon something important. "She said that Jeremy told her that he told me about the Underground. She said that I should come to visit them where they lived." Sarah grinned suddenly. "She said she'd hook me up with someone who doesn't mind humans."
"Hook up?" he annunciated carefully. I guess Jareth isn't up-to-date on human terminology, she thought.
"She wants to arrange a me a betrothal," she said. "Or, at the very least, induce me to attend the ball. Very understanding of her, to acknowledge that I might not be interested in marriage yet." Sarah sniffed in derision, shaking herhead.
"Is that so," Jareth said slowly. "Rather presumptuous of the old woman, isn't it? I suppose she was talking about Gunnar's affair next month. I believe the Daras are ambassadors in Idunn."
"I wouldn't know," replied Sarah sourly. She looked down at her empty plate. Hunger gnawed at her stomach.
"One lesson a day," he said. "One. You'll need it if Lady Dara is planning to abduct you."
"Better her than you," Sarah muttered. "She might actually let me go home afterwards."
"Don't be naïve," he snapped, looking up at her. "They'll tie you to whom ever is most convenient, never mind that you never actually agreed to it. You're just a human girl, Sarah—a useful brood mare, a pretty plaything, a piece of jewelry to grace the arm of a young princeling or widowed baron." His tone turned exquisitely sharp and carelessly cruel. "The blood of the Shining Ones is always inherited by their offspring, so there's no chance of them being infected by your human handicaps. Your loving husband will keep you on your back and bearing his brats, absolutely delighted by your fertility. Humans are such short-lived creatures; they breed fast."
Sarah's breath caught in her throat. "Don't try to frighten me. Mrs. Dara was very kind when I met her, she wouldn't do something like that. And Jeremy wouldn't allow it; as my step-father, I'd think he'd have a say."
"You modern girls are quite amusing," commented Jareth. His mismatched eyes fixed directly on hers. The candlelight made the planes of his face stark and sharp, the pale skin stretched tight over brittle bones. "So innocent and righteous. A few hundred years ago, even a hundred years ago, no woman would ever make such a brave claim. Don't be fooled by your upbringing or the laws of your home. They do not make you invulnerable in the Underground. Jeremy is a good man, but don't think that he can protect you, or that he would. Maybe it's not fair, but we've already been over that little fact before—life isn't fair."
"I do not want to talk about this anymore," said Sarah blankly, her own blood-drained skin just as pale as his, made paler by her dark hair and dress. She raised her hand and a dish levitated, wobbling, to her side of the table. She calmly pushed food onto her plate, but her hands were trembling violently. She could feel his eyes still on her, watching, making sure that his speech had penetrated. When she looked up again, he was getting his own food.
It was a long time when they spoke again. The subject was inconsequential.
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Sarah went to her lesson the next morning and paid very close attention to what her teacher said. More days passed, and she met her friends at Addie's for one pleasant afternoon. She complained about her predicament to a quiet Hoggle, who was sympathetic but guarded. Ludo and Sir Didymus were more lively, the latter taking great enjoyment in introducing to his other "ladies fair"— Meggedy was one, Addie and Plassa two others. It was a much-needed rest; Sarah returned to the castle with a smile on her face.
Two weeks had been spent in the Underground, and then three, and then the fourth was almost gone. Nearly a month—time was passing swiftly. Sarah learned to set fires and conjure scarves, produce a ball of light and summon books from the library. She could not yet travel the layers of the world.
Memories of her family still lingered in her mind, joined by thoughts of her friends from school. They were very far away from her life in the Labyrinth, a niggling worry that itched but did not hurt.
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A/N: Whew! Glad to get that one done with; I'm very-much looking forward to writing the next few chapters. Hopefully everyone else will enjoy reading them. Plot-twists and surprises! I promise!
Thank you to reviewers, new and old—this story's getting long and will be much longer, so I appreciate you guys sticking with it. Thanks to Lhiata, Bex Drake, Solea, Moonjava, Eleanora Rose, Give-Me-Your-Coffee, Lovely Doom, Draegon-fire, Scary Miss Mary, Writer from Rivendell, Julie, and Cariah Delonne. As always, any comments are received with joy.