CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - CRACK IN THE PAST
When Sarah awoke, she wore a thin, pale green chemise and the bed was empty, not so much as a lingering indent in the pillow beside her. Her guitar was propped in the corner by the dresser. She had been playing and singing and then...nothing. Assuming she'd fallen asleep, Sarah's recollection of the evening began to grow dim. Putting the guitar in the corner, changing into the nightgown, crawling under the duvet, all things Sarah could have easily done, but none of which she had even the faintest memory of. Giving up on trying to make sense of these things, she focused on the fact Jareth was missing from the bed. Her hand smoothed over his pillow and over the mattress, not a degree of heat remained. The king hadn't been to bed last night. Quickly, she sat up and swung her feet out from under the covers.
"Good morning," came a voice from the sunken seating area just before the fireplace near the door to the king's chamber. Jareth was tucked in on the couch, a cup of something hot clasped in his hands. "Are you through being angry at me?"
"You didn't sleep in bed last night?"
"I didn't. When I came home, you were already asleep. Without your permission, I felt unable to share our bed. I used magic to change your clothes and tucked you in. Your guitar is..."
"Is in the corner, I saw."
"I hope you don't mind my taking the liberty."
"No, not at all. Thank you."
"You're welcome," Jareth told her as he set down the cup and smoothed his gloves over his unruly mane restoring it to its normal glory. Standing to stretch, the Goblin King let out a long yawn. Sarah noticed the muscles beneath his pale skin roll as his arms extended high over his head. Stepping towards her, Jareth asked, "May I?" as he motioned to the bed.
"Of course," Sarah scooted over to make room.
Strong arms pulled her to his side as he joined her. "I have you for such a short time more, please Sarah, don't tear yourself from my side again."
"I'm sorry about last night." Her head fell to his shoulder.
"Don't be. I should have explained it to you sooner. There's so much I should have told you sooner than I did. If anyone should be sorry it's me." Squeezing her chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jareth gazed deep into her eyes. For a moment Sarah thought she'd seen the enlarged pupil of his left eye swirl with clouds, but when his lips caught hers she lost her concentration. "I know this has all been very hard for you, being out of your world, seeing the things you've had to see. I have a surprise for you," the king told her. If she was to tell the truth, being Underground hadn't been hard at all. The thought of returning home, that had been her most difficult idea to date, but being here, with him, the pure escapism of her life, of her mortality, of her responsibility, had been a dream. Before her eyes Jareth's hand made a familiar rolling motion as a crystal appeared perched on his fingertips.
"What's that?" she asked.
"It's a crystal, nothing more."
"But," she added, "if you turn it this way..."
He smiled knowing what it was she meant. "Yes, I deserved that. It will show you your home, your family, all the things you've left behind. I thought after all this time you might be a little homesick."
Sarah took the crystal in her palm. "Thank you," she said, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "I'll have a look at this a bit later, when I'm alone."
"Don't let me keep you. I'll just change and be on my way."
"No, no, that's not it. I...um...I just don't feel like thinking about home, not just yet anyway. We haven't even had breakfast."
"What is it you say? A girl's got to eat." He summoned two trays, then tucking in shoulder to shoulder with her, they had breakfast. The crystal sat on Sarah's bedside table. Looking into it terrified her. Things between she and Jareth were complicated enough without finding out something about home would further complicate them. "Not hungry?" Jareth asked when he noticed how she just pushed the food on her plate from side to side.
"Guess, I'm just preoccupied," Sarah smiled.
"You know what I think?" She just shook her head, a demure innocence in her eyes. "I think you ought to take that crystal down to the music room where you can have some privacy and I think you ought to do it right after breakfast."
"What's so urgent? Is something wrong back home?"
She called Aboveground home. Nothing wrong with that, it was her home, but Jareth had rather hoped she'd have developed some allegiance to his world. "I've no idea. With you here, there's no reason for me to look to the Aboveground. I just want this preoccupation of yours taken care of. After all, I've lost one night by your side because of my foolishness, I won't lose another."
At this, Sarah gazed at him. He was handsome. No matter how often or how long she looked at him, that fact remained. "No," she said sincerely, "no you won't."
Piano keys rose and fell beneath her gentle touch as Sarah played. Staring at the crystal in her palm, she wondered what she would see. Would it be something making her want to return? Was that possible at this point? Notes echoed off the vaulted ceiling while the sun lit up the bright white room. "La, la, la, la, la, la, la, la," Sarah sang along as the fingers of her free hand drilled scales over the keys. Despite her feeble attempts to ignore the orb Jareth left with her it distracted her, even from something as mundane as scales. "Fine," she said, slamming her spread out fingers against the keys forcing the piano to groan at the impact.
Sarah twirled the crystal upside down as though it were a snow globe. "Show me the Aboveground," she instructed.
Setting the orb on the top of the piano, she watched as the first image began to solidify from the swirling smoke that seemed like mercury beneath the surface of the crystal. It was Sarah's father, bent over his desk, his hand on either side of his head attempting to cover his ears. As the image became more solid she could hear Karen's voice loud in the background, her words obviously directed at the frustrated man. "She's exactly like your ex-wife. That's why you're so lenient with her and look at what good it's done? Sarah's as disillusioned as her mother was, following romantic notions to the end of the earth and standing there patiently waiting to be pushed off the edge. How could she walk out on Christian?"
"How could she not?" Robert asked back. "From what little I know he didn't deserve my little girl."
"Precisely, what little you know."
"I'd know more if it weren't for you wanting me to keep Sarah so far removed from us."
Karen came to his side, her hands falling on to his shoulders, "I did it for us."
He spun on her. "You've never done anything for us. I understood why you wanted me to get rid of everything that reminded you of Linda, but had I known your plans included my daughter, I might have been less willing to go along with your wants." Leaving her standing there with her mouth agape, he left the room. For the first time in longer than she cared to remember, Sarah felt bad for her father, bad that Karen had shown herself to be the witch Sarah had always known she was.
The image began to change. This time she saw Christian. Seeing the petite blonde at his side, was no surprise. Just as they settled in next to one another on the couch, the phone rang. Groaning, Christian leaned forward to pick it up. "Hello...oh hello. Can you hold on a second?" His hand cupped the mouthpiece of the phone. "It's my agent. I'll just be a minute." The blonde nodded as he backed into the bedroom where he removed his hand from the phone and said, "Sorry baby. The guys came over to watch the game and it's so loud in there, I can't hear a word coming from your sweet lips." There were pauses of various lengths as the party on he other end spoke to him. "Saturday? Oh, no Saturday won't work. I've got auditions at 7:30. How about Friday night?...Of course I'm excited...I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks...Vanessa, you know that kind of talk makes me crazy. You're sending me out into a smoky room full of men with that image in my head. Do you have any idea what this is doing to me?...Oh I bet you can...Friday night...6:00...I love you, darling."
He reentered the livingroom. "What did your agent want, honey?" the blonde asked him.
"I have an audition for a commercial Friday night." he said nonchalantly as he took his seat next to her. Christian had succeeded, albeit barely, at juggling two women once. Those few days experience seemed to give him a taste for it.
She pawed at him, eager at the idea of him picking up a job. "When will you find out whether you're getting the part?"
"I'm not sure."
"Oh, maybe you'll know by Saturday night when we have dinner with my parents. Then we'd really have a reason to celebrate." The blonde straddled his lap, kissing him long and deep.
Sarah wasn't surprised by Christian's behavior. In fact, she was glad to see that he'd at least gotten better at being deceitful. Lord knew he wasn't good at anything else. The next image was of Toby. He sat behind the wheel of a black Trans Am. Must have been a gift for his 16th birthday, Sarah rationalized. A young redhead with tight ringlets of hair sat in the passenger seat. The sky around them was dark, the radio played softly and Sarah had begun to wonder why anyone would want her to see her little brother out on a date, parking with a girl.
"I had a good time Toby, but I think I should be getting home."
Sarah watched on as her brother reached out and pressed one of the buttons on the stereo so the digital display switched to the time. "It's early, Angel. You're parents said you didn't need to be home until 11:00 and it's only 9:44. We've got time."
"I know what my parents said, but," his arm folded around her shoulder as she spoke, "I'd really like to go home now." Sarah's stomach flipped as she watched her little brother kissing on the girl in the passenger seat of his car, ignoring her multiple requests to return home. "Toby, I don't want you to think I'm easy," she pleaded right before she gave into kissing him.
"Believe me," he said breaking their kiss, "this hasn't been easy."
Sarah looked away. None of this was anything she wanted to see. Regardless of her intense desire to keep turned away, the crystal called her back. She gasped as she saw her mother, together with the man who romanced her away from her tiny family. They were in a small dark studio apartment. Linda's make up dripped down over her cheeks as she clung to the man she'd left everything behind for. "Please don't leave," she begged. "Give me two weeks, I'll come up with the money."
"Face it Linda, you aren't the beauty you once were. No one is going to offer you work with you looking, well, your age." It wasn't entirely true, for as Sarah pressed her nose against the crystal desperate to see the mother who had been absent from her life so long, she could see that Linda looked far older than she really was, far more weathered and ragged. Sarah's mother hugged her knees to her chest as she took a long drink of something Sarah was positive contained alcohol. At 52, Linda Williams was finally tasting some of the pain abandonment could bring. She finally had something more in common with her daughter than just acting.
The images continued to rotate as Sarah's hands began to troll over the keys, a random series of notes taking shape until they sang from within the upright like a choir. She began to think of Jareth and all they had been through these past few weeks. Looking back at the crystal she watched the images flip. Her father, his eyes filled with tears. Christian continuing to spin his intricately developed web of lies to the woman in his arms, the girl in Toby's car, her eyes beginning to mist up as without caring, he continued to kiss her while his hands reached beneath her clothes. Lastly, her mother still huddled on the floor. Arulan crossed her mind. The elf who served as Jareth's mother after Leanan Sidhe died. She was trying so hard to keep Sarah and the Goblin King together. Her attentions returned to the crystal where the images continued to alternate. Tears flooded shamelessly from her eyes when she asked the question this time. Oddly enough Maeve popped into her head, Maeve and Jareth, Darien and Arianna. When she thought about her having to leave the king, Sarah broke down. Between tears she spoke softly, "Not even in a world where forever was invented." Sarah flung the crystal against the wall where it shattered and then disappeared. Her arms folded one over the other and supported her head as she flopped forward onto the piano, sobbing along with all the people she had just seen inside the orb.
Jareth stood in the hall, his black glove wrapped around the side of the door, propping it open enough to let him hear her singing. His heart ached for her and the pain she didn't need to know. Mentally, Jareth had been acquiring a list of all the questions she had asked him for which he had no answers. The king added the words of her song to that list.
Just then a goblin grabbed the king's coat tails and tugged hard. "Your majesty," he whispered as his small fingers curled back toward himself indicating to Jareth to follow him. "Your majesty, there's a girl gone and said the words."
"Not now," he muttered. "Not with Sarah here. She can't see me taking away someone's child. Find Deverell have him go and explain the rules to this girl." His hand twisted the fabric of the goblin's tunic tight around the creature's throat. The king stooped and dragged him in close to insure they would have an understanding. "He's got to go in my place."
"Do you really think he's ready?"
"I'd rather lose the child than upset the mortal. Just have him do it!" Jareth released the tiny man and stood up.
"Yes sire," the goblin conceded as he waddled away from the king.
The Goblin King hadn't asked Sarah about what he'd seen that day in the music room. It was her own private moment and he trusted if she had wanted to talk to him about it, she would have. Instead, it seemed she'd thrown herself into their relationship, as if their succeeding as a couple would somehow make up for the failure of the relationships she'd witnessed in the crystal. Far be it for Jareth to complain. He knew they didn't have forever and he hoped he could make up for the lack of quantity by making her last eight days quality ones. He rarely left her side. He planned outtings for them, romantic dinners, everything he could think of to show her how important she was to him and how much he valued her.
Even when he would go to the office to work, she would join him. As Jareth sat behind his desk mulling over his paperwork, Sarah would sit nearby, her nose in one of his many books. This particular afternoon nothing could hold their attentions. Every few seconds, Jareth would look up and over at Sarah, watching her eyes as they shifted back and forth absorbing the words, page after page. A few strands of hair had fallen down from the twist she'd put them in, covering her eyes. Smiling, he thought about going up to her, pushing back the veil of hair and looking lovingly into her eyes before claiming her.
When the king's eyes returned to his work, Sarah's head would lift. One finger swept her loose hair to the side, tucking it behind her ear where it would no longer obstruct her view of the Goblin King. She watched him pouring over the requests. Now and again he might chuckle at what he read, but mostly he just smiled, the same disarming smile that consistently played with his lips. It was impossible for her to watch him smile and not smile at him in return. When Sarah caught herself grinning from ear to ear, she'd look away, focus on her books again, giving Jareth another opportunity to observe her.
Their game of peekaboo lasted a couple of hours before Jareth said without looking up, "Sarah, can you come over here?"
"Um huh," she said quickly hoping he hadn't caught her watching him. She stood and crossed the room. As though she were one of his midmorning appointments, Sarah stood opposite him the wide desk separating them. "What did you need?"
"Come round to this side," he said waiving his hand. Obediently she stood at his side. Once in arm's reach, Jareth grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into his lap. She let out a tiny cry before giggling. "I simply can't work with you in the room."
Sarah frowned, "Should I leave?"
"Absolutely not," the king ordered as he smoothed her hair back behind her ear. His eyes roamed over her. Jareth knew he couldn't bear the idea of her leaving for a few minutes let alone more permanently. "I would be happy if you never left."
Her head nuzzled his neck, "I know." Her lips were never able to resist his skin and this was no exception. Jareth's head tipped back slightly as she began to kiss at his neck and chin. Her mouth crawled over the peak of his chin and their lips joined. The same feeling of nervous excitement which had always accompanied their kissing rose in the pit of her stomach and forced her chest to flutter. She couldn't help wondering if that feeling would ever go away while praying at the same time it never would. Just as their kiss began to deepen into something more needy, one of the ever troublesome goblins came running into Jareth's office.
"Your majesty! You're majesty!" he cried as he came in. "Your majes...oops," he said when he saw them engaged in their activities. "Miss Sarah, I have business to discuss with the king, if you'll excuse us."
Sarah left the king's lap and straightened her dress, "Certainly."
"No, now, just hold on a moment here. First of all, this is my office and you will knock before you enter it." The goblin nodded. "And this is my mortal and she shall be excused only upon my command." The goblin nodded again. "That being said, what is it you so urgently need to discuss with me that you would see fit to burst in here as you just had?"
"The child," he began hesitantly. The king grew nervous. It had been well past the twelve hours allotted for such games, surely he hadn't meant the child he told the other goblin to have Deverell deal with. "We've done our best to try to calm him, but it's been rather a challenge."
"A child you say?" he pretended to not know what this goblin was talking about. He knew it was a serious matter for the goblins had elected to send one of their more intelligent specimens.
"Yes your majesty. The child wished away to us by the girl Deverell met with."
"How long has a child been in this kingdom without my knowing?" Jareth added to emphasize his innocence.
"Just about 48 hours now, your majesty."
Rising from his seat Jareth paced around his desk to confront the small goblin, "That's not possible! Everyone knows the children are given only 12 hours before they're reassigned."
"Ah yes, that is the standard; however, this child's wisher has found the oubliette where time stands still."
"I can't even find the oubliette where time stands still; how in the name of the bog did the wisher."
"She is a crafty young female sire."
'Not the craftiest we've seen' he thought as he smiled at Sarah. "No use in complaining, what's done is done. So there is a wisher hold up in my maze?"
"Yes your majesty a 14 year old female who answers to the name of Winifred and certain variations thereof."
"And she is stuck in the oubliette where time stands still. Thus, she cannot be harmed, cannot grow hungry, and until she volunteers to leave the oubliette, cannot seek out the child. She must know, by now, the oubliette is having some kind of effect." Jareth continued to pace as Sarah looked on surprised, though she knew this is what happened in his world, it still seemed odd to her on some level. Is this how things progressed when Toby had been taken? "What of the child? Why is it being so difficult?"
"The child answers to the call of Lloyd. The finest of your female staff, including Arulan has had him in their care. He has been changed, fed, rocked, sung to, entertained and yet he cries. He's not slept, eats very little and what we're able to get in him, is often regurgitated when his frustration overwhelms him."
Shock began to distort Sarah's face. Jareth approached her as lovingly as he could and suggested that she spend some time in the music room while he tended to the situation at hand. "But I could..." she began to interjected.
"Sarah, I'm sorry, but I cannot allow you to interfere with these matters." His words were somewhat abrupt. Turning her head to the side and looking at him coldly, she contemplated starting an argument, but then opted to leave. Jareth's hand caught his falling head, "Bring me the child," he commanded through gritting teeth.
"Right away your majesty."
Back at his desk, Jareth turned his head toward the ceiling and sighed. "How else shall you test me?" he said into the air, "and shall I ever pass?"
Lloyd was brought before the king wearing an orange sleeper with black hash marks. The hood was down, two small ears built into it and off the child's bottom a small springing tail. "No wonder you won't stop crying," Jareth said as he lifted the child from the goblin's arms. "Look at how they have you dressed." Lloyd's small red face looked up at the king, his lips in a pout as he continued to hum a whine from his throat, fresh tears gathered on his cheeks Lloyd stared a few moments, quite in the awe of Jareth's newness, before he blast loose with a fresh set of high pitched wails making even the Goblin King flinch. "Well then, I'll take him back to my chambers. In the mean time, someone get Deverell and tell him to work with Turgomon until they've come up with a some resolution to this situation," the child let out another dreadful cry, "quickly!"
The child was no quieter when they were standing in the king's chambers. "Let's get you into something more comfortable," Jareth suggested as he waved a hand over the infant. The elaborate suit became a simple green onesie sleeper. "There, now that's better, isn't it?" Jareth asked as he held the baby over his head and smiled up at him. After a few second of silence, tears began to fall again. Jareth tried to sing. He started with typical lullabies and segued to the songs he'd sung for Toby. He'd expended his entire knowledge of appropriate songs some time after two in the morning. By that time, Sarah had managed to come to terms with this practice being just a part of Jareth's job, it was quite nearly four o'clock in the morning and the Goblin King was practically hoarse. She stood outside his chamber door listening as the child continue to wail, despite the attempts made to soothe him. Sighing, she burst open the door.
Lloyd, surrounded by pillows squirmed in the middle of their enormous bed. On hands and knees Jareth made his way to Sarah. "Please, for the love of all that is mythical, please, I beg you, make him stop." Smiling down at him, Sarah offered her hand to help him to his feet. Jareth ran his hand through his disheveled hair. "You don't understand. He hasn't stopped, not for even a second." They looked down on the fussy babe. "I can see why they wished him away."
Peeling away the pillows which confined him, Sarah scooped little Lloyd into her arms. "You're horrible," she said. One hand held the baby's backside as the other swiftly thumped his back while Sarah walked and bounced the child.
"As if your in a position to throw stones," he said coldly. "You've wished one of these things away before."
"Because you're tired and cranky, I'm willing to overlook that you would stoop so low." Sarah undid the snaps between the baby's leg and pulled up his onesie. Her finger pulled away the back of his diaper so she could peak inside and see if he needed a change.
"No good. He's dry, he's fed, he's got to be exhausted. Something must be dreadfully wrong with it...er...him."
"He's probably teething," Sarah concluded. Standing before the drink cart in the seating area of Jareth's chambers she asked, "Can you get me some honey?" Shakily Jareth waved a hand. A honey bee materialized on the cart. "This is a honey bee Jareth. I need honey...you know like the food."
Slunking into a chair, the king attempted to focus blurry, half closed eyes on the mortal. "Can't you just milk it or some thing?"
"Jareth," she shouted snapping her fingers before his face in an effort to get his attention. "No, I can't milk a honey bee. Now concentrate this time." Forcing open one eye, he looked at her as if to say, 'I was concentrating.' Rather than argue he merely made a second attempt. This time he succeeded. Sarah mixed the honey with a few drops of brandy and smeared them on the infant's gums. Beneath the smooth surface of his reddened gums Sarah felt the familiar buds of new teeth. "That's sore isn't it sweetheart. Yes, I know." Lloyd brought his swollen gums clamping down on Sarah's fingers. "Go on and gum me if you want, but you'll be thank me in a second." Undaunted, she went on applying the mixture around his mouth. Within moments he was quiet. Lloyd's eyes were incredibly heavy, now that he wasn't springing tears from them. "Poor dear," Sarah told him. "You haven't had a good nap in days, have you?" she asked bouncing him with his backside in the crook of her left arm.
"No I haven't," Jareth answered lazily.
"I was talking about the baby," Sarah reminded him. Sarah tucked the baby back into the protective wall of pillows, but he still fussed about, too tired to sleep. She smiled down at him. "I only know one lullaby kid, so you're going to have to meet me half way, okay?" Sarah thought he might have smiled back at her, but it easily could have been the brandy. "Right then. Over in Killarney many years ago, me mother sang a song to me, in tones so sweet and low. Just a simple little ditty, in her good old Irish way and I'd give the world if she could sing that song to me this day." A sudden spurt of energy struck the king as he got off the chair and lay at the child's side. His glove ran over the baby's tummy as his whining turned to cooing. He gazed at Sarah in admiration as she continued to sing, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don't you cry. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby." She enjoyed watching him with the child now that Lloyd was calm and the king appeared content with him. "Oft in dreams I wander to that cot again. I feel her arms a huggin' me as when she held me then and I hear her vice a hummin' to me as in the days of yore when she used to rock me fast asleep outside the cabin door." Both Jareth and the child had fallen asleep by the end of the second verse. Sarah crawled into the bed. She wrapped one arm behind the head of the king. Lloyd was nestled between them, Jareth's hand on his tiny tummy and Sarah's hand on the pillows that surrounded him. Thinking she saw the baby jolt, Sarah repeated the refrain, "Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now don't you cry. Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li, Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby."
When she awoke, Sarah saw Jareth in a chair, Lloyd in the crook of his arm contentedly suckling a bottle. She couldn't help but to think how natural he looked with the child, natural and handsome. Sarah fought back a smile, but eventually lost. "How's he doing?"
"Amazing," the king's turned his attention from the baby's face to Sarah. "I can't get over the difference that little concoction of yours made."
"Family recipe," she chuckled sitting up in bed. Jareth came to join her. "You are a handsome little thing when you're not all mean and fussy," she said in the way adults often reduced themselves to when conversing with children.
"It's in my genes," Jareth said proudly.
"I meant Lloyd."
"Hmfph!" Jareth snorted.
Shaking her head, Sarah added, "You're handsome too."
"Well if you insist." Jareth moved the baby to his shoulder and doled out a few sturdy taps along his torso until the now quiet child erupted in a giant burp, now ready to finish his bottle.
"May I?" Sarah asked, reaching for Lloyd. Jareth handed over the child and then his bottle. As Sarah fed him, the king slid his arm over her shoulders, holding her close to him.
"Where did you learn how to do all this?"
"Toby," she said at first. A moment later she mentioned a few friends Aboveground who had children.
"How is it that Christian has never given you a child?"
"Giving doesn't come easy for Christian to begin with. Not to mention, he's still a child himself." He looked at her in a way that let her know he knew she was avoiding the point. "I was just never sure I wanted a baby with him. I at least wanted to be married first."
"I shouldn't have asked."
"No," she said. "I'm glad I never wound up pregnant while I was with Christian." She meant that, in fact, she wasn't sure she had wanted children at all but, admittedly this experience with Lloyd managed to change her opinion on the topic.
"Well, when your time comes," he reached around her with his other arm to tickle the baby, making him giggle in agreement with what the king said next, "I'm certain you'll excel at caring for the child."
"What's going to happen to this little guy?" Sarah asked.
"Deverell reasoned with the girl. Since technically, she had lasted the entire 12 hours and bested me by finding the oubliette, I agreed to return the child unharmed, despite her not having found him. In return, she'll be forbidden to wish away this or any other child again."
"So, beaten by another girl," Sarah taunted.
Clearing his throat the king retorted, "Because she did not solve the Labyrinth, it will not be recorded as a win."
"Uh huh, she beat you!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!" Lloyd laughed at them. "See that? We're entertaining him by acting this way, what does that say about us?"
"We'd make great parents." Sarah had no reply.
Lloyd finished his bottle without fidgeting or complaining. One more burp and he was laughing and giggling with them, allowing the king to tickle his toes while Sarah squeezed his cheeks. Arulan came into the room sluggishly. Odd, when normally she would bound in cheerfully with a warm breakfast a joyful good morning. Her eyes never left the floor as she gave a quick curtsey and then spoke lowly to them, "Your majesty, Sarah, I've come to collect young master Lloyd." The elf's somberness spread throughout the room and infected everyone inside. Even the baby's attitude seemed to change.
"So soon?" the king asked.
"I'm sorry your grace, but as it has been arranged, the child is to leave with his sibling first thing this morning." Sarah struggled to hold back tears. "Please Jareth, I've already had to do this once too often in my life, don't make this more difficult."
Compassionate to how difficult this was for her, Jareth left the bed, used his magic to dress both himself and Sarah in something semi-formal. Lloyd was perched on his elbow, busily playing with a few feral strands of the king's hair. "Come," he said to Sarah extending his hand. "We'll return the child." Sarah took his hand and stood at his side. Her fingers wiped away a few tears which she'd lost the battle to restrain. "Arulan where will I find Winifred?"
"In the main hall your grace."
He could have easily transferred the lot of them to the main hall in a second, but instead they walked down the hall and toward the main stairs. When Winifred looked up at the impressively attired Goblin King, her brother in his arms, she began to quake. "You're real," she whispered.
"Indeed."
"When you didn't come for Lloyd I just assumed the fairytale had been embellished a bit."
"Your assumptions are of little concern to me," he said coldly. "What concerns me Winifred is your relationship with this child and the carelessness with which you've treated that relationship."
"How is that any of your concern?" the girl asked, feeling as if she was being attacked.
Jareth handed the child to Sarah, who readily took him. Then he closed in on the child's sibling. "Careful with your tone child. I realize my assistants have made a bargain with you, but mind you their words do not out rank mine and I'm notorious for changing my mind." Winifred's confidence was obviously shaken as she refused to meet the king's stare. "Ask the girl who holds your brother. She's familiar with my flights of fancy. I can treat you kindly one moment," Jareth circled her, his right shoulder lowered toward her as he stared down at her, "and the next I can find you frivolous by comparison. Granted you have outsmarted me this once by locating my time suspension oubliette, but I find having spoken to you that it was most likely by luck rather than by intellect or skill. No one better understands how troubling it can be to listen to a child scream continually than I, but had you even attempted to come to this child's aid before you hastily wished it away?"
"No," she admitted weakly, "but you don't understand."
"You are correct," Jareth did not allow her to complete her excuse. "I do not understand why you would not want this charming child to feel well and comfortable." He waved Sarah closer. "Give her the child."
Complying reluctantly, Sarah handed over Lloyd to his sister. "I've been where you are. If you remember nothing else of what is said to you here today, remember this. He's fully dependant upon those of us who are older and more capable for all of his security and care. Don't take him for granted. I promise you, you will regret it."
Tears filled Winifred's eyes. Sarah's words had perhaps touched her more deeply than all of Jareth's intimidation. "As we agreed," Jareth began again, "you and the child will be returned Aboveground where little more than a few hours will seem to have passed. Your ability to utilize even the correct words for summoning goblins is revoked. You will never have the opportunity to wish away a child again. I sincerely hope," he went on lifting her chin to look into her eyes, "you will learn something from your visit here." A swirl of his hand and a crystal perched upon his finger tips. He gave it a toss into the air and as if fell down the girl and the baby disappeared. The crystal popped like a bubble and dissipated. Sarah stepped to the king's side and he held her close. This had been difficult for both of them. In fact, Jareth could only recall one other occasion when he found dealing with infants to be so emotionally difficult and Sarah had been involved in that scenario as well.
He turned her around and headed her back upstairs. At the landing, Arulan stood, her face streaked with tears. "We'll be retiring to our chamber. I don't believe we'll be partaking in breakfast this morning." Arulan nodded as she watched them walk by.
Jareth sunk into a tub of hot water and attempted to allow the steam to carry off the stress of this event. Sarah sat in one of the large chairs by the fireplace, her knees hugged to her chest. Transfixed by the fire, she soon found herself unable to blink. Forcing herself to look away, she blinked repeatedly until her eyes became moist again. She noticed the 5x7 photo on the mantel and took it in to her hands. It was a photo of Jareth parents. From their dress, she inferred it had been their wedding day. The Leanan Sidhe wore a lace gown, the combs in her hair, those same silver combs which Sarah had worn during her first masquerade and her last. Around her neck, hung from a string of pearls the medallion Jareth had given her to wear. The symbol of the Triumvirate, that symbol she had only seen as possession before, hung in the hollow of her neck. Her black hair in complete contrast to her ivory gown. Ian wore black breeches, a white painter's shirt and a black frock coat. He looked out of place, as if it were attire he were not entirely accustomed to, not the way Jareth wore those same clothes with strength and stature like a second skin. Suddenly Sarah felt overcome with appreciation for those adornments which until now, she had resented.
It occurred to her just how interesting the decor of his room was. She replaced the photo to it's original spot on the mantle and found herself captivated by a sword hung above the fireplace. It was finely crafted, the metal seamless where the blade joined the hilt. The handle elegant and yet rigid with deterrence. Her fingers folded over the handle and without actually trying, the sword lifted from it's holds and she was easily able to lower it before her chest. It must have been heavier than it felt, Sarah thought as she braced herself for the anticipated weight. Instead it was no heavier than the child she had held just this morning. The blade began to feel as if it belonged in her hand, as if it had purpose. A sharp pain shot through Sarah's mid-section and the sword fell to the stone floor. Jareth came running into the room and fell to his knees at her side just as Sarah collapsed. He lay her head in the pooling silk of his robe, balancing it easily between his thighs.
"Sarah," he called as he pushed back the hair from her face. She only grunted back at him, the pain making words impossible. "What happened?" The king noticed the sword on the floor and immediately began feeling her over, afraid she had been run through by an attacker. "What's going on with you?"
Images filled Sarah's head. A much younger Oberon at the dining table with his wife and two sons. An appreciative Corwyn roping the same medallion Jareth wore over his throat. Darien, the familiar sword twisting in his hands. His narrow eyes entranced by the reflection of light in it's broad blade. As though she were sitting at the table watching them, Sarah saw Oberon's eyes fill with worry. She felt an overwhelming sense of doom.
Time flashed forward, Corwyn and Darien playing chess at a small table. Her head snapped back in the king's lap, only the white of her eyes showing. Jareth tried to call for help, but was distracted when Sarah shouted, "Leave, Darien, leave and do not return." The two mean were engaging in a heated verbal assault.
The next series of images flashed by very fast, but at the same time they were so graphic, they appeared to her in slow motion. Corwyn, drunk crawled into bed. His sleep restless. Then she saw Darien's face in the window, smelt the woodsy mirth of magic in the air. Together with Corwyn's image she jolted awake. Darien held the sword high above his head. The fractionally iron blade caught beams of moonlight and ricocheted them in all direction. Her eyes widened and her body began to tremble. "Someday I knew..." was all she managed before the searing pain of the blade ravaged her mid-section. The heat of iron coursed through her veins and in an instant the tainted blood struck her heart. Sarah clutched her chest.
Jareth was shouting now, for Arulan, for anybody, to come and help her. "Sarah, Sarah," he called over and over. "You're not Corwyn, whatever is happening to you isn't real and I need you to realize that. I need you to come back to me. Sarah!" Each word grew more frantic than the next.
She heard him, only he sounded miles away, certainly further than the few inches he truly was. He needed her? What did he need her for? She was right there? Couldn't he see that? Slowly the burning in her stomach subsided, the pounding of her heart died down to it's normal thump. Sarah's eyes began to focus and she could almost make out Jareth face hanging over hers. "What am I doing on the floor?" she asked as she became more and more aware of his surroundings.
"I was hoping you could tell me," he admitted pulling her into his embrace.
Arulan and Turgomon came flying into the room. Arulan saw the sword on the floor, "My word, she's been attacked."
"Attacked?" Sarah asked.
"No," Jareth told them. "She wasn't attacked at all. She had some sort of seizure."
The king stood and helped Sarah to her feet. The foursome occupied the seating area before the fire. Jareth paused before joining them to replace the sword above the mantle. "It wasn't a seizure either. Jareth I think I had another vision," Sarah said when he sat beside her.
"But you called out my grandfather's name?"
"I know," her shaking hands covered his. "I know. Oh my, Jareth, there is no easy way for me to tell you this."
"There shouldn't be anything you feel you can't tell me. Whatever it is, I will understand."
"I don't understand," Sarah sobbed. "If I don't even understand, how the hell could you?"
His hands held hers, a simple inane gesture which bought with it a significant warmth and sense of security. "Sarah, darling, please, whatever just happened to you, I need to know. I will do my best to understand and to help you understand as well."
"Where do I begin?" Sarah asked aloud. "Everything came quickly at first. Oberon with his sons and his wife. Corwyn opening the necklace while Darien opened the sword. Then a bunch of images that I suppose were meant to represent the passage of time, because then it was Darien and Corwyn alone in the king's chamber, playing chess. They were yelling and screaming at one another. Darien said dreadful things about his father and his mother for that matter, Corwyn ordered him to leave and he did."
"That's the night my uncle was murdered," Jareth interrupted. "It had been rumored that Darien had killed him, but I suppose we know better now." The king was almost glum at the idea the deed had not been committed by his grandfather. All these years of being bitter and supposing, he'd grown to despise Darien which suited him fine.
"Jareth, I'm not finished." His face took on a sudden spark of interest. "Darien left, having slung no more at Corwyn than words; however, he did not stay gone." Turgomon's hand supported his chin as he anticipated what was coming next and Arulan drew her knees into her chest. "Corwyn was alone in the castle. He'd excused his entire staff." Her eyes closed as she attempted to recall more of the images from the vision. "I had the strong smell of magic during my vision. Darien must have used his magic to get to the window. That's how he came in. His heart was filled with hate and contempt. Opening the window he slid inside. At first he just looked at his brother, lying in the bed, tangled in the duvet as a result of a restless sleep. He was fighting himself then for just a moment, rationalizing that what he was about to do was Corwyn's fault, for if he had not discussed taking a bride, the events about to come to light would have remained in the darkest corners of his heart. 'Had it not been for this,' he thought, 'I would have waited.'" Opening her eyes Sarah saw she had the full attention of everyone in attendance. "Must I continue," she pleaded.
"Tell me Sarah. I'm begging you. Tell me how he killed my uncle. After all these centuries living with the myth, you can give me truth. Let that be your gift to me."
The king had a point. Everyone deserved a little truth, closure and she could bring him that. With a driving sense of obligation, she met his desperate eyes. "Corwyn began to stir. Just as he grew alert, Darien drew the sword, held it high above his head, as high as his arms would allow it to rise." Sarah imitated with her arms. "Then just to be sure he drew up the extra inch standing on tiptoe would afford him. His brother spoke to him, 'Someday I knew,' for I believe he knew Darien would mean his death as much as anyone can know their death and the hands at which it will arrive." The Goblin King knew Sarah could not realize the painful truth she spoke, for though Jareth's death lied in her hands and he knew it all too well, he allowed her to remain ignorant. "Then the cold iron mix of the blade ran through him. Their cries were indistinguishable as they filled the night air. Two cries of pain, cries of anguish, cries of loss. It only took a moment for the iron to hit Corwyn's heart. He died swiftly as it exploded in his chest." Sarah paused in her recounting of the experience when Arulan gasped. "Mad with anger, Darien turned the blade before he withdrew it from Corwyn's lifeless body. He cast a spell to shatter the window glass inward and another to remove his brother's blood from his blade, then he drew a dagger and stabbed himself. As he ran through the castle and out into the Goblin City he concocted the truth he sticks by even today." Sarah took Jareth's hands into hers. Her chest ached, part from having felt Corwyn's pain in her vision and part at the look of shock on his majesty's face. Her soft lips kissed the leather coating of his knuckles. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, sorry that it ever happened. Tell me what I can do to help you come to terms with what has come to pass."
"You can tell the Triumvirate, if what you speak is the truth," Turgomon replied.
Jareth snapped his head in the direction of his assistant. "I don't believe the offer had been extended to you."
"If the girl is honest, if she is the seer she appears to be, then the Triumvirate will take her word as law and Darien can finally be brought to justice, isn't that what you would want your majesty?"
"More than anything, but it is not our decision to make. Sarah," he said turning back to her, "the Triumvirate could respond many ways to your confession. I leave it entirely up to you, but if you were to see fit to tell them what you just told us, it would mean Darien's finally being held accountable for what he's done."
Mulling it over, Sarah tried to make a quick mental pros and cons list. It could mean her being sent home. It could mean the Triumvirate sending her immediately despite the remaining days she had. Leaving the Underground, leaving Jareth, leaving all she had come to love, but none of that compared to knowing that this fey would go on living freely when he had stolen life from another. "I'll do it Jareth, whatever it means, I'll do it."
He held her close, fearing it might be the last time he'd have opportunity to do so. "We'll go tonight," he whispered into her hair. "No sense in prolonging this."
Sarah wanted to argue him, wanted to suggest they wait until her final day, in case they did send her away, but Jareth had waited so long for this resolution, she couldn't force him to wait any longer. "Jareth, are you sure that's wise?" Arulan spoke the words Sarah could not bring herself to say. "They could send her home."
"One way or another Arulan, the Triumvirate will send me home. We all knew this would be a temporary arrangement. I'd just as soon face them tonight and get it over with." As if he hadn't realized it was a possibility until just then Jareth held her at arm's length, "Sarah, she's right."
"We'll go tonight," Sarah said with determination. "No arguments." Jareth pulled her close once more, covering her lips with his and kissed her appreciatively. Turgomon left to make arrangements with the Triumvirate. Arulan watched them kissing a long moment before she too took leave.
"Are you sure you want to do this Sarah? If they send you home now I'll, what sense is it to deny now, I'll miss you no matter when you leave."
Looking at the elf who had been so kind to her during her stay, Sarah said, "And so you see why the timing makes no difference to me. I only wish the matter to be resolved. Arulan, you've been extraordinarily kind to me. There aren't thanks enough to give you for all you have done. I will miss you dearly, but I shall recall you fondly." Her heart sank as she realized, she would not recall a thing of the Underground or it's inhabitants once she arrived Aboveground. In an effort to hide her frustration, Sarah pulled Arulan close and hugged her tight.
Descending the stairs, Jareth watched them. His world had never been the same once Sarah had entered it and it would not be the same when she was gone. He knew her leaving meant his death and much as his instinct made him hate the speed with which it would come, he was glad that his life without her would be a short one, comparatively. "Are you ready?" he asked as he drew nearer.
Releasing the servant and wiping at her eyes, Sarah nodded. "Yes I am."
"Are you sure?"
"As I will ever be, my love." While it was not a confession of her feelings, the token of affection seemed to stop time for both of them. In that second, in that selection of words, she had made it clear that she had chosen him above all others.
Jareth's arm wound around hers and Sarah filled with the familiar warmth of transporting. His free hand folded over her fingers as a tear rolled over her lid and down her cheek, for she had realized she would never know the feel of his true hand.
By the time she felt strong enough to open her eyes again, they were standing before the Triumvirate. The Sage had returned to his seat at the left hand of the Gavel after having served his punishment. All three looked critically at the king and his mortal. As was tradition, the Gavel spoke first, "You mean to tell us the girl has sight."
"Indeed," Jareth spoke evenly.
"It's not that I want to dispute you Jareth," he continued as if the king's confirmation meant nothing, "but certainly you realize taking your word for it would be, well less than bipartisan. After all this enlightenment comes far into the lady's visit with you and what she has to tell us would be in your best interest. You must see where it could be considered suspicious."
"In my best interest?" Jareth had intended this to be the visit during which he did not argue with the Gavel, but then again, Jareth had that intention for every visit. "How is it in my best interest to have confirmation my uncle's death was at the hands of my grandfather? As for your suspicion of me, Gavel, 'tis a trait you assigned me long ago. I anticipated you're bringing it up now."
"It is in you're best interest because it would prove that the acts committed against your family were the result of one mad man and not on whole a sampling of what we could expect from your royal bloodline."
"Time has proven that," he rebutted.
"And so it has gentlemen. Let us not cloud the issue with cruel suggestion and harsh retort. A simple spell, to induce one of these visions and you can see for yourself Gavel," the Cleric suggested.
"A test," he purred sitting straighter in his seat. "What says you miss? Will you subject yourself to a test for authenticity?"
Hesitation shown on her face. Jareth leaned towards her and tenderly spoke, "You needn't subject yourself to this. I will not stop them, if this is what you want, but I will not force you if it is not."
"A test," she said boldly, stepping up to the Gavel and meeting his eye.
Motioning his hand, the Gavel invited the Cleric to cast his spell upon the girl that they may get on with what he believed would be a short meeting. The Cleric took her hands in his, "Won't hurt a bit dear, may even tickle a little." He spoke in a language foreign to Sarah, foreign even to Jareth, an ancient and musical language which seemed to lull her to dream as she stood before him.
As the images started to form, Sarah's body grew limp and Jareth brought a chair to her side at the Cleric's request. There was a tall and regal looking man, dressed as the king often dressed. He kissed his teary-eyed mother and shook his father's hand, then turned and left through the front door of a rather fine looking home. It was no castle, but it was not a stump in the middle of the woods either. Outside he mounted a horse and rode deep into the forest. There he met a young maiden, scooped her up on to his horse, wound his arms around her and with a tender kiss they road off. The image changed. The woman, now a bit older with two small boys at her feet, each trying to goad the other. In the distance, hooves pounded against the ground and the woman left the children and flew to a window to look out. Despair ravaged her face. She spoke a moment to the man who'd come on horseback and then ran wildly to her bed where she cried out a fearfully lonely moan. The man took the two boys aside and whispered words to them. One ran to his mother's side. The other remained motionless and emotionless. Sarah stepped inside him, she felt his pain, she felt his anger. As the Triumvirate watched on, a tear left her eye and raced toward her chin. A second later her eyes flew open.
Nonchalantly, the Gavel asked, "What did you see?"
"Perhaps, it's best if we try the spell again," Sarah suggested.
"I knew it. A fake! You've brought me a fake Jareth. I've spent all these years trying to prove how little you can be trusted and you wind up doing the job for me in seconds."
Sarah's back stiffened. The Gavel did not know the fury he was unleashing. She had tried to avoid this, given him the opportunity to turn back, but he insisted on charging ahead, a bull with no fear of the matador. "I saw a man. A regal man on a black horse. He wore fine clothes of red silk and a vest of black leather with boots to match. He was riding deep into the forest. Stopping at a hut, he sweeps a woman into his arms. She is not a fancy woman, certainly not a royal. Her clothes are plain and worn, boldly patched and re-patched in the most obvious places. Her hair is thick with filth and her skin is darkened, not by the sun, but by the earth which she has worked in all day. Regardless he kisses her and they ride off. Shall I go on?" The Gavel was speechless and Sarah took that for permission to continue. "Years later, the same woman, while still plain and simply dressed is much cleaner, standing as two small boys run circles around her each trying to one up the other with some rapier comment." Sarah's eyes leveled at him, he had pushed the issue and it was about to come to a head. "You heard hooves pounding outside, headed toward the house. Your mother stopped what she was doing and ran to the window to look out. You didn't follow her and you stopped him from going too. You were sure everything was as it was meant to be, so you went on playing your innocent games. When the knock came at the door, you chalked it up to your father playing a game as well, probably stood just outside a bundle of wildflowers in his hand to give to your mother and the thought made you ill. 'Why must they always act as if they had only just met?' you questioned when he did these things, things which brightened her day and lightened her heart. But today, there would be no game. That man was not your father, not riding your father's horse and your mother did not smile when he was through." The Gavel's mouth hung open and his eyes were wide. Jareth watched, not yet fully understanding Sarah's sudden shift in the tense with which she recounted her vision. "Your father was dead, victim at the hands of a sneak attack during the raids. Your mother fled to her bed and wailed. Your brother joined her, but you couldn't grieve and you couldn't encourage others to grieve. You were too angry, angry at the illogical world which could allow an immortal thing to die. When it brought you no satisfaction to hate the dead, you began to hate the living. You hated her for not keeping him from leaving, hated her for making him soft with all the lover's games they played, hated her for living when he was dead and for looking for love again when he was gone. You hated your brother for not hating her. You even hated yourself for believing your father when he told you nothing would happen, nothing could. You began to hate everything that represented life and love, everything illogical. The idea of a royal with anything less than a royal, the idea of half breeds and cross classes. You became a man of fact and man of law, unable to trust in what you could not see." Sarah left her chair and approached the stoic member of the Triumvirate. Before him, she knelt her hand on his knee. "Do you believe in what I see, even though your eyes cannot? Do you believe what you have become is nothing of what he wanted for you? Do you believe that even now, were you to go to your mother and offer her your love she would accepted it willingly and pledge you hers? For all these things are fact. There is no book I have read nor confession I have heard that tells me it is so, but my heart can feel their pain. Their pain is your absence, in body and in spirit."
Silence filled the room from wall to wall and ceiling to floor like a thick, heavy immobile fog. At long last, the Gavel brushed Sarah's hand from his knee and cleared his throat, "Yes, well you are a seer and your words are law so I suppose I'm forced to believe." Everyone knew the words were not easy for him to speak, even if they were cold and unfeeling as they left his lips. The Gavel believed her a seer and she'd changed more than just his mind, Sarah had changed his life. "Announce to the Underground and all surrounding kingdoms, there is a price on Darien's head. He is to be brought before the Triumvirate for justice and any one or many who bring him here will be handsomely rewarded."
"My lord, I would gladly bring him to you with no expectation of a reward at all," Jareth offered.
"You're too close to the matter Jareth, leave this to your subjects. I want him alive, death is too easy an escape for him." He paused before adding, "Your business here is done. You may go."
"What about me?" Sarah asked hesitantly. "Will you be sending me home?"
"Sending you home? Quite the contrary miss. You've stirred this can of worms and you'll remain here until it's settled again. You can't just go causing trouble and then running away from it," the Gavel spat.
"Causing trouble? You turn a blind eye to centuries of deceit and deception all in the name of not wanting to ruffle feathers and I'm the cause of your trouble," Sarah raged. The Cleric quickly came to her side and began shuffling her out of the Great Hall. "Some change he's made," she huffed.
Quietly, the Cleric whispered, "Sarah, there is a phrase in your world, a leopard cannot change his spots. I don't believe that, but what I do believe is with patience he can change one spot at a time. Look at Jareth, he's not nearly the ogre he once was and thanks to your vision, I may live to see the day when the Gavel is as subdued, but until then let's not force him into regression, shall we." He handed her off to the king. "Yes, well then, thank you both for coming by. We'll be in touch." Jareth walked her outside before transporting them home. The Cleric returned to his seat at the right hand of the Gavel. "Leaves very little room for argument, doesn't she?"
The Gavel eyeballed him sternly, "You did this with your spell! You made her envision my life, didn't you?"
"Come now, I induced the vision, but fate chose it's form and I'm sure fate knew you would be more inclined to believe something of a personal nature or perhaps someone just felt it was time to help you let go of your past and the pain it has caused you."
"Bullocks! You summoned my past and crammed it into her skull. The whole thing was rubbish! Call her back, I revoke my declaration."
"You know you can't do that. You know I can't do that. I don't have the kind of power necessary to plant suggestion, none of us do. It would be inappropriate for our positions."
The Sage interrupted them. It was not his way to so boldly participate in the conversation, but his stay with Ranofyr had changed him. He'd learned to speak with his heart lest he were to become one of the hateful things that roamed the Northeast sector as if life and loyalty had no meaning to them at all. "Gavel, trust me when I tell you to look upon one's self with judgment is the hardest act you'll ever perform, but to do it well, is to live again, a life free of guilt and sin. To cleanse one's soul is to fly and it would seem you've just been handed wings. Try not to take it for granted."
"Who are you to advise me?" the Gavel growled. "It was I who sent you to that damned place where you were able to do all this soul searching and reflection. You owe your flight to me!"
"I do, indeed. You gave me one of the mostly deeply moving personal experiences my life has ever had. It is that experience from which I implore you now." The Gavel said nothing, only removed himself from his seat and headed off.
"You've done well," the Cleric told the Sage as he slung his arm around the fey, "for him and for yourself."
"What were you thinking?" Jareth asked Sarah when they were back in their chambers. "He as much as ordered you to stay and you go starting an argument with him. I swear that mortal pride of yours gets you in more trouble than you're aware."
"I just didn't feel it was right, his blaming me for a few centuries of lies told long before I was a glimmer in my father's eye, is all."
"No harm," Jareth decided as he hoisted Sarah into the air and spun her around him. She smiled down at him. Their visit to the Triumvirate had made him happy, for that she was glad. "Come now," he placed her feet to the ground gingerly, "I'm starving and I know you must be too. Let's eat."
Downstairs they joined Arulan, Deverell, Dalkeil, and Turgomon. Elves brought out trays for both of them and filled goblets with wine. No one said anything. They all wanted Jareth to speak first. Arulan prayed this would not be her last meal with the girl, but Sarah did not appear particularly pleased. Dalkeil eyed the king, but he was as unrevealing as ever. After they'd finished their salads and the main course was served, Jareth rose his goblet and took to his feet. "A toast," he announced. "My mortal has seen to it Darien will be brought to justice for his crime. The Triumvirate's paige is spreading word as we speak. There is a reward to anyone or many who bring him into them alive. We humble few are excluded from the hunt, unfortunately, but I have great faith he will be found and greater faith he will be made an example of. As for my lovely Sarah, she is being forced," his lips curved high in a smile that spread ear to ear pausing for emphasis, "to stay with us until this matter is resolved."
"Brava!"
"Hear hear!"
"Hizzah!"
"Fine show!"
The cheers came so fast and from so many directions, Sarah could not tell who had shouted what, but it didn't matter. She had been accepted. These fey and elves and goblins which sat around her had taken her into their hearts, welcomed her into their homes and now they rose their glasses to her. Tears filled her eyes while she rose her cup too and thanked them for their praise. "Three cheers," Arulan shouted. "Hip hip."
"Hooray!" came the reply.
"Hip, hip," she called again.
"Hooray!"
"Hip, hip."
"Hooray!"
By the third call the kitchen staff had come to the service window wandering about the commotion, just in time to see Jareth lean over and kiss the girl. "I'm so glad you're staying," he confessed.
"She's staying," whispered one elf to the next, who in turn hollered it back to the preparation staff, who shouted it to the cooks, for they had trouble hearing over the clattering dishes and before long concentric cries of, "she's staying," wafted into the dining room.
"Guess I'm staying," Sarah said doing her best to smile, but her only thought was how much harder it would be to leave when the time inevitably came.
