We met Lady May Jane Parker and her retinue in the last chapter of 'The Children of the Spider'. Here's a little more about them. All of this occurs a few years before 'The Children of the Spider'.
LIGHTBRINGER
"Milady, this is unwise," Isaiah told me quietly. He sounded both irritated and more than a little uneasy.
Isaiah is a Grimm - seven feet and five hundred pounds of orange rock and massive strength. His voice rumbles like a avalanche and any words he speaks cannot help but carry vast authority. However, his authoritative voice is not the only reason I make it a point to carefully considering everything Isaiah says.
Scott flicked his eyes towards me as his broad shoulders rolled in a motion that wasn't really a shrug, but was close. Scott is a Blood - as dangerous a combination of claws, regeneration, and keen senses as his people have ever brought into our world. He is not a man of words and he tends to let Isaiah say the things that need to be said. However, Scott does use body-language to let me know when he agrees with Isaiah. And right then, he agreed with Isaiah.
My two yojimbos are a worthy pair. They were in my father's service before they came into mine, and both their loyalty and their skill are unquestionable. However, they have the problem of bodyguards throughout all of history - they don't like it when the person they're supposed to be protecting takes risks. And, unfortunately for them, life is a series of risks.
As for myself: I am May Jane Parker, the High Spider Lady of House Parker, and I am a power both within my people and throughout the city of Nyack. I am currently estranged from my quite-possibly insane Lord Husband, but that is another story. For now, I am doing my best to avert catastrophe as I pray for the day when my husband is driven from power. I also pray that day will not be as blood-soaked as I fear.
I jumped down from my horse. Scott, of course, made sure that he was standing near my stirrup, but not too close. It took some time to break him of the habit of offering me his hand when I dismounted. And even now I could tell he was restraining himself from doing just that.
There was a crowd of worried-looking common people on the street. A Folk male scurried up to us, but didn't approach too close. The looks Isaiah and Scott gave him were too intimidating for that.
The Folk hastily bowed in my direction. "Milady," he blurted nervously. A cap was in his hands and he was anxiously twisting it. "She's still here!"
I took a moment to examine the man. He was a small and wiry, but had the beginnings of a pot-belly. His eyes were anxious and his clothes were dirty and torn. He also had a fair number of recently acquired cuts and bruises scattered on his face and arms. Blood oozed from a particularly deep scratch on the side of his jaw.
But he was alive. And that was interesting in and of itself.
"You are Mr. Bodeen?" I asked. That was the name that the local militia sergeant had given me.
The Folk bowed once again. "Yes, milady! The militia told me you were coming."
That made sense. The militia don't like to deal with problems like this one. And I had put out word - and some coins - through the various watch-commands so that I would be called if a situation like this came to pass.
The militia didn't want to officially acknowledge what was happening. Too much paperwork, I suppose. And worse, they might have to kill a child. Nobody wants to do that, even if the child is perhaps dangerously mad.
"How many dead?" I asked as I studied the small stone building that was located just across the street. It wasn't a very impressive or unusual structure. On the other hand, the word "MYNE" was roughly painted above the door in crude block letters. As near as I could tell, it was written in blood.
And, of course, there were the messily decapitated heads. There were five of them, and if I had to make a guess they were either Folk or Wilder. They were arrayed in a line in front of the building, propped up against the building's foundation stones and staring out into the street. Blood had drained from them and into the street's center rut. The features of one of them was contorted in terror. The others had apparently died more peacefully - or perhaps a better word was 'unexpectedly'.
"So far, just them," Bodeen replied as he made a broad gesture in the direction of the heads.
"But there might be more inside," Bodeen added.
"Who were they?" I asked as I eyed the grisly remains.
"Rodney and his gang," Bodeen told me with a dismissive shrug that spoke volumes. "This was their place. They were a bad bunch - thieves, thugs, and all-around bad-fellows. Nobody will miss them."
I considered that for a moment. "You're sure a Spider-Blood did this?"
Bodeen nodded quickly. "I saw her kill the last one myself."
Then he pointed to the head closest to the door. It was the one who looked like he'd died in terror.
"He was screaming when he ran out of the building," Bodeen continued. "He almost made it, but the girl reached out from the top of the door, grabbed him by the hair, and cut his throat with one of her claws. She must have been standing on the ceiling. Then she yanked him back inside. After a while, she came out with the heads. She soaked a rag with some blood, climbed up to the lintel, and wrote what you see there. After that, she went back inside."
I paused to stare at the "MYNE" scrawled just above the stone building's door.
"If you ignore the claws, the wall-crawling, and the murder, she's just a little girl," Bodeen finished. There was something in his voice that it took me a moment to identify. It was regret.
"She can't spell very well," I observed thoughtfully. Isaiah hid a grin. Scott didn't react - he was still carefully watching the building.
Bodeen seemed to consider what I'd said, but didn't reply. It was likely that was illiterate.
"Did Rodney actually own this place?" I continued. "Or were he and his gang simply squatting?"
Bodeen stirred uneasily. "A fellow named Steen used to owned it. He rented it out for storage. Steen was an old fellow without any family, and he... um... he just vanished one night. Then Rodney and his guys moved in. To be honest, nobody really had the nerve to complain, and there were no heirs to ask the militia to step in - so the situation was just ignored."
Scott snorted in amusement and shook his head. "The next time you have a problem like that," he told Bodeen, "call me. I'll settle it for the price of a few drinks and a willing girl."
Isaiah gazed speculatively at Bodeen. "How did you get so battered about, Mr. Bodeen?" he asked. Which was a good question that I'd completely forgotten to ask. Isaiah is not just a two-legged mass of rock-armored muscle. He is also a man of no little intellect.
Bodeen looked embarrassed. "The girl was covered with blood. I thought some of it might be hers. So after she finished with the heads and went back inside, I knocked on the door and asked if she was okay. She opened the door, jumped right into my face, and knocked me flat. Then she... she kinda beat me up."
Isaiah and Scott both nodded. Actually, I could see their estimation of Mr. Bodeen rise. Mr. Bodeen might not be a warrior, but somebody who was worried enough about a child - especially a dangerous child - to try and make sure she was not injured, was obviously a person of worth.
I took a step towards the door.
In his haste to keep up with me, Isaiah "accidentally" stepped in my way. Scott rushed forward, made sure he was blocking the door, and then banged on it with the side of his fist.
"Hello in there!" Scott bellowed. "We want to talk!"
A tingling sensation ran up and down my body. That was the First Spider letting me know that I was in danger. He had been restless ever since we'd arrived on the scene, but he was suddenly becoming quite anxious.
The door swept open. With impressive speed, Scott ducked underneath a claw-slash that would have torn open his face - the building's occupant apparently liked to attack from above. Then Scott grabbed a clawed hand by the wrist, pulled the girl loose from her perch above the door, and pitched her across the street.
The crowd of gawkers squealed and scattered. My horse shied as she caught a disturbing scent, I had to grab the reins to keep her from bolting.
The girl hit the building across the street and stuck there, neatly adhering to the wall in a sideways crouch. Then she immediately leaped back at Scott... and right into Isaiah's suddenly extended arm. Without hesitation, the girl re-orientated herself, scurried up Isaiah's arm, perched herself on his shoulder, and then tried to cut out his eyes. Isaiah ducked his head just in time, but her claws actually left blood-oozing marks on his heavy brow.
Scott cursed, grabbed the girl by the ankle, and tore her from Isaiah's shoulder. Then he spun her around and slammed her against the building's wall. In the process, the snarling girl scored deep cuts in his arm and chest.
As Scott once again tried to smash her against the wall, the girl twisted about, mangled his hand, and wriggled away as the resulting spray of blood loosened Scott's grip. However, she didn't get away clean. Scott kicked her during her midair escape and she sailed right into Isaiah's open arms.
The girl had both her hand and foot claws out when she hit Isaiah. Fragments of his orange stone-hide flew through the air as she turned into a savage whirlwind. In the process, she swarmed around Isaiah's chest and attached herself to his back. Fortunately, her attempt to cut Isaiah's throat didn't get through his armored skin.
Isaiah grunted in pain and slammed himself - and the girl - back-first into the wall. The impact rocked the stone building, knocking loose ceiling tiles that crashed to the street. The girl's arms and legs went momentarily limp, but she almost instantly recovered. Scott reached behind Isaiah with his good hand, grabbed the girl by her long hair, and slammed the back of her head against the wall. Meanwhile, Isaiah used his sheer mass to keep the girl's body pinned in place.
The girl finally went limp.
"Scott," I said as he once again rammed her head against the wall.
Scott did it again.
"Scott," I repeated, putting a commanding edge into my voice. "That's enough."
Scott paused and took a moment to estimate the girl's condition. After that, he backed away and picked up his severed thumb. He stuck it back where it belonged on his hand and held it in place. It would take a while to reattach.
Bodeen took an already blood-stained work-scarf from around his neck and helped Scott bind his thumb to his hand. Scott, who's normally touchy with anyone offering him help of any kind, accepted Bodeen's aid without complaint. After all, they'd both been injured by the same foe. From the Blood point of view, that was a thing to be respected. The Blood are a touchy and difficult people, but they have their own way of thinking. You can't understand them if you don't understand their code.
"Oh, damn it," Isaiah growled. He was still keeping the unmoving girl pinned to the wall, but now he was looking down at his feet in disgust. In all the fuss, he'd stepped on one of the decapitated heads and crushed it. There were brains, blood, hair, and skull fragments all over one of his massive boots.
I pulled some manacles from my saddlebags and began securing the girl. She was maybe nine or ten years old. Her hair was brown and wildly unkept. Her clothes were filthy rags, she was barefoot, and she needed a bath. However, it seemed to me that she might grow up to be quite pretty. If she managed to live long enough.
Her kind tends not to survive for very long.
The next morning, I entered the stone cell where we were keeping the girl. Isaiah and Scott were, of course, with me.
At first glance, it looked like there was a jumble of chains piled in the corner of the cell. It actually took me a moment to realize that the girl was there - almost buried in a tangle of steel. A pair of angry brown eyes peered at me with savage intensity.
The chains were covered with silvery claw marks. All of the stonework within reach of the girl was also cut and scratched. The girl had apparently entered into a slashing frenzy when she awoke.
I gave Isaiah and Scott a long look. They were completely unabashed.
Meanwhile, the First Spider was calling to me, once again warning me of danger. Sometimes the First Spider can be a crashing bore who's given to stating the obvious.
I put a tin plate of food on the floor, and used my foot to scoot it over to the girl. Then I sat down on a battered wooden stool that was right next to the cell door.
After a long pause, a hand reached out from the mass of chains, snagged the edge of the plate and then dragged it to her. The girl grabbed some bread, sniffed it carefully, and then began savagely tearing into it.
"My name is May Jane Parker," I told her. "I'm the high lady of the Parker clan. What's your name?"
There was no reply. Since her mouth was full, perhaps that wasn't just a matter of feral rudeness.
Meanwhile, the First Spider was still warning me.
I got to my feet.
"If you want more food, just ask," I told her.
The girl's eyes - curiously dead and cold - met mine.
Then I turned and left the cell. Isaiah and Scott followed me out. Scott closed the door and locked it behind us.
It wasn't time yet.
The mage in my service is a short and slender Folk named David. He's a man of tremendous erudition. Some think of him as little more than a fussy and mild-mannered scholar, but to do that is a tremendous mistake. Actually, David is a full battle-mage trained in the College of House Strange. I know a great many dangerous people, and David is one of the more deadly.
"My Lady Parker," David said formally - a sure sign that he was going to be impertinent, "bringing a Spider-Blood into your home is a questionable notion."
Well, he certainly wasn't wrong about that. David's not wrong about too many things.
"I'm aware that I'm taking a risk," I told David. "But your theory about Spider-Bloods should be investigated. And, besides, having someone in my service who shares the lineages of the First Spider and the Old One would be tremendously useful. If we can make this work..."
"I never should have written that paper," David muttered with a rueful shake of his head.
I decided to ignore that fact that David had interrupted me. That so formal and polite a man as he would do so was a sure sign that he was deeply upset.
"Your paper was actually quite insightful," I pointed out.
"But it's just a theory!" David blurted out. "It didn't occur to me that you would risk your life because of it!"
Isaiah was standing off to the side. He was obviously becoming more and more worried as listened to the conversation.
"What paper are you talking about?" he asked David.
David looked at Isaiah. "Spider-Bloods are noted for their unbalanced viciousness. I ventured an opinion as to why that might be."
Then David paused. His stony face alight with curiosity, Isaiah made an interested 'go on' gesture with a massive hand.
"As you know, there are consequences to possessing the blood of both the First Spider and the Old One," David continued tiredly.
"Yes... they're howling-at-the-moon mad," Scott interjected. He was behind all of us, keeping an eye on the door as a good yojimbo should.
"Not exactly a technical turn of phrase," David said dryly. "But that's the gist of it. But then comes the deeper question. Why does the sharing of those two blood-lines result in dangerous madness?"
"Because the children are accursed," Scott responded immediately. That was Blood religious doctrine, but it was also a teaching of the Spider-Priestesses.
David shook his head. "Are the offspring of Spider and Blood really evil? And, if so, why? Other peoples mix with Spiders and Bloods without such consequences. Is it perhaps possible that our taboo against such children is not merely because the great spirits disapprove? Or is it more likely that they are forbidden because the results tend to be disastrous for reasons not clearly understood?"
Scott gave David a long and level look that suggested he could smell the stench of blasphemy. Blood can react aggressively in such circumstances.
I interrupted hastily. "David proposed a possible reason why Spider-Bloods are unbalanced. It makes a great deal of sense."
That grabbed the full attention of both Scott and Isaiah.
"Spider-Bloods have the same connection to the First Spider as ordinary Spiders," I continued. "The First Spider warns them of danger."
"That's actually an argument that Spider-Bloods are not truly lost to the First Spider," Isaiah pointed out.
Scott glanced at Isaiah, considered his words, and then slowly nodded his head in agreement. Scott has always been proof that 'uneducated' is not the same as 'stupid'.
I nodded. "So Spider-Bloods receive the First Spider's warnings of danger, but they also share in the Old One's gift of exceptionally keen senses."
Then I looked at David. It was his theory, he should be allowed to explain the details.
"What if the keen senses of the Blood and the warnings of the First Spider are in collision with each other?" David asked. "A Blood senses a far greater region of their surrounding world than other peoples. In the case of a Spider-Blood, the First Spider's warnings would have to address a vast array of possible threats. Far more than that of an ordinary Spider."
"She's always in danger," Scott said suddenly, his eyes narrowed in consideration. "Everything around her - for hundreds of yards in all directions - is checked to see if it's a threat. But in a place like Nyack, there's always somebody who's at least near-dangerous in such a large area. Even common thieves or thugs who're actually targeting someone else might register as a threat. And, of course, the girl will react to those threats. That's probably why she killed Rodney and his gang. They may not even have known her, but she knew all about them."
"Correct - that's very good, Scott," David said as he nodded regretfully.
The next day, I visited the cell again. This time, the girl was in fewer chains. I imagined it was no coincidence that Scott had some ugly, but mostly-healed, cuts and scratches. Isaiah also looked somewhat worse for the wear.
I slid a plate of food over to the girl. Isaiah and Scott were quite tense as I did that. As I approached her, I could see the girl estimating distances, trying to decide if she could get to me.
Then I once again retreated and took my seat on the stool.
"Why did you let that Folk get away from you?" I asked.
The girl froze, her hand almost on the plate. She frowned as she looked up at me.
"The Folk man who knocked on the door and asked if you were hurt," I clarified. "His name is Mr. Bodeen. He should have been easy prey. So why did you let him live?"
Still staring at me, she seemed to consider her answer for several seconds.
"I just wanted him to go away," she said after a while. She had a completely normal voice for a girl-child of her age.
"Is that why didn't you kill him?" I asked.
"He wasn't dangerous. I didn't need to kill him," she said in a manner that suggested she thought my question was stupid.
I nodded and left. That was the response I'd hoped to hear.
But it still wasn't time.
On the third day, I had Isaiah bring in a large tub of hot water. Scott was by my side, carrying some bath supplies and with a suitable dress casually slung over his shoulder. I noted with amusement that the color of the dress went well with Scott's eyes, but there was absolutely no way I would ever tell him that.
Isaiah stood in front of Scott and I, the tub still in his arms as he gave the girl a long look. Steam from the hot water in the washtub wreathed his head and shoulders.
"We've gone around more than once," Isaiah finally told her firmly. "You haven't won yet. So don't get any ideas."
The girl didn't respond, but something unspoken seemed to pass between her and Isaiah. For want of a better term, I'd call it a sense of grudging respect.
Moving carefully, so he wouldn't slop the hot water, Isaiah put the tub on the floor next to the girl. Then - still being careful - he knelt next to her and unlocked the manacles restraining her wrists and ankles.
The girl got to her feet, rubbing her wrists as she did. Chains slithered from her body as she gazed at us without any trace of fear.
Scott tossed a bar of soap into the tub, and then draped the towel and the dress on the stool and shoved it next to the tub. All the while, he made sure that he was between me and the girl. Isaiah had retreated to a position by my side.
"What's that?" the girl said as she stared suspiciously at the tub.
"You take a bath in it," I told her.
She gave me an puzzled look.
"Like washing in the river," Scott clarified.
"The water's hot," the girl pointed out warily. "Are you trying to cook me?"
Isaiah chuckled. "It's not that hot," I told her. "And a warm bath feels good. Go ahead and give it a try."
Unhesitatingly peeling off her rags, the girl dipped a toe in the water. She had a lithe body, deeply tanned and not yet filled out by any trace of womanhood. Frowning at the tub, she eventually gave a very adult-looking shrug and finally climbed inside. As she settled in, a smile appeared on her face, but quickly vanished.
"The thing floating in the water is called soap," Scott said gruffly. "Rub it on your face, hands, and body. It helps you get clean faster."
The girl skeptically grabbed at the bar of soap - and it squirted out of her hand.
"Use both hands," Scott suggested with a roll of his eyes.
After giving Scott a glare, the girl slammed a fist into the bar of soap and drove it underwater. Water splashed out of the tub, but then the girl triumphantly held up her hand. The bar of soap was neatly impaled on her hand-claws.
"Kids..." Scott muttered mostly to himself.
Pulling the soap from her claws, the girl began washing. The process was clumsy at first, but she quickly got the hang of it. Eventually, she climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself. She didn't seem to understand the concept of using the towel to dry herself.
Stepping forward, I handed her a plate of food. Scott and Isaiah had almost simultaneous near-seizures, but they weren't able to intervene in time.
Actually, it was safe. The First Spider had no warning for me. I wasn't in danger.
It was time.
The girl grabbed a slice of cheese and began wolfing it down.
"What do you want?" she asked me.
"I want to offer you a place in my house," I told her as I picked up the dress and sat down on the wooden stool.
The girl frowned at me as she swallowed.
"She's offering you a job," Scott clarified.
The girl frowned even more deeply. "A job? But she's a Spider. Her kind doesn't like me."
I made a gesture with the dress. "Use the towel to rub the water from your body. Then put this on. And not all Spiders dislike Spider-Bloods."
For some reason, the girl looked at Scott.
"Her ladyship does a lot of unusual things," Scott told her. He sounded more than a little resigned.
"Blood don't like me either," the girl added warily as she peered closely at Scott.
Scott nodded his head. "True, but I'm a live-and-let-live sort of Blood."
"You hit me. A lot," the girl pointed out.
"It was a fight," Scott retorted - his tone now very serious. "And it was a fight you started. When you start fights, don't complain when they don't go your way."
The wisdom of the Blood can be rough, but it does speak to a certain truth.
Apparently done with Scott, the girl looked at Isaiah. "You're kind - Rockies - usually don't bother me."
Isaiah nodded placidly as he took the dress from me and handed it to the girl. "We are a serene people - until the time of clobbering arrives. And please don't call us 'Rockies'. That's rude. We are the Grimm, the most loyal and devout children of the holy Four."
"Okay," the girl said distractedly as she quickly scrambled into the dress. It looked nice on her. She smoothed it down with her hands and smiled down at the mixed pattern of birds and flowers.
"What do you want me to do?" she asked me. She seemed intrigued by the concept.
"I need a handmaiden," I informed her.
Isaiah and Scott stirred uneasily, but said nothing. That was the first they'd heard of that. The duties of a handmaiden would require the girl to be in constant contact with me. Any good pair of yojimbos would find that an uncomfortable possibility.
"What's a handmaiden? And why would I want to do it?" the girl asked testily.
"You get three meals a day and a warm place to sleep," Scott told her dryly. Then Scott winced as he realized that he really didn't want to give the girl good reason to accept the position.
"Where are your parents?" Isaiah asked quickly. I think he was hoping to get an answer that meant we couldn't keep the girl.
"Gone," the girl replied after a moment of hesitation. "I never knew my Da. Momma's dead."
"What's your name?" Scott asked.
"Lucifer," the girl replied.
Isaiah blinked in surprise - that name had meaning to him. Scott didn't react. He's not particularly learned and he probably didn't know the reference.
"That's a male name," Isaiah said slowly.
The girl - Lucifer - gave Isaiah a slightly puzzled look. "Momma read it in a book. She said it means 'lightbringer'. She always told me that I brought her light. She never said anything about it being a girl's name or boy's name."
"Was your mother Blood or Spider-Folk?" Scott asked curiously.
"Blood."
"How did she die?"
Lucifer looked away. "I was hiding and she was bringing me food. She'd just finished a job and had money. A Wilder gang jumped her. There were too many of them."
"What gang?" Scott asked with sudden interest.
Lucifer's eyes met Scott's. "They're all dead," she told him.
Scott considered Lucifer's words. Then he smiled and shook his head.
"Where did your mother die?" he asked.
Lucifer seemed surprised by the question, but she answered anyway. "Near the big park, on the side closest to the Towers. Why?"
Scott just shrugged and didn't respond.
I picked up a hair-brush from the supplies we'd brought.
"Come here," I told Lucifer. Isaiah and Scott didn't look happy as she approached. They often accuse me of doing things just to upset them. Actually, they're right, but that wasn't the case this time. Lucifer's hair was a fright.
"Hold still," I said as I began running the brush through Lucifer's hair.
Her head rocking rhythmically from side to side as I brushed her hair, Lucifer actually smiled at me.
"Milady, is this really a good idea?" Isaiah asked me once we were alone. I took no offense at his words. He was just doing his duty.
"Time will tell," I replied.
"Lucifer may have seemed calm just now," Isaiah pointed out, "but how do you know she won't become violent over some trifle?"
I looked into Isaiah's eyes. "I trust in the First Spider," I told him. "He didn't feel I was in danger when we talked to Lucifer. And I'm sure he'll let me know if that changes."
Isaiah nodded glumly. The other peoples don't share the great gift of the First Spider - the sense that alerts us to danger. They sometimes have difficulty understanding just how different that makes us from them.
"Trust me - and stay close," I told Isaiah.
"Yes, milady," Isaiah responded.
We were in a long-abandoned stone shed that was located near the rear of my estate.
"Who are you?" Lucifer asked belligerently. She was on the balls of her feet, leaning very slightly forward, yet still balanced. That's the common, instinctual, stance for a female Blood who's anticipating violence.
The old man smiled at her. He was a wisp of a fellow, wearing white cotton pants and shirt. On his feet were a pair of worn, woven-straw slippers.
"My name is Wendell," the old man answered. Despite his ascetic appearance, his accent spoke of high birth. "I've been told that your name is Lucifer."
Lucifer nodded slowly. She was staring at Wendell, her head tilted to the side. It was as if she were having a problem focusing on him. Perhaps it was because the old man was simultaneously extremely dangerous, yet offering no threat to her. She wasn't sure how to interpret him.
Then the old man gracefully descended into a seated position, his legs crossed before him.
"Sit like this," he told Lucifer. His voice was kindly, but what he had said was unmistakably an order.
Lucifer considered that for a second or two, then she shrugged and sat down, imitating Wendell's position.
"Your mistress has asked me to help you," the old man continued quietly. "We will meet every few days and I will teach you to focus your thoughts and senses. They are a part of your chi and can be mastered. The purpose of this is to bring peace to your heart. You will need to do that in order to become a person."
A fold of the old man's shirt had fallen away. On his chest, you could see the dragon brand of his kind.
Then the old man glanced at me. It was another order, but this time it was unspoken. And when the Iron Fist has accepted your plea for help, it's not wise to question him in any way.
So I bowed and backed away.
"Close your eyes," I heard the old man say to Lucifer, just before I closed the door.
Scott looked at Isaiah. "We have the Iron Fist training a Spider-Blood," he said in the tired voice of a man who was being inundated by the incredible.
"We'll certainly never have reason to regret that," Isaiah responded with a slow shake of his head.
"Quit whining and go have a drink," I told them.
"You haven't tried to kill her ladyship," Scott said to Lucifer. It was the kind of statement that was really a question.
By then, Lucifer had been in my service for two weeks. To almost everyone's surprise, she was actually fitting into my household.
Scott and Lucifer were in the room next to my office. David - my Folk mage - was taking dictation as I composed a speech for the Apothecary guild. Lucifer and Scott didn't realize that the door was partially open.
"I don't want to hurt her," Lucifer replied, "but you couldn't stop me."
"Her ladyship may be more dangerous than you think," Scott pointed out. "And attacking her would be the last thing you ever do."
Lucifer sighed. "Why are you and Isaiah so sure that you can take me in a fight?"
"We've done it before," Scott pointed out. "And besides, we'd have lots of help."
A rather petulant silence was Lucifer's only reply. She really doesn't like to lose - or even be presented with the possibility that she might lose.
"Let me put it another way," Scott continued. "So why haven't you cut Lady Parker's throat and run off with her jewelry?"
"You said it yourself - three meals a day and a warm place to sleep," Lucifer countered immediately.
That actually made Scott chuckle "Is that all?" he asked.
There was a pause. When Lucifer spoke again, her voice seemed oddly subdued. "She's nice to me."
By most standards, Lucifer was a mediocre handmaiden - she had too much independence of thought and a dreadful number of slovenly habits. She was shockingly immodest, watching her eat was a horrifying experience, and sometimes I spent more time tending to her appearance than she did to mine. However, in general, she was showing every sign of becoming a faithful member of my retinue. And she had value for purposes other than the trivialities of dressing, bathing, and keeping my personal chambers in order.
Dressed as a minor servant, Lucifer at first glance seemed to be a rather unremarkable girl - possibly Wilder, but probably Folk. And her position required that she be in my constant attendance. She could even sleep in the same room as me, which is something that Scott or Isaiah obviously couldn't do.
Actually, Lucifer was my final bodyguard.
"Do I have to do this?" Lucifer complained.
I glanced up from the stack of correspondence that I was reviewing. By then, Lucifer had been in my service for about a month.
"Yes, you do," I replied firmly. Lucifer responded by sticking out her lower lip.
"Stop pouting," David told her mildly. As a battlemage, David is a learned man and had spent some time in the college of House Strange, imparting his knowledge to younger minds. As the only person on my staff with experience as an teacher, I'd given him the responsibility of being Lucifer's pedagogue. Every day, the two of them spent an hour together going over the basics of reading, writing, mathematics, and history.
Frankly, it wasn't going well.
"I'm not pouting!" Lucifer pouted.
David sighed. Actually, he's a very patient man, but Lucifer was a challenge. Then he closed the primer that was sitting on the table in front of Lucifer and pulled another book from his carrying case.
"Let's try something else," he told Lucifer.
David flipped the book open and used a pair of smoothly polished river-stones to hold the pages in place.
Lucifer glared at the new book in front of her, but then her mood seemed to soften and turn into something else. She's fundamentally a very curious girl. And besides, I'd overheard Wendell sternly tell her that she should respect David's teachings.
The book was illustrated. Lucifer looked at an etching that took up an entire page.
"This book is a collection of tales about the Great Lord," David told Lucifer. "This picture shows his wedding to his first wife. Her name was Sarah. She was a Wilder lady from the ancient family of Grey. Many say she was the most beautiful woman of her day."
Suddenly interested, Lucifer traced a small finger across the image.
"She is really pretty," Lucifer said judiciously, "but... if she was a high lady, this isn't much of a wedding. Where is everyone? Where's their families, the person-who-talks, the musicians, and the food? I've seen fisher-folk families put on better. There was always something to beg or steal."
David nodded. "The Great Lord was a penniless ronin at that time. It was a sign of the man he would become that he wooed a lady of Sarah Grey's rank."
"Some say that it was his marriage to Sarah Grey that set him on the path to greatness," I interrupted. Perhaps my tone was a bit arch. David would inevitably give Lucifer the masculine view of history.
That made David chuckle. "The Great Lord himself would agree with you, milady. He always told others that he had no choice but to give the world to the noble lady who'd lowered herself to marry just another wandering killer."
"Why the broom?" Lucifer said as she pointed to an object near the bottom of the picture. By then her eyes were bright and interested.
"It's part of an ancient wedding practice," David told her. "When a man and a woman have nothing - not even the price for a priestess or cleric to perform a ceremony - they instead join hands and jump over a broom together. After that, they're married. It's a custom respected by all faiths."
"I don't know how accurate that story is," I added skeptically. "While the Great Lord was perhaps without wealth at that time of his life, a lady of House Grey would certainly have had her own funds, jewelry, fine dresses, and the other accouterments of a high Lady. I imagine she could have bought a fine wedding merely by selling one of her less expensive bottles of perfume."
"No," Lucifer said with sudden certainty, her eyes still locked on the story book. "She knew what she was doing. She probably made her man do it that way. She thought it would mean more."
I choked back a perhaps cynical reply. Suddenly, I realized what David was doing. I had to hide a smile.
David pulled a sheet of good vellum out of his bag. Then he picked up his pen and carefully dipped it into an ink pot.
"Are you sure that's what Lady Grey was thinking?" he asked. "Perhaps we could write the story."
It took Lucifer a moment to figure out what David was saying. "Wait... you mean we can tell our own stories?"
David nodded. "Yes, but we have to find the words. And then we have to write them down so the story won't be lost once we're done. How do you want to start?"
Lucifer cocked her head as she gazed at the blank sheet of paper. "There's something momma said when she told me stories. The first words were always the same."
"What were they?" David asked innocently.
"'Once upon a time,'" Lucifer repeated carefully from memory.
David smiled as he poised his pen above the paper.
"That's an excellent place to start. How do you spell 'Once'?"
Lucifer frowned. "It starts with a big circle. Right?"
"It's the letter 'O'," David said patiently. "And when it or another letter are big, we call them capital letters."
Then David sketched the letter out in an elegant hand. "Keep going," he told Lucifer encouragingly.
Lucifer's face had become a ferocious mask of concentration. Of course, she's inclined to do everything ferociously.
"Hi," Lucifer said. If you knew her, you'd realize that she was somewhat embarrassed.
"Hello," Mr. Bodeen replied slowly. I think he was alarmed, but he was trying to hide it.
We were northeast of the Towers - not that far from Lucifer's old haunts. She'd seen Bodeen in a crowd out on the street and, after asking my permission, gone to talk with him.
By that time, Lucifer had been with me for almost six months.
Lucifer took a deep breath before continuing. "I'm sorry for beating you up."
Scott was standing between me and the crowd of common people that now included Lucifer and Mr. Bodeen. He blinked in surprise.
Then Bodeen gave Lucifer a long and rather skeptical look. "It's okay," he finally replied.
"I've got a job," Lucifer added. It seemed to me that there was a note of pride in her voice.
Bodeen seemed to consider Lucifer. "You are a servant to Lady Parker?" he asked. There was some incredulity in his words.
Lucifer's head bobbed up and down eagerly. "I'm a handmaiden." She was obviously proud to say that.
"Oh..." replied Bodeen. "I'm glad to see you've found a place."
Lucifer grinned at Bodeen, and then reached up and gave him a friendly punch in the arm. Bodeen tried not to wince, but didn't quite succeed. Lucifer is a phenomenally strong girl.
"No hard feelings?" she asked.
A smile suddenly crept over Bodeen's face as he massaged the arm Lucifer had punched. "No. No hard feelings."
Then, for some reason, Mr. Bodeen looked in my direction and gave me a deep bow.
Lucifer was in my service for almost a year before she finally killed for me.
We were in Maschet, staying at an inn in the center of ancient Bost. I was in town on business - some Spiders are sailors and their ships pursue both trade and war up and down the east coast and across the Lant ocean in general. My family needed to better define our business relationship with the most prominent of the Bost shipping families, otherwise a trade war might erupt and nobody wanted that. I was sent to smooth over troubled waters, offering incentives and threats as required.
The gang of Tigrene thieves - cat-burglars you might say - were supposedly after my valuables. Actually, they were assassins sent by one or more factions who hoped to kill me and disrupt the talks with the Bost shippers.
The Tigrene's were fairly well informed. They knew about my most obvious guardians, but they didn't know about Lucifer.
The First Spider called me awake and I jumped out of bed. The sound of battle - pantherish screams, Grimm war-cries, and building-shaking crashes - suddenly exploded throughout the inn.
Lucifer was already up, clad in a typically immodest white sleeping gown as she crouched in a position where she could watch me, the only window, and the door into my room. Someone with the senses of both the First Spider and the Old One is not a person who can be easily surprised.
Lucifer suddenly pivoted towards the door. At that moment, a tangle of bodies smashed through it. It was Scott and a trio of Tigrene assassins. Red blood and orange-black fur flew as they savagely slashed at each other. Scott was obviously trying to keep the Tigrene's tangled up long enough for me to escape. He was holding his own, but having a difficult time keeping the Tigrene's focused on him. Tigrene's can be slippery opponents.
As near as I could tell from the roar of battle coming from downstairs, Isaiah and my other guards were fighting another, larger, band of assassins within the inn's common room. Thunder from the direction of the stairs, accompanied by an actinic flare of light and snarling screams, told me that David was also involved in the battle.
Lucifer didn't hesitate - she threw herself against the wall next to the door. From that unconventional position, perpendicular to gravity, she lashed out at the nearest Tigrene, landing a cut that split his arm open. Meanwhile, I picked up a belt of knives that I always keep next to my bed and leaped up onto the ceiling. From there, I pitched a thin throwing knife into the eye of a powerfully built Tigrene male who was trying to climb through the window. Without a sound, he dropped out of sight.
Between them, Lucifer and Scott quickly settled the remaining assassins. I didn't bother to interfere any further, since that would merely distract the two of them. They might became overprotective of me and that would actually put the three of us in greater danger.
Isaiah appeared at the door just as the last assassin gurgled out her final breath. He was splattered from head to foot with blood. He glanced up at me to make sure that I was uninjured, then began scooping up the Tigrene bodies and throwing them out the door. Scott took a position at the window, peering outside. I dropped from the ceiling and Lucifer instantly took her place by my side. After the last Tigrene body had been ejected from my room, Isaiah - a craggy smile on his face - paused to roughly smooth back Lucifer's hair. She scrunched her nose at him, which is really most unladylike. I resolved to have a talk with her about that sort of thing.
"Good work," Isaiah told Lucifer.
"I love this job," Lucifer responded with a grin that I can only describe as perky.
I think that was when Isaiah finally accepted Lucifer. Scott, much to my surprise, had come around to her presence much earlier.
After settling our business in Bost, we headed back to Nyack. The trip was uneventful and we made good time.
We were traveling across town in my carriage - I hate the damn thing and would much rather be on horseback - when Scott suddenly spoke up.
"Milady, can we stop for a moment?" he yelled down from his seat. He was driving the carriage.
I was more than a little surprised. Scott almost never asks for anything. However, I was in no particular hurry, so...
"Very well," I called back. "Is something wrong?"
"No, milady," Scott replied as the carriage ground to a halt. Then it lurched slightly as he dismounted.
The carriage door opened. "I need Lucifer for a moment," Scott told me. There was something very serious in his eyes.
Lucifer shot me a look. I nodded. Then she got out of the carriage. Isaiah, who'd been marching beside the carriage, closed the door and stood next to it. On the carriage bench opposite me, David whispered a spell of detection and warning, while his hands made the gestures that prepared a much more deadly spell. The two House Legionnaires who were pacing us on horseback crowded the carriage itself. One handed the reins to his horse off to the other and bounded up into the carriage seat.
Peering out the window, it took me a second to realize where we were. There was some road work being done in the city and we were off our usual route. We were at the northernmost corner of the Center park, a considerable distance from both the great Towers and my home.
Suddenly, I realized what Scott was doing.
I watched in silence as Scott used fragments of broken cobble-stones to build a small cairn. Then he said something to Lucifer that I couldn't hear. Lucifer listened intently and then she and Scott knelt before the cairn. Scott showed Lucifer how to properly clap her hands - the traditional way to catch the attention of the spirits. Then they both closed their eyes.
I felt a sudden surge of guilt. It had never even occurred to me that Lucifer should be educated in the ways of faith, but what is the faith of a Spider-Blood? So many believe that they are lost to the goddesses and the great spirits.
Apparently Scott had made his own decision about that. Scott is not a man of learning, or even great faith, but he is a very traditional person. As far as he was concerned, the ancient practices were a thing to be respected and observed.
"Huh..." David grunted in surprise. "This is a strange time and place to call upon the Old One."
"They're not summoning the Old One," I told him.
David seemed puzzled and I felt the need to explain further.
"Lucifer's bringing light to her mother," I clarified.
Outside of the carriage, Isaiah muttered something about blasphemy, but then he chuckled.
David considered my words. Then he nodded carefully.
"Some say her kind doesn't have a soul," he said as his eyes met mine. I wondered if David was trying to warn me.
I glanced back towards Lucifer and Scott. There was now a glimmer of tears in Lucifer's eyes.
"They're wrong," I told David.