Author's Note on May 2010:
Disclaimer: I don't own the Labyrinth.
Description: While visiting Sarah, Toby suddenly disappears. Certain the blame is on the Goblin King, Sarah embarks a journey back to the Underground, only to find out things are not as they seem.
Pairing: Jareth and Sarah, after a while. If you're seeking pure fluff, I suggest you look that from somewhere else. Romance can sometimes be painful too.
Warning: M means M. Even if I'm not overusing gore, sex, profanities, or violence for their sake solely, be warned that they are included in the story.
Betaed by Anaksunan, in addition to some very helpful suggestions from Naheniel. Thank you both!
The Land That Is Not
Chapter Two
o O o
The doorbell let out a faint ring as if wrapped in cotton as she opened the door. Its sound lingered in the room and Sarah's ears while she enquired about in the murky space she had entered. The door let out a loud bang, slamming shut behind her; its hinges creaked noisily, mixing with the muffled sound of a bell, hanging above the doorframe. She sniffled in the air while looking over the cramped shelves of heavy and dark tomes, covered with a thick layer of web-like grime, and frowned. The place smelled of wet paper, moss, and old age. Like jealous, the few windows, along the wall of the front door, scarcely allowed pale triangles of light in to illuminate the room. Flocks of dust glittered in the sunbeams, drifting in lazy circles - visible and gone again. Taking a careful step forward, Sarah ventured deeper.
"Hello?" She tried out her voice, straining her neck toward the open doorway she perceived at the other side amidst the crowded shelves, appearing to her eyes like a rough dappled brick wall. "Mister Hoopoe?" she received no answer. "Anyone?"
After waiting for some time and not receiving an answer, she gave herself a permission to approach the uneven piles of books. Carefully, she bent towards the one next to her and read the title of the book on the top. Curiosity tingling in her nerves, Sarah picked it up and opened randomly from the middle, nearly expecting to be sucked in the black-and-white pages, and the story to come alive. Half disappointed when nothing unusual happened, she shut the volume.
Her forehead marred; the place remained as empty as before, and the dense silence rung in her ears. Even the everlasting buzzing of the traffic appeared to be muffled by the thick brick walls that hid the bookstore from the city. She took a gander around, thinking she heard a silent twittering sound, yet seeing nothing. Not a very typical enterprise to request for an advertisement campaign, Sarah decided finally.
"Mister Hoopoe?" She hollered a bit louder, brushing off her musings while placing the book back on its place, and proceeded further. "It's me, Sarah Williams from EDAD's. We had an appointment for today. Are you here?"
"Of course you are."
She cried aloud, startled, and spun swiftly around. Sarah stared at the man, standing between her and the door, and the nervousness that earlier lay dormant at the back of her mind sprung in to life.
"Mi-mister Hoopoe?"
He chuckled and combed his fingers through his hair, giving her a long look. "No. Sarah Williams."
"Excuse me?" She stuttered and stepped backwards to get a better look at the man. A light beard covered a face with an aquiline nose. He might have been thirty-years old as well as fifty; his countenance possessed some sort of hard-defined agelessness. Yet, his clothes truly captured her interest: an old-fashioned black-and-white jacket covered his burly figure. Its hems reached the ground and shuffled silently as he stepped forward. Edges of a white ruffled shirt burst beneath the collar of the shimmering fabric, and the pale light, gliding in behind him, formed an odd halo around his head, emphasizing the ash-like color of his hair. His dark eyes sparkled curiously as he met her stare.
He smiled, and little furrows appeared on his face, making him suddenly appear older. "Of course you are Miss Sarah Williams. That is evident, isn't it?" He moved closer. "We don't very often get lovely young women with special talents here, such as you." The man stopped, tilting his head while grasping her hand in his own, and shook it vigorously. "Tereus Hoopoe, delighted to make your acquaintance!"
"Sarah Williams. Umm…likewise," Sarah attempted to sound friendly, covering her strained grimace.
"Well now! This is truly exceptional! I must demand you to step in to my bureau where you can tell me all!"
"Ah, about the campaign?" Sarah hesitated, stealing a desperate glance over the man's shoulders at the dark front door, fingers crushed underneath his strong handshake.
For a moment, Mister Hoopoe's eyes got murky, like he didn't understand her. Then the light returned to his gaze; his mouth spread in a bright smile. "But of course! The campaign, precisely of that!" He nodded fiercely. "I insist!"
Muttering incoherent words along the way, he dragged her through the open doorframe on the other wall. Sarah squeezed her briefcase straps more tightly and glanced at the surroundings of the long hallway, noticing thick wooden doors lining the corridor's wall. She gasped when she made out ornamental brass hinges, knobs and etched patterns of blooming gardens and singing birds. Small figures of sparrows, great eagles, and many others birds she didn't recognize, glared at her from their gilded branches. One of the doors especially snared her attention. Unlike the others, it only depicted one bird with the tips of its feathery wings stretching from one side to the other. With an open beak, neck tilted in a backward position, it looked like the surrounding golden and red flames were trying to consume the bird. It was an odd picture - the bird appeared to be both in pain and still rejoicing. She didn't have time to stop and admire the craftsmanship as Mister Hoopoe pulled her impatiently forward.
Soon enough they arrived at a small room, crowded with dark furniture, bookshelves, boards, a table and a pair of armchairs. A small window in the red brick wall allowed some of the precious autumn light in to play over the surface of the polished wooden furniture. Like the bookstore, the walls of his office overflowed with books from floor to ceiling, the sunbeams glittered on the gold lettered titles. The man ushered Sarah to take a seat at the massive table, taking off her jacket and placing it on the rack next to the door.
"Allow me," he hurried to Sarah, pulling the chair out for her. Tensely, Sarah sat down and sunk in the suffocating cushions. She sensed the nails of his fingertips hovering near her neck. Sarah jolted, grounding her teeth, and let out a relieved sigh as the man stepped further away, raising his voice, "Procne! Some water and nourishment for our esteemed guest! And make it quick!"
His steps echoed against the wooden floor, the planks creaking loudly as he circled Sarah to sit down. She narrowed her eyes, half-blinded by the bright light that poured through the window behind his back and barely made out the outlines of his profile and his broad shoulders. He leaned back, hidden amidst shadows the sharp light cast on to him - only his dark eyes glimmered visibly.
"So, Miss Williams. Would you tell me…"
"Yes?" She prepared to raise her case and pull out the first sketches she had outlined - annoyingly few. Despite her best efforts, she had found information about the store only scantly. The place had no web pages, no references, and she couldn't discover details of it in any business directories. The only thing she succeeded to dig out of "Words from the Labyrinth" was a small marking on the Yellow Pages. When taking into consideration this peculiar book dealer, she no longer wondered why Ed had so keenly shoved the task off his shoulders.
"Whatever made you decide to endeavor in your present career?"
Unprepared for the question, her eyes widened in surprise, and she nearly dropped her briefcase. "Eh...?"
"Yes, Miss Williams," he inquired, seemingly unaware - or uncaring of the impoliteness of his prying, leaning forward.
Sarah was saved from answering by a sudden creaking of the door. Mister Hoopoe brought up his gaze, looking behind her. "Procne!" The man exclaimed. "This is Miss Sarah Williams, the lady I told of."
Sarah turned on her seat and saw a sweet-looking petite woman some ten years older than her stepping in. The woman stopped, a tray in her hands, and returned the look. Her piercing eyes bore through Sarah; and for a while Sarah thought she recognized something forlorn and pitying in her expression. Then a veil fell over her gaze, Procne lowered her face, and stepped forward. The fabric of her gown hissed quietly as she treaded over the wooden planks to the table, soft tinkling escorting her, Sarah noticed then a small golden chain with a bell on it was tied around her neck. Procne placed the tray in the scarce free space between the piled books and yellow paper. A scent of braised tea and fresh-baked cookies surged in Sarah's nose from underneath the white cloth, covering a straw basket. An elegant porcelain set of two cups, a teapot, and, strangely, a shallow water bowl stood on the tray.
"Miss Williams… or can I call you Sarah? Miss Williams sounds so very official," without waiting her reply, he continued, gesturing towards the woman. "This is my wife, Procne."
Sarah attempted to stand up, but the woman smiled, signaling her to stay seated, and bent her head slightly in acknowledgment. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," she said softly and glanced at her husband. "Do you need anything else?"
"Nay," Mister Hoopoe shook his head, his expression distant. "This is fine as it is, you may go now."
She turned to leave but halted when the man raised his voice. "Tell your sister to hurry up with the weaving! I want to have the work finished by today!"
Procne glanced over her shoulders and nodded. "I will, my husband," she spoke, glancing at Sarah, and something in her voice and expression left Sarah shuddering.
After the door closed, a momentary silence hung in the room. "Where were we at?" Mister Hoopoe muttered with a furrowed forehead, before his expression brightened. "Oh, yes: in your career!"
Sarah shut her eyes and swallowed down the lamentation that lingered on the tip of her tongue. "Yes, Mister Hoopoe?"
"No, no!" He cried. "Tereus!" Emphasizing his words, he banged his fist against the table. The teacups jingled cheerfully at the force of his thrust. "I insist we stick to first name base. I will not have it otherwise!"
"Ah," Sarah squirmed in her comfy chair, "Tereus." She agreed with a heavy sigh.
"That's more to my liking." He nodded approvingly. "So, Sarah, tell me how did you end up…" His mouth twitched as he searched for the right words, "in this EDAD Ltd.?"
"I'm a Creative Director," Sarah carefully said. "I guess it's customary to work in an advertising agency in such a case."
"Oh?" He leaned back in his chair, and Sarah crinkled her stinging eyes, trying to perceive more of him, still blinded by the light. "And what does a Creative Director," he sounded like he tasted the word as it rolled out of his mouth, "do?"
Here was the cue she had been waiting for. Relieved, Sarah lifted up her briefcase. "If I may?" She inquired, placing the case on her knees and snapped open the brass locks on its side. "I have my portfolio with me." She shuffled through her papers, glancing at the dark outline of the man, and handed him her black-covered folder. When he didn't accept it, Sarah lowered the folder on the table with the rest of the items laying there, "…should you wish to see some of my earlier projects?" She lamely suggested, but when the man still didn't move, hurried forward, "I also have with me some suggestions I came up with, with my team for the campaign of your bookstore."
"Oh, really?" He inquired nonchalantly.
"Unless, of course, you already have something in your mind," Sarah said hastily. "I must confess that I found very little information of your store, or details of your proposition in that matter too. I was hoping you would be willing to tell me more of your objectives?"
Tereus flipped his hand casually. "Minor little details."
Sarah gawked at him. "I beg your pardon!" She cringed at her words, but the man didn't appear to mind.
"We can discuss those later on." He bent forward, returning into the light. "At the moment I'm more inclined to learn about you, Sarah Williams…"
"Oh?" She moistened her lips, her heart thumping against her chest. Giving the man a suspicious eye, she leaned away from him, searching for comfort from the backrest of her chair.
His soft chortle broke off her considerations. "Ah, my dear! Don't look so desperate. I merely wish to learn more of my possible payee."
"Really, Mister, I mean, Tereus?" she quickly corrected, her heart's beatings calming down.
"Quite so," he assured, stretching his arms towards the tray his wife had brought, and lifted the water bowl in front of him. "I've understood that an advertisement campaign requires for intensive planning and can be quite costly too. Before deciding on anything, I want to secure that my assets will be well used." He gave her a lingering look, while soaking his fingers in the bowl and causing the water to splash loudly. It was a small wonder none of it spilt over. Lifting his dripping wet hands, Tereus took a soft linen cloth from the tray and wiped his hands dry.
Sarah bit her lip, refraining from inquiring about the reason for this rite, which he seemed to perform with an unusual serenity; and it took some time to realize he expected Sarah to do the same. Hesitantly, she accepted the bowl the man offered to her, lowering it on the table, and sunk her hands in the water. The lukewarm liquid felt surprisingly nice, warming up her locked fingers. She smelled a faint scent of sweet herbs and flowers that reminded her of summer meadows and school holidays of her youth.
After drying her hands, she gave a weak nod, and the man dashed a white-teethed smile. "In that case, my dearest Sarah, what made you choose to become a Creative Director? I would rather imagine seeing you on a stage instead that you would be the one imaging what will be placed there."
Sarah's lips quavered edgily. "New York's an expensive city," she said at last. "I have a degree in cultural history and, since neither culture or history hardly pays off." Her voice died away.
He nearly sounded amused as he asked, "And how about your family? A young woman, as lovely as you, must have someone significant in her life. You cannot be more than twenty-five."
"I'm twenty-seven," Sarah replied tersely, "and my family lives out of the city."
"Your spouse?" His brows arched up questioningly.
Sarah crinkled her eyes and slowly replied. "No. My parents. And my siblings."
"You have many of them?" He persisted.
She gave him a sharp glance, hesitating. "Two: a brother and a sister"
"Oh, really? And might I inquire of their names and ages?
"Toby's twelve, and Chrysta's only four."
Tereus' expression changed suddenly. He sighed and leaned backwards, hiding his countenance from her. "My Itys," his voice nearly broke, "…my son is nearly the same age with your brother." He told her, his voice conveying a mixture of bitterness, anguish, and grief, "Or would be. I lost him when he was but a child." He clarified.
"I'm sorry!" Sarah softly cried, compassion for the man springing in to life in her heart, as she struggled against the need to know more.
"It was a true tragedy," Tereus mused aloud, "my wife… I cannot!" He interrupted with a choke. "Itys was, still is very dear to me." He fell in gloomy silence, "I take you care for your brother alike?"
She nodded weakly. "Very much…I miss him a lot, but he's going to visit me this following weekend," she said, with a guilty feeling she still hadn't contacted Hoggle despite Toby had asked her to. Sarah was still angry at the dwarf. Her love life didn't belong to Hoggle, even if he had been right when he said that David wasn't her type.
Apparently no one was, Sarah thought gloomily.
"Oh, really," Tereus nodded thoughtfully and asked unexpectedly, "Would you like some tea?"
His inquiries remained random. He appeared to be endlessly curious about her life, her career, and her family, asking of her about even the most trivial questions, such as her teenage hobbies and what kind of books she preferred. At last, he leaned back on his chair, and Sarah gulped down her cooled out tea to soothe her throat that ached from too much talking.
"Very delightful indeed," Tereus muttered, and, drained, Sarah remained silent. The light had shifted, and at last she perceived his features. He was inspecting her, his dark eyes gleaming oddly in the dusk as he tapped his finger against the curve of his chin. "It appears you are just the person, we've requested for." He raised his voice. "I trust you too had some issues you wanted to have answers to?"
"Ah, they would be very general," she heaved. "For the sake of planning of the campaign, I would like to know the budget you had in mind. And also to hear what kind of ideas you had installed for the campaign. As I told you, I have brought with me some suggestions you could perhaps review, and point out those of which you like the most."
She broke off when the man shrugged his shoulders. "I believe in your abilities to convey just the right words for me…" She gave him a sharp glance, but the man didn't appear to notice it, while continuing. "There's no need for me to interfere at this phase." He grinned. "In regards to budget, we can discuss that together with the contract."
She turned towards her briefcase, shuffling though her papers. "I have a standard copy with me. I can leave it here for evaluation."
"That won't be necessary," the man cut in, "as I've already written one for you."
"Oh?" She brought up her gaze, nervous again. "I fear I cannot sign anything." She muttered finally. "The one accepting contracts, is the director of the company."
He smiled. "Naturally. Therefore, you need to take the contract with you and return to me after your superior has accepted it."
Sarah arched her eyebrows, but kept her silence. She nearly hoped the man would have such outrageous demands that Ed couldn't in any possible way accept them, but even a brief glance over the paper convinced her otherwise. The man either was a lawyer, or had one - and a damned good one. Sighing, she placed the contract carefully with the rest of her papers and nodded. "Very well, I will return to you after the director has read through the proposal…"
"You do that, Sarah," he answered.
His tone suggested the meeting was at the end, and, wearily, Sarah got up from her suffocating chair, allowing Tereus to help the coat on her and escort her out of the room. Just when they reached the bookstore, the man slapped his forehead, crying out. "How could I ever forget! I need to fetch something from my office before your departure. Wait here." He commanded and hurried away, leaving her alone to eye the towering piles of books around her. Sarah glanced after the direction the man had vanished, remembering then the doors along the corridor. Hesitating, the curiosity itching in her mind, and the images of the gilded etchings flashing in front of her eyes, she sneaked after the man, hoping he wouldn't mind about her snooping around.
Sarah stopped in front of the print she suspected depicted a phoenix, marveling at the image. It was fantastic - each feather of the bird was inscribed precisely and clearly. His beak, tail, and the curves of his nails shimmered golden light, like it possessed an inner glow. The bird almost appeared to be alive. She leaned closer, enchanted by the liveliness of the picture.
A sudden creaking of the board was her only warning; the sound growled like a hungry beast that waylaid behind her back. Gasping, she spun on her heels, her gaze darting around before she noticed her. A woman, hidden previously amidst the shadows, stepped forward. She appeared to be of Sarah's age with a long light hair that reached her waist. She too wore a gown similar to Tereus' wife; the fabric hissed silently as she sashayed towards Sarah, a small tinkling filling up the silent space between them. Her dark eyes in oval-shaped elfish face were fixed on Sarah. Sarah realized then she held something in her hands: a dark green textile. As the woman stopped and stretched her hands Sarah discerned more clearly a small pattern - dark figures that ran through the shimmering fabric.
"What's that?" Sarah asked, but the women didn't reply. Instead, she pushed the cloth forward firmly, nearly forcing it on Sarah.
"Oh. Why thank you!" Sarah jolted, feeling the fine material against her hands, like a smooth river of pure silk. She looked down at the dark figures, odd symbols, akin to alphabets, and a bigger form in the middle of the cloth of which precise form she couldn't quite make out in the corridor's dusk. "It's fantastic!" She exclaimed, bringing up her gaze, and smiled. "I'm Sarah," said she, offering the woman her hand. Instead of accepting her stretched hand, the woman regarded her silently and turned suddenly on her heels, hurrying away. The faint tinkle accompanied her departure.
Sarah stared after her too surprised to move, feeling the heavy weight of the cloth pulling down her hands, when she heard a voice speaking out. "My sister's mute," Procne stepped up forward.
Sarah looked at Tereus' frail wife. "Oh! I'm so sorry. I didn't know that!" She cried softly. "I hope I didn't offend her."
Procne glanced at the direction her sister had vanished, shaking her head in denial, and turned back to Sarah. "She'll understand…" she muttered. Her eyes fell on the cloth lying in Sarah's arms, and her expression became masked. "You should hide it," she envisaged.
"What?" Sarah repeated perplexed, looking down. "You mean this? What is it?"
Procne bit her lip, her attention fixed to the coverlet in Sarah's arms. "A gift. And a very valuable one too."
"But why did she give it to me?"
For a moment Sarah thought Procne wouldn't answer. Then the woman shrugged her shoulders, the thin bones on her neck shifting underneath her pale skin. "Who knows of her messages, but," her gaze pierced Sarah, "always heed to them, for they have never been idle."
"Oh?" Sarah dampened her lips, briefly gazing at the door next to them, the uncomfortable silence lingering between her and Procne.
"You should return," the woman suddenly said.
"My apologies! I didn't mean to pry!" Sarah shook her head. "I only hoped to have a better look at the doors." She pointed at the dark mahogany wood next to them. "They are quite magnificent." She sighed. "But I'll return immediately back to your store to wait for your husband."
Procne returned Sarah's stare, her expression remaining unmoving. "No," she emphasized. "Not there."
Sarah blinked her eyes, staring at the woman, not quite believing her ears. "Forgive me my inquisitiveness! I'll go as soon as I can!" She cried out, deciding she would have a long talk with Ed after she returned to the office. There must be someone other than her who could plan the campaign.
For the first time Procne's face wavered. A flash of annoyance played over her features as she stepped backwards. "No, Sarah," said she. "I meant there." Procne pointed at another door at her side.
Curiously, Sarah followed the woman, but before she reached her, Procne's neck stiffened. She appeared to listen to a voice only her ears perceived. "My husband's returning…" she muttered. "I should go." She glanced at Sarah sharply, and the coverlet she held. "Don't let him see that."
Watching after Procne, Sarah sighed exasperatedly, "What a family…" She graced the door with an absentminded glance and froze. The strength fled from her body. For a moment, she forgot to breath, meeting the stare of a gold-white image of an owl.
Sarah didn't remember leaving the store, but when she stirred in motion, she stood out in front of the entrance to "Words from the Labyrinth", her fingers tightly curled around the handle of her briefcase and a book Mister Hoopoe had forced her to accept pressed against her chest. Trembling, she shook her head, trying to discard her startling experience. Sarah looked down, fearing to see the familiar red-covered book with golden letters she had given to Hoggle for safekeeping years ago.
Her shoulders sagged from sheer relief as she read the title; Mister Hoopoe had given her Metamorphoses.