Seventeen

There were voices around the bend. Unhappy voices.

Sarah paused along the garden path she was on. She had been spending the afternoon walking in the crisp late autumn air, admiring the statues and fountains that were on display. It was the day before the ball, and Count Wimberly's impending arrival had her on edge. She had been walking briskly, letting the cold air nip at her agitation. Ahead and to the right was a pagoda with the remains of a vine twisting around its support beams, and from there the voices emitted.

"You worthless git!" snarled a man's voice. A girl whimpered.

It wasn't the violent force behind the tone that made Sarah hesitate, but rather it was the very voice its self. She knew that voice. Her hand fumbled to lean against a wall. She experienced a rush of anxiety so fierce that nausea hit her strong in the pit of her stomach. Heaving she fought the urge to vomit. The back of her mouth tasted acidic.

The man went on, "I should have left you in solitary confinement at home. Can't even perform the simple task of keeping the Goblin King's interest," he complained. There was a clapping sound, as if flesh had smacked flesh, and the girl cried out. "Shut up!" he ordered. "You want everyone to know!"

Sarah breathed deep. She no longer saw the garden, but a low lit room with mundane furniture: a grey couch, a silver lamp, and the scent of old books and cinnamon in the air. A man was next to her; his hands were on her. Where was his face? She pushed the memory of her self out of the way- there he was! Professor Alexander Wimberly! The count! She took another deep breath. His voice had triggered his face and his name.

"You are going to put this to rights," Wimberly continued. "I don't care what you think," he snapped when the girl tried to interrupt. "You will reestablish yourself with Jareth."

Without another thought or concern for who might be with the count, she reached her hand in to the hidden compartment and drew out her dagger. The sheath was warm against the palm of her hand. Moving rapidly she rounded the bend to confront the man. She teetered in alarm to find Leslie Wimberly quietly crying by her self.

The shuffling of her feet drew Leslie's attention. She half turned, uttered a surprise, and covered her face. "Oh! Oh Lady Williams," she spurted. "Pray excuse me!"

Sarah blinked and shook her head. She had been ready to slay the girl's father before her very eyes. Then she recalled the sound of the cracking slap- had her father been abusing her? She took a breath to steady her self. "Leslie, are you all right?"

The girl shuddered. "Yes," she choked out. "Please," she turned her face away. "Please just let me be."

"You lie," Sarah stated drawing near. "You are unwell or hurt."

"I-I'm just a klutz, Lady Williams. I-I fell just now, and scraped my cheek. It is nothing," she insisted, pulling away when Sarah touched her shoulder.

Sarah had trusted her intuition about Leslie from the beginning: she was a naïve, immature kid, but she was also being manipulated. "Leslie," she said softly. "I heard."

The girl stiffened.

"And you can trust me to be discreet."

"Discreet?" snapped Leslie. She spun around: her lower lip bled and her right eye was swollen. "You try making these discreet," she said indicating her injuries.

In shock Sarah stared for a moment. In Leslie's face she saw her self the day Jareth had found her at court. How long had Leslie been Count Wimberly's preferred punching bag? "At least allow me to offer you some first aid," she offered. "We'll go inside one of back ways and pass through unnoticed. Leslie," she continued stepping close. Leslie's eyes caught sight of something that startled her and she drew away. "What is it?"

"Do you always carry a knife?"

Her dagger- she had forgotten all about it. "I drew it when I heard the shouting," Sarah explained. Turning away she slid the weapon back into the concealed compartment. "One… one can never be too careful. Come inside with me." With a sense of dignity that was admirable, Leslie held her head up and walked with her inside.

The most convenient back way was through the kitchen. At the table sat Weech with another goblin spit polishing some silver canisters. Sarah leaned Leslie against the outside wall and stepped in to clear the room. "Weech, I need you to take some tea and hot water up to my chamber. Never you mind, just go. Be scarce by the time I mount the stairs." Outside Leslie looked pale. "Can you manage to keep walking?"

"I think so. My head is killing me. By the Seven Graces!" she exclaimed as she swayed forward.

Sarah caught her and steadied her. "Come on. Inside. There you go. Jewels!"

Jareth's man servant Jewels, encompassed the entire entrance to the kitchen with his massive frame. He gazed at the two women with concern. "My lady," he made an awkward bow.

Leslie swayed again. "Help!" ordered Sarah.

"Bartholomew should be called for," Jewels said taking on Leslie's weight. The woman was barely holding onto her consciousness.

"No, no, this needs to be kept quiet Jewels. Take her up to my chamber. She'll recover soon enough. Trust me Jewels, please."

Sarah could tell that Jewels was very uncomfortable. He wanted to alert the physician, his king, and Leslie's mother as well. She couldn't have that. Not yet. She had promised discretion to Leslie and she was determined to do so. Leslie regained her color after she had some tea. Sarah took a rag and soaked it in the warm water, and applied it to the swelling around her face. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the massive man fidget. "Jewels, you will not say anything. Do you understand me?" She tried to sound threatening.

The man nodded. "My king will sense it soon enough."

With a sigh Sarah knew this to be true. Leslie gasped. "He must not know!" she exclaimed. "He of all people must not know!"

"She smells like you did," Jewels added distractedly. "If I can sense it, he will too."

"What does he mean, like you did?" questioned Leslie.

It was Sarah turn to fidget. She avoided Leslie's eyes. "I have known your father's wrath as well. I was fortunate enough to be found by Jareth."

"Found?"

It was far too complicated a thing to explain at the moment. "I… never mind. The point is Leslie, is that your father can no longer go unchecked. He has hurt you before hasn't he?" She nodded once. "I figured." She leaned near. "Will you trust me Leslie to do the right thing? If I send Jewels right now to get King Jareth will you allow him to do you justice?"

The girl's eyes were drawn taunt in thought. "Yes," she finally answered.

Jewels left the room quickly. Sarah prayed to all the powers that be that Jareth still had enough patience in reserve to handle this with dignity. He was already spread thin, just as thin as she was, and this could quite possibly break him. He could explode, drag Count Wimberly to some hidden room, and fashion macabre jewelry out of his genitals. As fitting as that punishment would be, it would hardly be fair to Leslie to act without her consent. She was going to need her own brand of retribution as well. If testicle earrings suited her liking… Her train of thought was interrupted by knocking. "Who is it?"

"It is Jewels, my lady."

Seeing the two men enter was a relief. Jareth had an eyebrow cocked curiously. Her face must have been intense for he said, "You look as if you could spit ice that would burn as fire- whatever is wrong?"

A low, hardly audible rumble moved through the air, as if some unseen force was supporting her determination. "The Labyrinth as my witness, that man shall die." Startled he glanced from her to Leslie.

What had happened? Everything had been transpiring at a peaceful, even pace. Sarah was far too angry and something was wrong with Leslie. These two things he sensed immediately. Then there had been the rumble- only the Labyrinth sounded like that. And Leslie wouldn't look at him- she kept her face turned away. "Go to her," he heard Sarah say. As he moved near he got the distinct sensation that Leslie wanted to run away. Her hands actually clasped and clasped the arm rests. "Leslie?" he asked. He knelt in front of her when she refused to answer. "Leslie," he said again in a quiet compelling voice. She turned her face fully towards him. The swelling, the bruising, the scab on her lip- it brought back that horrible day he had found Sarah. Taking a deep breath he gently touched her face. The breath brought a scent with it. "No," he breathed, retreating his hand in alarm. "No."

"It's the same man Jareth," Sarah said.

Instead of becoming uncontrollably enraged, his face fell in shock. "Oh Leslie," he murmured despondently. "But why?"

She glanced warily at Sarah and then with hesitance answered, "Because I wouldn't marry you."

Jareth could feel Sarah behind him. They had agreed to behave accordingly, though his next words would likely sting. "Then agree to marry me Leslie. Be mine and stay your father's anger."

Leslie sniffed. "I don't love you Jareth. You don't love me. I've been denying my self for so long," her eyes wandered from his to Sarah's. "And it's not right. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I can't go back to you."

"Your highness," said Sarah tapping his shoulder. "I need to discuss something with you. Now." She wandered to the far side of the room. He joined her. "She needs to know," she whispered.

Jareth ran a hand through his hair. "She has to decide that she is ready for it to stop."

"Jareth, this is more than just about retribution. Her father, he is involved in terribly debase activities. Add to the rape charge, the fact he beats his daughter, and the human trafficking is like a cherry on top."

He pulled her closer and lowered his voice even more. "Human trafficking?" he questioned.

"Lord Edenberge suggested that the count was in the business of finding and distributing human girls. I am not his first and if this isn't put an end to, I won't be his last."

"This is beyond Leslie and beyond you now."

"Given the opportunity," her eyes had that icy edge again. "I cannot promise that I will not strike."

"Nor would I chastise you to do otherwise, but I would caution you to use prudence." He glanced back at Leslie- Jewels had refilled her tea cup. "He should be standing before a court with the high king to judge his actions."

"So do we tell her?"

"Enough so that she comprehends the depth of her father's debauchery, no more. I'll heal her wounds so she can appear in public again. In the mean time I have less than a day to convince the high king to attend this ball."