The Moon and the Sun by Vonda N. McIntyre Page B

the
    gravel.
    When
    His
    Majesty
    took his
    afternoo
    n walk,
    fresh
    trees,
    their
    blossom
    s forced
    in the
    greenho
    use,
    would
    greet
    him. His
    Majesty’
    s gaze
    would
    touch
    only
    beauty.
    Mar
    ie-Josèp
    he
    hurried
    to the
    sea
    monster’
    s tent.
    The
    lantern
    inside
    had
    gone
    out; the
    torch
    outside
    illumina
    ted only
    the
    entry
    curtain
    and its
    gold
    sunburs
    t.
    “Sa
    y a
    prayer
    before
    you go
    in!” said
    the
    muskete
    er
    corporal
    .
    “An
    incantati
    on!”
    “He
    means
    an
    exorcis
    m.”
    “Th
    ere isn’t
    any
    demon,”
    Yves
    said.
    “W
    e heard
    it.”
    “Fla
    pping
    its
    wings.”
    “Wi
    ngs like
    leather.”

    Yve
    s
    grabbed
    the
    torch,
    flung
    aside
    the
    curtain,
    and
    strode
    into the
    tent.
    Out of
    breath
    from
    running,
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    slipped
    past the
    muskete
    ers and
    followe
    d her
    brother.
    The
    tent
    looked
    as they
    had left
    it, the
    equipm
    ent all in
    place,
    melted
    ice
    drippin
    g softly
    to the
    plank
    floor,
    the cage
    surroun
    ding the
    fountain
    . The
    odor of
    dead
    fish and
    preservi
    ng
    spirits
    hung in
    the air.
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    suppose
    d the
    guards
    might
    have
    mistake
    n the
    unpleas
    ant
    smells
    for
    brimsto
    ne.
    She
    believed
    in
    demons
    — she
    believed
    in God,
    and in
    angels,
    so how
    could
    she not
    believe
    in Satan
    and
    demons
    ? — but
    she
    thought,
    in these
    modern
    days,
    demons
    did not
    often
    choose
    to visit
    the
    earthly
    world.
    Even if
    they
    did,
    why
    should a
    demon
    visit a
    sea
    monster,
    any
    more
    than it
    would
    visit His
    Majesty’
    s
    elephant
    or His
    Majesty’
    s
    baboons
    ?
    Mar
    ie-Josèp
    he
    giggled,
    thinking
    of a
    demon
    on a
    picnic in
    His
    Majesty’
    s
    Menage
    rie.
    Her
    laughter
    brought
    her to
    Yves’
    attentio
    n.
    “W
    hat are
    you
    laughin
    g at?” he
    said.
    “You
    should
    be in
    bed.”
    “I
    wish I
    were,”
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    said.
    “Su
    perstitio
    us
    fools,”
    Yves
    muttere
    d.
    “Demon
    s,
    indeed.”

    The
    torchlig
    ht
    reflected
    from a
    splash
    of water
    on the
    polishe
    d
    planks.
    “Yv
    es —”
    A
    watery
    trail led
    from the
    fountain
    to the
    cluster
    of lab
    equipm
    ent. The
    gate of
    the cage
    hung
    open.
    Yve
    s cursed
    and
    hurried
    to the
    dissecti
    on table.
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    ran into
    the
    cage.
    The
    sea
    monster
    floated a
    few
    strokes
    from the
    platform
    , its hair
    spreadi
    ng
    around
    its
    shoulde
    rs. Its
    eyes
    reflected
    the
    torchlig
    ht,
    uncanny
    as a
    cat’s. It
    humme
    d softly,
    eerily.
    “Yv
    es, it’s
    here, it’s
    safe, it’s
    all
    right.”
    “Sta
    y there
    —
    There’s
    broken
    glass.
    Are you
    barefoot
    ?”
    “Ar
    e you?”
    Sha
    rds of
    glass
    flung
    sharp
    sounds
    as Yves
    swept
    them
    into a
    pile.
    “M
    y feet
    are like
    leather
    — we
    never
    wore
    shoes on
    the
    galleon.
    ”
    He
    joined
    her in
    the cage,
    holding
    the torch
    out over
    the
    water. A
    spark
    fell and
    sizzled.
    The sea
    monster
    spat at
    it,
    whistled
    angrily,
    and
    dove.
    “It
    slithere
    d
    around
    out
    here. It
    climbed
    the
    stairs! I
    didn’t
    think it
    could
    make
    progress
    on land.
    It
    knocked
    a flask
    over, it
    fled
    back to
    the
    fountain
    ... I must
    have left
    the gate
    ajar.”
    “Yo
    u tested
    it,”
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    said.
    “You
    latched
    it and
    rattled
    it.”
    He
    shrugge
    d. “I
    couldn’t
    have.
    Tomorr
    ow I’ll
    get a
    chain.”
    Yve
    s sat
    abruptly
    . He
    slumpe
    d
    forward,
    his head
    down,
    hair
    hanging
    in
    rumple
    d black
    curls.
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    snatche
    d the
    torch
    before it
    fell.
    Concern
    ed, she
    sat
    beside
    her
    brother
    and put
    her arm
    around
    his
    shoulde
    r.
    He
    patted
    her
    hand.
    “I’m
    only
    tired,”
    he said.
    “Yo
    u work
    so
    hard,”
    Marie-Jo
    sèphe
    said.
    “Let me
    help
    you.”
    “Th
    at
    wouldn’
    t be
    proper.”

    “I
    was a
    good
    assistant
    when
    we were
    children
    — I’m
    no less
    able
    now.”
    She
    feared
    he
    would
    refuse,
    and that
    would
    be the
    end