"Like, totally boo"--California ghosts.

Ghost

by Anna Serfass © 2002

Waiting was always the most difficult part. Ghost huddled in the depths of the thick bushes. The stone manor cast a shadow almost touching his hiding spot. Soon now, very soon Duke Morain's Jewel would be his. He tried not to stir impatiently. Soon the time would be right. He was just about to shift to get some circulation back to his feet when heavy, booted footsteps approached. Ghost froze in the darkness of the underbrush.

Two men stopped just outside where he was holed up. The shields on their tabards indicated that they were guards, the newness of the tabards showed they were recent hires. "Why are we freezing our asses off out here? The wedding is tomorrow. That thief isn't going to steal Duke Morain's Jewel before then." His voice sounded harsh in the frosty air. He tucked his cloak closer to his body.

His companion spoke through chattering teeth. "You never know. He's infamous. But I don't know how we're supposed to stop him. Nobody's ever seen him, and they say he can get through anything. Did you hear that once he broke into the King of Barsinghearst's bedroom and stole his socks? That's it, just his socks." The guard shifted the hilt of his sword to a more comfortable spot on his hip.

"What kind of an idiot steals socks?"

"I don't know. He probably just did it to show he could." The sound of distant voices splashed through the darkness. The two guards raised their heads. "That'll be the other guards coming to relieve us."

"Good," the other answered. "They don't pay me enough to be out on a night like tonight."

The guards stomped away, their breath steaming in the frigid air. Ghost relaxed, sighing in relief. They hadn't even bothered to look down. Lackadaisical guards are a thief's best friend.

After a moment, he bellied forward in the dirt. He slithered through the bushes closer to the manor. Its grim façade sent foreboding shadows cast by the light of the half moon. He wished he could have waited until the new moon, but he had to get the Jewel before the wedding. It was being presented to the groom, and, presumably, leaving with him.

He reached the place where the bushes ended. The manor was a mere yard away. He froze in place, listening with all his being. He could just hear the guards speaking with their change in watch. Now was the time. He broke from the undergrowth and bolted across the intervening space. Then he leapt into the air and caught the bottom sill of the window. He hung on determinedly, his feet scrabbling for purchase against the stone. A bit at a time, he managed to scramble up over the edge and into the room.

He slipped through the darkened room, keeping low to the ground. Ghost paused by the half-open door. He waited, listening carefully. After a moment he heard the distant scrape of metal and leather and the shifting of booted feet, the sounds of bored guards on post. He permitted himself a brief moment of superiority. They'd made the classic mistake. Anywhere they posted guards was where they didn't want you to be. That was where he needed to go. He just prevented himself from doing a little dance of glee. Business first, he thought. He slipped into the corridor, searching for those distant sounds of guards.

Several close calls later, Ghost crept up to the guarded door. He took a moment to catch his breath. The Duke was definitely expecting trouble. Duke Morain and his entourage had come all the way from Kervier for the ceremony. Once Ghost had heard that something referred to as the 'Duke's Marvelous Jewel,' was being given to his new son-in-law at the wedding ceremony, he knew that he had to have it. All he knew about it was that it was supposedly surpassingly beautiful. When Duke Morain heard Ghost's reputation, he immediately put the Jewel under lock and key. Ghost carefully cultivated his reputation. It had earned him his name, and the mere mention of Ghost's name made wealthy men flinch.

He carefully crept closer to the door, twitching a bit with anticipation. It was made of metal reinforced wood. It possessed an iron lock and a single barred window. Two bored guards stood leaning on either side of the doorway, flanked by two torches in sconces. Ghost had what others called an uncanny ability to get into places where no man should. Ironically, if anyone knew how he did it, they would find it very easy to guard against him. Except that they would never believe it.

He flattened against the ground. He slithered carefully towards the door. The guards didn't notice him. They never looked down. He slithered right up to their feet. He tilted his head all the way back and looked way up at the taller one. He was leaning right next to the barred window. Ghost bunched his muscles, preparing to jump. With all his strength, he leapt up and caught the guard high up on the back of his pant leg. He dashed up him as fast as he could, all the while making excited noises. He dashed under the guard's tabard and up his back, claws scrabbling on his shirt. He squirmed out of the guard's collar and leapt at the bars. He squeezed through as fast as he could, and launched off the door, landing slightly awkwardly on the floor. He tumbled forward and finally caught himself in an ungainly heap. Breathing hard, he listened to the guards' yelling and jumping.

"A rat, I tell you. A bloody rat just ran up my shirt."

"Would you hold still? I can't find it if you keep jumping up and down like that."

Ghost made a few happy noises under cover of the guards' ruckus. He got himself back on his four paws and shook his little furry body. His tail was fluffed out from the excitement and he paused to lick the dark fur back down. A rat, he scoffed to himself. Those cretins wouldn't know a ferret if it bit them.

He waited until the guards had quieted and took a minute to get his bearings. Unable to find the "rat", they were convinced it had run off down the hall. He was now in a dark room, lit, only very dimly, by the light of the outside torches. He happily scuttled towards the center of the room, listening carefully to make sure there were no more guards between him and his prize.

His heart beat faster. He had to concentrate to remain silent instead of making ecstatic noises and dancing with joy. The moment of finally seeing his prize was his favorite part. He loved how shiny they always were, and just the fact that he wasn't supposed to have them made his prize all the sweeter. He'd been just a baby ferret when he'd wandered into that magical circle. He didn't know what it was supposed to accomplish, but a magical talking ferret had probably not been it.

His eyes searched the gloom for his new toy. He froze when he heard a breathy sigh.

"Ah, me." said a voice. It had a musical lilt and a petulant tone. Ghost flattened against the wall.

She was beautiful, as humans go. She was not too tall, nor too short. Her skin was the color of fine porcelain. Her eyes were mirrors of the sky. Her long, shining golden tresses were twined into a single braid twisted and looped into a fine piece of artwork, cascading down from the base of her head. She was lying across a cot that seemed too crude for her fine bearing and beautiful clothing. She didn't look like a guard, or a mage. Why is she in here with the Jewel?

"If only someone would save me from this horrible fate." She lofted a hand dramatically towards the barred doorway. "If only the Ghost would come and steal me away. We would live life on the road as desperate outlaws only carrying on through hungry nights because of our love for each other."

If a ferret could have, Ghost would have rolled his eyes. This girl had probably never gone hungry for a single night, or even seen a road. He crept closer, searching for some shiny bauble near or under the cot. Perhaps the girl was wearing it. But search as he might, the only thing shining in the very dim torchlight was her beautiful hair.

"If only he would come soon. For tomorrow my father forces me to marry a man I have never met. Oh, what have I done to deserve such a fate? Have I been bad? Who have I wronged so deeply?

The ferret rubbed his head with his paw. This must be the Duke's daughter. No wonder he was trying to marry her off, the girl was already giving him a headache. His eyes had adjusted fully to the dimness of the room. He could see perfectly. However, he well knew that humans could not easily see in the dark. Maybe she knew where the Jewel was.

He took a couple of deep breaths. Talking to humans was never easy. "I'm here for the Jewel." He tried hard to make his voice as deep and gruff as possible. Sure he could talk, but he was still only about a foot and a half long. Sometimes his voice came out rather small.

The girl sat upright on the cot, her golden braid shivering with the movement. She looked around anxiously for the speaker. "Who's there?" Her voice quavered artfully. She lay halfway back across the cot, torn between looking helpless and desirable.

He flattened his head down against his paws. "I'm the Ghost." He tried not to sound exasperated.

Her eyes widened and a hopeful smile tried to break out across her face. She hid it quickly and instead quivered her lip theatrically. "Oh you dastardly fiend, are you going to steal me away and drag me off to your hideout? I warn you, I shall struggle most fiercely. I am to be married tomorrow, and I shall not permit you to despoil me." She gripped onto her skirts, peering dramatically in his direction as though waiting for him to speak the next line of a play.

Ghost wiped his face with his paws. He gave a weary sigh. Perhaps the girl was mad. "You are not listening. I am here for Duke Morain's Jewel, the one to be given to his new son-in-law at the wedding. In case you are not familiar with them, jewels are generally shiny baubles costing a great deal of money. I am not here for you, nor, I am sure, could I carry you away whether you struggled or not!"

The girl paused and blinked at him, or in his general direction at least. "Huh?" she said stupidly.

He gripped his paws against the stone and silently counted to ten. "Do you or do you not have the Jewel with you?"

Her lip quivered for real this time as she now looked towards him with uncertainty. "You're not going to steal me away?" she asked petulantly, collapsing completely back onto the cot in a tangle of golden braids and shimmering silk.

"Absolutely not! I'm a thief, not a kidnapper. I am not in a habit of breaking up weddings, or rescuing fair maidens or any of that nonsense! I'm here for the Jewel. The one the guards are supposed to be protecting until the wedding, where the Duke will present it to your new husband. I" He froze as his brain caught up with his mouth. A horrifying thought was dawning on him. "You're the Jewel?" He spoke with disappointed disgust.

Her lip quivered a bit more and her eyes filled with tears. "My name is Jewel. My father always called me his marvelous little jewel. And if you're not here to steal me away," she sniffed a bit, "I'm calling the guards."

Ghost groaned. I can't steal her, he thought. She won't fit in my hiding place. But it could ruin my reputation if I walk out of here with nothing. He stared at the sniveling girl in frustration. She was a lot less pretty with her face screwed up into a fit of pique.

"I mean what kind of thief doesn't even know what he's here to steal? You're supposed to be so good. Well, what good are you if you don't know a princess when you see one. My father will have you hung for coming in here and attacking me. You're going to regret . . ."

Jewel continued her harangue. He watched as her face became all blotchy and red and her eyes clouded over. The only thing still beautiful about her was her marvelous hair. He watched the artistic knotwork shimmer in the minimal light of the torches. He suddenly made a delighted sound and dashed toward her. Jewel's tirade ended abruptly in a horrified scream.

Ghost rolled over and squirmed contentedly. He was now safely ensconced in his hideout. It was dug underneath one of the better houses in town directly beneath their kitchen fireplace. He stretched and gave a mighty yawn. Exhausted, but happy after a very productive evening, he cuddled deeper into his new cushion of shining gold hair. He sighed with satisfaction, ducked his head under a loop of braid, and settled in for a well-deserved nap.

**********

This is the second of the "editor's extra" stories selected for Anotherealm in 2002. I offer it to honor one of the two anniversaries Sarah and I celebrate every year. The thing that first attracted me to my Sarah was her glorious hair; thus, the milieu for this story: that, and its superb characters and terse, graceful narration. Comments to the BBS, please.--gm

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