Starfinder

LEROUX’S GIFT

MOTH RETURNED HOME nearly an hour past midnight, climbing the creaky steps of the building and nudging open the apartment door. Leroux remained asleep inside his bedroom, snoring comfortably. Outside on the balcony, Lady Esme rested in her makeshift nest of sticks and straw, stirring as Moth entered. He put a finger to his lips to keep her quiet as he tip-toed inside. The glass door to the balcony had been left open a crack, giving the kestrel entry to the apartment. Empty bowls and cups lay strewn across the small living space, the remnants of Moth’s party. He would clean up in the morning, he decided; he was far too tired to do it now.

There had never been enough money to buy Moth a proper bed, and the apartment was too tiny for another anyway. Moth cleared the debris from the small sofa and found his pillow and blanket in the chest they used for a table. He kicked off his shoes and fell into the lumpy cushions, exhausted. With a twinge of sadness he realized his birthday was over. Closing his eyes, he remembered his flight in Skyhigh’s dragonfly. If he was lucky he would dream about it…

Instead he dreamed of Fiona. She had run into the Reach and he was chasing her and telling her not to be afraid. He heard his name being called and thought it was Fiona’s grandfather, but when his eyes fluttered open he saw Leroux looming over him.

“Moth? You awake?” asked the old man. His gray nightshirt looked ghostly in the moonlight. His bony head hovered above Moth’s face.

“Leroux…?” Moth sputtered. “It’s nighttime…”

“I have to tell you something,” said Leroux. His eyes were wild, his body shaky. Moth sat up in alarm.

“What’s wrong?”

“The story!”

“What?”

“The story I have for you. Remember?”

Leroux’s complexion glowed a sickly white. Moth reached out to feel his clammy forehead.

“You’re hot…”

Leroux batted his hand away. “Don’t mother me, boy. It’s time to tell you.”

“You’re sick.” Moth blinked hard to clear his sleepy mind. “I should get the doctor. What time is it?”

“Are you listening to me? You have to listen, Moth.”

Leroux seemed desperate, completely unlike himself. Moth studied his face, wondering if he was sleepwalking. “All right,” said Moth calmly. “Just go back to sleep and tell me in the morning. You can tell me in the morning, all right?”

“Now,” Leroux insisted. He came in close enough for Moth to feel his breath and whispered, “Lady Esme isn’t a kestrel.”

Moth sat up. Leroux was frightening him now. He’d never seen the old man so badly off. “I think we should both go back to sleep,” he said gently.

“Listen to me!” Leroux shrieked. “It’s time to tell you the story! Lady Esme isn’t a kestrel. She’s a person, not a bird! Do you hear?”

“A person.” Moth nodded. “Okay.”

“Yes.” Leroux grew calmer. “A woman. Not a regular woman, Moth. She’s a woman that I loved… from over the Reach.”

A grin of relief broke over Moth’s face. It really was just one of his mad tales. “So the women across the Reach are birds?”

Leroux frowned. “What? No! She’s not a bird at all. She’s a woman, Moth. The Skylords changed her into a bird. And you have to help me change her back.”

“Who is she?” Moth asked, playing along.

“I can’t tell you that.” Leroux put a finger to his lips. “Secret things.”

“Oh.”

“If I could tell you everything, I would. How I wish I could! But now you know the truth about Esme, and that’s what’s most important. She needs your help, Moth, to get back.”

“Uh huh.” Moth turned to sit upright on the sofa. “You sit down,” he urged Leroux. “Tell me.”

Leroux sat beside Moth, his shoulders slumped from his mad burden. “I’ve tried for years to change her back, but I could never figure out how. It’s the Reach, you see? It’s damnable once you cross over. I’d be lost.” He shook his head, looking sick with grief. “My poor Esme. I’m too old to help her now. But I tried, Moth. I did try.”

His story made no sense at all, yet Moth pretended to understand. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Just sleep.”

“No,” Leroux whispered. “It’s too late.” He turned, staring intensely. “Moth, I have to hand this all to you now. You have to save her. You have to take her back across the Reach. Find Merceron. He’ll help you.”

Afraid of the answer, Moth asked, “Who’s Merceron?”

“A friend. A wizard. He knows about Esme. By now he’s figured out how to help her.” He licked his dried lips. “Yes, surely by now. Otherwise she’ll be like this forever….”

Out on the balcony, Lady Esme had fallen back asleep, paying them no attention at all. It seemed to Moth that the bird had more sense than its master.

“Esme looks fine to me, Leroux. She’s happy! Why don’t we just leave her the way she is? She’s gets everything she needs. Gumdrops…”

“No! I promised her I’d save her, Moth. She’s been like that so long she’s probably forgotten what it’s like to be real! You have to help her.”

“But how? If you couldn’t do it, how can I? Maybe it’s better this way, really.”

“But there is a way,” said Leroux carefully. “My gift to you. It will help you find Merceron. I’ve spent my whole life trying to figure it out. Now you must try, Moth.”

“I thought this story was your gift. Now there’s another? Where is it?”

Leroux grimaced. “I can’t tell you. But it’s yours, Moth. I’m giving it to you.”

Finally Moth was too frustrated to hear any more. “All right,” he said firmly, “I get it. I understand. Thanks.”

“Will you help Lady Esme?” asked Leroux. “Promise me you will, Moth. You must promise me.”

“I will, Leroux, I promise. I’ll help Lady Esme. I’ll figure out the gift and I’ll go find the wizard Moralon.”

“Merceron, Moth. His name is Merceron.”

“Merceron. Right. I won’t forget.” Moth stood up, taking Leroux’s frail hand. “But I can’t do this if I’m tired. It’ll be a lot of work. I have to get some sleep first.”

Leroux nodded. “Yes, yes. All right.”

“You sleep too,” said Moth, directing the old man back to his bedroom. “We’ll talk all about it in the morning.”

Leroux stopped at the doorway of his room. “I can’t tell you any more,” he said. “My story is finished now.”

Moth was past caring. “Fine. I got it all anyway. I’ll take care of everything.” He turned away, desperate to get back to sleep. “Good night.”

There was no sound as Leroux went back into his bedroom. Finally, everything was quiet.

Morning came too quickly for Moth. Bright sunlight poured in from the balcony, beckoning him awake. He turned his face away with a groan. As his brain came to life, he remembered the ridiculous conversation he’d had with Leroux just hours ago. He stirred, angry about what had happened but worried, too.

“Dr. Trik,” he moaned to himself, hoping the doctor could help him. Moth doubted he could go through the whole thing again tonight. He sat up, listening for Leroux. “Leroux?”

Lady Esme flapped overhead suddenly, startling him. The kestrel landed at his feet, calling madly in her high-pitched shriek.

“Quiet!” Moth snapped, cupping his ears.

The bird’s beak pulled at his pant leg. Moth shook free and shooed her away. Esme leapt up in a storm of feathers, cawing loudly and dashing toward Leroux’s bedroom. There she waited at the open door, dark eyes staring strangely at Moth.

Moth stood up slowly. Something in the kestrel’s eyes told him what had happened. Without words, he simply knew it. His heartbeat galloped, yet he could barely move at all, forcing himself toward Leroux’s bedroom. His shuffling feet brushed Esme away as he peered inside.

On the bed lay Leroux. He had stopped snoring.