The Moon and the Sun

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 of

 

it. I no

 

longer

 

know

 

my

 

brother,

 

she

 

thought,

 

distress

 

ed. I no

 

longer

 

know

 

what

 

he’ll

 

say,

 

what

 

he’ll do,

 

before

 

he

 

knows it

 

himself.

 

He

 

raised

 

his

 

head,

 

frowned

 

,

 

hesitate

 

d.

 

“What

 

about

 

your

 

duties

 

to

 

Madem

 

oiselle?”

 

 

 

Mar

 

ie-Josèp

 

he

 

giggled.

 

“Someti

 

mes I

 

hold her

 

handker

 

chief, if

 

Mlle

 

d’Arma

 

gnac

 

doesn’t

 

snatch it

 

first.

 

She’d

 

hardly

 

notice I

 

was

 

gone. I

 

need

 

only tell

 

her you

 

need me

 

— so

 

your

 

work

 

might

 

please

 

the

 

King...”

 

His

 

brow

 

cleared.

 

“I’d be

 

grateful

 

for your

 

help.

 

You

 

haven’t

 

become

 

squeami

 

sh, have

 

you?”

 

“Sq

 

ueamish

 

!” She

 

laughed

 

.

 

“Wi

 

ll you

 

docume

 

nt the

 

dissecti

 

on?”

 

“I’d

 

like

 

nothing

 

better.”

 

“Th

 

e

 

dissecti

 

on will

 

occupy

 

my

 

time.

 

Will

 

you take

 

the

 

charge

 

of the

 

live sea

 

monster

 

? Feed it

 

—”

 

“Ye

 

s. And

 

I’ll tame

 

it, too.”

 

“Yo

 

u’ll

 

need all

 

your

 

ingenuit

 

y to

 

persuad

 

e it to

 

eat.” His

 

beautifu

 

l smile

 

erased

 

the

 

exhausti

 

on from

 

his face.

 

“I’m

 

certain

 

you’ll

 

succeed.

 

You

 

were

 

better

 

with the

 

live

 

things

 

than I

 

ever

 

was.”

 

Deli

 

ghted to

 

be part

 

of his

 

life, part

 

of his

 

work,

 

once

 

again,

 

Marie-Jo

 

sèphe

 

kissed

 

his

 

cheek.

 

Ya

 

wning,

 

he

 

pushed

 

himself

 

to his

 

feet.

 

“There’s

 

time

 

still for

 

a bit of

 

sleep.”

 

His

 

smile

 

turned

 

wry.

 

“Not

 

even the

 

Jesuits

 

reconcil

 

ed me to

 

waking

 

early.”

 

“I’ll

 

take that

 

duty,

 

too,”

 

Marie-Jo

 

sèphe

 

said.

 

“I’ll

 

wake

 

you in

 

time to

 

attend

 

the

 

King.”

 

“Th

 

at

 

would

 

be a

 

consider

 

able

 

kindnes

 

s,” Yves

 

said.

 

He

 

ushered

 

Marie-Jo

 

sèphe

 

out of

 

the cage,

 

closed

 

the gate,

 

and

 

latched

 

it and

 

rattled it

 

just as

 

he had

 

done

 

earlier

 

in the

 

evening.

 

The sea

 

monster’

 

s lament

 

followe

 

d them.

 

“Oh

 

!”

 

Marie-Jo

 

sèphe

 

jumped

 

back

 

from

 

somethi

 

ng cold

 

and

 

slimy

 

beneath

 

her

 

foot.

 

“W

 

hat is it

 

— did

 

you step

 

on

 

glass?”

 

She

 

picked

 

up a

 

dead

 

fish.

 

“Yo

 

ur sea

 

monster

 

doesn’t

 

like its

 

fish.”

 

 

 

 

 

4

 

 

Marie-Josèphe walked through the silent dawn gardens of Versailles. At first light, the gardeners had vanished but the courtiers still slept and the visitors had not yet arrived.

 

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