Red Shift

I was sulking over a glass of whiskey when a man burst into the tavern.

“Help! Rats, Lacanaille has rats!”

His screeching forced me to look at him. He was scrawny, though not merely skin and bones. His hair, colored light as straw, was as full and fluffed. His clothes were a deep blue without any other sign of wear. He certainly was not a poor man, so I found it worth my time to listen.

A cloaked man drinking ale laughed. “Lacanaille’s had rats since the beginning o’ time!”

“It’s worse!” the new man cried. His dark brown eyes pleaded with us to understand. “There are hundreds upon hundreds! They’ve invaded our homes, food, and water. We can’t even sleep at night because they’re in our beds!”

I was about to ignore the man and return to my whiskey when an idea struck me.

“So, is Lacanaille looking for someone to get rid of these rats?” I asked him.

“Yes, immediately!”

I swirled my whiskey around in its glass. “And if someone were to rid Lacanaille of these rats, would he be paid well?”

The man hesitated but then nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, anything he wants!”

The right corner of my mouth lifted in a half-smile. “Tell me, then, where is Lacanaille?”

~ ~ ~

A half hour later, I went home to prepare for my journey and tell my wife the good news. The sun was setting, and the whiskey was making my mind fuzzy, but we lived just twenty minutes from the tavern at the edge of the forest.

Soon enough, I saw the silhouette of our small home in the semi-darkness. It was a humble home, wooden in its structure and plain in its color with nothing more to speak of. Once my clumsy hands had turned the doorknob, I was greeted by the constantly burning warmth of the fireplace. I stepped inside, closed the door, and made my way to the bed.

“Mikhail, is that you?” my wife called from the kitchen.

I smiled slightly. “I’m in the living area, on the bed!”

She came through the doorway in the left side of the room and joined me on the bed. Our cottage was small, consisting of only three rooms: the living area, the kitchen, and the washroom. My sister had insisted that she conjure a more pleasant abode or at least use her voice to get the money for improvements. However, I thought it best for us to not frivolously use our talents or money until we had repaid our debts, and I was keeping to that strategy.

“Did you think of anything while you were gone?” Her hand searched for mine.

My wife was truly the fairest lady I had ever seen. Her auburn curls hung freely about her shoulders, perfectly framing her oval face. Her skin was milky white, and her lips were full and scarlet; I had a hard time resisting the urge to kiss her every time I saw her. Her hand, as she finally found mine, was warm and smooth with fingers long and delicate. Her ears and nose were small, imperfections that made her ever the more perfect. Her most wonderful feature was her eyes, as blue as the clear day sky, and yet they were her greatest weakness. Most men would not want the burden of a blind spouse, but she was the love of my life, and I wouldn’t have her any other way.

“Yes, I did, Rosemary, the most perfect solution.” I grabbed her other hand and wrapped them both in mine. “A man said that Lacanaille is infested by rats and that they are willing to give whoever gets rid of them anything. I’ll go there, make a deal with them, lure the rats out of the town with my pipes, and then collect the money in time to pay the Deal Maker.”

“And you’re sure that they’ll pay you?”

“Of course. If not…” I swallowed against the knot in my throat, and my voice cracked. “If not…you know what I’ll have to do.”

One of Rosemary’s hands lightly slid up my hand, my arm, my shoulder, all the way to my cheek. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against mine. During the five minutes that we kissed, my heart returned to its proper place and the weight in my chest disappeared.

“I’m certain that you know exactly what you’re doing. You always know what is best,” Rosemary said when we finally parted. “Come now, we best get your things packed so we can hurry to bed. You’ll need food, clothes, your pipes…”

~ ~ ~

After leaving Rosemary in the care of my sister, I left for Lacanaille. I traveled on foot with minimal breaks for a week before reaching the town, and the sight that I encountered nearly knocked the wind out of me.

Rats as black as coal and brown as mud had flooded the town. Hundreds and hundreds of these filthy creatures swarmed the pigs’ troughs, towered overhead on the roofs, scampered on the ground, and even poured out of some of the windows. As I made my way to the center of the town, kicking at rats, I found that only the opening surrounding city hall was not overrun by them. Instead, I was met by a nearly impenetrable wall of infuriated citizens shoving each other and, by the sounds of it, slamming on the doors of the city hall.

With great effort, I found a small opening between a small boy and his father, and I squeezed my way through. Shoving my way through the crowd made me feel like a fish swimming upstream. It must have been a couple hours before I reached the front of the crowd, and the door looked about ready to break. Though the doors were easily three people high and of high quality, they had obviously been suffering under the pressure of the crowd for hours, if not days. I took a deep breath and slammed myself as hard as I could against the doors; they easily smashed open.

The force of my slam sent me stumbling into the open doors. I regained my balance and ran to the ten-foot pedestal at the back of the room. The entire crowd rushed in behind me.

“What is the meaning of this?” the man at the pedestal yelled, his large beer belly jiggling and his mustache puffing out with his every breath. Based on his blue-grey silk tunic and the massive pile of papers in front of him, this man was the mayor. Eight well-dressed, and aging, men sat next to this man, obviously his advisors.

All hell broke loose with shouting so loud and mingled that none of the demands could actually be heard.

I sighed in irritation, lifted my pipes to my lips, and played a high note, not high enough to make their ears bleed but close. I waited for everyone’s moaning to quiet down.

“Now that I have everyone’s attention,” I said for everyone to hear, “I have come a long way to help you with your…little problem.”

“What problem?” the mayor demanded.

I looked around me, relieved to see that everyone else looked as confused and appalled as I was. I turned back to the mayor. “I’m here for your rat problem, of course!”

The mayor glared at me through squinting, beady eyes. “And how can you, with your ridiculous clothes and annoying pipes, help us with the rats?”

I looked down at my clothes. True, a ruby tunic, sapphire pants, and an emerald cloak weren’t exactly a common combination, but ridiculous?

“Well, my clothes may be ridiculous, but they are my trademark look. I am the Pied Piper, older brother of the Singing Gypsy, known near and far for my magic on the flute! And with this magic, I can use my annoying pipes to rid Lacanaille of these rats.”

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?” one of the advisors sneered.

“Dear sirs, everyone has a tune that they’d follow to the ends of the world. I assure you, rats are no different, and I can have them out of here by tomorrow morning.”

“How can we trust you if you won’t give us your whole plan?” another advisor protested.

“Exactly,” the mayor agreed.

“Music will lead the rats out of town. It’s as easy as that.”

The mayor hesitated, his eyes darting about the crowd. Based on their rumblings, he couldn’t protest much longer. “But with your outlandish clothes and manners, how can we be sure that you won’t betray us, especially since you have magic?”

“I know, Papa! I know!”

The crowd parted to allow a young boy, about seven years of age, to run to the front. If he was the mayor’s son, he was lucky enough to have taken after his mother instead. He stopped at my side, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said to me, “can you let me see your eyes?”

I arched a brow in confusion but nodded and knelt down to the boy’s level. He looked straight in my eyes for a couple minutes, neither of us blinking.

Finally, the boy spoke. “His eyes aren’t red, so he doesn’t use magic for evil. They aren’t green, so he hasn’t been cursed with magic. I think we can trust him, Papa.”

“Are you sure, Jonathon?”

Jonathon turned to the mayor and nodded. “Yes, Papa. That’s what Mama taught me. Red eyes mean bad magic, green eyes mean unwanted magic, and other colors mean good magic.”

The mayor cringed, then turned to me. “What’s your price?”

I stood. “One ton of gold. No more, no less.”

The mayor cringed again. “Very well. If you do somehow manage to get rid of the rats by tomorrow morning, we will pay you one ton of gold.”

The crowd emitted an exclamation of joy.

I bowed to the mayor. “Thank you, sir. I will not let you down.”

~ ~ ~

Disposing of the rats was a simple and tedious process. I spent the rest of the day testing different notes on the rats, occasionally being disturbed by excited children who wanted to play with me, until I finally found an arrangement that pleased the pesky rodents. Four hours after sundown, when all of the children and their parents were safe in their homes, I played the tune and walked out of town. The rats pranced behind me, too hypnotized and small-brained to realize that I was not their friend. My flute and I led the rats to a nearby river. I crossed the water easily and stood on the opposite shore, still tooting out the magical melody. The rats went into the water but did not come out. Pleased to have earned my way out of my debt so easily, I went back to Lacanaille to wait for the city officials outside of city hall.

~ ~ ~

“We’re not paying you.” The mayor and his advisors entered city hall. I trailed them.

“Excuse me?” My face heated. “I got rid of your rats, now pay me!”

“Do you think we have the money to give gold to a rat catcher?” an advisor asked.

I looked around the city hall. Without the mob, it was enormous enough to produce an endless echo. The pedestals and the chairs behind them were made of the same high-quality wood as the doors and were easily as high. The walls were decorated with swirls of blue, gold, and red, and the ceiling boasted a mural of the founding of Lacanaille. When I looked at the mayor and his advisors, now sitting behind their pedestals, I couldn’t help but notice their silk clothes and fingers covered with rings.

“We had an agreement. I fulfilled my end, now you will pay me or else.”

The mayors and the advisors laughed, an orchestra of donkey brays.

“We’re in charge around here. There is no higher authority for you to go to, so you have no way to make us pay you,” an advisor laughed.

With this immaturity, all colors in my vision turned red. Every inch of my body quivered.

“Tell me that only the mayor has family,” I hissed.

“Yes, and since there will be guards at my house, you will have nothing to use against us.” The mayor glared at me. “Now leave before we call for the guards and make you leave.”

I turned on my heel and stormed out of the city hall and down the streets. I would give them a warning so brutal that I would not be ignored.

~ ~ ~

I jerked at the sound of a familiar scream; the pitch started low but quickly grew high, higher than any note I had dared to play on pipes out of fear that my own ears would bleed. Then, as quickly as it began, this dreadful song came to a stop, and I could think of only one name: Rosemary. My eyes flew open.

My arms hung over my head, cold metal bands wrapped around my wrists. A hard wall supported me from behind. I would have been surrounded by complete darkness had it not been for one gold, nearly white-burning torch. The man holding the torch sent chills down my spine.

He was long, nimble, and thin with the build of a sprite; his fingers and hands were the longest and leanest parts of his body, suited perfectly for weaving, and were topped by nails as long and sharp as a lion’s claws. His skin was colored an unnatural shade of bronze and a cold, wicked smile danced across his face, revealing sharpened fangs for teeth. His eyes were two glowing pieces of jade; as they looked me over, I felt a fire build on my lips and in my hands.

“Time to pay your debt,” he said with a high chuckle like a hyena’s laugh.

My heart skipped a beat, and the fire blazed a trail to my throat. “Where’s Rosemary, Deal Maker?”

The Deal Maker chuckled again. “She’s already paid her part of your debt.” He adjusted the torch so that light reached the far corner. For a brief moment, I saw Rosemary lying on the ground, her scarlet lips now pale pink and her milky white skin stained crimson with blood.

The color ran from my face, and I choked on my tears. The fire in my throat burned more intensely. “But…no! Why her? She did nothing! She was innocent! She did nothing wrong!”

“I guess you should’ve listened to her uncle and let him find her a new husband instead of marrying her when you were indebted to me.” His voice scraped my eardrums like a knife.

The very thought of the struggles, the screams, and the pain that must have happened to Rosemary was enough to break me down. “It was my decision, I chose to defy you. I’m the one you should be torturing, not Rosemary.” Tears covered my cheeks and the burning was almost unbearable.

“She’s not your concern now. You had eleven years to fulfill your bargain and save her. It’s too late now.” The Deal Maker approached me, his free hand extended toward my throat. “All that you need to worry about is that it’s time for you to repay me.”

I trembled as two of his fingers lightly touched my throat where the fire burned. In reverse of when he gave me my gift, his touch gentle and fine, he traced a path from my throat to my heart. The fire scorched every inch of flesh that the path grazed over, but I merely groaned; I refused to give him the pleasure of seeing my pain. When the fire engulfed my heart, my wall against pain collapsed. His wicked grin taunting me and his eyes meeting mine, he dug his claws deep into the flesh of my chest. I emitted a blood-curdling scream.

My eyes flung open, and I bolted into a seated position. I gasped, my dry throat proving that I had screamed in my sleep. I reached into my bag and grabbed my canteen. I took a large swig of water and poured some on my face. For several minutes, I drank water and tried to get the image of Rosemary in that dream out of my head. I felt pale and weak, like I would pass out at any moment, and that image had me on the verge of tears. And her scream, I could not stop hearing it; it made my blood churn within my very veins, and it blocked even the sound of my own breathing from my ears. For that to be the last I hear from that heavenly creature…

“Rosemary,” I whimpered. “I have no other choice.”

~ ~ ~

After I calmed down from the dream, I tried to look through my bag for my knife when I heard his voice.

Use your gift, Mikhail.

I cringed. “Leave me be, Deal Maker. I’m doing all I can.”

Use your gift, Mikhail. Control them, MAKE them give you the money.

My hand stopped its rummaging. “I can’t do that. It…. I just can’t do that.”

Kill them with it; make their ears bleed, lure them to their deaths. They are no better than the rats you destroyed for them.

My hand shook as I pulled it from my bag and wiped sweat from my forehead. “Murder should never be committed through magic. I would be a monster.”

It’s no worse than what you have planned. And would you be any less of a monster if your plan failed and your precious Rosemary had to help pay your debt?

I clutched at my ears as his hyena-laugh pierced the silence. All I could hear was that hyena-laugh; all I could register at all was that hyena-laugh. I could see nothing and feel nothing, not even my own movements, just that laugh, that twisted, insane, blood-curdling hyena-laugh. I wanted to scream, but I could feel nothing move in my throat and no sound penetrated that laugh.

After what felt like an eternity in this senseless darkness, I could feel cold metal touch my lips and beneath my twitching fingers. The weight of my bag pulled on my shoulder. My chest and throat were tight, and my breath came in short, labored gasps. Through that dreaded hyena-laugh, I could finally hear my own thoughts crying out objections to some plan of the Deal Maker. As the laugh faded to a whisper, I finally saw that I was in some room.

Exotic white fur decorated the floor and walls, and every chair and bedpost were made of the highest quality oak. The blankets on the bed were woven from blue-dyed wool, with the outer blanket composed of deep blue silk. The room itself was enormous, and the bed occupied one-fourth of that space, though one lone man slept in it. When I looked over my shoulder, the window was open. Glancing downward, I saw that my pipes were raised to my lips.

My heart skipped a beat and I tried to push my pipes away. The hyena-laugh rose in volume, and I began to lose my senses once more. My breathing became more strained, and my muscles clenched tighter as I tried to retain control over myself.

No, Deal Maker, my mind said to the laugh. I will not kill this way.

The hyena-laugh rose higher.

I am my own master. You cannot make me do this.

The hyena-laugh subsided, and I was able to place my pipes back in my bag. I instead took out my knife, which Rosemary had packed for extra protection, and watched the advisor sleep for a moment. I very nearly concealed my knife and abandoned the entire treacherous act, but I heard that hyena-laugh once more. The images of Rosemary from the dream entered my mind, coming and going with the rhythm of the laugh. My muscles tight and unwilling, I lifted my hand and, like those cursed rats I destroyed, I did what that horrific song-laugh compelled me to do. I covered the advisors’ mouth, slit his throat, and carved in his arm ALWAYS PAY THE PIPER. I did not want to kill any of them this way, but I could no longer control myself in the face of that laugh.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, as if I was in a trance. I entered the advisors’ sleeping chambers through their windows, slit their throats with their mouths covered, and carved ALWAYS PAY THE PIPER into an arm of each advisor. Though I trembled and my stomach churned with each drop of blood, I only resisted the Deal Maker’s laugh in the use of my pipes. By dawn, all eight advisors suffered this fate, and the mayor was the last living city official. With my task done and the hyena-laugh gone, I hid between a house and the local tavern and expelled the contents of my stomach, my brain pounding against my skull.

~ ~ ~

“Just give him his money, before he kills us all!”

At noon, I heard the crowd’s cries from my hiding place.

“He earned the damned money, just give it to him! Who knows what he’ll do next!”

“He’s nice! He’d never hurt us!” I smiled weakly at this yell from the children.

“Silence!” the mayor shouted. “I know that the Pied Piper has you all frightened. Trust me, no one is more shaken by this than I. However, this does not mean that we can give in to his demands. If we do, all that it will show is that he can get away with his crimes. Is that we want?” He paused to let the still unsure murmurs of the crowd die down. “What we need is to run him out of our city. If he won’t leave Lacanaille in peace, then he will die at the noose instead.”

My stomach twisted in a knot at the rallying cries. I heard the crowd dispersing, so I hid farther in my spot, not making any noise. I trembled where I stood. My plan had failed, and now I had two choices: stay in Lacanaille and be hung or run and have who knows what done to me and my family by the Deal Maker. My heart, my head, and my stomach all ached. I was doomed, unless… I saw little Jonathon run by and a new plan began to form, at which I vomited again.

~ ~ ~

While experimenting with notes on the rats and playing with the children, I had discovered that all the children of Lacanaille enjoyed the same arrangement. At the time, I did not think that I would use it, but seeing that my life and the woman I loved were in danger, I had no choice.

Five hours after sundown, when everyone would be in bed, I stood at Lacanaille’s edge. For a moment I just stood there, fidgeting with my pipes. I did not want to take these children any more than I had wanted to kill the advisors before, but what choice did I have?

Then I heard the hyena-laugh and could do nothing but play the children’s arrangement.

Just like the rats, they all came pouring out of their homes. At the front of the crowd was little Jonathon, as polite and joyful as I had been when I was his age and my parents were expecting Marie. My chest tightened at this thought, and I nearly tripped on the notes, but I couldn’t stop. I had to do this. One ton of gold or a whole town’s children, that was the deal. I dared not think what the Deal Maker would want with a whole town’s children.

After all the children arrived, I turned and led them away from Lacanaille with my music. They pranced behind me, not a care in the world; they didn’t care that they were in their sleeping clothes, that they were following a stranger, or that they could not stop following me. They were completely innocent and lost in the music. It looked as if they would never stop following my music, that not even food, water, or resting mattered. I shivered at the thought.

They continued to prance behind me for the next week. I made certain to travel on flat land with lush grass to avoid hurting their feet. Every time we encountered a passerby, they merely stared at us and then went on their way. While I was relieved that they did not stop us and give me second thoughts, I was appalled that they did not care about these children’s safety.

If I ever hesitated in my notes or entertained thoughts of returning the children, the hyena-laugh would scream in my ears and all my senses would disappear until I stopped resisting, at which point I would find that we were a half hour or more away from where I knew we last were.

We stopped several times, and I would tell them I would not play any more music until they ate, drank, and rested, which they would immediately do. Those poor little ones, they loved their tune so much that they never realized how far they were from home or how dangerous it was that they were following a strange, colorful piper. At the end of the week, I decided to stop at a river with a cave and edible berries nearby. I made my deal with the children again and made sure that they would not wander too far. While they did as they were told, I knelt by the river for a drink. One glance at my reflection, and I nearly jumped out of my skin.

My eyes were naturally an icy blue with a ring of scarlet around the pupil—my parents called the scarlet a “birthmark” for my sister and me—but what I saw was completely and utterly unnatural. For a moment, my eyes were completely red with only black circles in the center for pupils. I closed my eyes and rubbed them hard, as if this would rid them of this pigmentation. When I opened them again, they did indeed return mostly to normal, but the scarlet of my eyes had changed. It was now crimson, like blood, and covered over half of the blue. I shook and gasped as I backed away from the water, my eyes never leaving my reflection.

“What have I become?” I muttered. I looked away when I felt someone tug at my sleeve.

“Are you all right, Pied Piper, sir?” Jonathon asked me. His eyes were wide with concern.

I nodded and shook myself out of my shock. “I’m fine, and call me Mikhail.”

Jonathon nodded. “Yes, Mikhail, sir. Will you play for us again?”

“After we rest.” I then took the children to the cave and set them down for a nap, though I myself couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop seeing the new coloring in my eyes.

“Red eyes mean bad magic.”

What kind of monster was I?

It’s not too late, Rosemary replied.

I looked down at Jonathon, who was curled up and smiled in his sleep.

You’re right, I replied. It’s not too late.

~ ~ ~

The next morning, I roused the children from their sleep once more with my music. Not allowing myself a second thought, I attempted to retrace our steps back to Lacanaille. I heard the laugh once more but fought against it with all my might. It was my body, my senses, my choice; if I did not want to harm these children, I wouldn’t, no matter who gave me these powers. The laugh allowed me to continue to play the children’s tune, so they knew not to question my behavior, but I struggled to keep control of my feet. For half an hour I played, the laugh pulling me one way and my will the other. Finally, when I felt my ears about to burst and me about to drop dead, the laugh faded to a barely audible whisper and I followed the path back to Lacanaille, just as I wished.

Just as before, the children followed my music, no matter where it took them or how their bodies longed to sleep or eat or drink. They didn’t question the repetitiveness of our path, merely danced behind me as the music compelled them to do. For six days we walked, uninterrupted except for food and water breaks, until we reached the second closest river to Lacanaille. A day’s walk still lay between us and Lacanaille, but I knew I could go no farther.

I stopped playing and turned to Jonathon. “Jonathon, can I trust you to take everyone back to Lacanaille?”

Jonathon tilted his head. “You’re not coming with us?”

I shook my head. “No, I best not. I have some business to handle,” I was already concocting a plan for Rosemary and me to hide from the Deal Maker, “and I doubt that after all this, your parents want me anywhere near Lacanaille.”

“Thank you, sir, for the great trip.”

I smiled weakly, my stomach knotting from guilt. “No problem, Jonathon. Thank you for keeping me company.”

Jonathon gathered the other children and led them southward.

I watched the children walk for fifteen minutes before I turned away. I grabbed my canteen from my bag and knelt by the river to refill it for the trip home. Upon seeing my reflection, I smiled with true joy. My eyes had turned from half blue, half crimson back to icy blue with a thin ring of scarlet around the pupil. I never thought that I would be so happy to have my oddly colored eyes back, but I experienced a true feeling of giddiness and euphoria at the sight.