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

Grand Dauphin handed His Majesty his hat. The white ostrich plumes glowed in the morning light.
    A murmur of appreciation rippled across the courtiers beyond the balustrade; as one, they bowed to their King.
    The King led his family and the most favored members of his court out to face the day.

    oOo

    The workers grumbled, but Marie-Josèphe persuaded them to strain the sea water from the last few barrels. Along with bits of seaweed and a few periwinkles, the screen produced a half-dozen live fish.
    “Just pour the water in the fountain, mademoiselle,” said the musketeer lieutenant.
    “The demon will catch the fish, like it caught the other.”
    “It must come to me to take its food,” she said.
    The musketeer grimaced. “Watch your fingers,” he said.
    “It could have bitten me last night,” she said. “It could have drowned me. I’m safe enough.”
    “You can never tell, with demons,” he said, as if he had considerable experience with demons.
    “Can you bring me more live fish?” she asked one of the workers.
    “Live fish, those aren’t easy to get, mamselle.” He ran his hand through his thin brown hair.
    “Count Lucien will pay you well if you bring live fish.”
    “And whip you if you don’t.” A tanned young worker with a sweaty scarf tied across his forehead laughed at his comrade. “With Georges’ whip.”
    “He never would!” Marie-Josèphe exclaimed. But then she thought, He very well might, if he thought someone had slighted His Majesty.
    “How many live fish do you want, mamselle — and how much are you paying?”
    “Bring me as many as you’d eat for dinner — if you could eat only fish, and if you could eat only dinner.”
    The workers dragged the last staves of the broken barrel out of the water and threw them into a wagon-bed. The clatter frightened the sea monster farther under one of Apollo’s dolphins. The workers touched their hats, clambered into the wagons, and drove away.
    Several gardeners hurried to rake the wagon tracks and the hoofprints from the path, to clean away every clod of horse manure, and to vanish again, leaving potted flowers and trees in precise lines, carrying with them any wilted blooms.
    The musketeers busied themselves lowering the sides of the tent, closing Marie-Josèphe off alone with the sea monster. She sat still in the silence, in the silken sunlight that poured through the top and sides of the tent. The sea monster, underwater, drifted closer.
    Marie-Josèphe regarded the live fishes doubtfully. They twitched and quivered. If she did not feed them to the sea monster herself, soon, she might as well tip them into the fountain. Otherwise they would die. She rolled her embroidered velvet sleeve up above her elbow, reached into the jar, and grabbed one of the fish.
    Gripping the wriggly thing tight, Marie-Josèphe knelt and swished the fish through the water.
    “Come, sea monster.”
    The sea monster lunged forward, but quickly turned aside. Ripples lapped around Marie-Josèphe’s wrist.
    “Come here, sea monster. Come get a nice fish.”
    The sea monster swam back and forth, a few armslengths from the stairs.
    “Please, sea monster,” she said. “You must eat.”
    The live fish writhed feebly. Marie-Josèphe opened her hand. The sea monster darted so close that her claws brushed Marie-Josèphe’s fingers. Marie-Josèphe gasped with delight. The creature snatched the fish and shoved it into her mouth.
    “Good sea monster!” Enthralled, Marie-Josèphe captured another fish. “Fine sea monster!”
    Frightened by her own boldness, the sea monster fled to Apollo to nestle beneath the hooves of the dawn horses.
    Perhaps Apollo is driving the wrong way in order to retard time, Marie-Josèphe thought. Perhaps if he drives against the sun, time will go backwards, and we shall all live forever.
    She glanced over her shoulder, toward the glow of the sun shining through the translucent tent wall.
    She caught her breath. The sun was high, much