The Naturalist

[brookehatchett]

Episode 108 Alternate Scene

This was the original scene for Maliner’s emotional breakdown, but it felt too much like repeating old conversations to me. Ultimately, I thought the show of sorrow from both Maliner and Clint was a better fit.

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“And my other boy, my Ignatius…” Maliner stares at the ground, sniffling. “My little Ignatius…” 

Suddenly, his head snaps back. 

“You stole him from me!”

In a blink, he’s on his feet aiming an ice-filled hand at Mr. Farthington.

“Maliner,” Mr. Farthington says slowly, “we’ve talked about this, remember?” I can see he wants to back up, but there’s nowhere for him to go with Maliner still gripping his shoulder. “We’ve made peace.”

Maliner’s face moves through three or four emotions before settling on a sneer.

“How could I make peace with you?”

For all Mr. Farthington’s farce, I can see this stings.

Calm yourself, Naturalist, Faithful says, coiling himself tighter around me. You are not well.

“You calm yourself, beast. You have no place in this.”

Faithful’s spines rise. As he and Maliner start slinging insults back and forth, Mr. Farthington eases a hand behind his back. He isn’t going to hurt the Naturalist, is he? 

Whatever is going on is a mess, and it’s bound to get worse once the king gets here. Everyone knows King Alec wasn’t King Lucio’s real father. We also know not to talk about that. I can’t say I fully understand why—What’s the point in keeping a secret everyone knows?—but I know to play along…

[brookehatchett]

Episode 68 Deleted Scene

The building’s details sharpen as the horses tromp forward. Vines creep up one side, and the other looks set to fall. “Looks abandoned,” I say, more to myself than anyone else.

Exactly, Névé says, stamping a bush in Estella’s path. No one will come along asking us to pull carriages for them.

I blink. “Was that your exchange? With Ameliana?”

He snorts. Of course.

“How did she ask you?” How could she have? She’s not a Speaker.

She didn’t. We made an offer, and she accepted.

“But how?”

There were empty stalls. We took them.

I hunch down to avoid a low-hanging limb. “That hardly seems like an exchange.”

We pulled her carriage, didn’t we?

“And did you just hitch yourselves up, too?”

No, the girl did. After the hay man was too afraid.

By “hay man,” I assume he means Stanley, Ameliana’s stablemaster in Frelpston. Despite everything, I grin to myself.

No one is gutsy as Ameliana.

The inside of the barn is musty but drier than I expected. I slide off  Névé’s back, and for once, I’m glad for a saddle horn. My legs feel like jelly.

Told you, Névé says, shuffling closer so I can lean on him. I shut my eyes and scowl. Estella comes to blow warm air over me.

Are you all right?

[brookehatchett]

Episode 64 Deleted Scene

Névé and I follow him past Smidge and the dragon, neither of which seem to notice us. Smidge has stretched out with her head resting on one of his feet, and she’s steadily talking even as she yawns. In her hands, she cradles a small, pearly-pink shell. My mouth twitches with a grin. That solved the mystery of the dragon’s early return.

“Was Maliner fair with you?” I ask Névé as we walk.

I suppose. He sneers. Besides this monstrosity on my back. Have you ever seen anything so hideous?

I glance at the saddle. The leatherwork is exquisite.

“Never,” I say.

He snorts his approval.

“Is he a better rider than me?”

Far worse, he says, which is as close to a compliment as I’ve had from him. A deep belly laugh rolls out of me.

“I’m glad to see you.”

And I you, he says as quickly as he can to pretend he didn’t.

Maliner is closer than I expected, only on the other side of the chalk tower, and there’s no sign of Roren. Instead, Estella is there, and Maliner rubs her now bare back down with measured strokes. Névé goes to touch noses with her.

Well met, Speaker, she says to me in her soft voice.

“Well met, Estella. It’s an honor to see you again.” I bow low. “I’m deeply sorry if you were pressed to come here so quickly.” I wonder how she’d been near enough to come at all.

Oh, it was no trouble. She turns her face to Névé. It was lovely to run together.

I keep my smile tucked in tight as Névé’s chest expands.

[brookehatchett]

Bonus Episode

Olin Maliner

A bothersome ache formed in Maliner’s chest as he watched the dragon fade into the distance. Beside him, Clint Farthington was pulling at his hair and groaning as if his heart had been skewered. Maliner saw no value in such displays.

Ignatius was in danger and would need to be fetched. There was no time to waste in hair-pulling.

Sweeping his robes aside, he put the Rulbena manor at his back and strode for the gate. Mr. Farthington raced after him.

“Where are you going?”

The final letter of this last word was absent. He knew Mr. Farthington had long ago renounced his noble title in favor of illegal trade of magical goods. It did not surprise Maliner that the man had renounced educated speech as well. Maliner could, perhaps, overlook this had not the trait been passed along to Ignatius. Unrefined speech made life amongst nobility all the more difficult, and he had labored hard this past year to cure the boy of the affliction.

“Back to the palace,” Maliner said. 

When a guard barreled into his study rambling about Ignatius and some kitchen girl, Maliner had moved straight for the estate. Unfortunately, Mr. Farthington and he had crossed paths as the former was leaving the physician after having his lacerated arm bound. He had tolerated the man’s presence in hopes Ignatius might listen to him.

Mr. Farthington lifted his hat to swipe the uninjured arm across his sweating forehead. How had the man survived the pressures of banditry? 

“We have to go after Remy!”

Maliner’s jaw locked at the sound of that name. Tesnan tradition dictated that the mother chose forenames on account of surnames being given by fathers. As the mother was, in this case, uninterested, the task fell to Maliner, and he had known the boy’s name upon his first look at him.

Ignatius. The fiery one.

“Then by all means,” Maliner drawled. “Be off.”

“On foot? It’ll take weeks!”

Maliner released a long breath through his nose. This man seemed to have forgotten they both would rather lie on hot coals than engage in conversation. 

“Hence why I am returning to the palace.” Not only was swift transport needed, but he would need to see the king. 

Especially if he were to shield Ignatius from charges of treason.

Maliner sighed again.

He felt the flame wolf approaching from behind like the stretching of a shadow across one’s back on a hot afternoon. How other Naturalists experienced the sensation of a bonded beast nearing he did not know, but her arrival was as soothing as summer shade, at least for him. Mr. Farthington visibly stiffened.

What do you need? she said by way of greeting. Their relationship was one of directness.

“Stay with the girl. Her condition is progressing faster than I anticipated. I will return as soon as possible.”

Swift as wind, the flame wolf shot away.

Mr. Farthington’s tone was grim as he asked, “How long does she have?”

“Days. A week at most.” 

It was a loss that could not be permitted for myriad reasons. That was why he had sent Roren to bring back as many flame scorpions as could be collected, an unseemly but necessary method he meant to atone for via charm, flattery, and copious rewards to save the life of the future queen. It seemed Ignatius had similar ideas, for Maliner felt sure that was where his son was headed.

A faint pang reminded him he would have done the same once.   

With expert composure, he neatly folded that thought and packed it away. He was nearly at the palace gate and had other concerns.

A horse and rider stood there speaking with the guards. Maliner could see at a glance that the horse was no Third Beast, though she was not fully a Second either. Odd. It was rare to see a mix between types. 

Mr. Farthington practically lunged at the man. “McDaniel!”

To Maliner’s surprise, the thick-bearded man ahead was familiar to him as well. Under King Alec’s orders, he had scoured the continent for other Naturalists beneath the king’s claim that Maliner alone should not be wholly responsible as Speaker for all Cameir’s magical beasts. In reality, the former king hoped to find a more manageable Naturalist than the one he had been provided with.

Maliner did enjoy being unmanageable.

This man was one of the two people Maliner found with some Speaking ability, though he had little. The other, a young girl, had disappeared before he could confirm the extent of her abilities. 

“Can I borrow your horse?” Mr. Farthington blurted. “It’s an emergency, and I—”

Grabbing the back of the fool’s neck, Maliner pushed him into a rough bow. 

“This is not a horse to be borrowed,” he hissed.

There was murder in Mr. Farthington’s eyes when he glanced over at him. Maliner raised a cool eyebrow. 

Daring him to try.

“Pardon, madam,” he said to the horse as they straightened and Mr. Farthington shook him off. “But might you be acquainted with a certain frost horse in residence here?”

The bashful creature’s long lashes fluttered. I am, Speaker.

He smiled and held an arm out. “Please, come inside. I will fetch him for you.”

Leading the mare to the watering trough, he left her, Mr. McDaniel, and a still rambling Mr. Farthington, and entered the stables. 

The frost horse—Névé, Maliner recalled—lifted his head from a bucket of choice grain as he entered.

What do you want?

“Assistance,” Maliner said in his straightforward manner. “Ignatius has left with the dragon.”

The horse continued his meal. Yes, the rat told me.

So Ignatius had a rat loyal to him as well. Maliner’s lips twitched at his son’s cleverness. He wondered which it could be. Surely not one of his own mischief: they would have told him, though they did tell him less nowadays. They had grown fat and content with the exotic cheeses he served them in exchange for their observations.

I’ll be leaving as soon as I finish this, the horse said.

“I need your speed.”

How unfortunate for you.

“Any price you ask will be given.”

I don’t like you. Why would I like anything you offer?

Maliner inclined his head. “The feeling is mutual. I receive near daily missives of your terrors.” 

A wicker echoes out of the pail.

“Your mate is here.”

His head whipped up. Estella?

“Indeed. It is a shame so much distance lies between the two of you.”

The frost horse pinned his ears back.

“If only it could be shortened.”

Dust rose between them as the horse pawed at the earth. When he neither Spoke nor attempted to trample him as he clearly wished, Maliner added, “I will make every effort in my power, and my power is considerable.”

He only hoped it would be considerable enough for his next task.

Done, the horse said with disgust.

Maliner bowed. “I will return shortly for our departure.”

Where are you going?

“To send for supplies,” he said, walking out. His next words were only for himself.

“And to find my brother.”