Prospero Regained Read Online Free PDF

angel.
    “As for us,” Malagigi continued more humbly, “we of the Brotherhood of Hope are sinners like yourself, trying to earn our way up Mount Purgatory by doing good deeds. You may think of us as the angels’ lowly helpers, if you wish.” Turning to Gregor, Malagigi concluded, “Did I not say, when I introduced myself to this man in the hat, that I was with the Brotherhood of Hope. Really, you sons of Prospero do not listen. You should attend to your surroundings.”
    I came forward. “You’re helping the angels harrow Hell? Do they come regularly? Or was that just that once, two thousand years ago?”
    I recalled Ferdinand’s story of having been turned to stone before the City of Dis and later rescued by angels. Ferdinand had proved a fake but that did not mean that there were not elements of truth to the story the incubus Seir of the Shadows had told while he was impersonating my long dead love. As Mab had pointed out, demons often wove truth in among their lies to make them more believable.
    Malagigi turned to greet me and froze, his eyes widening slowly in amazed joy. Crying out, he threw himself down on the sand and hid his face, though the hand with the tiny star still held it steadily before of him. The three shades also scuttled backward, bowing until their faces were pressed against the beach.
    “An angel,” breathed Malagigi. “A real angel!”
    I spun around, but there was nothing behind me except gloom and marsh. The frogs croaked loudly.
    Turning back, I found Erasmus covering his face in mock shame. “Please get up. That is not an angel. It is just my sister. She has a … a magic dress.”
    Oh. I had forgotten about the wisps of emerald light coming from my shoulders. In the silvery light of the star, their glow was less prominent.
    Malagigi remained kneeling, but he tilted his head to allow himself to squint up at me, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. “Psst. Erasmus, this is not my beloved Shrew. Is she the Icicle or a new one?”
    Chuckling, I extended my hand to help him rise. “The Icicle. Nowadays, people just call me Miranda.”
    “ ‘ O brave new world, that has such people in’t,’ ” Malagigi quoted, laughing. He reached up but his hand passed through mine. Smiling ruefully, he rose under his own power and bowed over my hand, his dancing eyes examining my face. “We’ve met before, only your hair was different … like ice.”
    Erasmus shaded his eyes and turned away, as if he was too embarrassed to glance in our direction. “How can you even look at a woman after seeing this place, much less kiss her hand? Aren’t you afraid of ending up here, Man?”
    “Damned for kissing a hand? Which—as you have witnessed—I did not do.” Malagigi raised a chiseled eyebrow. “Nonsense. Seen a bit too much of this place, have you, mon ami ? Here, hold the star. You will feel better.” He moved quickly to Erasmus’s side and, holding his hand above Erasmus’s, slid the tiny silver light onto my brother’s palm.
    “I say,” breathed Erasmus, as he watched the tiny star of hope glitter on his outstretched hand. “That’s…”
    “Refreshing?” Malagigi suggested. “But, of course! What a tale you four must have to tell! But first, let me speak with my new friends and send them on their way.” He turned to the other three, who were still cowed on the ground, gazing at me in mingled awe and fear. Helping them up, he said, “You are free to go. If you wish to escape from this place, you can only do so by helping others. Anyone who can see you and who can see the truth of his or her own condition is a candidate for rescue. But do not waste your strength trying to help those who cannot see you or who do not ask for help. They are not ready yet and will only cause you grief.”
    “Is there nothing we can do to repay you, Gracious Monk?” asked one of the men as he rose.
    “Pray for me.” Malagigi lowered his head and pressed his hands together. “We all benefit from