East (12 page)

"How dare you sneak in here!" I said. "I have looked everywhere, through every corner of this place, and now you turn up and just sit there, as if ... as if..." I trailed off, not able to find the words. Then I began again, my voice shrill with frustration. "Where am I? Why have you brought me here?!"

The white bear rose slowly, almost apologetically, as if he did not want to remind me just how very big he was.

He was so overwhelming, so white and so large, that the room seemed to shrink. Whatever other words I had been about to say died on my lips.

"Come," the bear's voice rumbled.

And quietly I followed him back to the room where I had my meals; in my mind I called it the red-couch room. Another pot was bubbling on the fire, but I barely noticed. I sat on the couch. The white bear took a place by the hearth. He remained standing on his four paws.

"To talk ... is hard ... I can only do ... little." He paused, took a breath. "Your questions ... I cannot ... answer."

I sat still, mesmerized by his hollow voice and the blurred edges of the words. The sound came from deep down in his chest. His mouth moved but not the way people's lips move when they talk. I could see glimpses of his black tongue, rippling.

"Anything you need ... wool, color." He stopped again and breathed heavily. "Ask."

I nodded. "How long am I to stay here?" I could not help myself; I had to know.

"Cannot ... answer" was all he said. Then, "Stay ... with me."

"I cannot leave?"

"Stay ... no harm." It seemed to be getting more difficult for him, as though finding words was almost an impossible strain.

"But the woman in the kitchen, who is she? May I speak to her?"

The bear had begun to lumber toward the door. His steps were unsteady, his eyes clouded.

"Was there something you wanted me to make on the loom?" I asked.

The white bear kept moving, though just before going through the door, he turned his head sideways and the words "
no harm
"came again.

I sat for a moment, watching the now empty doorway.

I found myself wondering why he had brought me to this room to speak to me. Then my stomach rumbled and I realized I was starving.

I grinned. The white bear was making sure I ate.

It is difficult to explain, but after that interaction with the bear, I felt more at peace.

Nothing had changed, I didn't understand any more than I had before, and I was still a prisoner. And yet for some reason the words "
no harm
" comforted me and stayed in my head. For some reason I believed them.

I ate a nourishing meal from the stewpot, accompanied by dark bread and a cup of goat's milk. Then I returned to the loom and worked until I was sleepy. I had no idea whether it was day or night. I would have to make more of a routine for myself so that I would know when the day was done, although when I exited the weaving room, most of the lamps in the hall had been extinguished.

So it was nighttime—at least in the castle carved into the mountain.

A small lamp had been lit and left for me by the door. I picked it up and made my way down the darkened corridor. It was eerie, walking through the echoing halls of the castle, but I firmly repeated to myself the words "
no harm
."

I went to the room where my knapsack had been placed and unpacked the little I had brought with me. The bed looked a lot more comfortable than the red couch. And it was, far beyond anything I had ever slept on. It was large, so large I felt that my whole family might easily have fit in it.

Several oil lamps set in wall sconces lit the room. The oil in the lamps was different from any I had known in Njord. It smelled sweeter and burned cleaner and more slowly. But I had been unable to discover how to light the oil lamps myself. I looked for flints or some kind of striker but found none. In the castle there was no need to light a lamp myself, for each time I entered a room, lamps and candles were already burning.

When I was ready to sleep, I blew out all the lamps and candles but one, so the room wouldn't be completely dark.

As I lay there nestled in the softness of the mattress and comforters, I thought of my family. At home I was used to sleeping with at least my two sisters, and I felt lonely and strange, lying by myself in that large bed.

I slept. Sometime later I awoke, softly. My sister Sara had just climbed into bed and I pulled a little away, because her feet were always chilly and I was so warm and drowsily content in the soft...

Suddenly I came wide awake. I was not at home and it was not my sister who had climbed into bed beside me.

I
STILL HAVE MY
father's decree in my Book:

My daughter, the princess, has defied me and taken a high-born softskin. As punishment she shall forthwith be bound by my edict in this matter.

The boy stolen from the green lands shall be transformed into a white bear. He will reside in the castle carved into a mountain in the softskin land we call Suudella, and he will be given enough arts so that he may survive. A Huldre servant will also be supplied to serve him in the castle in the mountain.

Further, no request that he shall make of one of Huldre shall be denied. Except the request to be released from his enchantment. To be released from the enchantment, the white bear that was a softskin must abide by and satisfy a set of inviolable conditions.

These conditions shall be made known to him in their entirety.

So it has been decreed, and let this stand as an example to those who would defy their king.

I
T WAS PITCH-BLACK
in the room. I lay there in the darkness, my heart pounding and my limbs stiff, thinking desperately of what I could use as a weapon to protect myself. But the figure beside me in the bed stayed well away; there were at least two arm-lengths between us, so large was the bed. It briefly adjusted the covers and then lay still.

Of all the things that had happened to me during the past days, this was surely the strangest, the most confusing. At first I wondered if the white bear himself had climbed into bed with me. But though it was a large bed, it was not so large as to fit both a huge bear and myself, with two arm-lengths between. And as my pounding heart slowed, I reasoned that, based on the tilt of the mattress, the weight of whatever was beside me was not much heavier than my sister, although it was difficult to judge because of the distance between us and the softness of the mattress.

The minutes went by and there was no movement at all from the figure. At first my mind whirled frantically, trying to fathom who or what it was. The white lady or man from the kitchen? Or another such person of the castle whom I had yet to meet? Was it indeed human? Or beast? Perhaps an enchanted king or some kind of ghost or spirit. But gradually my thoughts ran out and my fear and confusion seemed to drain away. Amazingly, I slept.

When I awoke there was a dim light in the room. The door was partially open and the light was coming from the lamps lining the hall. I could see that there was no one in the bed next to me, and for a moment I wondered if the whole thing was a dream. But the bed linens on that side of the bed were rumpled, and I knew it wasn't.

There was food waiting for me when I went down to the red-couch room, but I was distracted as I ate the porridge and fruit. I could not stop thinking about the strange episode of the night before. I thought about it continually through the day, as I sat at the loom. I kept having the nagging feeling that, despite the evidence of my own senses, it
had
been the white bear that had lain beside me. I alternately dreaded and looked forward to going to bed that night. I dreaded it because the whole thing might happen again, and I looked forward to it also because it might indeed happen again and maybe this time would be explained. I resolved to keep the oil lamps in the bedroom lit.

The white bear did not visit while I wove, which, oddly enough, disappointed me. Though I doubted I would get an answer, I still yearned to ask him for an explanation of my night visitor.

When I was done weaving for the day, I ate a meal of meat stew and bread, and, taking the oil lamp with me, went up to bed. The lamps in the hall were no longer burning.

I washed, then put on my nightdress from home. I left one wall lamp lit as well as the handheld lamp, which I put on the table by the bed. I slipped under the covers and waited. I was determined to stay awake so that if the visitor came again I would be able to see its face.

I don't know how long I lay there, eyes wide open, waiting, but suddenly the lamps went out. I started to sit up; I was sure there had been oil enough in those lamps to last the night through. But I froze when moments later I felt something climb into the bed and pull up the covers. I briefly cursed the lack of a flint to relight the lamp, vowing to search for one in the morning.

But this time I had been fully awake when my visitor settled onto the bed, and I was better able to gauge the give in the mattress. It confirmed my initial feeling that this was a being somewhat larger than my sister but certainly not as huge as a bear. It could not be the white bear.

I thought for a moment of trying to speak to the figure but had a strong sense that I should not. Something mysterious was happening, and I felt that the sound of my voice would be jarring and wrong.

Again, the visitor did not move and stayed well away from me. And again I felt my tension drain. As I was drifting toward sleep, I even had the sensation of comfort, almost like I was at home sleeping beside my sister.

And once again the next morning, my visitor was gone.

F
OR MY THIRD JOURNEY
I headed due south. My previous two had been north and northwest. Soren was eager for me to explore to the south, as there were so many areas there that remained uncharted.

In the course of mapping the lands I traveled through, I spoke to many local inhabitants, asking them about towns, rivers, and lakes, and the best routes between this point and that. Always at the end of our conversations, I would throw in a casual question about white bears, saying I had heard they were occasionally seen about and had any passed through of late. I dared not ask whether anyone had seen a white bear and a young girl traveling together, for I would surely be thought mad. Even my innocent question about white bears raised eyebrows, especially the farther south I went.
A white bear? This far south?
their faces would seem to say.

Though I had my work to occupy me, I was still beside myself with worry about Rose. Every dead end, and every blank look at my queries, sent me deeper into despair.

But in a small town not far from the seacoast, I finally had luck.

I came across a gentleman leading two heifers along a country road. We bade each other good day, he gazing with curiosity at the pad of paper and other tools I had been using to mark the road. We conversed for a moment, as I explained that I was a mapmaker, then casually I trotted out my usual query about whether he or anyone he knew had ever seen a white bear in the vicinity.

"Only the likes of Sig Everhart has ever claimed to see bears, and that's only when he's paid one too many visits to the wine barrel," the man responded with a laugh.

"Ah yes, wine can make us all see things." I laughed with him, but my interest quickened. "And where might I find this Master Everhart?"

"Lives in town," the man replied, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"I'd be obliged if you could direct me," I said.

And the man did, saying, "Sig's a good fellow, except for his weakness for wine."

But I was already hastening along the road to town. I quickly tracked down the man in his barn, where he was halfheartedly grooming a scrawny horse. He was clearly nursing a painful hangover.

I was not in the mood for tackling the subject sideways, so I just came right out and asked, "Have you seen a white bear in the past month or so?"

He frowned, and said suspiciously, "Ah, after a bit of fun, are you, stranger? Who put you up to it? Asa? Or Jonah?"

Impatient, I told him that no one had sent me and that I just needed to know the answer to my question.

Sig Everhart looked at me, then turned aside and spat into the hay. "Saw a white bear—last full moon, I think it was. Past midnight. I had lost my way in the woods outside town. Mind you, I was drunk as a horned owl. But I saw it, I swear. And it had summat riding on its back."

My heart felt like it would pound its way out of my chest. I grabbed the man's arms with my hands. "Which way was it going? How fast did it travel? Could you see what was on its back?"

He pulled away from me, looking wary. "Probably naught more than a ... What do you call them?...Hallucination. Brought on by the drink. Haven't been that soused since. Although last night I came close..."

"Please," I said, my voice cracking. "Just tell me." The man must have sensed my desperation, for he held up a placating hand. "Sure, sure. Well, whatever it was, hallucination or not, it was moving fast. But it had slowed down, to pick its way over Rilling Creek. And it was heading south. Could see naught of what rode its back. Could have been dirt even, or leaves. Or the wine.. ." he added with a grimace, putting his hand to his temple.

That was all I could get from the hungover Sig Everhart, but it was enough to give me my first spark of hope in a long while.

In my own mind I had no doubt that what the man had seen was my Rose riding on the back of the white bear. And so I found my way to Rilling Creek and from there headed south.

But days turned to weeks, and I could find no other trace of Rose and the white bear. I combed each village, asking everyone I saw. I roamed the woods, the meadows.

Finally I came to the sea, the farthest south I could go. I had combed the coastland, east and west, asking everyone I met, knocking at the doors to hundreds of strangers' homes. And so I stood by the water's edge and stared over the waves. It had been more than two months since I had left home, and the only clue to Rose's whereabouts had been from a drunken sot. But it was a slender thread of hope and I clung to it like a drowning man.