Fell (The Sight 2) (20 page)

She opened the door to her room quietly and crept outside in her bare feet, only to hear voices coming from below. Lescu and his son were talking softly together.

“No one in the villages has heard anything, Catalin,” the blacksmith was saying. “I’ve asked around, and all they talk of now are Turks and Stefan’s fight. They’ll pay no heed to another around the house, changeling or not.”

“Then she can stay here, Father?”

Lescu paused, and Alina felt her heart beating faster.

“It’s a dark thing that she’s killed a man, Catalin, but darker still the reasons why. I fear for her indeed if Vladeran and Romana are her parents. Yet why they should want her dead I cannot fathom. She’s only a girl and can be no political threat. Yes, she can stay, my boy. She needs our help, and I like her spirit. Perhaps she’ll share some of her stories.”

“Oh, Father. Thank you.”

“But we must keep her story secret from the villagers. A strange destiny follows this child.”

“Yes, Father.”

“You like her, don’t you?” asked Lescu.

The boy was silent for a while, and Alina found herself hanging on his answer. Lescu had got up and was fumbling with something at the table.

“Such eyes she has, father,” said Catalin at last. “There’s something special about her, I think.”

“And the least of it is that mark on her arm, or talk of changelings. But take this, Catalin. Put my bag in the dresser.”

“More gold, father?”

“Yes, boy. At least the threat of war pays a blacksmith well. Gold is one certain thing in the world, when men and the Courts are so uncertain. Though it’s sad that gold seems to move men’s hearts entirely.”

With that they heard a creak on the stair and looked up to see Alina standing there. She pretended she hadn’t heard, but she suddenly felt embarrassed and ran her hands through her hair and grinned foolishly at the men. Lescu nodded approvingly as he saw her in the dress.

“You look restored, Alina,” he said. “Well enough to help us around the farm, tomorrow, perhaps.”

“Oh, gladly, Lescu, and anything else that I may do to repay your kindness. Both of you.”

Catalin was blushing as she reached the bottom of the stair and he noticed her pretty bare feet.

“Come, Alina,” said Lescu warmly, “sit at the table with us. Catalin’s promised to tell me another story of Baba Yaga. You can listen too.”

“I’d like that,” said Alina, smiling and sitting down.

Catalin felt awkward in front of a changeling child, famed for her stories, but he was used to spinning yarns to entertain his father, so he began.

“I bet you know all the tales of the witch, Alina,” he said. “How she lives in a log cabin that walks around on dancing chicken feet, with a fence made of human bones, with skulls on top.”

“Except for one piece of fence,” said Alina, “reserved for the hero of the story.”

Catalin nodded and his eyes glittered.

“Yes, Alina. And how the keyhole of her front door is really a mouth, filled with sharp wolf’s teeth.”

“Which only appears when you tell it a magic phrase,” said Alina, “
Turn your back to the forest
…”

“
But your front to me
,” said Catalin quickly.

Lescu laughed.

“Well,” he cried happily, “we’ve a brace of storytellers here indeed.”

Catalin smiled and went on. “Some say old Baba Yaga was always so angry because each time someone asked her a question she aged a whole year,” he said, keen to impress both his father and the pretty girl, “and so Baba Yaga would have to drink tea made from blue roses to restore herself. So if you bring her a gift of blue roses, she’ll grant you a wish. But the truth is she’s just an evil old hag, who steals children and threatens to eat them up.”

Alina shivered a little.

“Baba Yaga has many servants of course,” Catalin said eagerly, “and three riders visit her house. One white…”

“For the day,” said Alina.

“One red.”

“For the sun,” said Lescu, joining in.

“And one black, for the black, black night,” said Catalin, nodding sagely. “And on such a black night, a girl was sent on an errand to see her, named Vasilissa the beautiful.”

Alina’s eyes opened appreciatively, for she had heard many stories of Baba Yaga, but none of a beautiful girl called Vasilissa.

“Now, Vasilissa was terrified of Baba Yaga, of course,” said Catalin, “and she had been warned that, although she could ask Baba Yaga about the three riders, she could say nothing of her servants, for then the old hag would kill her instantly. She also knew that to approach Baba Yaga was always a dangerous thing, and that what would protect her most was her own purity of spirit, her careful preparation, and showing the old woman the greatest politeness. So with humility in her heart, lovely Vasilissa reached the terrifying hut, and heard it squawking like a chicken.”

Alina and Lescu smiled and sat back appreciatively.

“Now, Baba Yaga was in a good mood that day,” said Catalin, “and so Vasilissa completed her errand unharmed, but as she was about to leave through the gate to that wicked fence, the old hag looked into the tea she was making, and saw her own reflection there. It made her think of how young and beautiful Vasilissa was in comparison.

“At that she flew into such a terrible rage that she jumped into her mortar and raced after the girl. ‘Look out Vasilissa,’ cried a voice near the fence of bones, although the girl could not see who had spoken. ‘She’s coming,’ cried another voice, but it was too late, because the old hag scooped her up and imprisoned her inside her walking house.

“But Vasilissa was not alone in the house of the witch, for two of Baba Yaga’s servants appeared, a cat and a dog. Now, Vasilissa loved animals with all her heart.”

Alina looked up at that and thought of Fell.

“And she was so kind to them both, so gentle and tender, that they decided they must help her escape. So one day, when the black rider had come again, they opened a window in the house, and told her to climb out and hide in a tree. ‘Thank you, Vasilissa, they said. ‘We love you.’

“Vasilissa was sorry to leave them, but she was so gentle as she climbed into the branches, making sure not to damage any, that she heard one of the voices she had heard before. ‘Thank you, Vasilissa,’ said the tree, which was one of Baba Yaga’s servants too, ‘I’ll help you as well.’ ‘But how?’ whispered the beautiful girl wonderingly, ‘Baba Yaga has many spells, and I fear she’ll follow me, tree, if I try to escape.’ The tree thought for a while and then said, ‘We must ask the gate.’

“Suddenly the gate started talking too,” whispered Catalin. “‘Dear Vasilissa,’ it said warmly, ‘You were so gentle and polite when you first opened me, that though I am only a servant, I will help you too. You must hide in the …’ But the gate stopped, for being a swinging gate, he was used to changing his mind. ‘No, Vasilissa, you must run as fast and far as you can, as soon as the red rider appears, and not stop until you see the white rider. Baba Yaga will follow, but if you reach the white rider before her, her spell will be broken forever.’

“‘Look,’ said Vasilissa, trembling, for the red rider had just appeared on the hill. ‘Run then, Vasilissa,’ boomed the tree, bending down and placing her carefully on the ground, beyond the fence of skulls and human bones. ‘Run, beautiful Vasilissa,’ cried all the servants together. Vasilissa started to run, as fast as she could as the sun rose, and there was a terrible screech behind her. The old hag Baba Yaga was in pursuit, in her giant mortar, steering through the air with her pestle and beating the poor clouds with her broom.”

Alina shuddered as she listened, and as he spoke, Catalin seemed to hear a voice in his own head.
Wake up, Catalin
, it seemed to say.

“Vasilissa the beautiful was so terrified of the old woman that she ran faster than she had ever run before, as the red rider beat the ground with his hooves. She ran west over fields and hills and at last she came to a valley. Baba Yaga was nearly on her, but just as she was about to pounce, Vasilissa saw the white horseman before her, on his fine white horse. The spell was broken, and suddenly, because of the old hag’s cruelty to her animals, she was transformed into a great black crow.”

“And the valley was this valley?” said Alina softly.

“Yes,” answered Catalin, with a grin. “Of course. But that wasn’t the end of the story, Alina. For Vasilissa was so kind that she asked the horseman to take pity on the old hag. So he summoned her house and changed her back again, saying though that Baba Yaga could never leave our valley, or she would be changed into a crow once more.”

Lescu nodded with satisfaction, but something strange had come into Alina’s face. It had been a wonderful tale, and yet she realised suddenly that that was all it was, a story, and in that moment Alina suddenly felt too old for stories. With that they heard a cry outside, a single howl in the night, that filled the air. Alina started and looked anxiously through the window. It was Fell.

Lescu noticed the look immediately, and his clever eyes narrowed.

“A wolf,” he whispered gravely. “I think it’s fallen into one of the pits. It’s been howling for a day.”

“Pits?” said Alina, trying to hide the concern in her face, and suddenly wanting to be in her own clothes.

“Before the winter, we dig wolf pits in the forest to protect out livestock,” said Lescu. “It’s an old tradition around here, Alina. Most of the villagers put stakes in the bottom, but I think it a cruel custom and leave mine empty. The fall’s usually enough to kill them, but if they escape again, well good luck to them.”

Alina was trembling, and Lescu saw it.

“What’s wrong, child? By the warmth with which you talked of Elak and Teela, I know you love animals as much as Vasilissa, but you can’t care for a wild wolf,” Lescu smiled. “They take our animals, and so threaten our lives.”

Alina thought of the shepherds round Moldov.

“Why, I almost think you do care,” cried Lescu, with a laugh. “Your heart’s big indeed. But come. Perhaps I should open some wine or tsuika, to toast your recovery.”

“No,” said Alina, jumping up. “Thank you, Lescu, but I think I’m still wearier than I thought. I’m up too soon, I fear.”

Lescu raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t argue, as Alina thanked Catalin for his wonderful story, wished them good night again, and went straight back to her room. As soon as she closed the door, she started to look around. At last she found her own clothes in a chest in the corner, cleaned and neatly folded.

She changed quickly, but then stood listening for a good while to the noises of the house. When she was sure that Lescu and Catalin had gone to bed, she pushed open the window onto the freezing air and climbed outside, slipping down onto the little roof below her window and jumping lightly down to the snowy ground below.

All was dark and silent in the house, but Alina spotted Gwell lying there on the porch. The hunting dog looked up at her, but Alina no longer smelt of wolf and he didn’t react. She bent down and stroked his head.

“Good, boy,” she whispered. “Stay there now, Gwell.”

Gwell growled contentedly, and he closed his eyes and let her stroke him. Then Alina rose and crept away. As soon as she reached the trees, she began to run fast through the cold forest, and as she got farther and farther from Lescu’s home, she started to call.

“Fell. Where are you, Fell?”

Alina could see very little amongst the looming branches, and hear nothing at all, but soon her eyes grew accustomed to the forest in the moonlight. It made her going easier, but she had little idea of what she was looking for, except that she scoured the ground for a hunting pit. Alina wondered now a little fearfully if there could be any truth in the tale of Baba Yaga, and she searched for what seemed an age, but could find nothing at all. She was almost at her wits’ end, when she felt that ache in her forehead and her vision began to cloud.

“Fell, is it you?”

“Yes, Alina.”

“Where are you, Fell?”

“In some kind of trap. It smells of man.”

“You’re hurt?”

“No, Alina. Though hungry enough.”

“What can you see, dear Fell?”

“Leaves and broken branches. Earth too.”

“Above I mean. Look up, Fell.”

“I see a great elm. It stands on its own. And the stars. The Wolf Trail. And there’s water near. I can hear it.”

“You must be in a clearing. There.”

Alina had just spotted the clearing and a single elm tree, and heard the faint guttering of water under the ice. She rushed forwards, her heart pounding, and was delighted to see the edge of a wide hole, and there was her friend again, peering up at her.

Fell was badly shaken, more by the shock than the fall, but he was unharmed. The wolf looked up at her and noticed how much better she looked, but he slunk back in the pit, as he remembered the horrible vision he had had on the river. Had it really been the future? Would he really kill her?

“What’s wrong, Fell?”

“Nothing, human,” he growled bitterly, “nothing at all. Can you help me?”

“I’ll try.”

Alina looked around and spotted a small, fallen trunk. It took her a long time to drag it to the top of the pit, and Fell growled in exasperation. She managed to drop it down though, to make a kind of ramp, and Fell sprang up it and out. The wolf licked the girl’s hand gratefully.

“Thank you, friend. That’s the second time you’ve saved my life, though it was your kind that made that trap.”

“And it’s your kind that takes our sheep and animals to live,” the girl found herself saying cheerfully. The wolf and the girl stared at each other. It was true what they had both thought, and there was no answer to it. No moral to it either. It was just how things were.

“Fell,” thought Alina suddenly, “this great destiny you talk of. You say it involves nature itself?”

“Yes.”

“I saw it again in my dreams, Fell, that vision of what man’s success will do to the world.”

“Yes, human. Or what you might do. Yet I asked your brother once, five years ago, to make a pact. To be strong, but to protect us too.”

Alina nodded slowly, looking thoughtfully at Lescu’s trap and feeling guilty again. Fell suddenly growled.