In Stone's Clasp (25 page)

She controls the snow.
The snow that had somehow come in so quickly and so deeply that it had killed his family. He had known all along that they had not died natural deaths, and what the Tiger had just said proved it. He might not be able to bring them back, but at least he could avenge them.

Another thought came to him. “The men who got lost when they left to go hunting. The men who sometimes returned insane…they saw her, didn’t they?”

The Tiger nodded her massive head. “They did.”

It was so much to take in all at once. Jareth rubbed his temples, thinking. “We have to stop her. We have to find her and stop her.” He was suddenly cold and he shivered, rubbing his arms as the chill shuddered through him. “‘He has seen the Ice Maiden, and she’s perilous fair….’ The lyrics…can we trust what the song tells us about her?”

“I do not know, but it stands to reason,” the Tiger said. “At least it is a starting point.”

For the first time, Jareth was glad that Altan had decided to accompany him. They would need the input of a
huskaa
if they were to learn how to defeat a creature born of legend.

Suddenly he laughed. “Altan has always maintained that she was just an abandoned girl with a broken heart, that the term Ice Maiden was never literal. He’ll be quite annoyed to hear this.”

He got to his feet. Inside, he was warm. He felt strong and capable, no longer beaten and despairing. He had discovered his true purpose, had remembered who he had been, and had found, again, his dearest friend.

“Let’s find them. Let’s find them and tell them everything.”

Altan had been terrified when it appeared as though Mylikki had been about to plunge to her death over the cliff face. He had moved faster than he had thought himself capable, heedless of the danger, to come to her aid. When they were finally pulled to safety and he felt her body pressed against his, shaking with sobs, the relief that she was safe, was
safe,
was overwhelming.

He had lingered in Arrun Woods for over a week, claiming the poor weather as an excuse. But the real reason he had stayed, despite his desire to find Jareth, was to spend time with Mylikki, to instruct her on the intricacies of the
kyndela
and watch with glee as her sharp mind picked them up at once. If she had been a man, he’d have claimed her as his
huskaa-lal
after hearing her perform a single song. But she was female, and the Law did not permit such a thing.

When they sat and performed together, he would look at her, and feel a stirring in his heart and loins. Her golden head bent over the instrument, catching the gleam of the firelight; her smile that broadened whenever she looked at him; the soft swell beneath many layers of clothing of breasts that he now knew were even softer and fuller than he had imagined.

When Mylikki had taken that tumble today, for a moment, he thought her gone forever. He was surprised at how much he cared. So when she clung to him, he held her tightly, and made no move to disengage himself.

I love her,
he realized, and said a short, heartfelt prayer to the gods that they would guard his tongue and keep the darkness that sometimes consumed him at bay, so that he would never, ever say anything hurtful to her again.

There were no branches to use as fuel for a fire, so Kevla merely heated some stones. The effect was the same—welcome warmth pouring out to the shivering travelers. She herself sat back, having no need of the heat, and took pleasure in seeing the taut, exhausted faces of Altan and Mylikki relax as the warmth began to penetrate.

Since Mylikki’s accident, she had literally not let go of Altan, and the young
huskaa
seemed more than happy to hold her. Kevla hoped that Altan’s days of alternately casting affectionate glances at the girl and making cutting remarks were over.

Hanru had shared cheese made from
selva
milk. Mindful of the Dragon’s words, Kevla ate everything she was offered. Sharp and yet mellow on the tongue, the cheese quieted hunger and provided energy. Kevla was grateful that they had happened upon the
taaskali
and their herds. Not for the first time, she wondered at these people who had appeared so conveniently and had to be more than what they seemed. And she wondered just how safe she, Altan, and Mylikki really were with them, but decided that if the Dragon trusted them, that was enough for her.

At one point, Hanru looked at the sky and shook his head. “Night will be coming soon,” he said.

“We’re not leaving without Jareth,” Altan said.

“Do not worry about Jareth,” Kevla said. “He is safer than we are, I assure you.”

Mylikki, one bare pink hand still clutching Altan’s, was munching a bite of cheese. Swallowing, she said, “You know something we don’t, Kevla. What is it?”

Kevla was surprised. She had not expected Mylikki, focused on Altan and exhausted as she was, to be quite so astute. “I will tell you when he returns,” she said. “But yes, I do know something. And what I know tells me that Jareth could not be in better hands.”

Or paws,
she thought with a slight smile.

She was looking forward to seeing him with his Companion, and wondered how changed he would be. She had been profoundly affected by her own meeting with this aspect of herself. Would it be the same for him? She hoped that at least by the time he and the Tiger descended the mountain, Jareth would be ready to join her and embark for…where? Who was the next Dancer they needed to find?

No doubt you’ll determine that once Jareth joins you,
came a familiar, beloved voice in her head.

“The Dragon is coming,” she said to her companions. She saw relief wash over their faces. If the Dragon came for them, they would not have to make the long, cold, dangerous descent in the growing shadows of nightfall.

A few moments later, her
rhia
was stirred by the powerful wind of his wing beats. He hovered in front of them. He was too large to land anywhere near them, and Kevla realized he would have to carry them down in his foreclaws.

“Is your task complete, Dragon?” she called to him.

“My part of it, yes,” he replied. Then, turning his head on his long serpentine neck, he looked up toward the peak. As one, they all turned to follow his gaze. In the gathering darkness, it was hard to see at first, but soon they realized that they were seeing movement. Kevla squinted, and then inhaled swiftly as she understood what she beheld.

The moving blur against the snow and stone of the mountainside was Jareth, and he sat proudly astride the blue Tiger.

The big cat leaped from precipice to precipice, stone to stone, with a power and an abandon that made Kevla’s heart leap into her throat. At any moment she expected her to slip, to hurtle off the face of the cliff with Jareth clinging to her.

Hardly,
thought the Dragon.
This is her place. I would as soon fall out of the sky as the Tiger find false purchase.

And Jareth must have known it, for he rode the Tiger like a burr on a horse, moving as if he were a part of the mighty beast. The speed of the great cat as it came toward them was such that the hood of Jareth’s cloak was ripped back and the white garment flowed behind him.

At last, the Tiger leaped onto a nearby boulder, landing squarely and settling itself as Jareth jumped off its back. Altan and Mylikki stared in shock. They looked at one another, then both knelt in the presence of the being they thought was their god.

Jareth went to them. “She’s not a god,” Jareth said gently, helping the
huskaa
get to his feet. “She’s my Companion, as the Dragon is to Kevla.”

For the first time since his arrival, Jareth looked directly at Kevla. “I am, as you tried to tell me, the Stone Dancer.”

She felt a smile spread across her face, and Jareth went to her and clasped her hands. It was the first time he had willingly touched her, save for the night so many weeks ago when he had pressed a knife to her throat. His hands were warm and strong.

“I am glad that you finally believe me. And that you have found your Companion.”

“She is…” Jareth turned to look back at the blue Tiger, who half-closed her eyes in what Kevla knew to be a gesture of affection.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

He squeezed her hands and let her go. “There is much that I have to tell all of you. But I would prefer the telling be done over a hot meal by a warm fire.”

“Such can be arranged,” said the Dragon. “But Jareth—we must make haste. Time grows short, and a task awaits you when you return to the encampment.”

“Our chance is gone!” cried the advisor. He stood next to the Emperor, staring into the glowing
Tenacru.
“She did not do as you instructed. Now he’s found the Tiger and knows about the Ice Maiden. It’s all unraveling!”

The Emperor chuckled and the hairs on the back of the advisor’s neck stood on end. He hated hearing the Emperor rage; but he disliked his lord’s laughter even more. The ki-lyn too was on its cloven feet, staring into the images on the orb with fear and hope mixed on its lovely face. Behind the Emperor, silent and seemingly obedient, stood the Mage. The advisor glared at the black-clad figure. This had been his idea.

“The Lorekeeper girl did not have a chance to execute the plan,” the Emperor said amiably. “Everyone was watching her. I will speak to her tonight, and we will make fresh plans. It is indeed a pity that the Dancer and the Companion have come together, though. They are stronger now, and they have a target in the Ice Maiden.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“My little Lorekeeper traitor will be more than able to do what I tell her. An opportunity will come again. And do not forget—the Ice Maiden has power over men. None can stand against her. Not even the Stone Dancer.”

The advisor relaxed. “That is true,” he said. “But Kevla is not a man.”

The Emperor drew back thin lips in a smile. The ki-lyn lowered its head, jingling the ever-present golden chain with the movement.

“Ah, and neither,” said the Emperor in a cool voice, “is the Lorekeeper.”

They returned to the encampment, Jareth on the Tiger and Kevla, Hanru, Altan and Mylikki aboard the Dragon. Kevla had not realized how very much she had missed this—her legs astraddle his smooth scales, her hands loosely grasping his spine ridges more for something to do than from any true fear of falling.

I think travel by Dragon is preferable to all other ways,
she thought to him, reaching down to hug him.

I think you are a very discerning individual,
the Dragon replied. Kevla looked down. The night was again clear and crisp, and the moon was almost full. She could see almost as well as she could in the daylight, and could easily make out the form of the running Tiger and Jareth. She smiled at the sight. Any ordinary beast such as a horse or a
sa’abah
would have fallen far behind by now.

Her smile faded as she saw the enormous black shadow dragon keeping pace with them on the snow.

Shadow.

She had been so focused on first finding Jareth, then convincing him to join her, that she had almost forgotten what they were truly facing. She shuddered, and turned her eyes forward.

They were coming up on the
taaskali
encampment now. Kevla could see at least six fire rings, dancing yellow and orange against the cool hues of the snow, and wondered why they had lit so many. The
taaskali
numbered only two dozen or so. The
selva
were all clustered together in one place, which struck her as unusual. Usually the
taaskali
let them roam as they would. Why had they gathered them together like this?

The Dragon and the Tiger reached the encampment about the same time. The Dragon landed gently and his riders dismounted into the snow. Hanru hurried up to another
taaskali
and they whispered in their musical language.

“Dragon, what’s going on?” Kevla inquired. All of the
selva
were regarding Jareth intently. They seemed completely unaware of the presence of the Tiger in their midst. It was a strange sight, and Jareth looked completely confused.

“I stayed behind to perform a task,” the Dragon said. “Now, Jareth must complete it.”

“What task?” Jareth sounded exasperated. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Look again at the
selva,
” the Tiger said, speaking up for the first time since her arrival. “Behold them, and know that you look upon the Lorekeepers of Lamal.”

“How can this be?” Kevla cried.

“A thousand years ago,” said Hanru, “there was among the Lorekeepers a man of unprecedented vision and wisdom named Caldan. He was able to see into the future. He saw many things, and one thing he beheld was that the Lorekeepers of Lamal would be in danger at the time when their memories would be needed most—when the Dancers were born, and the final fight against the Shadow took place. Caldan had in his possession an object of great power, and this was how he turned all the Lorekeepers into the
selva.
Disguised as beasts, they would be safe from any who would exploit their knowledge.”

He smiled slightly.

“Caldan knew the
selva
would need to be taken care of. And the spirits of the forest answered the call. We agreed to take on human form and make sure these precious beings came to no harm. Thus were born the
taaskali.
”

Kevla gasped, but she realized she was not altogether surprised. She had known that the
taaskali
were something other than human, just as the
selva
were more than simple beasts.

She recalled her confusion when she first came to Lamal and found not a single Lorekeeper. No one, indeed, had ever heard of such a thing. Yet the evidence that they had once been in this land lay in the song, “Fighting Back the Shadow.”

“Paiva told me that the forest spirits were gone,” Jareth said. “You weren’t gone…you were just in a different form.”

“Exactly,” Hanru said. “For a thousand years, we have been waiting for you, Stone Dancer.”

“Dragon, you knew this!” cried Kevla.

“Not until I saw them,” the Dragon answered. “In Kevla’s land, there were beings that the Arukani called
kulis.
They were thought to be demons, and shunned. I knew better.”

“But—but the
kulis
really
weren’t
demons,” Mylikki said, frowning as she tried to wrap her mind around what had happened. “They were just children, abandoned by their families.”

“Perception and reality are tricky things, and are often one and the same,” the Tiger chimed in. “It is but a degree of difference. The Dragon could see them as they truly were, and he made them remember—”

“Who they were,” breathed Kevla, tears stinging her eyes as she regarded her old friend with new appreciation. Her mind went back to when she stood before him for the first time, on a ledge overhanging a pit of fire and molten stone, and the question he asked over and over again:
DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE?
He had seen at once what the
selva
were, and stayed behind when Kevla and the others went with Jareth to find the Tiger so that he could remind them of their true natures.

“I had the right question to ask them, that is all,” the Dragon said.

Kevla looked at the Tiger, who gazed back at her steadily. She wondered what the Tiger’s question was, and how Jareth had learned the answer.

“They now have their minds and memories restored,” the Dragon continued. “But only the Dancer of this land can give them back their true forms.”

Jareth stared at the
selva.
They gazed back at him, their silver eyes catching the glow of the fire, and he saw the human intelligence in those eyes.

“How do I…what do I…” He looked beseechingly at the Tiger for aid.

She half closed her eyes and rumbled, “You know what to do. Lorekeepers exist to serve the Dancers. Call them, and they will come to you.”

He licked dry lips. The Tiger, the Dragon, Hanru—they were all crediting him with more ability than he suspected he possessed. He stood where he was for a long moment, unable to move. What if he tried and failed? They would be people locked in animal form for the rest of their lives. What if he—

You have lived so long in fear, Stone Dancer.
The words were not spoken aloud, but inside his head. He recognized the voice as that of the Tiger.
Aren’t you tired of it?

Yes,
he thought, admitting it for the first time. He remembered a night long ago, when he had cast his doubt into the harvest-fire flames and let them take it.
I don’t want to be afraid of failing anymore.

He walked steadily toward the first
selva
and placed his hands on either side of its large, white head. Gazing into its eyes, he searched for and found the human within.

I see you,
he thought, and closed his eyes.
I see you as you are. Be as you were, Lorekeeper of Lamal. Find your true nature.

He felt the fur caressing his palms shorten, become warm skin. The head grew smaller between his hands, moved closer to the ground, and when he opened his eyes he found himself staring at an older, wise-looking woman. He heard a rustle as Kevla wrapped her gently in a blanket that might have been woven from the fur of the beast the old woman once was.

“Stone Dancer,” the woman said in a voice that sounded as if it had not been used for some time, “Caldan promised you’d come.”

One by one, the great beasts came to him to be liberated from their assumed shapes. One by one, Jareth touched them, found the man or woman or child within, and shifted their shape from beast to human. By the time the last calf had trotted up to him, to be turned into a beautiful little boy, Jareth was almost overwhelmed by emotion.

He turned and looked at the Tiger.
It’s…humbling, Tiger. And empowering at the same time.

That,
thought the Tiger, and Jareth felt bathed in the warmth of her pride,
is what it is to be a Dancer.

This is why you wouldn’t let me find you the first time I tried. You knew this task was waiting for me, and that I would need the aid of Kevla’s Companion to complete it.

Abruptly Jareth’s strength fled. His knees buckled and he dropped to the snow. Immediately Kevla and Altan were there, wrapping him in blankets and pressing hot tea and food into his hands.

“Thank you, Stone Dancer,” Hanru said. “You have released us from our charge.”

Chewing on dried meat, Jareth said, “But you haven’t changed,” said Jareth. “You’re still
taaskali.
Do you need me to help you change back to your true form as well?”

Hanru chuckled. “You can help the Lorekeepers because in a way all of them are linked to you. We are linked to the earth, and until you have defeated she who holds this land in thrall, we cannot again become what we once were.”

“The Ice Maiden,” Jareth said. He looked at his companions. “That’s what I was going to tell you. The Ice Maiden is no myth. She’s very real.”

“What?” gasped Altan.

“She’s real,” Jareth repeated. “It’s she who holds the land in this unnatural winter. My powers aren’t gone—she’s blocking them, preventing me from using them.” He opened his mouth to continue, looked at their stunned expressions, and said, “Perhaps we should start from the beginning.”

“A tale is usually told best that way,” Altan said. To Jareth’s amusement, he had found his
kyndela
and was already setting about tuning it.

In a steady voice that carried in the clear, still night, Jareth spoke of how he had first learned of his own abilities. He was surprised at how easy it was to speak of something that had always been so fraught with fear and pain to him. He told them how he had thought he was the Spring-Bringer, and how devastated he had been when the powers seemed to have vanished.

“But I have learned today that I am something…someone…quite different from who I always thought I was,” he said, still feeling pain and sorrow as well as joy in the discovery. “I have a greater responsibility, and I will not shirk it. Every day, people are dying because of the Ice Maiden’s winter. We have to stop her. Now.”

“How do we do that?” asked Mylikki.

“You and Altan may know more about that than Kevla and I,” Jareth said. “For years,
huskaas
have been performing a set of three songs called the Circle of Ice. It’s the only information we have about the Ice Maiden. What do the songs tell us?”

“Well, she starts off as just a young woman whose heart was broken by a man careless of her love,” said Mylikki. “She called on dark powers so that she might capture men’s souls and bend them to her will, in order to have vengeance upon all men for the wrongs one had done.

“She turns men’s hearts to ice, so they can love only her,” Altan continued. “The first song is about a young man going in search of the maiden, thinking he can make her fall in love with him. An old man warns him about the folly of such a venture and tells his own story. The second song in the Circle is sung by the young man in the first song, who’s now been enchanted. He’s doing the same thing to another girl that the Ice Maiden’s lover did to her—seducing her and breaking her heart.”

“And the third song is sung by the Maiden herself, explaining how she came to be,” finished Mylikki.

“That’s not a lot of solid information,” said Kevla. “Is there anything about a weakness she might have? Where she lives?”

Mylikki and Altan exchanged glances. “There are a few verses that get left out,” Mylikki said. “We can analyze them. See if there’s anything useful there.”

“Good,” said Kevla. “Examine the songs and tell us anything you can think of. Jareth and I will listen to the Lorekeepers. They may have something to say that will help us.”

The hours passed well into the night. Jareth and Kevla sat side by side on a
selva
-wool blanket in front of the fire, and one by one, the Lorekeepers of Lamal came to them. The stories they told were beautiful, humorous, heartbreaking, tragic, and inspiring. Some remembered only personal anecdotes, such as when a young woman looked shyly at Kevla and said, “You gave me some coins from your purse, that day when you went to the market.”

“That was the day that I was…was murdered,” Kevla said softly. While the memories came back to her, they were always strangely distant, as if they had happened to someone else. Kevla looked into the girlish face and saw the old woman to whom she, as a wealthy youth, had given a handful of coppers to. “I remember,” Kevla said, softly.

Other stories, other lives. Kevla was sorry that Mylikki and Altan were not here to hear these stories. There was a song in every one of them, she was certain. But the two musicians had a more important task than gathering songs for future generations. If the Ice Maiden was not stopped and Jareth’s powers regained, if this world was not saved by the Dancers standing together against the Shadow, then there would be no future generations to sing songs or tell tales.

The Dragon returned from his hunt with two
kirvi
deer clutched in his forepaws. Kevla’s mouth watered as she anticipated the meal, and she glanced at Jareth. For a moment, she wondered how it was that Jareth was able to eat animal flesh at all, if he could mentally speak with the creatures that he summoned. Then she realized that the Stone Dancer had the same connection with everything that was of the earth—grass, trees, even rocks. Everything was sentient to him; therefore he would need to feed on the death of something, regardless if it were animal or plant.

The thought was unbearably sad. Without thinking, she placed a hand on his arm. Jareth gazed into her eyes, frowning a little, not understanding what she meant by the gesture. She shook her head and smiled, and let him go.

At last, all the Lorekeepers had had a chance to meet with the Dancers. Jareth sighed heavily and said to the Tiger, “He is not here.”

“No,” the Tiger said.

Kevla knew who they were talking about. The Stone Dancer had found his Companion, but not his Lorekeeper. Not the fellow human who would be closer to him than anyone in the world. Clearly, Jareth had hoped to find this one unique Lorekeeper in the company of the others.

“Hanru, you are certain these are all the Lorekeepers of Lamal?” Jareth asked.

“I am,” Hanru replied. “We have tended them for generations. They are all here.”

“Remember,” put in the Tiger, “the Dancer’s Lorekeeper is different from the others. He or she is the Dancer’s soul.”

Kevla’s eyes widened. She remembered Jashemi speaking to her as they had made love:
There is destiny here. I feel it…I know it. We were meant to be together. I belong to you completely, Kevla. I always have, and I always will. No matter what happens—no matter who or what we are—know that I am yours. You are my soul.
And then again, in the dream the
selva
had granted Kevla, Jashemi the Lorekeeper had said of those words—
“He was almost right.
I
am
your
soul, Flame Dancer.”

She felt him again, warm in her heart. He was her soul. Kevla knew she could have had no brighter or better one, and barely aware that she did so, she pressed her hand over her heart, sealing Jashemi in.

“He could have died,” Kevla said softly. Jareth jerked his head to stare at her, and she wished she hadn’t spoken.

“That is possible,” agreed the Tiger. “But if he were alive here, among this group, we would know it.”

Jareth sat quietly for a moment, absorbing the information. Kevla thought he was adjusting remarkably well. She remembered how much of a shock this had all been to her.

“What happened to Caldan?” Jareth asked.

Hanru replied, “He was planning to leave Lamal, after he changed the other Lorekeepers and us. That much I know. Where he went, I know not.”

Jareth shook his head, as if chasing away thoughts. “It doesn’t matter right now. What does matter is finding the Ice Maiden. Altan! Did you and Mylikki figure anything out?”