Wildwood Dancing (23 page)

“Wait,” I protested. “That man—what are they doing to him? And what was that hung from the tree?”

Anastasia’s red lips curved in a smile entirely without mirth. “That man, and a woman of your kind, wandered a little too far,” she said. “Why would you protest? We have spared their lives: like many other foolish folk, they have become part of our revels.”

“But it looked as if that man couldn’t stop—as if he was forced to dance on and on, just so they could mock him.” I glanced back over my shoulder, but a frenzy of dancing creatures had moved between me and that sad, capering figure.

“Do not judge us, Jenica. Your own cousin tore one of Ileana’s folk apart, limb from limb. And for no good purpose, as it came about. Dwarves are ridiculously loyal.”

I made myself ask. “Can you tell me which one it was? Was it Anatolie?”

She laughed. The sound of it rang in my ears, derisive and harsh. “What would I care? They all look the same to me.”

“Where’s Sorrow?” Tati had stopped walking, and there was a new look of determination on her face. “I’m not going a step farther until I see him.” She reached back and grasped my hand. “Nor is Jena.”

“That’s right,” I said, fixing Anastasia with an attempt at a glare. “If you can’t make good on your promises, we’re going straight back home.”

She laughed again, and this time the folk who were dancing close beside us halted and fell silent. Suddenly we had an audience—an audience in which not a single figure was familiar. Where were our friends from Ileana’s glade?

“Home?” It was Tadeusz’s voice. I whirled, letting go of Tati, and there he was, right behind us. “That could prove difficult, Jenica. You will not cross the Dark Between without one of us as your guide. Don’t look like that—we mean you no harm. A little insight, some entertainment, then we will take you safely back again. You have surprised me.” He moved forward, his hand coming up to touch my hair. “I had believed you lacked the courage for this.”

“I’m not here because I want to be,” I said through chattering teeth. “I’m here to make sure my sister comes home safely. And to tell you—” I halted. To come right out with a request—no, a demand—that they leave the valley alone, in front of such an audience, did not seem particularly wise. “There’s something I need to explain to you,” I told him. “I would prefer to do so in private.”

Tadeusz gave a knowing smile; it reminded me of the way Cezar sometimes looked.

“I didn’t mean—” I blurted out, mortified.

“Oh, but I think you did.” The voice was at its velvety best, insinuating itself into the deepest recesses of my mind. “Without wanting, you could not pass over. You and your sister both.” The dark eyes flicked to Tati and back again. “There will be time enough for private dalliance later. The night is long. Don’t you want to look into Drǎguţa’s magic mirror? When you have done so, we will have a hundred new things to talk about, Jena.”

“I don’t care about the mirror.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Anastasia getting restless, impatient. She was examining her long, polished nails and glancing about her. “I’ll say
what I need to say now. You’ve brought evil on the valley, you and your people. You offered me something and I didn’t accept the offer, but you took payment anyway—payment in an innocent girl’s blood. You started this. You can’t say just wanting something means I’ve agreed to some kind of bargain; that isn’t fair. The people of the valley were already hungry: it’s winter, and times are hard. Killing their animals isn’t only cruel, it’s unjust. Not everyone is like Cezar. Most people understand the need to share. They understand that humankind and the folk of the wildwood have to live side by side, with proper respect for their differences. Ileana’s folk know that. It seems you don’t.”

“You promised that I could see Sorrow.” Tati’s voice was uneven. “If he’s here, I want to see him now. Show me that he’s safe and well.”

“Of course, Tatiana.” Tadeusz’s voice had become kindly, warm; he sounded utterly trustworthy. “I will take you to him. He’s a shy boy, as you know. He won’t come out while so many folk are enjoying themselves. This way.”

“Wait!” It seemed my night was to be a long sequence of running, clutching, trying to keep up. “Don’t go without me—”

“This way,” said Anastasia, and I found that she was leading me down a pathway into the woods, and my sister and Tadeusz were nowhere in sight. I tried to pull back, to follow Tati, but my feet were obeying some force beyond me, dragging me along behind my pale-faced guide. I was engulfed by malevolence, in the grip of a fell charm. I tried to call to my sister, but my voice seemed to die in my throat—all I could manage was a strangled gasp. We moved on into the darkness. Behind us, the eerie lights of the glade faded.

“What is this place?” I managed. “Where are Ileana and Marin? Why is it so different?” A terrible fear awoke within me. Perhaps the Night People had changed the Other Kingdom forever. Perhaps Ileana’s rule was over, and our friends were all gone.

“You think that within the Other Kingdom there is only one realm?” Anastasia raised her brows at me, as if she found me unbelievably stupid. “Dark of the Moon is our time; we come to celebrate in our own way. It is Ileana’s choice to shun our festivities. That’s of no matter. My brother’s world is stronger than hers. In time, all this will be ours.”

My heart went cold. Fear seized me, but not quite enough to stifle common sense. “I thought you were from the east,” I whispered. “I thought you were only visiting. And what about Drǎguţa?”

“Drǎguţa?” She tossed her ebony hair. “A mere mountain witch? She’s no more than a puny local herbalist who reaches beyond her abilities. Why else has she failed to make an appearance in all the days since we came to the forest of Piscul Dracului? The crone dares not set foot in the open now the Night People have put their mark on this place.”

While my feet carried me along after her, I was thinking hard. “If Drǎguţa has so little power,” I said, “why did your brother hold out her mirror to tempt me here? It must be a tawdry thing of little value. Why did Tadeusz tell me I would find truth in it? Was everything he said to me a lie?”

“I know one thing,” the scarlet-lipped woman said with a twisted smile. “My brother was never interested in
you
, plain little thing that you are, with your unkempt bush of hair and
your flat chest and your flood of stupid questions. It’s your sister he has his eye on. She’s a choice morsel, all pearly flesh and quivering uncertainty. There’s no need to look like that, Jenica. We’re not so precipitate. He wishes Sorrow to see them together, that is all. He wishes to play a little.”

Humiliation, confusion, and terror warred within me. I stayed silent, though inside I was screaming.

“You want to ask questions, don’t you? Look in the mirror, then. You may protest that you are here simply to bring your sister back, but I know the real reason. You are thirsty for knowledge. You must have it whatever the cost—because knowledge allows control, and you do love to be in control, don’t you, Jenica? And you like flattery, poor, silly girl. My brother knew how to manipulate you; it was the easiest thing in the world.”

For a moment I knew what hate felt like. I knew how Cezar felt in those moments when his face went cold and his eyes dark. Then I saw that we had reached a still pool fringed by ferns, a pool that was perfectly round, with a shimmering to its surface that reminded me of Tǎul Ielelor on the night of Full Moon. Without a doubt, this was Drǎguţa’s magic mirror. The forest around us was hushed. No night bird called, no small creature rustled a path through the grasses.

The moment she releases this spell
, I told myself,
I have to run. Run back, grab Tati, go to the lake, and get across any way we can
. Even as I thought this, I knew how impossible it would be. I wished with all my heart that I had not left Gogu behind. He would have thought of some way out, I was sure of it. What my stupidity had gotten us into, his sound common sense would have
extricated us from.
Run. Run
. I stood paralyzed, waiting for her to release my feet. I looked anywhere but at that circle of bright water, for it seemed to me that once I let my eyes fall on it, I would be trapped: caught by the vision, a victim of my own hunger for knowledge. I looked up into the elder tree that grew by the pond, and in its drooping branches I caught a glimpse of something small and bright—something that reflected the gleam from the water and shone it into my eyes. I blinked, disbelieving, then reached up a hand and lifted it down. It was a tiny crown made from wire and fabric, beads and braid.
I want to be Queen of the Fairies
.

Anastasia gave a hiss. The spell was abruptly undone, my feet freed from what had rooted them to the ground, my throat released from the tight grip that had held my voice to a whisper. I took a step back, ready to flee. The crown slipped through my fingers, and as I reached to catch it, I looked into the water of Drǎguţa’s mirror.

I saw a pair of children, pale-skinned and dark-eyed, each as somber-faced as the other. He was perhaps eight years old, she a mere babe. Brother and sister, no doubt, and I was sure I knew them. That sad-looking boy was Sorrow, and the other the fragile girl I had seen not long ago with her minders. The water showed them in the forest, wandering, probably lost—the boy was holding his sister in his arms, trying to make a way through ever thicker undergrowth as the light faded. They came to a clearing as dusk fell, and there, under the trees, was Tadeusz in his black boots and swirling cloak.
Do not be afraid
, he said, and then the vision faded.

Before I could begin to think about what that meant, a new
image appeared in the mirror. I saw myself, dancing with a young man clad in rags. He was tall and lanky, his dark hair hanging wild and unkempt over eyes as green as beech leaves. He was looking at the girl in his arms as if she were his whole world, and the Jena of the vision was gazing back with her heart in her eyes. It made me feel hot and cold and confused—I longed for the vision to be real, and for love at first sight to be a true thing after all. His face was everything I liked: the mouth quirky and sweet, the features strong and well defined, the eyes deep and thoughtful. He seemed in some way familiar, though I was certain I had never seen him before. As I gazed, the man in the mirror turned to look out at the world of Dark of the Moon, and the tenderness in his eyes made my heart turn over.
Be sensible, Jena
, I warned myself.
You are in the Other Kingdom; nothing is as it seems
.

Then, before my eyes, he changed. As I stared, horrified, the pleasant, clever features became a distorted mask. The eyes went from green to red, the skin puckered and blistered and broke out in festering sores. He lifted a hand, and the fingers were tipped with nails so long, they had grown into yellow curls. He opened his mouth, and what came out was a terrible howl, the cry of a savage thing from the darkest places of the forest. The other Jena was gone from the mirror, but my younger sisters were there, all three of them. I stood frozen with terror as the monstrous figure turned on them: slashing, tearing, rending, as he made them run, pursuing them through the wildwood without mercy. I heard Stela screaming in pain. I heard my own voice, a little, pathetic thing, whimpering,
No, no!

Trust that one
, someone said,
and you will deliver up your heart to be
split and skewered and roasted over a fire
. The vision dissipated on the water’s surface. All that remained was a leaf or two floating there and a drift of weed below.

I dashed the tears from my face and fought to get my breathing under control. I was free to go; it seemed these cryptic and horrifying glimpses were all Drǎguţa’s mirror had to show me. Anastasia had fallen strangely silent. She was a tall woman and her grip had been strong. I wondered if I had any chance of outrunning her. I turned and saw that her eyes were on the little crown in my hands, the trifle of bits and pieces that, at five years old, I had thought the most wondrous thing in the world. It was fraying and crumbling and falling apart.

“Throw that away,” Anastasia said, staring at the crown and clutching at her throat as if something hurt her. “It’s an evil charm, one of
hers
. A human girl cannot hold such a talisman—it will kill you, Jenica. Cast it aside.”

“Hers? You mean Drǎguţa’s? A mere mountain witch?” I edged away from her. If, startling as it seemed, this childhood creation gave me some kind of advantage here where the Night People held sway, I would not hesitate to use it.

“Give it up, Jenica!” Anastasia lunged toward me. As her fingers reached for the little crown, there was a whirl of white between us and we both flinched back. A moment later an owl landed on the bending branch of the elder tree, its plumage snowy, its eyes an odd, cloudy blue-green. Anastasia’s hands moved in a complicated gesture before her, like a ritual charm. It reminded me of the sign the folk of the valley used to ward off evil spirits.

Run
, said my inner voice, and I obeyed, the little crown still
clutched tight in my hand. “Tati!” I shouted, careless of who could hear me or what they might decide to do. It seemed to me I had been given a second chance and that I must use it quickly. “Tati, where are you?”

I ran back up the path to the sward, my heart pounding, my breath coming hard. In my head I was five years old again and the oak tree I had been told to reach moved farther and farther away the faster I drove myself. I could hear Costi’s footsteps behind me, closer and closer, but this time it was Anastasia chasing me, and after a while her steps grew fainter, though I still heard her calling me:
“Jenica! Stop!”

I reached the turning where I had lost Tadeusz and my sister, and paused, not knowing which way they had gone. I might take a wrong turn and keep blundering through the woods until I was lost forever—as lost as those children in the vision had been. Human children: an ordinary boy and girl who had been captured by the wildwood and now could never be set free again.

The owl flew over my head, making me duck. I ran after it, trying to keep the bird in sight as I brushed past thorny bushes and crept under tangling briars. Surely this was not the way I had come? Where was this creature leading me, into the heart of the wood? “Wait,” I panted, but the bird flew on, uttering an eerie hoot as it winged its way down a steep, overgrown hill. At the bottom of the slope, I glimpsed the strangely glowing waters of the Deadwash, brighter now than before. I forced a way through the prickly undergrowth—my cloak tearing on thorns, twigs catching at my hair. Behind me, at a distance, I could hear sounds of pursuit: a howling arose, like that of hunting
hounds. And close by me, along the bank, someone else was making a crashing descent. Anastasia—had she caught up with me? I glanced through the bushes and caught a flash of a white, terrified face and a stream of dark hair. Tati—and with her someone in dark clothing, a man leading her along at breakneck speed. He still had her. Tadeusz would get there before me, he would stop me.…