Wildwood Dancing

by Juliet Marillier

  “You don’t understand,” Tati said. “I can’t turn my back on him now. He’s never had a friend before. He’s terribly alone.”

  “I thought he came to Ileana’s glade with the Night People.” I couldn’t summon the least twinge of sympathy.

  “He’s with them, but not with them,” Tati said. “It’s something he can’t talk about, not fully. I think that tall one, their leader, has some kind of hold over him. If Sorrow stays among the Night People, it’s not through choice.”

  “He told you that?”

  “More or less, Jena.” Tati hesitated. “Where they come from, it’s not like Ileana’s kingdom. The rules are different. He’s desperate to get away, but something’s holding him there. Something he can’t tell me about. He needs me.”

  “He’s probably just saying that to get your sympathy.” This was all wrong: it was like being in a cart hurtling downhill with the reins slipping out of my hands. “How do you know it’s not all lies?”

  Jena. Gogu wriggled closer. Shh. Shh.

  “You sound so hard, Jena.” Tati’s voice was very quiet.

  “Someone has to be. Someone has to look after things.”

  “That’s always been you. Sensible Jena. You know, I sometimes envied you that. Being known simply as the pretty one can be a little galling, as if I have no other good qualities at all.”

  I said nothing, but lay back on the pillow, my hand around Gogu for reassurance. The truth was, it was exhausting being the sensible one. I had a simple solution to the Sorrow problem. All I needed to do was refuse to help open the portal. While part of me could not imagine giving up our Full Moon visits—the music, the magic—another part of me, growing steadily stronger, said the time was rapidly approaching when we must do so or see the two worlds touch in a way that spelled disaster. But I had to go once more, at least. I needed to warn Ileana and Marin about Cezar. I needed to tell them that, now he had authority over Vǎrful cu Negurǎ, the ancient forest might begin to fall on the first day of spring.

  “I know it’s against the rules, Jena.” Tati’s voice was a whisper. “I know what I’m supposed to do. But I don’t think I can. This is like a tide pulling me along. It’s too strong to swim against.”

  I had wondered whether Tati would wear the butterfly gown again, but she put on her old dancing dress, the violet-blue one. She spent some time plaiting her hair and pinning it up on top of her head, with Iulia’s assistance. Around her neck was a fine silver chain that had belonged to our mother. Even clad in such a severe style, Tati could not look less than beautiful, though there was a pallor in her cheeks and an intensity in her eyes that had not been there a month ago.

  We were not exactly jubilant as we made our preparations. Iulia and I had argued earlier in the day about the lack of ingredients for such items as fruit pies and sweetmeats. I had perhaps been a little sharp with her when I told her I would not be asking Cezar for the means to acquire such inessential trifles. Now she was sulking. Paula was unusually subdued. On the appointed day for our lesson Father Sandu had not come, and although I had suggested that the inclement weather was the cause, none of us quite believed it. Stela had picked up the general sense of disquiet and complained that her head hurt.

  Gogu sat on the little table, watching as I slipped on my green gown and brushed my hair. Green as grass, green as pondweed, green as home.

  “Do you want to go in the pocket?”

  I will ride on your shoulder until the crossing. Don’t be sad, Jena.

  My frog was perceptive, as ever. I was such a mess of churned-up feelings that I couldn’t tell which was the strongest. I was certainly sad: sad that we had lost the ability to prepare for our special night in a spirit of simple excitement. I felt guilty, too. In a way, Iulia’s discontent was my fault, for not keeping a closer eye on the funds and for failing to stand up to Cezar. I had to face the unpalatable fact that I wasn’t coping as well as I should be. Above all, I was afraid: afraid for Tati and for the future.

  “Hurry up, Jena.” Iulia looked me up and down, her eyes critical. “Can’t you do something with your hair?”

  I had washed my hair earlier and, on drying, it had decided to go bushy. I could not force it into any form of confinement. “No,” I said crossly, and headed for the portal. Tati was crouched there already, eyes like stars. I could feel Gogu nestling into the wild cloud of my hair.

  Soft. Cozy. Nice.

  The Deadwash was a sheet of black ice.

  “Ooo-oo!” It was Tati who called them this time. I saw the vapor of her breath in the freezing air.

  Not even the indomitable Sten could force a boat through this rock-hard barrier. In winter’s chill, our escorts came in sledges, each with its particular sound, so we heard them before their lights appeared in the misty distance. The wyvern was fringed with sprays of silver chimes. The wood duck had a cowbell, and the phoenix a row of tiny red birds that kept up a twittering chorus. Iulia, Paula, and Stela were duly greeted and borne away. Tati and I waited on the shore. This time, two of the sledges were late.

  “So, are you expecting him again?” I asked her, rubbing my hands together. I could feel them going numb, even in their sheepskin gloves.

  Tati said nothing. Despite the piercing cold, she stood still as a statue, gaze fixed out over the sheet of ice—as if by only looking she could make Sorrow appear.

  “What if he’s gone home already? Maybe you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

  “He will come.” Tati spoke with complete certainty. A moment later, two sledges emerged from the mist, one accompanied by a tinny fanfare, for a team of straggle-haired gnomes rode the front of the salamander, reed trumpets braying. Like all the other sledges, this one traveled of its own volition, without need for deer or wolves or unicorns to pull it. The driver was tall Grigori. Beside it came another sledge, in the form of a swan, moving in a pool of silence, and at the sight of the occupant, my sister sucked in her breath.

  “He’s hurt!” she exclaimed.

  Sorrow had certainly been in some kind of trouble. He had a black eye and one side of his face was a mass of bruises and grazes. Perhaps he’d been in an accident, but he looked a lot like Cezar’s friends did when they’d had too much ţuicǎ and gotten into a brawl. Sorrow held himself straight, his dark eyes fixed with unsettling intensity on Tati.

  I didn’t suggest that Tati travel with Grigori, though I was tempted. I could talk to Sorrow—I could tell him to keep away from my sister. Almost as soon as I thought of this idea, I dismissed it. Those eyes told me he wouldn’t listen any more than Tati had. If there was a solution, I’d have to find it elsewhere.

  “What happened to him?” I asked Grigori as we traversed the frozen lake and the gnome band entertained us with a selection of old favorites.

  “Sorrow? Some of us fellows took exception when he announced that he’d be escorting your sister again. Instead of backing off politely, he challenged us. Put up a good fight, too. I don’t think anyone will be standing in his way next time. That’s if there is a next time: that tall one, the leader of the Night People, seems to keep him on a pretty tight rein.”

  An unsettling thought occurred to me. “What if he bit you? I’d have thought that would put anyone off fighting one of the Night People.”

  “A Night Person’s bite can’t harm one of us,” Grigori said, glancing across at the swan sledge. “All the same, Ileana’s watching him. She saw your concern last time and she shares it. Alliances between our kind and your kind do happen, of course, but they’re fraught with difficulty.”

  “I need to speak with Ileana tonight. Maybe I could ask her to send the Night People away.”

  Grigori ran a hand through his long black hair. “You can try, Jena. I don’t think she will. Ileana doesn’t direct the course of affairs; that’s not our way. She believes in letting folk make their own errors. If that results in disaster, so be it.”

  “There’s a bigger disaster looming than Sorrow and Tati,” I said grimly, “and it’s
my cousin’s doing. Will you ask the queen if I can talk to her later?”

  “Of course.” Grigori swept a bow as we pulled in to the bank. “Remember as you do so that the real power in the Other Kingdom is not Ileana and Marin. In times of deepest trouble, only Drǎguţa can help.”

  “That’s what everyone tells me,” I said, stepping out to a frenetic fanfare from the reed trumpets and grasping Grigori’s arm as my boots slipped on the ice. Gogu was shuddering with cold and distress. I had never really understood why he insisted on coming with us when the lake caused him such terror. “Nobody’s ever been able to tell me just where Drǎguţa’s to be found. Not even you, and I’ve heard the two of you are kin.”

  Grigori grinned, showing a phalanx of shining white teeth. “If you truly need her, you’ll find her,” he said. “That’s all you have to remember. Now, about our dance. Sten and I have another bet.…”

  I persuaded the gnomes to bring their trumpets up to Dancing Glade, for I knew Stela would love them. They marched ahead of us in formation, red-cheeked faces beaming with pride, instruments over their shoulders.

  Jena?

  The frog had come back to himself. I fished him out and set him on my shoulder.

  “Good evening to you, young master.” Grigori’s deep voice was courteous.

  “He would say good evening if he could,” I said. “He appreciates your excellent manners. There are many who wouldn’t give a frog the time of day.”

  “In this realm, we understand that to make such a judgment is dangerous,” Grigori said. “A friend is a friend, whatever form he may take.”

  I lost sight of Sorrow and Tati almost immediately. I danced with Grigori and with Sten and with Anatolie. I danced with the young forest men, all of whom had long, complicated names that sounded like stars or rare plants or precious stones. The forest women danced as lightly as gossamer in the wind. Each was as lovely as an exotic bloom, as beguiling as a sparkling gem. As with their men, there was a certain sameness in their features, a certain coolness in their eyes—their beauty lacked the flaws that give individuals character. Myself, I much preferred the less decorative inhabitants of the forest: Anatolie, with his dry humor; honest, craggy Sten; Grigori, whose imposing frame housed the kindest of natures.

  “Will you dance?” The voice was deep and dark, like indigo velvet. A chill went down my spine.

  “If you wish.” I held on to my manners, despite my alarm. Information. An opportunity for information. I took the extended hand of the black-booted, waxen-faced man who was leader of the Night People, and stepped into the dance.

  His hand was ice-cold; the grip was strong. Close up, I looked into a pair of lustrous sloe-black eyes, fringed by heavy lashes a young woman would give much to possess for herself. The lips were thin, the nose a haughty beak. He was tall—taller than Cezar. Even with my hair sticking out in all directions, I came up only to his chest.

  “Your name is Jenica,” the velvety voice said as we began a stately progress across the sward, hand in hand. “A human girl. Interesting.”

  I struggled for an appropriate response. The one Gogu suggested could not be used: Do you mean as a source of food? Or are you just making polite conversation? “Er, yes, that’s right. What is your name?”

  I had already made up my own names for the leaders of the Night People, along the same lines as Sorrow. I had dubbed this dashing, dark-cloaked creature Arrogance, and the crimson-lipped siren Allure.

  “You may call me Tadeusz,” he said, clearly surprised that I had dared ask something so personal. “My sister is Anastasia. You dance well, Jenica.” He twirled me under his arm.

  “Thank you. We’ve been coming here since we were little girls; we get plenty of practice.”

  “You prefer this realm to your own?”

  Something in his tone set alarm bells ringing. “No,” I told him firmly. “I love it here, but I belong there. Tell me, do you plan to stay long at Ileana’s court?”

  “Why would you ask this?” We executed a gallop, both hands joined, and turned at the bottom of the line.

  I was unable to answer. To come right out with my concerns about Sorrow and Tati to him didn’t seem right. “Is Sorrow your son? Your brother?” I asked, feeling the clammy sensation of his hand in mine and wondering how my sister could possibly summon warm feelings for people who felt like dead fish.

  Tadeusz threw back his head and laughed. People stared. So did I, fascinated and horrified. He didn’t exactly have fangs. There was no doubt, however, that the elongated canine teeth were perfectly designed for inflicting a neat and effective puncture wound.

  “I have neither son nor brother, Jenica,” the dark-cloaked man said, suddenly somber. “We live long, and each of us walks alone.”

  I felt obliged to correct him. “You said Al—Anastasia was your sister,” I pointed out. “So you are not quite alone.”

  “Sister, lover, daughter, stranger—which of these would trouble you least?” He was flippant now.

  “I like the truth, even when it does trouble me,” I said.

  “Then ask what you want to ask.”

  “Very well. I want to know when Sorrow is going home. When he’s leaving.”

  “And why would you be interested in such a thing? It is your sister who has attached herself to the young man; you, I think, cannot see past the frog.”

  What’s that to you? If Gogu had had hair, he’d have been positively bristling.

  “I ask because of her—Tatiana. She seems to be losing sense of what is possible. I am afraid for her.”

  “Really?” The dark brows went up. He was mocking me now. “You can’t live everyone’s lives for them. Maybe it’s time to let go; to live your own. You are young and not unattractive. You dance well. You have a spark that’s sorely lacking in most human women. Why not abandon the rules with which you hedge in yourself and your sisters, and seek enjoyment, adventure, fulfillment? I would take some pleasure in teaching you.…” He ran a chilly finger down my neck and across the part of my chest exposed by the green gown, a gesture of shocking intimacy.

  Gogu made an ill-calculated leap, sliding down Tadeusz’s immaculate black shirt to land on the grass in an undignified heap. The dark eyes looked down impassively. One boot rose from the ground, wooden heel poised.

  I swooped on my frog, snatching him from harm’s way. “I’m sorry,” I lied. “I’m afraid Gogu’s left a trail on your shirt. I’ll take him away now.”

  “Thank you for the dance, Jenica.” The music was drawing to a close. Tadeusz executed an elegant bow. It was not quite a mockery.

  “Thank you,” I muttered, and lost myself in the crowd.

  Shortly after that, Grigori came for me. He led me to the spot where Ileana and Marin sat on thrones of willow wood woven with ivy, resting from their exertions. Word of my request seemed to have gotten about. This would not be a private audience. Anatolie and three other dwarves were there, and Sten, and a good many others.

  I swept a low curtsy, cleared my throat, and set it all out for them: Father’s illness, his departure, the unanswered letters. Uncle Nicolae’s terrible accident. The fact that I believed Cezar might really plan to drive the fairy folk out of the forest. They listened in silence. When I was finished, Ileana said calmly, “But we know all this. We watch you. We are everywhere.”

  “We must do something,” I said. “Don’t you understand? This could mean that in time the whole forest will be destroyed. Dancing Glade could be gone. You’d have nowhere to live.”

  “Your cousin does not own Tǎul Ielelor,” Marin said gravely. “He does not control Piscul Dracului. You will keep it safe.”

  “I’m trying,” I said through gritted teeth. “But Cezar’s doing his best to take the responsibility out of my hands. Nobody sees anything wrong with that. To the men of my world, his actions must seem quite reasonable. They wouldn’t expect a family of girls to look after an estate over a whole winter. And as for what Cezar intends to do to the forest, you must
know that people fear you—that they blame you for many deaths and disappearances.” I caught the sardonic eye of Tadeusz, who had appeared on the edge of the crowd, and looked quickly away. “Now that Uncle Nicolae’s gone, there’s nobody who can help us. And if Father dies …”

  “What if he dies?” Ileana’s tone was cool.

  “If he dies before a male grandchild is born, Cezar inherits Piscul Dracului outright. Then there really will be no forest left.”

  “Mmm-hm. Why has your cousin made himself into an enemy? Why does he wish to destroy us all?”

  “He believes your people drowned his brother, Costin. He was lost in the Deadwash long ago. Cezar swore vengeance on all the folk of the forest. I never thought he would go through with it. I believed in time he would forget his anger, or that I could make him change his mind. I think I was wrong.”

  “Maybe not,” Ileana said, her pale blue eyes meeting mine with a penetrating look. “Your cousin listens to you. Inasmuch as he can care about anyone, he cares about you. Maybe you could drive a bargain, Jena.”

  I did not like this turn of the conversation at all. “Your Majesty, I have come to you for help. I don’t think I can bargain with Cezar. I don’t think I have anything I’m prepared to give him. But if Father doesn’t come back, if he doesn’t get better, I need some way to stop my cousin from carrying out his threat.”

  All of them just looked at me. I had expected fear, anger, a shared purpose. I had hoped for solutions. This blank acceptance seemed almost like indifference. “This is your whole future!” I burst out, against my better judgment. “Don’t you care?”

  There was a little silence. Gogu twitched. Uh-oh.

  “What would you have us do?” Ileana seemed eerily calm. “Wage war on this cousin, frighten him from his home? Set fire to his crops, strike his animals dead? Take such a course of action, and we would spark the kind of retribution that comes on the keen edge of a scythe, the piercing tines of a pitchfork. It is not our way. Your Cezar makes his own path. Whether it leads to good or ill, only time will tell.”