Wildwood Dancing

by Juliet Marillier

  “So you would just sit back and watch as your kingdom is destroyed?”

  “We will not interfere. This will flow as it must; it is not for us to stem the tide. Have you considered that the solution may be no farther away than your fingertips?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.” I could not keep hurt and annoyance from my voice. “I can’t even get workers to come up and mend the fences for me—how am I meant to solve a problem as big as this? Cezar’s a landholder now. He’s got power.”

  “You must solve your own puzzle,” Ileana said. She rose to her feet and picked up a fold of her gold-embroidered gown, ready for another round of dancing. “You can do it. Music! Come, strike up a reel!”

  In a trice they were gone, heading onto the sward for more revelry. I was stunned. Not only had the forest queen made no offer of assistance, she’d treated my pressing problems—and her own—as almost inconsequential.

  “She does care,” Grigori said. He was the only one who had stayed behind. “It’s our way to let things take their course, that’s all. What was that you were saying about fences? Sten and I could attend to your heavy work. You should have asked us.”

  Sudden tears pricked my eyes. “Thank you,” I said, “but it’s best if you don’t. When you come across to our world, especially if you stay awhile, you put yourselves at huge risk. I won’t have you doing that for us. Cezar’s enough of a threat to you—we mustn’t make it worse by giving other folk the chance to see you on the farm. But I value your offer. Now I’d better go and find Tati.”

  “If I may.” A tall, dark form appeared by my side. It seemed that one other had lingered after Ileana’s audience. The pallid Tadeusz reached to cup my elbow without a by-your-leave. His eyes met Grigori’s and, to my surprise, Drǎguţa’s kinsman backed away.

  “You have troubles,” Tadeusz murmured, drawing my arm through his and starting to walk along the sward so I had no choice but to go with him. “I could help you. This cousin is nothing.” He snapped his fingers in illustration. “He can be stopped from interfering in your affairs. That would be an easy matter, Jenica. It would give me pleasure to be of assistance to you. He could simply be … removed.” I felt long, bony fingers close around mine; he lifted my hand to his lips. The chill touch of his mouth gave my skin goose bumps. In my pocket Gogu was cringing and silent. “Of course, I would require something in return. Nothing comes without a price.”

  I felt sick. “Thank you, but I will find some other solution to my problems,” I said, my heart pounding. “I’m sure I can work something out.”

  He looked down at me, his dark eyes assessing. “Really?” he asked me, and lifted a hand to toy with my hair, twisting a brown curl around his finger.

  “Really. Now I must go—”

  “You should not be afraid, Jenica. My kind are not entirely what you believe of us. The tales your villagers tell give one picture of the truth, a picture distorted by superstitious fear. But there are many truths in the Other Kingdom. It is a matter of perception. The eyes of each viewer see a different reality. You would not judge so quickly, would you?”

  I swallowed. His voice was a subtle instrument, soft and beguiling. The sound of it seemed to resonate deep within me. “I don’t trust easily,” I said. “I don’t like violent solutions to problems. And I prefer to know exactly what I’m getting into.”

  “Ah. But you come to the Other Kingdom every Full Moon, trusting that you will be safe, that your friends will be here to welcome you, that your night will be spent in innocent enjoyment.”

  I stared up at him, wanting to be anywhere but here, yet held by his voice. Despite myself, I was intrigued by what he said. “I’m careful,” I told him. “I look out for my sisters. Anyway, it always has been like that. We’ve always been safe here.”

  Tadeusz smiled, and I tried not to look at his teeth. “So young and so ignorant,” he said. “Yet maybe not so young. You watch your sisters, yes—one in particular you watched two Full Moons ago, as she danced with one partner and then another. You made her go home before the dancing was over. Why was that, I wonder? And again, at last Full Moon—was there perhaps a touch of jealousy in you, Jenica? A desire to be a little older, and to feel a man’s arms around your own waist in intimate embrace?”

  I felt myself flush scarlet. “I’m not listening to this,” I said. “I must go now—”

  “Go,” he said airily, but his hand still held mine. “Go—and remain in ignorance, if that is your preference.”

  “Ignorance of what?” Perhaps he had something to tell me about Sorrow, something that would help me persuade Tati to let him go.

  “All these years you’ve limited yourselves to one visit a month—to one way of entering the Other Kingdom. There is another way. At Dark of the Moon, there is another portal. With my help it can be opened to you. It will unveil a world of knowledge to you, Jena. At Dark of the Moon, you may look into Drǎguţa’s mirror. If you wish to discover the true nature of your sister’s lover, you will do so there. If you can summon the courage for it, you may see your own future and that of those you love.” His thumb moved against my palm.

  “What do you mean?” I croaked, not liking the way his words made me feel, as if I had glimpsed something I wanted badly and knew I should not have. “That if we passed through this portal of yours, we wouldn’t be in Dancing Glade, but somewhere else? In your own realm? I was told you come from the forests of the east.”

  “There are many paths in the Other Kingdom.” He lifted his brows, and his mouth formed a derisive grimace. “I’ll wager you are not brave enough to try this one.”

  I knew I should turn my back and walk away. “What if I did want to?” I whispered. “Where is this portal? How can I find it?”

  Tadeusz’s teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “There is a price,” he said. “Do not forget that.”

  “What price?”

  “A price no greater than you can afford, Jena. I will ensure that.”

  “You mean you won’t tell me what it is? That is asking me to take a foolish risk. I am no fool.”

  “Ah, well. I am unsurprised that you lack the courage for this.”

  I swallowed. “If I—if I did decide to try it,” I said, hating myself for asking, “how would I get over? Where would I go?”

  “If you would cross over, call to me and I will take you there.” His voice wrapped about me like a soft cloak.

  “Call to you? How?”

  “Ah. That is a simple matter. You need only want me, Jena, and I will come to you. I am not bound by man’s fences nor fettered by his puny charms of protection. No need of doors or keys, of spells or incantations. I will hear your call in the pulsing of the blood, in the urgent hammering of the heart.” He stroked my cheek with the back of his hand; it sent a shiver through me.

  “I’ve heard about your kind,” I whispered. “What reason would I possibly have to trust you?”

  Gogu had been getting increasingly agitated. Now he startled me by leaping from my pocket and hopping rapidly away to disappear into a clump of long grass. I realized to my alarm that we had walked some distance from the sward of Dancing Glade—much farther than our rules allowed. Under the dark oaks where we stood, all was shadowy and still. The colored lights were a dim glow, the magical music a dim buzzing.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed. “My frog! I must catch him—” I wrenched myself away and strode back toward the glade, led by a series of rustling noises in the undergrowth that seemed to mark Gogu’s progress.

  Tadeusz’s voice followed me, soft and deep. “Do not leap to judge me on the basis of old wives’ tales. Live your life that way, and you are no better than an ignorant peasant, raised on the dirt of the fields. If you require proof of my good intentions, I will give it, Jena.”

  I did not look back. My heart was racing and my brow was damp with cold sweat. What had I been thinking? Gogu moved faster and faster. I ran, and there was a curious sound of derision in my ears: not the full-throated laughter of Tad
eusz, but the cackling of an old woman.

  I was shocked to find, when I reached the glade again, that the dancing was nearing its end—folk were leaping about in a grand finale. In keeping with the strange quirks of time in the Other Kingdom, my conversation with Tadeusz had swallowed up half the night. Gogu was nowhere to be found; a search of the bushes by the path revealed nothing. I retraced my steps to Ileana’s throne. I looked under and over and all around. I eyed the confusion of skipping, jumping, stamping feet on the sward, some bare, some shod. Tadeusz had returned to stand with his fellow Night People; disconcertingly, his gaze was still on me. I gathered up Stela and Paula. Neither had seen the frog.

  “But Tati’s up there,” Paula said helpfully. “They’ve just been sitting there all night.”

  Tati and Sorrow had found a little hollow near the edge of the sward, under a stand of leafless birches. Tati’s blue cloak was spread out on the grass, and she sat on it with her back against a pale trunk. Sorrow lay with his head in her lap. She was stroking his hair; he was holding her other hand. They didn’t seem to be talking.

  “Go and tell her it’s time to leave,” I told my sisters. “I have to find Gogu.” He’d been trying to warn me; I knew it. He’d heard how I was being lulled and charmed by that insidious voice and had hopped off to lead me back to safety. Now I was safe, and he had vanished.

  I went right around the sward, asking everyone I passed: “Have you seen my frog?” Nobody had. I asked the creatures in the cloak-tree, and they chittered a negative as they dropped my things down to me, the winter boots narrowly missing my head. By the time I got back to my starting point I was crying, and my sisters and their escorts were all waiting for me.

  “It’s nearly dawn,” Grigori said. “We must go.”

  “I can’t go! I can’t leave Gogu!”

  “He’ll be all right, Jena,” Stela said through a yawn. “He should be safe here until next time.”

  “I’m not going! I can’t! I can’t leave him behind!” I heard the shrill tone of my own voice, like a frightened child’s. Losing Gogu would be like losing a part of myself—like being ripped apart.

  “We must go now,” said Anatolie gently.

  “Come, Jena,” said Grigori. “You must leave your friend behind.”

  “He probably belongs here anyway,” Iulia pointed out. “Maybe it’s time to let him go.”

  I slapped her. She stared at me a moment, eyes wide with shock, a red mark on her cheek. Then she turned her back and put her hands over her face; I could see her shoulders quivering. Misery descended on me. I was going to have to leave him. If I didn’t go with them, my sisters couldn’t get home. Besides, I could hardly vanish from my own world for a whole month, even supposing I could get by without eating or drinking anything. That was impossible.

  As I followed the others down to the lake, I pictured Gogu as I had first found him: alone in the forest, weak, hurt, frightened. He had been with me for more than nine years. He was used to living in the castle, and eating with us, and sleeping on my pillow. He had no idea at all how to look after himself in the wildwood, even supposing he wasn’t injured, or worse. He’d get cold; he’d get hungry; he’d be terribly lonely. What if he wandered off and I never saw him again?

  Iulia was crying. Paula and Stela were pale and silent. Tati walked hand in hand with Sorrow. They were holding on so tightly that their knuckles were white.

  We reached the shore. One by one, my sisters got into their sledges and glided off over the ice. The sky had begun to brighten. Dawn came late in this dark season; we had had a generous night of dancing. My heart was a lump of cold misery in my chest. I pictured the empty sward, after the revelers had departed—and my dearest friend lying there, heedlessly crushed in a desperate effort to find me.

  “Jena.” Tati stood right next to me, with Sorrow just behind her. “I don’t want to go.”

  A chill ran through me. “What? You have to go—we all do.”

  “I really don’t want to go, Jena. I don’t know how I can manage a whole month over there.…” Her voice drifted into nothing. She turned and put her face against Sorrow’s chest and his hand came up to the back of her neck.

  “I could stay and look for Gogu,” Tati said, her voice muffled by the black coat.

  “You can’t,” I said, sniffing back more tears. Suddenly I was angry: angry with myself, that my stupidity in listening to Tadeusz had allowed this to happen, and angry that Tati would use my distress to try to win time for herself. “Remember, we can’t open the portal without you. You have to come, and I have to leave Gogu here. As for you”—I glared at Sorrow and saw his hand tighten against my sister’s neck—“you should think twice about what you’re doing. You don’t belong here, and I wish you would go away.”

  I turned my back and climbed into the salamander sledge, my eyes blinded by tears. The gnomes struck up a dirge. I was scarcely aware of crossing the Deadwash, or of bidding Grigori a hasty farewell before the sledges sped back, racing the dawn’s first rays. My mind was full of Gogu: abandoned, bereft, shivering with cold and fright—or, worse still, lying dead somewhere—because I had allowed myself to lose sight of common sense. I’d never felt so miserable or so guilty in my life.

  Tati stood on the shore with Sorrow. He was leaving his departure until perilously late.

  “You’d better go,” she said, apparently trying to be strong. An instant later she flung herself into his arms. He held her, his head bowed against her shoulder, his lips on the white neck exposed by her upswept hair. Then he detached himself, backing toward the sledge with his hand still in hers. They held on as he got in; they held on while the swan sledge began easing away from the bank, with Tati balanced precariously on the ice and Sorrow leaning out at a perilous angle. Then, all at once, the sledge sped off into the morning mist and the clasping hands were torn from each other.

  We made our way through the Gallery of Beasts, whose occupants were no more than vague bundles up in the corners. We climbed the long, long, winding stair.

  “Hurry up, Jena!” called Paula. “Hurry up, Tati!”

  I was last, walking behind Tati. I did not trust her to bring up the rear and not decide to bolt back down and go crashing away across the ice in search of her pale-faced sweetheart. Up, up, and up … I felt each step as a blow to the heart. At last we reached the portal. We stretched out our hands toward the stone wall—but I snatched mine away, without touching it. I had heard something.… I strained to catch it again. For a moment all was silence. Then it came once more, a little, weary thud from down the stairs. Plop … plop …

  “Something’s coming up,” Stela whispered, turning as white as linen.

  Plop … plop … It was getting slower.

  “Gogu?” My voice was reed-thin and quavering, an old woman’s. A moment later he came into sight, three steps down. He was shaking with exhaustion, a rime of frost over his whole body. A big heaving sob burst out of me. I gathered him up and held him to my breast. He was so cold; his skin felt all hard and crackly, as if his damp body had begun to freeze solid. His eyes were half closed.

  You left me. You left me b-b-behind.

  “Put out your hand, Jena!” snapped Iulia. “It must be nearly sunrise—quick! We might get trapped in between worlds!”

  I hardly heard her. A flood of tears was running down my cheeks. I hugged my frog close, trying to warm him against my body.

  “Come on, Jena.” Tati had moved up next to me. Her eyes met mine, and some kind of forgiveness passed between us. We each set a hand against the wall. Our sisters placed their fingers beside ours. The portal opened and we went home to Piscul Dracului.

  No water bowl this morning. I lay in bed with Gogu on my chest. I had rolled him in a woolen scarf after warming it on the little stove. Monumental shivers still passed through him. Beside us, Tati lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so, so sorry. I know you were trying to rescue me. I promise I’ll ne
ver leave you again.”

  Gogu made no response, but the shivering began to die down and his eyes took on a brighter look.

  “Anyway,” I whispered, “how did you get across the Deadwash? You’re too scared to go anywhere near it by yourself. Did someone bring you?”

  D-D-D- …

  “Never mind,” I said. “You’re safe and we’re together again. I don’t want to think about anything else right now.” I couldn’t stop crying. Maybe I was making up for all the times I had stayed calm and sorted out other people’s problems. How could I have been so foolish? I had let Tadeusz lull me into forgetting what was right. I’d made it all too easy for him. I must never, ever do that again. His words were still in my mind: the startling revelation that Dark of the Moon allowed a passage to the Other Kingdom; the news of another portal; the tantalizing reference to a way of looking into the future.… What if I could see Cezar’s future, and somehow use that knowledge to stop him from going through with his threats? What if I could see what would become of Tati and Sorrow? And what would I see for myself, or for Father? I tried to stop thinking about it, but the images filled my mind—images of what might be revealed to me if I only had the courage to look.

  After a while I felt Gogu wriggle out of the scarf and hop up to the pillow. He snuggled close to my cheek. Don’t be sad, Jena. I’m here.

  A heavy blanket of snow lay over the hillside, making the paths treacherous. The forest had a special beauty in winter: frozen waterfalls like delicate shawls; foliage shrouded in a glittering, rimy coating; blue-white snowdrifts revealing, here and there, a rich litter of darkened leaves in a thousand damp colors of brown and gray. The forlorn, peeping cry of a bird … neat imprints in the white, the tracks of a hungry wolf or wildcat. The bears would be sleeping, curled deep in their hollows. My breath made a big cloud as we went, Gogu’s a smaller one.

  I’d found it hard to sleep and had headed out early for a walk. I hoped that exercise would clear my mind, which felt as if a dense fog had descended over it. It was all very well for me to lecture Tati about becoming involved with Sorrow. What I had done was almost worse: I had let one of the Night People lead me off the path and whisper his dangerous lies in my ears—and I had felt, just for a moment, the delicious, forbidden sensation of considering what he had offered. In the cold light of the winter morning, I could not believe I had allowed it to happen.