Gift of the Winter King and Other Stories

by Naomi Kritzer

  Kai’s eyes were strange and foggy. In his temple, I could see a flicker, like light catching in a bright jewel.

  “He’s a frag,” Gerda said. “There were frags who did the cleaning and the cooking. Even some of the care for the made-children. I never realized . . . ”

  Of course not.

  “Come with me,” she ordered Kai, but his masters had not told him to obey her, so he simply stood where he was. He didn’t cry out or alert anyone to our presence; that wasn’t one of his orders, either. He was just there to load and unload boxes. Through the mists of the forgetfulness tea, I thought back to my own childhood—to the training classes I took as an eleven-year-old, a twelve-year-old. Frags could learn nothing new. Kai, fragged early, could not do any of the more technical work that would have made him valuable to the scientists.

  Gerda took Kai’s hand; he allowed her to hold it, pausing in his work for a moment, puzzled but cooperative. “Oh, Kai,” she whispered. She turned to me, fiercely, for a moment. “Can you help him? Can your magic help him?”

  “I know of no magic that can restore a soul, once it’s been taken,” I said. “And I’ve never heard of a frag becoming whole again.”

  Kai had started to turn away, to return to his work, and Gerda caught him in her arms. “I won’t leave you like this,” she said. With one hand, she caught the tag, snug against Kai’s throat, and wrapped her fist around it. “Be free, Kai,” she said, and yanked it loose. There was a soft pop, like popcorn, and a burned smell, and Kai dropped where he stood.

  “Now we can go,” Gerda said.

  ***

  GERDA DIDN’T SPEAK again until we were back in my valley. The air had grown crisp in my absence, and the current crop of oranges and lemons would be lost—but the trees would survive. And the roses, I thought.

  After inspecting the garden, I made tea for both of us, to give us strength of heart and body. Gerda drank a little of the tea, but mostly she just clasped the cup, warming her hands.

  “Can I stay here with you?” Gerda asked.

  “Of course,” I said. “You are my daughter, and I love you.”

  Gerda drank the rest of her tea. “I’ll go back someday,” Gerda said. “To free the made-children.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Teach me your magic, mother,” Gerda said, and I reached out across the table to clasp her hand.

  DARKNIGHT

  THIS IS JUVENALIA. I wrote this when I was fifteen, and I conscientiously resisted all temptations to revise when I transcribed it for this collection, because I figured if I was going to include a story I wrote as a teen, it should be what I wrote as a teen. (I did, however, add an afterword.)

  The idea came from a bad dream. I was also influenced by a short story I’d loved that was published in Cricket, about a misfit girl at a wizard school. (I can still visualize the artwork from that story, I read it so many times, but I don’t remember the title, I have no idea who wrote it, and when I went to the library once to sift through their archive of Crickets from the 1980s, I didn’t find it.) The protagonist of the short story was the kid who was always behind in school; she saved the genius kid all the teachers thought was awesome. You’ll note I recycled that premise pretty much in its entirety.

  I wrote a draft on the computer, printed it out, and asked Nancy Vedder-Shults to look at it. Nancy was a neighbor and a family friend, and I babysat for her daughter Linnea. Most importantly, though, she was the one grownup I knew who actually read science fiction and fantasy. So I wanted her comments.

  “Do you want me to tell you it’s good?” she asked. “Or do you want me to give you comments on how to make it better?”

  “I want you to tell me how to make it better,” I said, lying through my teeth. (Of course I wanted her to tell me it was good.)

  She did tell me it was good, in the end (though she was grading on a curve—it was good, considering I was a teenager.) She also covered it in comments, in beautiful, looping handwriting, laying out very carefully where I could make the protagonist more likeable and interesting, where I could illuminate more about the world, where I could lay out the stakes, where I could heighten the tension.

  I probably learned more from that one critique than I learned from either of my creative writing classes (one I took in high school, one in college). Her comments walked me through the process of editing my own work: figuring out what I was trying to make, and carving away the bits that didn’t fit. I rewrote the story, was incredibly pleased with the result, and sent it out.

  I didn’t sell it anywhere, but my rejection from Marion Zimmer Bradley lamented the inelasticity of typeface, which her assistant told me years later meant she’d seriously considered publishing it.

  (My one retrospective regret is that I didn’t include my age in my cover letter. I figured telling people I was a teen would just make them expect it to be a bad story. But I didn’t sell it anyway, and Ms. Bradley was known for being particularly kind to teenage girl writers. I doubt she’d have bought the story, but she’d probably have sent me a longer rejection letter.)

  ***

  THE HALL WAS as silent as a vault. Usually the students could hear the subdued chanting of the Masters, even late at night; tonight, however, all the Masters were at the Darknight vigil, as were almost all the students. Nalia and the other eleven in the hall, however, were too new to help protect the Land from the Shadows. Except for Kari. Lucky Kari, Nalia thought, glancing at her across the table. The last thing she has to worry about is not being able to learn. Kari had been exiled to study in the hall for being rude to the Masters. They had forbidden her to learn the Travelling chant, that would allow her spirit to leave her body and travel on its own. The Masters had said it would be too dangerous; if her spirit was unable to get back, she would either die or go mad.

  At least she can remember the chants, Nalia thought, and turned back to her book. The faded script blurred as she stared at it. Although Nalia had what the High Master had called an “innate gift” for sorcery, she had yet to master a simple returning chant. It was difficult enough to remember which sound went with which letter. Nalia’s father was a peasant farmer; she had never learned to read.

  A sudden draft made the candle flicker, and Nalia gasped, “The light!” Djenne glanced up from the book she was studying; blue eyes burned under the grey hood. Scornfully, she cupped her hand around the candle and steadied the flame. “Stupid peasant girl,” she muttered. Nalia’s eyes filled with tears. She blinked them away and dropped her head so her hood covered her burning face. I hate Djenne, she thought. I wish I were home. Not that I’d be of any use there . . . a half-trained sorcerer with hands as soft as a baby’s.

  Almost half a year ago, Nalia’s sister had been terribly sick. In the early dawn their mother had called her to her sister’s bedside to say goodbye for the last time. Clasping her sister’s hand, Nalia had seen a strange fog and followed her sister in. She had found her sister and pulled her back. The doctor called it a miraculous recovery. The next day, Nalia’s father decided to send her to the School of Sorcery. “You’re a good worker, and I hate to lose you,” he admitted. “But it would be selfish for me to keep you here when there’s a need for sorcerers to hold back the Shadows.” So Nalia had gone with the wool merchant to the city. Some good I am here, Nalia thought. I can’t even remember ten words of a simple chant, let alone protect the city from Shadows. She concentrated again on the book, moving her lips in the chant. “Al-sa-am-sa-re-sa-li—”

  A low moan broke the silence, and eleven heads jerked up. Kari was standing, clutching the table with both hands. With a cry of terror, she whirled and tore out of the room.

  Djenne grabbed the book Kari had been studying. “The fool,” she spat. “She did the travel chant, the one the Masters forbid her to do.”

  “Oh, no,” Meg wailed, and all the students ran after Kari.

  She was not in the corridor, but there was only one route she could have taken. They pelted down the spiral staircas
e and stopped in dismay by an open door. “She’s gone out,” Meg whispered. “On Darknight. She’s mad . . . ”

  “Of course she’s mad,” Djenne snapped. “That’s why she wasn’t supposed to do that chant! Her spirit’s off travelling somewhere and it can’t get back!”

  “I’m going after her,” Nalia said.

  “You can’t,” Meg whispered. “It’s Darknight . . . the Shadows will take you.”

  “You can stay here.” Nalia pushed up her hood which had fallen back while she was running down the stairs. “I’m going after Kari.”

  “You?” Djenne snapped, scornful. “Aren’t you the child who’s afraid of the dark in the dormitory?”

  “Leave her alone, Djenne,” another girl said. “This isn’t the time for petty teasing. If we’re going to help Kari, we have to stick together. I’m going, too.”

  “Then so am I,” Djenne said immediately. Everyone else nodded. “No, someone has to go tell the Masters.” The smallest girl nodded and ran off down the corridor. “Meg, can you remember a finding chant?”

  “I think so.” She began to chant in a quavering voice.

  As Nalia started for the door, Djenne caught her by the arm. “If you see a Shadow, whatever you do, don’t scream. They have no substance—remember that. They can only use what you give them—if you scream, they’ll scream. And if the Shadows scream, it will frighten Kari even further away.”

  Nalia jerked her arm free and gave Djenne a cold glare. She twisted past Djenne and ran after Meg.

  A cold mist rose from the stone. The streets were deserted. Not even a madman went outside on Darknight; everyone hid from the Shadows in their houses, a fire lit all night long.

  “She’s near here, in the alley,” Meg called, breaking off the chant. Dashing into a doorway, she caught a grey sleeve and pulled Kari into the group of girls. They clustered around her, gripping her robe in relief. “Now say the returning spell, Djenne, and we can bring her back.”

  “I don’t know it. You say it.”

  Meg’s voice rose higher. “You know it, Djenne. I’ve heard you say it in class.”

  “Well, I can’t remember it, okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay! Think!”

  “I am thinking! You do it!”

  “I can’t remember it either!” Meg was almost in tears.

  “Oh, no,” another girl whispered, and Nalia froze. Grey shadows, like wisps of fog in vaguely human forms, had surrounded the group.

  Nalia choked as she swallowed, and Djenne’s nails cut into her arm. “Don’t scream,” Djenne hissed. “Don’t scream, or the Shadows will all scream. Don’t scream, dammit, Nalia —”

  Djenne’s voice faded away to hoarse silence as the Shadows moved towards them, silent as fog. A grey dampness wrapped around Nalia’s face. She flung up her hand to push it away, but it was useless. The cold greyness enveloped her and dragged her in towards itself. She fought for breath. Suddenly, her face was freed, and she screamed. The unearthly howls of the Shadows ripped through the darkness.

  “No!” Djenne smacked her hand over Nalia’s mouth and Nalia sank to the ground, sobbing in gasps. “You’ve killed her, you’ve killed Kari. Her spirit fled and now the Shadows have her body.”

  The Shadows were gone. Kari lay crumpled on the ground, her eyes open and staring. Behind the pupils, a gray mist swirled.

  “Oh, no.” Meg’s whisper was barely a moan as she dropped to her knees.

  “She isn’t dead,” Nalia said. “She’s still breathing.”

  “Her spirit’s gone, can’t you see that?” Djenne snapped. “It’s too far gone now to ever come back, even if we did the returning spell. The only thing that keeps her heart beating is the Shadows inside her.”

  “Form a circle,” Nalia said.

  “What?” another girl said.

  “Form a circle. Join hands, around me and Kari. I’m going after her, and I don’t want the Shadows moving into my body. I don’t know what they did in your hometown, Djenne—” she gave the other girl a direct stare “—but in mine, a circle gives protection.”

  “You’re going after her? Are you crazy?” Djenne yelled. “You don’t even know a returning chant—how could you ever do a travelling chant?”

  “I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”

  “You’ll get lost.”

  “No, I won’t.” She stared around her at the nine white-faced girls. “Form a circle.”

  Slowly, the others joined hands in a ring. Gently, Nalia took Kari’s hand in her own. It was as cold as the touch of a Shadow. Stifling a shiver, she cradled the hand and closed her eyes.

  The darkness behind her eyelids lightened to grey. She was surrounded in fog. This was where the Shadows came from, the land between life and death. A chill crawled down her spine.

  “Kari?” she called, and listened for Kari’s spirit-voice. “Kari, don’t be afraid. Come to my voice.” There was no reply, but Nalia felt a movement somewhere through the fog. “Kari, don’t be afraid,” she called again.

  “Nalia?”

  Nalia looked around, but the fog was as thick as darkness. “Come closer, Kari, I can’t see you.”

  “Nalia . . . here I am . . . ”

  Nalia turned, and saw a lightness fading back into the mist. “Kari, I’m here!” she called, but it was gone.

  She started after it. “Nalia, help me!” Kari’s voice wailed.

  “Kari! Where are you?”

  “All around you.” Nalia saw the lightness again. It disappeared as she looked at it, like a star which could only be seen in a glance. “Na . . . li . . . a . . . ”

  “Where are you?” Nalia half-screamed.

  “I’m here, I’m here . . . follow me . . . ” It was useless now, the voice was all around her. She was chasing moonshadows.

  “Kari,” Nalia wailed, desperate.

  “I’m following you, Nalia.” The voice was suddenly beside her.

  “Take my hand.” Nalia groped blindly, but Kari shifted away from her.

  “I’m following you, Nalia,” she repeated.

  Nalia started back the way she had come. She turned back, but saw nothing. “Kari, where—”

  “Behind you.” She whirled again, and the fog swirled. “Behind you . . . behind you . . . behind you . . . ”

  “Stop it!” Nalia screamed, and Kari’s voice dissolved into maniacal laughter.

  “Take my hand,” it mocked, and Nalia’s hand was gripped with iron ice. The Shadow clutched her like a freezing wind.

  Nalia tried desperately to push it away, to shake free, but it was useless. “The Shadow had no form to push against. Wait. It could only use what she gave it, and was using her resistance against her. She forced herself to relax, and slipped free.

  They were all around her, now, darker forms looming just beyond her sight. She closed her eyes, and held out her hands. “Kari, I’m here,” she whispered, and concentrated on Kari’s image.

  “Nalia.” Kari’s voice was a whisper. Nalia opened her eyes. Through the fog she could make out the fragile white shadow.

  “Kari?” she whispered fearfully. “Is that you, or a Shadow?”

  Kari’s hand clasped hers, warm and gentle, and Nalia gasped with relief. “Come on, we have to get back.”

  Kari trailed behind her in silence for a while. “Where are we going?” she asked finally.

  “Back to our bodies,” Nalia said firmly.

  “No, we aren’t. We’re getting further away.”

  With a sickening shock Nalia knew that Kari was right. There were no landmarks in the fog. She was lost, as lost as Kari had been. Tears of fear and frustration sprang to her eyes and she brushed them away irritably.

  “The Shadows,” Kari whispered.

  They were surrounded again. The Shadows moved slowly closer, making no sound. Nalia felt as if her heart was in her throat. “Al-sa-am—” she burst out suddenly. “Al-sa-am-sa-re-sa-li-sa.” That was all she could remember of the chant, so she repeated it. “Al
-sa-am-sa-re-sa-li-sa-Al-sa-am-sa-re-sa-li—” It was working. They were speeding towards their bodies, leaving the Shadows behind. The mist was changing, becoming darker and thinner. She could hear Djenne and Met joining in, their voices chiming together in the remainder of the chant. Then they were back in their bodies.

  Nalia opened her eyes. She couldn’t see anything and for a moment she wondered if she was dead. Then— “Nalia?” Kari’s voice croaked.

  Nalia realized that the darkness was simply Kari’s sleeve over her face. Her hand was still locked around Kari’s. She sat up. “How long have we been gone?”

  No one knew. “Too long,” Meg said with a high giggle.

  Careful hands helped Kari and Nalia to their feet. “Look, it’s almost morning,” someone said. The horizon was glowing a greyish pink, and the Shadows were gone.

  “Kari! Nalia! Meg! Djenne!” Voices were calling.

  “The Masters,” Meg said in relief. “I hope we don’t get expelled.”

  The five grey-robed Masters clasped each girls’ hands in turn. “Worst Darknight in years, and you were out in the middle of it . . . you won’t be next year, I promise you that,” the High Master.

  “Are you sending us away?” Nalia’s voice was anxious.

  “Away? Goodness, no. With Darknights like this one, we need Sorcerers like you to protect us. However did you bring Kari back?”

  Kari’s head drooped with exhaustion. Djenne glanced at her, then cleared her throat. “Nalia followed her.”

  “Into the fog?” The High Master looked at Nalia intently.

  “Yes.”

  “That was dangerous.”

  “I had to try. It was my fault that she was lost . . . I screamed when the Shadows came.”

  “Yet you weren’t frightened to go into the fog.” The High Master lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. “I think you will make a fine sorcerer.” He glanced around with a smile. “In fact, I think you all will.” They had reached the school. “You’re excused from classes today. Go get some sleep.”