Scarlet in the Snow

by Sophie Masson

  I did as I was bid, without showing surprise, and ate the sweet, creamy porridge in silence. When all had finished, I got up and washed the bowls, not even blinking as the sugar dish and cream jug vanished. I was then ordered to drag a large tub from the back of the house, fill it with hot water and scrub a big bundle of stained, muddy clothes Old Bony threw at me. It was very difficult to get them clean because I wasn’t used to such a task, and my hands were red raw by the time I’d finished and hung the clothes, as instructed, to dry on the bone fence.

  Straight after that there was a scrawny, freshly dead chicken on the kitchen table to pluck and gut and make into a soup and a pie. Thank heavens I’d helped Sveta do that on more than one occasion so that I was able to do it swiftly and efficiently. After lunch I was allowed a bowl of soup, but the pie was entirely devoured by Old Bony and her felines.

  I was then ordered to polish a large set of heavily tarnished silver cutlery that had mysteriously appeared from nowhere and just as mysteriously disappeared once I’d finished. Then Old Bony took out a little flute and commanded me to dance to her tune, all the while mocking me for not being light on my feet. I felt like yelling that it was hardly surprising, for I was so tired I could have crumpled into a heap and slept where I fell. But anger and defiance stilled my tongue, and I danced like a sullen performing bear.

  When darkness fell, Old Bony set me to boil thirteen eggs, allowing me to eat one while she and the cats shared the rest. Then once again they left, but not before Old Bony warned me, again, not to step outside before daybreak. I didn’t watch them leave this time but sat by the stove with the book and re-read the entry on the School of Light. If only there was more! I took out the rose petal and laid it on the page, but nothing happened. The page didn’t flutter to another, the book stayed boringly dense, and after a moment I realised I wasn’t going to get any more, because there was nothing more. I closed the book and, cupping the petal, brought it to my face to inhale its faint sweet fragrance – the fragile thread that linked me to Ivan and which brought me the elusive but certain breath of his presence from somewhere far away.

  ‘Not for long,’ whispered a voice at the door. It wasn’t Ivan’s this time but Luel’s. ‘If you don’t leave tonight, Natasha, it will be too late. The moon is bright tonight and it will show you a path that will lead you safely through the forest and on your way to us!’

  I put my hands over my ears, trying to stop myself from hearing, trying to stop myself from imagining that path. Oh, how I wanted to go and find it, how I wanted to leave this place and begin my search! But I knew I must not; I knew it was all lies.

  The voice changed its tone. ‘What kind of coward are you, anyway, skulking in the house of bones and meekly doing the bidding of the forest witch like a dumb sheep while my poor lord is tortured and tormented? His suffering is so great and I cannot help him. I am helpless, and that is your fault too, you foolish, selfish child!’

  I put my hands over my ears, trying not to listen, but the voice carried on, nakedly articulating my fear and my guilt. ‘And what gives you the idea that the forest witch will let you go even when your servitude is over? Whose bones do you think make her fence, Natasha? Whose skulls do you think adorn her path? Why, none other than those foolish sheep like you, who have made the mistake of trusting a wicked being. When your time is up, she will chop you into little pieces and feed you to her wolves, and your bones will join those of countless others who have ventured into her realm.’

  I knew it wasn’t Luel speaking out there. I knew it was our enemy. By now the sorcerer knew my name, for Felix Vivian would have given it to him, and that meant he could home in on me. I also knew that he wasn’t there physically, that it was only his will, seeking and probing for weakness, and that he could not harm me unless I chose it. If I went out into the night, trying to find that path, I’d get lost and wander around the forest for ever and never get out. Unless I went out, he could do nothing. And yet, despite knowing all these things, it was hard to hear that voice speak aloud all those things that troubled me. Only the small, steady warmth of the rose petal against my skin kept me from screaming.

  It was a long night, but at length I fell asleep wrapped in a blanket in front of the stove. When I awoke, it was bright daylight and Old Bony was sitting in her chair, smoking her pipe and watching me, the cats by her feet like rag dolls. Dismayed, I scrambled to my feet, dry-mouthed, gritty-eyed, my head still spinning from the restless snatches of dreams.

  ‘What’s the matter, girl?’ said Old Bony. ‘You are looking at me with those great fish eyes. Cat got your tongue?’ She laughed heartily at her own joke. I smiled weakly and scurried off to the kitchen corner, but she called me back. ‘No, I’ve had breakfast already; hardly was going to wait for you, lazy lie-abed, now was I? And you have no time to eat. Drink some tea and then warm up enough water for the tub. You have a big job on your hands today.’

  Old Bony had ordered me to bathe her cats, and the task took me well into the afternoon. After the wash, each animal had to be dried in a shawl soft as cobwebs. I then had to make a big beef and cabbage soup for Old Bony and her cats, of which I was allowed a small portion. The exhausted felines fell asleep by the fire with their mistress, and only then could I take a moment’s rest.

  Looking at myself reflected in the dishwater, I saw that I looked a terrible fright: my hair like a wild blackberry tangle, one eye half-closed from where a claw had caught it on the eyelid, hands and arms so crisscrossed with scratches I might have been mistaken for wearing red lace gloves. My clothes, which I’d not been allowed to change, were steaming dry unpleasantly on my very body. The only part of me that felt any comfort at all was the place where the rose petal lay. But I’d done it and not uttered a word of complaint, asked a single question or spoken at all. Not even so much as a moan had escaped my lips, and I felt a sense of fierce pride and wild excitement. These were the last hours of my servitude. I had upheld my side of the bargain. Tomorrow, I would hold Old Bony to hers.

  That thought gave me strength for the rest of the day, through a continuous round of wearisome chores that Old Bony kept devising, as if she was squeezing every last bit of value from me before it was time to let me go. My hands stung and my eyes ached, but I had to keep going.

  We had just finished a supper of fried fish and potatoes – this time, I was allowed to sit down at the table with them – when Old Bony wiped her mouth on her sleeve, looked at me and said, ‘I am tired tonight, so you will go in my place.’ I stared at her, uncomprehending. She gave a little smile. ‘Tonight, you ride in the sleigh with my pretties.’

  I felt as though my belly had dropped to my ankles as a nauseating wave of fear and despair rolled over me. An exclamation almost burst from my lips but a heroic effort managed to bite it back. I looked at her. She looked back, her eyes full of wicked pleasure. She knew what I was thinking, of course. This was my death warrant. She had intended it all along. The sorcerer had been right. My skull would adorn her path, and my bones her fence. It had all been for nothing.

  ‘Well, that is up to you,’ she said, sharply. ‘You can refuse. But if you do . . .’

  If I did, I would be done for, anyway. What kind of choice was that? None, was the simple answer. None. And suddenly the fear vanished and was replaced by incandescent rage and hatred. So she thought she had me beaten? So she thought she had me broken, and could pick over my poor bones? Well, she could think again. I drew myself up, looked her straight in the eye and nodded.

  ‘Good. One more thing. That rose petal you wear over your breast. You must leave it here.’

  I stiffened and instinctively put my hand to my heart. No, I could not do that. It was the only thing that gave me comfort and the courage to endure. It was my only link to –

  ‘Precisely,’ said Old Bony, burgling my thoughts as usual. ‘You might as well wear a homing beacon.’

  I stared at her, remembering the voices of last night and the night before. Ivan was in the sorcerer’s hand
s, under who knew what duress. The sorcerer was very likely to have learned how the rose petal linked us. Yet I hesitated.

  ‘You’re going to have to trust me,’ she said. ‘What choice do you have?’

  None, I thought bitterly, as I reached into my bodice and extracted the rose petal. Briefly, I cupped it in my hands and buried my nose in the fragrance, and instantly felt the sting of the scratches on my hands and my eyelid ebbing away. But I knew I had to give it up. With shaking hands, I handed it to Old Bony.

  ‘Good,’ she said, and tucked it away in the tea caddy. ‘It’ll be safe. And so will you.’

  I had to believe that. I had to. What choice, indeed, did I have? I got my coat, raised its hood and drew on my gloves. Old Bony fetched her whip from behind the door and handed it to me. ‘My pretties know the way.’

  Clearly, I wasn’t even to be told where I was going. But I said nothing, only nodded. She opened the door and chivvied me out. The cats padded behind me, hardly making a sound. The sleigh sat beyond the gate, waiting for us under the livid glare of the skulls’ light. Behind me, I heard a strange breath of air and did not turn for I knew what had happened – the cats were transforming. Keeping my back straight and my legs moving ahead with an effort so great I felt dizzy from it, I walked to the sleigh and got in. An instant later three great wolves loped past, turning to stare at me with cold, glowing eyes. They went to stand in harness, their massive backs blocking any forward view.

  I was alone with them, and my only comfort lay behind me, in the cottage. Grasping tightly onto the side of the sleigh with one hand, I raised the whip with the other and cracked it once. Immediately, the wolves took off, straight into the star-studded night sky, so steeply that I nearly fell out of the sleigh.

  Eventually, the sleigh levelled out. I soon lost my fear and looked gingerly over the side. We were flying over a vast patchwork of lands – light fields and dark forests, the gentle swell of hills, and rivers winding like thin silver ribbons pricked with the needles of boats. I saw church domes and bulbs and castle towers and fortress walls, the lights of cities and towns, the little huddle of villages, the smoke from thousands, no, hundreds of thousands of fireplaces. On and on we flew, hour after hour, and the exhilaration of it filled me. To speed through the glittering darkness like this, to see our country from the air, was that not a most splendid thing? Who else had ever seen it like this? Old Bony did not mean any harm to me after all. Instead, for reasons known only to herself, she was giving me this gift, this wonderful, unique experience.

  Something gleamed in the distance. It was a lake so vast it looked like an inland sea. I knew what it was – the Northern Lake, named after its location at the border of the northern lands. Beyond it were the frozen salt marshes and the strange grey forests of the north, with their hollow, crooked trees, home to a swarm of strange creatures. This was the realm of fearsome shapeshifting feya shamans and witches.

  I shrieked as the wolves plunged, sickeningly fast, towards the lake. No wonder Old Bony had insisted on my leaving behind the rose petal, my only form of protection. This had been her intention all along – my death by the freezing waters of . . .

  Bang! Crunch! The sleigh landed so hard my teeth rattled and my head jerked back. When I recovered my scrambled wits, I saw we were on some kind of rock shelf, only just a little bit bigger than my sleigh. I hadn’t seen the rock from the air because it was the same colour as the water. Now what? I stared at the wolves. But they stood stock-still, staring straight ahead.

  I gingerly climbed down from the sleigh, hoping the wolves would not take off and leave me marooned in the centre of the lake. But they remained still. I looked in all directions. There was nothing but water. I looked down. It was just a rock, bare and smooth as a skull. Not a stick, not a blade of grass.

  There had to be a reason why we were here, and it was up to me to find it. I felt under the sleigh, but found nothing. Warily, I looked around where the wolves were standing. Still nothing. Cautiously, I walked around to the end of the rock, where it jutted into the water. Nothing . . . and then I saw it.

  At first I thought it was just a flaking in the rock. I’d noticed it only because the rest of the rock was so smooth. But when I ran my hand over it, I felt a kind of hinging. I levered the rock up to reveal a little hollow underneath. And in the hollow, there was nestled a little tin box.

  Gently, I lifted it out and held it in my hand. The weight told me there was something in it. I longed to open the box, but the past three days with Old Bony had taught me wariness. Old Bony had sent us here. Therefore, the tin belonged to her, and she would not look kindly upon me interfering with it. So why send me? I looked at the wolves. Their glowing eyes looked back at me calmly.

  I thrust the tin box into my coat pocket, got into the sleigh and cracked the whip. Immediately, the wolves rose. We flew back over the water, back towards the southern shore of the lake, on and on till the eastern sky began to change from a silvery black to rose, then to vermilion, orange to gold, as dawn began to break.

  By the time we landed back on Old Bony’s path, the sun had risen in the sky and the light of the skulls had gone out. The wolves in front of me vanished, and in their place were the cats stalking disdainfully in front of me. As I followed them back to the cottage, I thought a little hysterically that their raised tails looked exactly like question marks.

  Old Bony was waiting in her chair by the fire. ‘You got it.’

  I nodded and, taking the box out of my pocket, handed it to her.

  ‘What are you giving it to me for?’ she said crossly.

  I stared at her dumbly.

  ‘It’s yours, fool. Why else would I send you to get it?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘Open the box,’ she said with a small smile.

  The lid was stiff and I had to struggle with it a little. But at length I got it open and stared at what was revealed there: a cheap comb, a neatly folded pocket handkerchief, and a round tin a quarter full of tiny pastel-coloured teardrop-shaped sherbet sweets, the sort you can buy at any fair. Nonplussed, I looked at Old Bony.

  ‘The stranger left it for you,’ she said.

  Luel had left it for me? Again, I looked at Old Bony for answers.

  ‘You may speak now.’

  ‘What is it for?’ I asked. My voice sounded strange in my own ears, for I had not spoken aloud for three days and three nights.

  ‘She didn’t say. That is for you to find out.’

  ‘But surely you must be able to . . .’ I bit down on the rest of the sentence. ‘Why did Luel ask you to put it on the rock?’

  ‘She didn’t. That was my doing,’ she said. ‘You couldn’t have it till your time was up, and it had to be kept safe.’ She reached into her apron pocket. ‘She left this as well.’

  It was a folded sheet of paper. I fumbled it open and saw a single line written there. Lilac Gardens, Palume. A twist of anger went through me. Luel must have intended me to follow them at once. She had left this and the box with the witch three days ago and in all that time Old Bony had breathed not a word. I had lost three days.

  ‘You did not. You gained them,’ said Old Bony, calmly. ‘You had courage, spirit and intelligence to spare. What you lacked was self-control and patience, and that lack would have brought you undone very swiftly. Now you have them.’

  I restrained the sharp retort that rose to my lips. ‘With your permission,’ I said politely, ‘I should like to be on my way as soon as possible. May I take a little food and other necessaries for my journey?’

  ‘You may,’ replied Old Bony, ‘and I suppose you’ll be wanting this too.’ She reached for the tea caddy and took out the rose petal.

  I looked at it. I longed to hold it. Without it, I had no link to Ivan. I swallowed hard. ‘I think it had better stay in your safekeeping,’ I murmured. ‘If I am to get to Palume safely, the sorcerer must believe I am still here.’

  A flicker of surprise crossed Old Bony’s face. She smiled. ‘Quite right.
You have learned much. I give you my word it will be waiting for you.’ She tucked the rose petal back into the tea caddy, and as she closed the lid I felt a sharp pang of regret pass through me. ‘Now, then, you spoke of necessaries,’ said Old Bony briskly. ‘I suggest you get them ready. And you may take this.’ She clicked her fingers.

  I gasped, and it wasn’t at the sight of the loaf of bread and hunk of cheese that had appeared on the table, welcome as they were. The tapestry bag I’d lost in my entry through the mirror was also sitting on the table, a little battered but otherwise whole. I unclasped the handle and looked inside it. There were all my belongings, safe and sound. So this, too, she’d hung on to without telling me! But I could hardly feel angry with her now. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Thank you so much.’

  Old Bony shrugged but looked as pleased as her sharp little eyes would allow. ‘There’s one more thing,’ she said, lifting a hand to her head and yanking out a single hair. ‘This is my gift to you.’

  ‘Oh. Er, thank you.’ I took the strand of hair gingerly.

  ‘Keep it safe,’ she said gravely. ‘It can go through walls and pierce metal and stone. But it may only be used once, so use it wisely.’

  I nodded and carefully laid the hair and the slip of paper inside Luel’s box. I packed the food and the box in my bag and looked at Old Bony. ‘I will leave now, with your permission.’

  ‘You have it,’ she said. ‘My pretties will show you the way out of the forest. Then head to the Lodka river port. Once you are there, ask for “the wanderer”. Say the forest lady sends her greetings. Can you remember that?’