The Grimoire of Kensington Market

by Lauren B. Davis

  “No, my sweet. I thought you were ready, but perhaps I was wrong. So you must wait.”

  “Ready for what?” His hands move toward her but she slaps them away.

  “Your sister thinks she can fend me off with trinkets. Isn’t she a silly girl?”

  “She is. But you said I am for you, and only me?”

  She holds out a mirror to him. “Look, sweet boy, look at yourself.”

  He is beautiful in the mirror. Skin of the palest alabaster, teeth like pearls. “I am like a statue,” he says, “and might be adored.”

  “Of course, you are, my little poppet. Here, the pipe you long for. Breathe deep and deep and deeper still.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING AUNT RAVNA, EMEL AND GUIVI LED Maggie and Badger to a different door than the one through which they’d entered. The entire community had come to see them off and there was much chatter and laughter as they walked. They turned down a corridor just past the room with the great kettles in it, a corridor Maggie hadn’t noticed until Aunt Ravna turned into it. Whereas the first hallway had felt smaller the closer one was to the door, this one got roomier and roomier until they stood in a sort of cave. Huge wooden gates secured the cave opening. Near the gates were stalls, and in each stall stood a caribou, their winter coats thick and grey. Bells tied to some of their antlers tinkled when they shook their heads.

  Two young men shovelled fresh hay into the stalls. As the group approached they stopped, went to the gates and folded them back like an enormous accordion. Maggie gasped. Outside the gate a sleigh with a caribou harnessed to it stood on a snowy terrace, at the beginning of a pathway. Beyond the terrace, however, the drop was dizzying, and far below a river meandered through a snow-white valley. The river shone like mercury. All around the valley loomed gigantic snow-capped mountains. Hawks drifted in the thermals, in and out of fast-moving clouds. The sun flashed and disappeared, flashed and disappeared. When it flashed, the dazzle from the snow made Maggie shield her eyes. A waist-high stone wall edged the terrace, and for that Maggie was grateful. The drop, many thousands of feet, caused her considerable vertigo. She put her hands on the stones as she peered over.

  Badger was fascinated by the caribou. He sniffed around the animal, back to front, keeping a safe distance from the wide hooves. When he reached the front, the caribou lowered its muzzle and the two met nose to nose. Badger barked once and then bowed playfully. The caribou shook his head, and the silver bells on his antlers chimed prettily.

  “I don’t suppose,” said Maggie, “you’d like to explain how we got up this high? Doesn’t seem possible from where we came in.”

  “Does it not?” asked Emel, his eyes twinkling. “How odd. Perfectly natural to me. What about you, Ravna?”

  “Can’t imagine it any other way.”

  They both laughed, but Maggie didn’t get the joke. The trees below looked like stalks of grass. She was a little woozy, and had to turn away from the cliff. People crowded round, and some sat on the stone wall. Others hopped up on top and walked along it, secure as mountain goats.

  Maggie kept her feet firmly on the ground and gazed along the downward-leading path. “It looks like it’ll take us days just to get off this mountain.”

  Guivi chuckled. “Oh, you might be surprised. Usko knows all the shortcuts and is eager to see his friends and relations so he’ll waste no time. Besides, the dear creature is so fleet and sure of foot, or hoof I suppose I should say, that no matter how long the journey takes it will be half as long as it would have been if you’d arrived twice as early.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Guivi merely laughed and slapped his thigh. “Never you mind, my dear. Trust this noble beast and all shall be well.”

  Maggie and Badger climbed into the gracefully curved sleigh. Wide runners served not only to ease one’s getting in and getting out, but also stopped the snow from flying up in the passengers’ faces. It was painted black, with red and white roses and green vines. Fur blankets were piled high in the seat, making it not only comfortable but warm, and at Maggie’s feet a covered brazier filled with hot coals ensured she’d be toasty. The back of the sleigh held her pack and some food.

  “You should easily be there before the moon sets in the morning, but travel always works up an appetite, doesn’t it?” Aunt Ravna said.

  Maggie didn’t see how they could possibly go so far in so short a time, especially in this terrain, but thought it would be rude to mention it. “I can’t thank you enough for all your help.”

  Holding Maggie’s hands between her own, Aunt Ravna brought them to her lips and kissed them. “Bless you, girl, but you’re doing far more for us, I suspect, than we’re doing for you. I hope you find your brother and put an end to all this nonsense. I wish we had the courage to do what you’re doing, but it seems we are not that kind of people.”

  “I think you’re perfect, just the way you are.”

  “Well, we all have our jobs to do, don’t we?” The old lady smiled and stepped back.

  Maggie fiddled around at the front of the sleigh. “I’m sorry, but where are the reins?”

  That made them all laugh very hard indeed.

  Usko shook his antlers so the bells rang and then turned his head to look at Maggie, as though to ask if everyone was settled in and ready to go. The people of the mountain waved and called out their good wishes. “Make sure you keep your hands and feet tucked in, and mind the dog,” said Aunt Ravna. “You can trust Usko. He’s very wise and knows the way.”

  At first Usko walked at a stately pace, and then, as the sleigh continued down the hill and they were no longer in sight of the entrance and the people, his speed picked up. Maggie sat in the middle of the seat, with Badger next to her. As the speed quickened, Maggie braced her feet and put her arm around Badger. Usko galloped, and the snow flew up from the sides of the sleigh like water from the prow of a ship.

  Maggie wished Usko would slow down but had no idea how to make him do so. Badger’s ears flapped in the wind and his mouth was open. He looked as though he was laughing. He barked once, an excited sort of bark. Without breaking his stride, Usko looked over his great shaggy shoulder and waggled his bell-bedecked antlers again.

  The path began to level out, but their speed slowed not one bit. The mountain was to their left, and the enormous drop into the valley to their right. The path curved around the mountain. She began to relax. It was so much less steep here that, if one ignored the drop to the right, it felt almost safe, and there was no denying the exhilarating effect of speed. Two ravens flew high above, circling, keeping them in sight. She waved.

  So they continued for some time, an hour, and then another hour, and the sun reached its zenith and began its descent, although the valley continued to look very far away indeed. She and Badger burrowed in the furs where it was warm, and she tried not to think about the great drop. Then, all at once, they came around a bend and there, perhaps a quarter mile before them, the path ended and there was nothing but air.

  “Whoa, now!” she called.

  Usko stretched out his neck and rather than slowing down, picked up even more speed.

  “Stop! Usko, stop!” It occurred to Maggie this might all have been a plot on Aunt Ravna’s part to kill them. Perhaps she was in league with Srebrenka. “Oh, stop!”

  The caribou merely shook his antlers. Maggie swore. There had to be a brake or an anchor or something. Where the hell was it? Maggie imagined them all mangled and torn, smashed into the mountainside, or hurtling sleigh-over-caribou off the path, falling thousands of feet to the valley floor below. She could feel her bones crunching, taste the blood, and prayed for a quick unconsciousness. The ravens dove and swooped. Badger whined. She held him close, buried her face in his ruff. She closed her eyes and prepared to die.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  MAGGIE HAD TIME TO THINK,
HERE IT COMES, and in the tight, icy instant there was Kyle’s face before her, crying frozen tears, and she clutched Badger to her breaking heart, and … well …

  It didn’t come. She opened her eyes. It was very odd, but for a moment she couldn’t see anything except blue sky. Vast, open, watery blue sky. There was Usko, running with the same ease he’d been running all this time. Badger was in her arms, wiggling a bit in her too-tight embrace. She couldn’t make sense of it. Badger licked her face. Maggie assumed she’d just missed seeing the turn, which must have been awfully sharp indeed, but then, looking round, she saw that wasn’t the case at all. For there was a drop to the right, as there should be, but there was also a drop to the left, as there shouldn’t be. The mountain should be to their left. She looked in front. The road must be awfully steep here because she could only see the road just in front of the sleigh, and then … nothing. It gave the impression they travelled toward a drop-off, which was forever just out of reach. She turned to look behind them.

  Between them and the mountain was a path, well, a bridge really; a bridge on which they appeared to be travelling. Arches hung under the bridge, delicate and white as the snow. The only problem was the arches dangled far above the ground. The bridge was creating itself as Usko advanced. The ravens criss-crossed the air before them. She had the impression they were laughing at her.

  As she watched, the part of the bridge connected to the mountain evaporated, leaving them suspended in mid-air. She’d half expected it; still, her stomach lurched. Usko’s hooves moved over the ground (if you could call it ground) with hardly a whisper. There was nothing to do except sit back and tell oneself to remain calm. Remain … she breathed in … calm … she breathed out. Repeat. Repeat.

  The wind was cold, and Maggie pulled her hat from the pack and tugged it low on her forehead and ears. She snuggled under the eiderdown next to Badger, who rested his head on her shoulder and sighed. Remain. Calm. Remain. Calm. After all, if Usko hadn’t sent them all crashing to their deaths by now, wasn’t it best to assume he knew what he was doing, just as Aunt Ravna said?

  She settled in. Whenever she remembered they were travelling on a bridge made of vapour, she shook her head and shooed the thought away. Remain calm. See where you are, she told herself, for this is an experience you are not likely to have again. Take note of this world.

  And what a world it was. The thin clouds overhead flicked like horses’ tails in the blue sky and the mountains reached as far as the eye could see – grey and black and white – sentinels of rock and ice. Far below the silver ribbon of river wound, shining blindingly when the sun struck it. A world entirely of ice and snow and stone and sky. It was harsh and hard, severe and lonely, with the ravens, those obsidian shadows, the only other sign of life.

  The sun began to slide to the tops of the mountains and their gigantic, monstrous shadows crept along the valley floor, as though they were eating up the land below. The ravens circled closer, swooped ever lower, until first one and then the other landed in a flap of feathers on the front of the sleigh. Usko, without lessening his stride, turned around and shook his bells, and the ravens cawed. Badger barked, and the ravens bobbed in his direction.

  “Good to see you both,” she said.

  They cocked their heads and clacked their beaks.

  Maggie hadn’t been this near to the birds before (even on the boat they had stayed up by the lanterns), but here they were in close quarters. They were so similar, as birds are, that at first glance it was hard to tell one from the other. When she looked closely, however, one was slightly smaller, and well, tidier. The larger bird, even when the wind was quiet, looked more rumpled. Their feathers ruffled in the wind and they had to grip the rim of the sleigh for balance.

  “You probably know better than I how long we’ll be travelling, but it doesn’t look like we’re going to arrive before nightfall. Do you want to hop down into the footwell? You’ll be out of the wind.” She arranged the eiderdown around her feet to make room and the birds jumped down. They preened and then tucked their heads under their wings.

  Darkness came on quickly. Maggie opened the food packages Aunt Ravna had given her, and shared the meal of cold chicken slices, cheese, bread and water with Badger. The shadows consumed the valley completely and when the sky turned deep indigo, flashes of green and pale blue and orange began appearing. At first Maggie thought it must just be some trick of the sun, setting far beyond the mountain range. Then, as the lights grew, she realized something else was happening, but what? She gasped. Vast ribbons of green, higher than the stars, or so it looked, rippled over the indigo sky. Badger growled low. Usko shook his antlers, and the sound of the bells danced amongst the ribbons. Tinted with yellow and rose, they fluttered across the sky, wisps of living light, twirling and swirling. Maggie gazed open mouthed. The northern lights. Aurora borealis. Badger tracked them and growled.

  “It’s okay. I don’t think they’re dangerous.” How could anything so beautiful be dangerous? Badger quieted.

  Usko had changed course a little, or else the bridge, or path, or whatever it was, had shifted. They headed right for the dancing lights. A laugh bubbled in Maggie’s throat. She found she wasn’t in the least frightened. Her pulse quickened, and she had the urge to stand and reach upward for the ribbons, and she might have, too, but thinking of the ever-more-distant drop, she settled for letting her fingers play in the air. Badger’s eyes followed the lights, as he would have fireflies. Oh, Kyle, she thought, picturing him as a giggling little boy, reaching for coloured streamers, how I wish you were here. And Alvin, too, who would no doubt have some tale about his time in the high Arctic and knowledge of what the Inuit knew about the aurora borealis.

  Soon, they not only travelled among the light ribbons, but one of them, teal coloured, turned into the bridge. Usko slowed his pace, from a gallop to a canter to a trot to a walk, and yet they moved just as quickly. The light path carried them. Maggie laughed.

  “This is wonderful!” Her heart rose like a spark on a warm draft.

  The caribou sat, shook his bells and then lay down and chewed his cud. Thinking how hungry he must be after his long run, Maggie took an apple from her pack and moved to the front of the sleigh, thinking to climb onto the ribbon of light itself. When she stood up and looked down, however, she became quite dizzy. The world was a white ripple far below and she could see through the lights quite clearly. Although the sleigh and Usko were clearly supported, she didn’t trust that if she stepped from the sleigh she wouldn’t simply drop through the light as she would a cloud.

  The crows awoke and cawed urgently. She felt something and realized they were tugging at the leg of her pants. “Okay, okay.” Badger was on his feet. “Sit,” she said, afraid he’d jump after her. She didn’t need to be told twice. Aunt Ravna had been clear. Keep your hands and feet in the sleigh.

  “Usko,” she called. The caribou turned his great wide head toward her. His eyes were placid, deep and dark, and his muzzle looked soft. She juggled the apple in her hand. “Do you want this? Can you catch?” The animal rose and turned partway toward her. She tossed the apple and he caught it nimbly between his teeth. He munched, with a contented look on his face and jingled his bells.

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Usko settled down and Maggie curled up with Badger in the furs, both of them gazing at the light ballet. She watched and watched and soon her eyes began to grow heavy …

  * * *

  BADGER BARKED, AND MAGGIE’S EYES FLEW OPEN. The sleigh was on solid ground again, with snow shushing up on either side. The dancing lights were gone, and the sky was pre-dawn, with just a hoary violet edge along the horizon. It smelled of snow and the clean, slightly metallic scent of ancient ice. The ravens perched on the back of the sleigh’s seat. Now and again they spread their wings for balance.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, and they b
obbed.

  She scratched Badger’s ears. Maggie had no idea how far they’d travelled. If her experience was to be believed, they had flown the arc of the heavens. The thought made her tingle all the way down to her toes.

  Now, however, they were back on terra firma and moving fast. Usko once again ran with sure-footed swiftness through the powdery snow. Maggie realized she’d have to stay under the furs if she didn’t want to risk frostbite. Scarf wrapped around neck, woollen hat pulled low, gloved hands beneath the furs. Had anyone looked for her they would see only eyes. The empty landscape stretched on and on into the seemingly eternal not quite day, but not quite night either.

  She tried to think of Kyle somewhere north even of here, in the frigid darkness. Kyle hated the dark. How many times as a boy had he called out to her because he was sure something scratched at the floorboards under his bed, or clung spider-like in the corner near the ceiling? “What colour is my hair?” he would ask her, and she would tell him it was the same as ever. Why did he ask? Because, he’d say, he’d read a person’s hair could turn white if he was frightened enough. She’d reassure him there was nothing at all in the dark that could hurt him, but knew he never really believed her. Perhaps he knew something she didn’t, after all. He was always cold, too, and had a hot water bottle in the shape of a rabbit. She could never get it hot enough for him and sometimes in the morning he’d have a red mark on his chest from where he’d clung to it, but he said he never felt the burn.

  How could he stay warm? What was Srebrenka doing with her brother, right this moment? Srebrenka surely knew she was coming. What on earth – or not on earth – did Maggie think she was going to do against so formidable a foe? A spiky little worm of resentment slithered into her gut. If she didn’t love Kyle so much – even now, even with all the dreadful things he’d said and done – she might have hated him for what was happening. Flying on bridges of dancing green light was all very well and good, but what was that worth when it ended with her frozen corpse next to his at the end of the tale?