tried to come here and had died here. Of course, being great Heroes, according to the legends, they did not necessarily remain dead — but that was legend and not fact.
Now if she ran afoul of Tuonela's guardians…it would not be good.
She was going to have to deal with them and get past them without actually fighting them; the point was that she not be surprised, that she meet them on her terms and not theirs.
This would take some very careful maneuvering.
She went as far as the edge of the river before pausing. The moment she set so much as a toe into the water, the guardian would be alerted, but according to all three of the stories she had read, it was at the cave's mouth that she had to beware the most. Carefully, she looked around, made sure that there were no spirits nearby to catch her at what she was about to do, then took one of three tiny bundles that appeared to be a packet of leaves wrapped up in white thread out of her sleeve. She set the first down at the water's edge.
“Blood of my blood, my semblance be, Let them see you and not me.”
A kind of pillar of smoke arose from where the packet had been. A moment later, it was not a pillar of smoke anymore. An identical twin to Aleksia stood there, regarding her thoughtfully, as she was regarding it. It looked uncannily intelligent — thank goodness it was not — it was nothing more than a mindless, soulless copy that would do exactly what she directed it to. But this was good, because she was about to be very, very cruel to it.
“Dip a toe into the water,” she whispered to it, as she passed her hands across her own face, rendering herself invisible. “Then, when the spirits come to tear you apart, run.”
She withdrew a little way, and watched as the simulacrum obeyed her. As if the contact with the water had been a signal, spirits, eyes bright with anger, swarmed out of the fog to converge on the hapless duplicate. And, as directed, she ran. She fled along the shoreline and was soon out of sight, with the uncannily silent mob in hot pursuit. The moment they were gone, Aleksia slipped into the water.
It was numbingly cold. The chill was somehow worse than being in a cold river up in the world of the living. The cold seemed to penetrate somehow, and the water itself made her clothing far heavier than it should have been. Such light garments should have floated weightlessly, but instead, they felt as if they were made of stone. She struggled as she swam, keeping her eyes fixed on the farther shore. Halfway over, she saw what she had hoped not to see; the huge Swan approached, gliding here and there through the mist, its neck outstretched as it peered among the reeds and then returned to the center of the river, and it looked as if it was searching for something.
Quickly, she took out the second of her packets, whispered her spell, and let it go, saying “Swim away! Swim fast.”
The simulacrum obeyed, heading upriver, against the sluggish current. Since it was white against the gray of the water, it took the Swan a moment to spot it. By then, it had a substantial head start.
The Swan uttered an angry hiss, and paddled furiously after it, as Aleksia herself continued for the farther shore, swimming as hard as she could without making any splashing sounds.
She almost fainted with relief when she felt the gravel of the river's edge beneath her toes. She dragged herself out of the water, her limbs feeling like lead, and her teeth clenched to prevent chattering. It was all she could do to muster the energy to create a warming spell and dry her clothing, and for a very, very long time she simply sat on a stone in on the bank, chin on her knees, arms wrapped around her legs, getting her energy back. Because the final guardian was going to be the most difficult of all to pass.
And this was going to take very good coordination indeed. She had only one more of her decoys, and if she misjudged…
Walking silently, and very, very carefully, she moved up the bank to the cave-mouth.
She examined the ground ahead of her minutely, not proceeding until she was satisfied it was safe to do so. Finally, as she drew nearer to the rock wall that marked the boundary of this place, she spotted what she was looking for, a curved row of white pebbles across the path. She backed away, slowly and carefully, and waited. Had it heard her? Sensed her? Her heart pounded in her throat, and her mouth was dry as she waited for a sign that she had been detected.
Nothing.
She leaned down and placed the leaf bundle on the ground, and thought her spell at it.
Once again, the pillar of smoke sprang up from it, and then turned into her duplicate. She gave it a tiny shove between the shoulder blades to start it moving toward the hole in the rock that would lead to safety.
The simulacrum crossed the row of white pebbles.
And the enormous jaws of the monster that was the last guardian of Tuonela snapped shut on it.
That row of pebbles had been the tops of its lower teeth! The upper teeth were the stalactites that appeared to protrude from the ceiling of the cave. When the jaws slammed shut, it became clear that the cave's entrance was nothing more than the monster's mouth and throat. And that anything walking into it would be devoured.
But Aleksia had been waiting for that moment, for the stories all said that it was much harder for the monster to get its mouth open than to slam it shut. She leapt for the snout, putting all her strength into her legs, a new burst of energy coursing through her, fueled by pure fear. Her left foot hit the creature's snout, her right landed between its piggy eyes, each the size of a feasting platter. Her left impacted the middle of its neck, and then she was through, into the real cave, running as hard and as fast as she could for the entrance, with terror and elation in equal parts singing in her veins.
She did not stop running until she was in the cellars of her own Palace again, dismissed the spell and stood there, barefoot, bedraggled and exhausted.
9
Aleksia stumbled up to her rooms shaking with cold and reaction. And yet, deep inside, there was a sense of elation. Elena was right; she had never yet “done” anything herself, and really being active made her feel like nothing else ever had. For the first time ever, she was a part of something. Instead of merely guiding the tale, she was in the middle of it. It was exciting and frightening all at once.
“Godmother!” her attendant exclaimed as soon as she entered the door. “You are going to catch your death of cold! Let's get you out of that — what is that thing? It looks like a shroud!” The little Brownie scowled at her as if she had committed some terrible faux pas. Perhaps in the Brownie's eyes, she had. This damp concoction was hardly the sort of thing a Godmother of the Snow Queen's stature should have been wearing.
“It is a shroud,” Aleksia replied wearily. “I have been to Tuonela to speak with the dead. If they did not think I was one of them, they would have torn me to pieces.”
The Brownie's eyes grew large and round. “You? Went yourself? Is that not the task of a seeker? Or a Hero or Champion at least? Should you not have sent Kay?”
She laughed weakly. “This is not Kay's tale, my friend. I might have asked if any of you were willing, but there are no Brownies in Tuonela. Therefore, it must be me, and I very much think that I am going to have to enter this tale further. The truth is, someone is masquerading as me, so I believe I am going to have to take a personal hand in this story.”
The Brownie shook her head. “Better you than me, Godmother. Better you than me.”
“Well, for now, I must tend to Kay's tale, and I need warmth and tea.” She paused and realized just how empty she felt. “And food.” She sent a moment of thought to her big mirror in the throne room, telling it to find Gerda for her. She would need to look in on the girl once she was feeling better.
With the Brownie's help, she pulled off the damp, cold and rather mildew-scented gown and once it was off, she realized at the same time that the Brownie wrinkled up her nose that it was not just the gown that smelled of mildew and algae.
“You're having a bath,” her attendant said. She was not in the mood to argue. The mirror, and Gerda, could wait. It was not a
s if the girl was in any danger with the Bear there. At this point, Aleksia could probably tie the whole tale up once Kay was well and truly ready. Without a moment of hesitation, she went straight through her bedroom to the bathroom, which, like the rest of her suite, was a haven of warmth. Tiled in golden marble, lighted by an oversized Mage-light in the center of the ceiling that also gave off a warm, golden glow, the chief feature was a huge bathtub carved of honey-colored, translucent stone. To be honest, her bathroom was one of her favorite places in the entire Palace. Whenever she felt overwhelmed and tense, a good long soak always made her feel better, and this above all was the place where the contrast between her old life as a Princess and her life as a Godmother was the greatest. Even as a Princess, hot baths were labor-intensive affairs that involved a great deal of hot water being carried to a hip-bath in pails; the water never stayed hot for long, and a hot soak was a great indulgence. Therein was the great contrast. Perhaps this was equally indulgent, but she sacrificed so much already by living up here, and what was the use of having magic if you couldn't have a steady supply of hot water whenever you wanted it?
It did not take the Brownie very long at all to draw the bath; within moments, Aleksia was able to sink up to her neck in glorious hot water, scented with jasmine and lily. The tub was of a unique design that allowed the bather to recline against a slanted back and put her head back so that her hair fell into a separate, deep basin for it to be washed. Aleksia's hair was not as long as some, only reaching halfway down her back, but this arrangement was as much practical as it was indulgent. Right now, her hair smelled of waterweeds, and the Brownie made disapproving noises over it. As Aleksia let the heat soak into her very bones, and nibbled at the batter-dipped sausages and bits of vegetables that had been brought to her, the Brownie poured more hot water over her long hair, soaped and washed it, then repeated the washing until she was satisfied it was finally clean.
“I cannot imagine what you were doing, Godmother,” the Brownie said in a scolding voice. “Your hair was positively green.” She worked snow-lily scent through it, combed it out and spread it over the back of the tub to dry, fanning it to speed the process. Aleksia closed her eyes with a sigh. She was full, warm and floating in scent, and there was no reason to move. All was well for the moment.
“I was swimming,” Aleksia explained. “It was the only way to leave Tuonela once I was done with my business there.”
“In this weather?” her attendant gasped.
“In Tuonela, it is not Winter.” She cracked open an eye to see the Brownie's baffled expression. “Tuonela is the Sammi Underworld,” she elaborated. “There is a river about it, a ferry takes you over if you are dead — or if the spirit thinks you are — but there is no way back save to swim the river.”
“And a nasty river it must be.” The Brownie sniffed. “You may be sure I am never going there.”
“You are not likely to have to.” Aleksia chuckled, and closed her eyes again. “As I said, there are no Brownies in Tuonela, only the spirits of the Sammi dead.” She could easily have fallen asleep in the tub. She could certainly have stayed there until her fingers and toes were wrinkled and white and her dinner wore off.
But a gentle tugging on her scalp after a time told her that her hair was dry and her attendant was braiding it and pinning it up again, and when the Brownie was done, she stood up with a sigh of regret and accepted the huge, soft towel the little creature offered her. She felt heavy as she stepped out of the tub and out of the support of the water. When she was dry, she put on the white silk underthings and white velvet gown the Brownie presented to her.
But now she felt restored and ready to deal with whatever was about to be tossed in her lap.
Slipping on a pair of white, fur-lined, ankle-length slippers, she made her way to the throne room — and stopped in surprise. Kay was already there, gazing into the depths of her mirror with an expression of naked longing on his face.
Granted, she had “told” it to display Gerda. But he should not have been able to see her. Not unless —
Unless his feelings for her had gone from lovesickness to true love. If that happened to be the case, then Kay would be able to see whatever image of Gerda any magician or soothsayer called up.
He looked up at the sound of her footfall. “I am,” he said, bitterly, “a fool.”
She looked him straight in the eyes. There was something entirely new there. Humility.
Humanity. She controlled her elation. “Yes,” she agreed, “you are.”
He mistook her meaning. “Look at her!” he said, gesturing to the mirror. “Look how good and brave she is! How gentle and kind! Even the wild beasts recognize it! I was blind not to see it, and now — ” He choked and turned away. “Now I have lost her, through my own doing.”
She felt like cheering, but it wouldn't do to let him know that. “You haven't lost her yet, my lad,” she replied briskly. “Though it has certainly taken you long enough to realize what should have truly been precious to you. Not your own self-importance, nor how clever you thought you were, but the affections of those who cared for you, and that you should have cared for in return. We become truly great only when we work for others as well as ourselves. By your own light, you can only illuminate a small part of the world, but when your light is reflected and shared, it is magnified.”
When he looked at her, puzzled, she sighed with impatience. Bah. Another pretty speech wasted on the literal-minded. “Never mind. You will figure it out soon enough. Come.” She gestured imperiously to him. “You have passed your tests, it is time for Gerda to pass hers.” As he stared at her, blank-faced, she repeated her order. “Come.”
He scrambled to her side, and she snapped her fingers to dispel the illusion that the Palace was empty. He gasped to see the Brownies hurrying about their tasks down a hallway, and his cheeks flushed as she permitted him to feel warmth again. To his way of thinking, suddenly the cold and empty Palace had come to life, and it took him completely by surprise. She lifted a finger; a bell sounded, and a Brownie came hurrying up with a pair of white fur cloaks, one for him, and one for her. She turned to the mirror as the Brownie was helping Kay into his, and spoke silently to the Bear. “Leave her, old friend. I am coming with her sweetheart for her final test. But before you go, tell her that the Snow Queen makes a ride each day along where you are, and that her sweetheart might be with me. If she sees him, she is to seize and hold him and not let him go, no matter what she sees or hears, no matter what he tells her. We will see if she has gotten enough of a spine to weather that ordeal.”
The Bear chuckled. It shall be as you wish, Godmother. I think you will be pleased.
Aleksia dismissed the image in the mirror. Kay made a small sound of protest, but she seized his arm and proceeded at a fast walk — out the door, down the corridor, making a left toward her stables — pulling him with her whether he wished it or not. Her frail appearance was very deceptive; she had no trouble dragging him along.
“Where — are we — ”
“Be quiet, boy,” she replied. “From this moment, you are baggage. The important one is your Gerda now.”
And at last she was able to do something she had longed to do for months. She sealed his lips with a gesture. Now, the only sounds that would come from him were the ones that she decided he would utter.
The sleigh and four white reindeer were waiting and ready at the outer door, under a hard, blue sky without a trace of cloud. Two of the Brownies, who were also waiting, seized Kay's arms and pitched him into the sleigh. Aleksia, they aided in more gently, then one jumped up onto the driver's seat and the other jumped on behind. A flick of the reins along the reindeers' backs and they were away, out of the white-walled courtyard, down the side of the mountain, the deer running effortlessly on top of the hard-packed snow, speeding along on singing silver runners at a pace fast enough to make Kay's eyes bulge. Either he didn't remember how this sleigh had been flying through the air when she fetched him in the first pl
ace, or else he had been so excited about getting what he wanted that he hadn't paid any attention at the time.
Probably the latter, as he had been an intensely self-absorbed brat. It was amazing what changes could be made in a relatively short period.
Gerda was easy to spot at a vast distance, a single speck of brown against the snow, and the driver slowed the deer to a trot as soon as he saw her. Aleksia knew that they would see the girl long before she could see them, white-on-white as they were. Poor child…Aleksia spared a moment of pity for her. Unlike Kay, she knew this was the climax of her story, felt it instinctively if not intellectually, and she had to be on fire with nerves. Everything she had done so far had led up to this point. She was like a runner before the starting shout of a race, knowing and feeling everything she had endured to get to this point, yet not knowing what the end of the race would be.
The Brownies were watching the girl with great interest. She didn't recognize either of them, although, as was the custom for these outings, both were dressed in outfits that The Tradition deemed peculiar to Dwarves or Gnomes — red, pointed hats, heavy brown coats belted at the waist, moleskin breeches, sturdy brown boots. The Tradition deemed that Brownies should not be seen outside of a dwelling, and that the Snow Queen was too haughty and imperious to be served by Brownies anyway — yet Dwarves and Gnomes absolutely loathed the snow and ice-fields around the Palace of Ever-Winter. Since most humans couldn't tell the difference between Brownies, Dwarves and Gnomes anyway, in public her Brownies dressed like Dwarves and The Tradition seemed satisfied.
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