FSF, May-June 2010

by Spilogale Authors

  She dropped the splinter and kicked it under the bench. “Friends don't keep secrets."

  "Brothers do,” he said, opening the door.

  "What does that say?” She pointed at the plaque on the wall.

  "A beheading to all unwanted guests."

  She grabbed the pickaxe and descended into the dark.

  * * * *

  It took her the entire day to wash their clothes. Not because the material was unfamiliar or their wardrobe was plentiful. They had just rarely ever been washed. And being that these dwarves, as Snow learned, spent their days digging in a mine, soot and mud and grime had woven themselves into the fabric.

  September sat on a tree stump outside and watched her work.

  "Why are they digging, again?” At the start of the day, she had asked this same question, but September gave one of his slippery answers. But now they had spent a good ten hours talking to one another. Perhaps more importantly, midday Snow had decided to wash her own dress, forcing her to spend the next few hours in her undergarments. If ever a bond between girl and dwarf could be forged, it was with moderate nudity.

  "Do all the girls where you come from look like you?"

  "No. None now, since I live here.” She stopped her scrubbing of the latest dwarf garment to look back at him. Though she'd been slaving away at her chores, she didn't perspire. If September got close enough, he'd notice her lavender smell hadn't faded. “Now answer my question."

  "They're digging a hole,” he said.

  Snow unclipped her dress from the line, checking the repairs she'd made to ensure there'd be no tears when she put it back on. “Digging for what?"

  "Just digging a hole.” September picked up an apple, which had fallen from a nearby tree. It was smaller and a deeper red than the apples Snow was used to. At first she'd mistaken them for plums.

  "Where to?"

  "It's a burying hole."

  She stopped a moment, the straps of her dress still hanging off her shoulders. “A hole for whom?"

  "So we won't have to hear them anymore.” He took a large bite of his apple and finished his statement with his mouth full. “And we won't have to sing at night and through the day."

  "And what exactly are you trying to drown out? I've heard nothing all afternoon."

  "They're playful like that."

  "I hate a good mystery almost as much as I hate being teased."

  "Don't be cross.” He tossed the apple aside.

  She reached around and pointed toward her bare back. “Zip me up?” September stretched, but the zipper was far too high for him to reach so she kneeled down. Cold, stubby fingers scraped along the curve of her spine.

  "Just the zipper, please."

  "Right."

  Snow showed her gratitude with a kiss to the little man's forehead. His skin tasted like ash and sweat. “We could be special friends,” she said. “If only—"

  "I ... I will show you. But you must promise not to tell my brothers."

  As she crossed her heart, the dwarf's eyes drifted downward. Her skin was a perfect white. As pure as flesh could be.

  He made her wait across the room while he took the three keys for the three locks on the bedroom door. It was a clever mechanism, he'd explained. One that entered a failsafe mode should anyone use the keys in the wrong order.

  With as much grandeur as a dwarf could muster, he swung the door open. “M'lady."

  "M'lord,” a harsh voice responded. Unus stepped into the house, his brothers close behind.

  "You're home early,” September said.

  "And with good reason. I knew you were too weak to hold to your duty."

  September's head fell. He pulled the door closed, but did not lock it.

  "And you, young lady, are to be—"

  "Do you hear that?” The girl turned her attention from the dwarves and looked back through the entryway at the closed door beyond. She heard a catlike cry, a siren's song calling to her. “Is there someone else here?” She moved at a speed to which dwarves were unaccustomed. Each flailed at her or attempted to block her path, but she dipped and danced around them with ease, reaching the door in a matter of seconds.

  "Wait!” Unus's boots pounded against the wood floor with each hurried step, like a great and consistent knocking.

  The door was thick oak, warm to the touch. It took two pushes to open the door, but once it began to give, it swung inward and released the noise trapped within.

  "Please, you must—"

  She held out two fingers and shushed Unus. The room was narrow but long, the wall lined by seven identical beds. The windowless walls plain, the ceiling so low she had to bend to avoid hitting her head. Each bed was unexceptional, save the chests at their feet. Made of a metal she'd not seen before, the chests had a slight bronze hue and a dullness that made them look flat. Whatever the metal, it wasn't the kind used for decoration, certainly not for jewelry. Locks, as big as her fist, held the lids steadfast. All seven were identical, save for the ornate crest at the top. The oak crests, woven into the metal as if forged at the same moment, had distinct patterns that spelled words in the same language as the sign in the foyer.

  She began with the chest closest to the door, the seventh in line, and went from one to the other, leaning in close and listening for the cat. Her mind, she'd always felt, played tricks on her too often. How else to explain that amidst the silence, she heard whispers from each chest? One was a solemn voice, another slithery like a snake. The only one that made no noise was the final bed. Where the other chests had a power to them, a divine element she couldn't quite explain, this final chest was unspectacular.

  "Step away from my bed, child.” Unus stood behind her. And though he was much shorter than she, he seemed to believe himself taller.

  "Sorry,” she said. “I was just looking for the cat."

  "Cat?"

  And then it called out to her. The chest toward the center made a cat-like noise—something between a purr and a yawn. A rush of heat shot across her skin and deep inside her as she neared the chest. It was as if her blood were made molten.

  She smiled and placed her hand against the crest, which purred at her touch. Heat awoke along her arms and rushed through her body. But not the kind of heat you get from a warm bath. It was as if her body housed a galaxy and, at that moment, every star had come awake inside her.

  With one quick motion, she reached to the stitching at the neck of her dress and undid her work. The neckline opened up and the cool air of the room wrapped itself against her skin, only to evaporate moments later from the heat she generated. Delicately, her fingers traced the lines in the crest as one might a lover's hair. She blinked away the sweat dripping into her eyes.

  "That's enough.” Unus pulled her free for a moment, but his hands were too small to clasp her arm fully and her skin too slick for him to take hold for long. She slid free, dropped to her knees again, and wrapped her arms around the chest. Her body heaved and her fingers dug against the metal. She attempted to make a sound, but what escaped was merely a momentary groan.

  The room disappeared and all she knew was the chest. Darkness pressed against her, but the tighter she held the chest, the brighter the light she emitted. A whir, like the humming of an ancient engine, drummed against her breast. Her body dissipated into an ocean and her current crashed against the mighty chest.

  Again. Again. Again.

  She placed her face against the warm metal, her body blanketing the chest as much as possible. The slit she'd recently repaired tore seemingly on its own, and her bare leg knocked against the lock. It clanked against the chest several times.

  September edged closer, but Unus held him back.

  Her finger dug against the wood crest, her body shuddering several times before a calm struck. The tension didn't leave her hands, but her body stopped shaking and she murmured something lost beneath the purr of whatever lived within the trunk.

  The pause was only momentary.

  Her body bucked as the heat of
a million stars flared at once in a supernova. A sound finally escaped. It was a noise the dwarves had never heard and one she herself had never made. It was not a cry of agony, though it could easily be mistaken for such. It was not a scream of panic either. This was something different.

  Her hands relaxed, her arms went slack, and Snow let herself fall backwards. Breaths quick, hand stroking her stomach, she spread out on the floor.

  "Is she dead?” September asked, pushing past Unus to reach the girl.

  "She's still breathing,” Unus said.

  "I told you she'd prefer bunking with me,” Qinn offered from the back of the room.

  September laid a hand against Snow's forehead, which was warm and slick.

  "Well, is she hurt?” Unus attempted to peer over September at the girl.

  September shook his head and looked up at Unus. “She's smiling."

  They sat at the table, eating the food Snow had prepared hastily after regaining her composure. It was not very good, but no one complained. In fact, no one said a word. Not until the meal was nearly done. Occasionally, Snow looked up from her stew and saw Unus glaring at her, or September smiling her way, but no conversation was had. It was the first silent meal she'd ever known. In her father's house, talking was just as important as eating.

  Snow's chair scraped against the floor as she pushed herself away from the table.

  "What would your mother think,” Unus said, tapping a finger against the table, “if she saw you acting in such a way?"

  The chair scraped again as Snow pulled herself back in. “How did I look, September?"

  The youngest dwarf was mid-slurp when she asked. He coughed for a moment and then stammered, “Glowing and beautiful and immeasurably happy."

  "Then she would have hated it."

  "Feel free to wrap yourself around my chest anytime,” Qinn said, his mouth full of food.

  "I wish I could know that feeling, just once.” Tria was the ugliest of the dwarves. His face was scarred by acne, his hair a long tangle of thick orange strands.

  "You could just touch the chest, you know,” Snow said.

  "Oh, I have, I have.” His eyes shifted to Unus for a moment and then down at his empty bowl.

  "We're immune to their power,” Unus explained.

  "What are they, exactly?"

  "Seven powerful demons. Each with its own infectious brand of immoral indulgence."

  "And these demons do horrible things, like make you feel exquisite?” Heat rushed to her face at the very thought of the experience.

  Unus narrowed his eyes at Snow. He drained the rest of his drink before answering. “And if you could feel that every moment of your life, what would you make of yourself? You wouldn't know to eat or work or sleep. Dead within days but uncaring because it so enraptured you in its wantonness."

  "Heaven forbid."

  "Indeed it does. That is why we guard them."

  September leaned forward, his cheeks puffed, nodding in excitement. “And that's why we dig."

  "September.” Unus wagged a finger at the little one.

  "You're going to bury them, without ever looking inside?"

  Equattuo curled his fingers into a ball and squeezed tight as if trying to forge a diamond out of coal. “I guard the one known as Ira. Were it ever to escape, the world would burn with an anger not seen since God sank the world in the Great Flood."

  "And I guard Gula,” Hex said, “who would consume every drop of the flood and still be thirsty.” He was thin and ate at a faster pace than the others. Even though most were nearly finished, he'd made it onto his third helping.

  "I felt something when I was near those chests,” she said, a bit softer. “Yours was like a cold fire, Equattuo. Duollo's was a prickle, like when your leg's fallen asleep. And of course,” she absently adjusted the strap on her dress, “Qinn's was....” The pink returned to her cheeks.

  Qinn gave her a wink.

  "Funny, though.” The softness left, replaced by a playfulness she'd not felt previously during her stay. “I didn't feel a damned thing from your chest, Unus. Why might that be?"

  Unus stood, knocking over his chair as he did so. Both fists slammed down on the table. “Perhaps you are immune to the temptations of Vanagloria because you are already infected by his vice. To suggest that I, the greatest of all dwarves, could fail in my charge is preposterous.” He leaned forward, looking more like an ape than a dwarf as he huffed. “What you do not realize is that so great is my courage and my might that, long ago, I subjugated the prideful demon within that chest. Would that my brothers had such power as I, we could abandon our charge and trust these dark creatures to be too meek to ever cry for release."

  Snow looked about the table at the other six brothers. Even September, who often seemed enraptured in Unus's every word, was looking away. None of them could meet their eldest brother's eye at that moment.

  Unus eased off and stood as tall as possible, folding his arms as best he could.

  September was the first to speak after a lengthy silence. “Is that true?” he asked. “You've out-willed it, then?"

  Snow steepled her fingers and failed to suppress a smirk.

  Unus gave another huff and turned from the table, stomping his way toward bed.

  * * * *

  She found the apple waiting for her on the table in the morning. “Thank you, September,” she said, though no one was there. Apparently Unus's trust issues had evaporated because the house was empty, her little guardian gone with the rest of them to dig their hole.

  She doubted the little apple could satisfy her hunger, so she decided to commit the day to picking more. Discovering which tree this came from would be the first order of the morning. It was an even deeper red than the ones she'd eaten before.

  The juice dribbled down her chin as she took her first big bite. She wiped at herself as she attempted to swallow, but found her throat suddenly parched. She lurched forward, attempting to spit out the apple, but could not. The rest of the apple hit the floor moments before Snow.

  * * * *

  "They've gone after your mother,” September said, unable to hold back his tears. “She found you somehow. We'll make her pay, don't you worry."

  They'd laid Snow out on the kitchen table, after setting down fresh sheets she herself had washed the day before. She wasn't dead, Duollo assured them all. Very slightly, if you watched with great concentration, you could see her stomach move with each slow breath. She was in a sleep that could not be broken.

  September laid his head next to her and stroked her arm. She was a restful beauty.

  "Unus thinks we should bury you with the chests tomorrow.” The dwarf spoke to her side, his head still against the table. “He's wrong, though. The hole's not ready yet. But he insists we do it after we finish the search for your mother."

  He raised his head so he could watch her peaceful face. The merriment was gone, the spunk, but there was a loveliness to this near-death Snow that was somehow more alluring than before.

  "You were my charge and I failed you."

  She gave no response.

  "You have to wake up, Snow. Before they return.” He'd never felt love, but if it were anything like panic, he felt it now. His arms grabbed her shoulders before he realized his actions. He shook her, hard. Once. Twice. “Wake up!” His fingers dug into her shoulders and he lifted her half off the table before thrusting her back down. “Wake up!” Again. Her head lolled to one side as he gave a final shake. “Please."

  His head fell onto her chest and he began to sob, so loudly that he couldn't hear her cough. The throes of his own sorrow masked the vibrations of her chest. “Oh Snow, my love. My only love."

  "September?” Her voice had none of its singsong quality. It was a scratchy, ugly noise, like a desert attempting to speak for the first time.

  He looked at her and cheered—actually threw up his hands and hollered.

  Snow swung her legs off the table. Her head felt heavy, like it was extra weight holding
her back. Like it was full of ballast that needed to be jettisoned. It didn't take long for her to spot it on the ground, a chunk of the apple she'd eaten, which had caught in her throat until September managed to shake it loose.

  "Poison,” he said. “Your mother."

  She rubbed at her forehead and attempted to pace the room. Every movement was a step underwater. The undertow threatened to drag her down and drown her once again. She kept moving.

  "Don't worry, they're going to find your mother. They're searching the forest now. They know it far better than she ever could."

  Shaking her head was a bad idea. The world tipped to one side and she stumbled to the ground. She waved September off as he leaped to her side. “How did she find me? How could she?"

  "I don't know,” the littlest dwarf answered. “Who else would want to hurt you?"

  And with a snap, she was awake. Fully. The poison didn't matter anymore. Let it run its course. The queasiness in her stomach was forced down. Her fever burning off quickly. The tingling in her arm dissipating.

  She stood so she could look down at the dwarf. “Your brother did this."

  "Unus?"

  That he knew which brother was all the proof Snow needed. “I found out his dirty little secret. He let that thing out of his chest a long time ago."

  "That doesn't make sense.” But even as he said it, September's words trailed off. He reached for the three keys in his pocket.

  "Open it. Open it and we'll know."

  "I can't. Unus has the only key to his chest. He wears it around his neck. We're each responsible for one of them."

  The roughness in her voice was gone and she rubbed September's head with the affection of a mother. “You believe me."

  "I'm beginning to suspect."

  "This whole thing is a sham. He let his demon free and it hurt no one."

  September looked to his feet.

  "And tonight we'll prove it.” Snow explained her plan, one she was certain had no flaws. One that could not possibly go wrong.

  * * * *

  She woke in the middle of the night and rose from the table like a ghost lifting from the grave. It wasn't easy holding her breath or her tongue when the dwarves returned from their fruitless search. Unus made another speech and swore to give Snow a proper burial at dawn's light. She played dead and they bought it.