by Amy McNulty
I leaned forward, whipping my hand out to stop the carriage door as one of the specters moved to close it. I didn’t care what I touched in the castle anymore. Let the whole thing crumble.
A black-gloved hand covered mine. I jumped back. Ailill stuck his head inside the carriage. His face stopped right before mine, the brim of his hat practically shading me under it. The sight of his face so close to mine, unveiled and painted with disdain, caused a thunderous racing of my heart. It was as if I’d just run the length of the entire village.
“You kept your hair short,” he said. He reached his free hand toward it, then pulled back.
I’d once let the bushy mess of black hair grow as long as it wanted, but once I cropped it closely to my scalp, I found it easier to deal with. “There hasn’t been enough time for it to grow, anyway. Not for me.”
He snorted. “Of course. But it makes me remember you as you were, long ago. When you cursed me and every man whether he deserved it or not.” He leaned back a bit, putting more space between our faces. “I think you will be most interested in going with my servants to the market,” he said. “But there will be no need to thank me in person afterward. I would rather not see you again.” His eyes drifted upwards, thoughtfully. “In fact, remind the villagers that I am closed to all audiences. My servants will be out there to see that my edict is obeyed.”
Before I could speak, he leaned back and let my hand fall from his. He reached around the door to close it.
“Wait—”
And slammed it in my face.
You fool.
You miserable, simpering fool.
If you let so much as one tear fall, I’ll never forgive you.
I stared at the specter seated before me and laughed. I had been directing my thoughts to the raging idiot rattling around inside my heart, but I kind of liked the idea of pretending it had been the specter who had earned my ire. Him? Cry? I’d seen more life in that stone version of little Ailill that had spent all of those years sobbing atop the castle’s garden fountain.
The specter really did look like Ailill. Paler, for certain, and with crow’s feet around his eyes. This one was maybe in his forties or fifties. I had seen younger and older—mostly older. They were all versions of Ailill that had died, turned into ghastly shades to serve the new one.
I had a feeling I wouldn’t have the opportunity to ask.
Not that I wanted the opportunity.
And he would probably just tell me I ought to know, since I was the one who cursed him to never die. Well, I used a myth I guessed to be true and commanded him not to meet his goddess—the one woman he would ever love—for many, many lifetimes. Apparently the men got to live long enough to meet their goddesses, no matter how long it took. Luckily for most men, it took far, far less time.
Luckily or unluckily? Eternal life had its advantages, I supposed, but it hadn’t been meant as a blessing. And it hadn’t even been meant for him. Not for the little boy I had befriended who had known nothing but pain.
And now that I thought about it, I always knew I would turn out to be his goddess, so I’d outright doomed myself, too. Put a sword, a weapon of tales of old, in my hands and I was bound to grow a little overly passionate and foolish. It was a lesson sorely learned. And a lesson I was foolish to think he would ever let me forget.
I sighed and rubbed my temples, tearing my eyes from the specter’s face. I was used to the red eyes, but I wasn’t yet used to the resemblance to Ailill. Odd that I spent so long wondering what was under the lord’s veil when all the while his face was plastered across every servant in the castle.
I glanced out the carriage window just as we put the woods surrounding the castle behind us. I never used to be able to look up at the eastern mountains. Someone once decided that no woman or girl could look at the castle that soared up above the woods without causing the earth to shake. That someone, I was astonished to learn, was me. Ailill was right—I couldn’t keep it all straight, even though I had done it.
We passed the small house on the edge of the woods belonging to my parents, Gideon the woodcarver and his wife, Aubree. We lived snug with the trees so Father wouldn’t have to travel far for the wood he needed for his work. Of course, he had done very little work while my mother was held captive in Ailill’s castle. I thought her dead, and Father didn’t dare correct me. Ailill was healing her, but the road to recovery from her illness was nearly two years long.
The carriage dipped down and up the small series of lily-covered hills that separated my home from the heart of the village. Master and Mistress Tailor’s—no, I’d forgotten. Master Tailor and Siofra’s tailoring shop was the next home we passed. That was where Jurij had lived with his parents before he wed my sister. Now Master Tailor lived there alone, except when his younger son, Luuk, and Luuk’s former goddess, Nissa, were visiting. Although his former wife still helped him run his business.
With Mother restored to us and newlywed Elfriede and Jurij living at home, it was getting rather crowded. I couldn’t blame my sister, as she and her husband originally had the place to themselves. Mother and I had both been in the castle, and Father was a drunken lout more likely to be at the tavern than at home. It had only been a few weeks since I’d emerged from the glowing pool and all of these changes had taken place. I was pining for my own space. I had thought of the castle. How stupid. But there were those stolen moments in the garden and the food far finer than anything I’d eaten at home. Even the lovely dresses, although unsuited to me, had grown on me now that I’d spent weeks wearing the same old rags. But that was Ailill’s place, not mine—and it was a prison once, even despite all the fine things. Once, I might have lived with Alvilda, the lady woodcarver in the village who had picked up all of the slack my father had left behind. But she was practically a newlywed herself, and I never quite felt comfortable around her lover, Siofra, even if she had shown me kindness from time to time. I still remembered her as I did as a child, a towering woman, gruff and surly.
We made our way through the heart of the village, and men and women, girls and boys alike jumped backward to make way for their lord’s black carriage. I was still not used to seeing so many faces on display. Before the curse broke, only the men who had earned the love of their goddesses had been able to remove their masks. More than once, I’d shut my eyes quickly before reminding myself I could keep them open.
In the distance were the western mountains, bearing down over the crop fields. The commune beside the fields was now empty, devoid of the unloved and unmarried men who once called it their home. But the place carried too many unpleasant memories for me, too. I had lived briefly in two versions of the same wretched and fading spot.
The southern mountains served as a backdrop for the livestock fields and farmers. The farmers had never been fond of me. As a child, I led a small group of boys around the village as their “elf queen” and attacked far too many cows and sheep with a tree branch sword I called Elgar.
That left the north. There was a quarry there, but more importantly, there was an empty shack. I might have accidentally killed the old crone who lived there a couple of years back. It wasn’t really my fault—it was the earthquake’s. But now that I knew I was responsible for the earthquakes, I guess it was my fault after all. My face flushed. One more black mark in my book.
The carriage ground to a sudden and sharp halt. Through the window, I saw the villagers who had been looking at the various stalls of goods for sale turn around to face us in wonder. More than one dropped the apple or blanket or whatever it was they were examining and stared slack-jawed, almost as still as the specters when they were awaiting orders. Did the lord of the village really still inspire such awe?
Their faces softened when one of the specters outside of the carriage opened the door and the specter inside the carriage disembarked before me. For all they knew, though, the other passenger could have been Ailill. His visits to the village were no longer unheard of.
I stepped outside, ignoring the proffered hand of the specter who had been driving the carriage. All around me, jaws slackened again. The villagers might have been just as scared to see me emerge from that carriage as they would have been to see Ailill.
Or perhaps they just didn’t expect to see any evidence that I still carried their lord’s favor. Well, neither did I.
“Noll!” cried a familiar voice. Alvilda, shopping in the market? She was wearing a golden, frilly dress, too, and carrying a basket across one elbow.
Alvilda swooped deftly through the crowd and stood beside me. She shot the specters a murderous look. Ah, there she is. They had a bit of history, although I’d never be able to say for certain whether it was these three specters in particular with whom she quarreled fruitlessly.
“Step aside,” she grumbled to the nearest one. She had never learned that they would neither talk nor acknowledge her. Or perhaps it was her way of not acknowledging them not acknowledging her.
She looped her free arm through mine. “Watching you come out of his lordship’s carriage has to be one of the last things I expected to see today.”
The yellow monstrosity of a gown she wore was so bright, it almost blinded me. “And seeing you in such a lavish dress has to be the last thing I expected to see in my lifetime.”
Alvilda pinched my arm and batted her long, dark eyelashes. “Oh, stop. You know I can’t live with a tailor and not expect to be dressed up like a doll occasionally.” She grinned. “Besides, we have a deal: she can dress me like a lady from time to time, and she has to shut her mouth for an hour or two that night.”
I thought it best not to comment.
Alvilda watched the specters warily. The one who had ridden with me in the carriage approached the Great Hall door. As I had seen time and time before, he produced precisely what he needed from a pocket within his jacket. A nail appeared in one hand and a hammer in another, and he quickly posted the letter to the door.
Before anyone had a chance to read it, he was back in the carriage and the two others jumped up to the driver’s seat. And then they were gone.
“That’s … disturbing,” remarked Alvilda. “Have any idea what they’re up to now?”
I shook my head. “Ai—the lord said he was sending an edict to the village.”
Villagers pulled away from their small clusters, and a few started shuffling over toward the Great Hall door.
Alvilda steered us both toward the growing crowd. “So you were visiting with him?” Her voice seemed too unconcerned, almost as if she was trying hard to seem nonchalant. But the slight grimace on her lips was unmistakable.
I bit my lip. “I had to thank him for what he did for my mother. And he was none too happy to see me.”
Alvilda snorted. “That moron should thank you for putting up with his nonsense while letting him walk around with all of his limbs intact.”
My eyes scanned the edge of the crowd uneasily. I still couldn’t shake the feeling that he was always watching, that he had an eye to everything that went on around me.
“Don’t—” I started. I could see Alvilda search my face skeptically. I turned my head away from her, staring intently at the crowd closest to the posted edict. “It’s more complicated than that.”
“If you say so,” said Alvilda. Her tone made her disgust far clearer. Fat lot of help that was now. Where was her utter disgust with the man when I was looking for any way out of my coupling with him? I knew there were few places I could have hidden in our village wrapped in mountains, but surely she could have helped persuade someone to let me have my right as a woman to refuse him.
But it wasn’t a matter of a woman’s rights any longer. A man now had the right—no, he finally had the ability—to refuse love. As Ailill had so aptly demonstrated.
“I guess I shouldn’t be so hard on the man. I’m upset with how he treated you, but I don’t even know him. And I’m thankful I can watch the sunrise in the morning now. I suppose I have him to thank if he broke the curse like everyone’s saying.” Alvilda blew out a hard breath, which ruffled the hair that hung over her face. “Have you seen one yet? I always thought they must be like sunsets, only in reverse. Nothing special. But being able to look up at the eastern sky, not caring if you happen to see that castle, and watching the red light stretch out from the darkness over the mountaintops … Sunrises are so much more hopeful than sunsets.”
“I never stopped to think about it,” I admitted. “But you’re right—”
“No!” screamed a woman in the crowd.
“That’s ridiculous!”
The crowd turned into a mess of buzzing creatures. A gasp, a shout.
A woman slapped a man with her bare hand.
Everyone stilled for a moment.
“What are you doing, woman?” asked the man she’d hit. He cradled his cheek. “Have you gone mad?”
“I … I don’t know.” The woman stared at her hand like it was someone else’s entirely. “But you … ” She squeezed her hands into fists on either side of her. “How could you say such a thing?” Everyone began speaking at once again. Alvilda let go of my arm and shoved forward past the men and women toward the Great Hall door, clipping a boy on the head with her basket. It was easy enough to follow the path left in her wake, but once the people shoved aside had a moment to register their surprise, I had to put up with a few accusing stares as I made my way past them.
“Huh,” barked Alvilda brusquely as I at last returned to her side. “I suppose my brother and Siofra were the first in a new trend.” She arched an eyebrow, indicating that she had never once cared that Siofra had been married when she moved in with Alvilda. Siofra and Master Tailor had announced they were separating, but there had been no formal way to break off the original union.
My eyes at last fell upon the yellowed and water-stained paper. How long had Ailill had it there, under the damp and dirty remnants of the garden I’d once treasured? Only to send it out as soon as I entered? It was like he’d been waiting for me to come, even despite his disdain at my arrival.
It read:
Read these words and obey the edict of your lord:
Due to the release of this village from the curse that plagued it for years eternal, I hereby release all men from their unions, formal and informal alike. As of today, there are no husbands and wives, there are no goddesses and their men. If a former coupling wishes to maintain their union, they will have to wed once more. My servants, acting in my stead, are the only people capable of blessing a new union.
I heard a few more palms hitting tender cheeks behind me.
Everything was chaos. Specters appeared out of the crowd to drag women away from men, and Alvilda and I soon discovered these women had all hit their men after they’d exclaimed joy at the edict. They’d hit them. Like the men had hit the women in this village long ago. Perhaps not so hard as that—they’d followed that lead woman’s example and slapped their palms against the men’s cheeks at first. But then one even started pounding her fists on a man’s chest. He didn’t seem very hurt. Just puzzled. We all were. I’d seen violence, but not here. And no one else had seen much violence at all.
People sometimes had whispered about a woman or two who had hurt her man, but so few claimed to have witnessed it. Alvilda said a young woman in her day—not her Siofra, despite how obviously unhappy she was—had treated her man coldly every time they were in public, and that man came to sport a bruise or two he never would explain. No one thought hard about it, considering the specters were sure to step in thanks to the “always-watching” lord if anything truly untoward had occurred. So they thought. If it was her, the man’s silence made sense—his goddess could do no wrong, even if she hurt him.
These men got extremely angry.
“Leave me alone, you cow!” said the man being pummeled, grabbing her by both shoulders and shoving her backwards.
The specters swooped in to grab the fist-pounding woman by the arms before sh
e fell, and two others pulled the man back, letting them both snarl fruitlessly until they calmed down.
No one was very calm for long. They screamed at each other, at the specters, at their neighbors, at their friends. Then someone’s voice rang out loud over the others. “He should know what his edict is doing, shouldn’t he? Isn’t he always watching? Well, it’s time he came out from that stinkin’ castle and gave us some answers!”
I tried to warn the crowd that Ailill would have no visitors, but they wouldn’t heed me. Still, I followed the castle-bound mob out of curiosity, hoping to see Ailill step out of his castle to address them. I dug my fingernails into my palm as I kicked myself for admitting, even if just in my mind, that I hoped to see him at all.
Following a horde of women up the dirt path through the village, up and down the hills and into the woods, brought up rather unpleasant memories of a previous mob, although that one hadn’t included any men. Last time, I led them with a glowing sword held high above my head. This time, I dragged my feet at the back of the crowd and kept my arms crossed tightly across my chest.
What awaited us at the castle was an unbreakable line of specters, their legs spread slightly apart, their hands clutched tightly behind their backs.
“Let us through!” called one of the women at the front.
“We demand to speak to his lordship!” shouted another. Oh, dear. I was sure Ailill would appear to remind her that no one demanded anything of him. But he didn’t.
The specters didn’t move. One of the men pushed at the chest of the nearest specter, but he didn’t waver. A few men and women followed suit.
“He can’t cheapen our unions!” called Elweard, once he threw up his hands in disgust at the unmovable object that was Ailill’s servant. “Why does he get to decide if our vows hold true?”
