“Hmm,” said Sasha, from behind her. “Our hostess has sent us things that are all good cold.” He came up behind her and put his arms around her. “So shall we test out the bed?” he breathed in her ear.
“Perhaps.” She slipped out of his embrace. Then slowly, deliberately, she unfastened her wide leather belt and dropped it behind her. With a tantalizing smile, she plucked at the draw-string to her skirt and untied it, letting the skirt drop to pool around her ankles, until she kicked it aside. Pulling at the drawstring of the neck of her blouse and loosening it, a moment later it, too, followed the skirt to the floor, leaving her standing only in her shift.
He stood quietly, arms crossed over his chest, a grin on his face. “What’s this then, seawench?” he asked.
“You didn’t see much of what you were bargaining for,” she replied, with a sly smile. “I just want you to be sure you haven’t been cheated.” A quick pull of the drawstring of the neck of her shift, and it, too, fell to the floor, leaving her standing there wearing nothing but air. Pulling both the bows from her hair, she shook it loose from its braid, letting it fall about her, hanging to her knees. “Well,” she said, turning on one toe as she lifted her hair in both hands. “What do you think?”
“I think you should have a look at your half of the bargain,” he replied, stripping off shirt, trews, and singlet, and tossing them all aside in a heap. He spread his arms wide. “Going to send me back to the market?”
She ran her gaze over him, slowly. He was not a tall man, but now that he was naked, she could see that there was nothing at all to be asked for in the way of strength. He was also not a particularly hairy man, which pleased her. Sculpted chest muscles and strong arms, a flat stomach—
But her eyes would go no farther as she saw how ready he was for her.
“I hardly think so,” she replied breathlessly.
“Good!” He scooped her up and tossed her into the middle of the bed. “Because I have no intention of letting you.”
He followed her into the bed, knelt between her legs, and looked down at her, greedily. “You are a tasty little morsel. Where shall I begin? Ah, I know—” He bent swiftly and took a nipple in his mouth, his hand cupping the other. The sensations of his tongue and gently nibbling teeth made her shiver and gasp, and the slightly roughened skin of his thumb on the other made her wild with desire. She threw her arms and her legs around him and drew him to her, arching her hips against his.
His free hand cupped her buttocks and pulled her against him, and she stifled a cry of pure pleasure as he entered her.
Then, maddeningly, he paused. “Slowly,” he murmured against her breast, then sucked gently on the nipple, moving against her in time with his mouth. She found herself nibbling his neck and his earlobes, caressing his back and squeezing his buttocks with her hands as the movement of hips and mouth quickened gradually, grew more urgent. He switched his attentions to the other breast, both hands now holding her to him, then, as pleasure began to overcome her and she drove her own hips against his, his hands tightened on her and the amble became a gallop, the pleasure became a screaming need, the need became all, and fire exploded inside them both.
Somehow they didn’t get to that supper after all that night.
It was three days later that the summons came.
Katya went down to the sea as she always did, first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. But this time, there was someone waiting for her.
It was one of the mer-folk, an earnest-looking young triton with a shock of jet-black hair and a worried expression. His eyes went from Katya to Sasha and back again. “Princess,” he said. “I have a message for you. Your father needs you with all speed.”
She bit her lip, and glanced at Sasha herself. He was nodding, though he did not look happy. “We are the servants of our people and our fathers, belochka,” he said, firmly. “Duty comes first.”
“With all speed,” repeated the triton, and dove into the sea.
Sasha seized her by the shoulders and turned her toward himself. “Duty comes first,” he said. “But love follows. If you do not return in a reasonable time, I shall come looking for you, and I will find you.” He bent his head to give her a hard, passionate kiss. “Now go! And remember that I am a Fortunate Fool, and I get what I want!”
Not daring to answer with anything except a whispered “I love you!” she turned and dove into the waves, allowing the magic to melt her Drylander clothing away and give her back her armor.
Ahead of her she could see the tail of the triton flashing as he flexed it in powerful pulses, dolphin-like, driving him at high speed into the depths. The fact that he had not waited for her made her feel cold. Whatever this was, it must surely be bad for her father to have put that much urgency into the triton’s head. She thought she knew this one; a youngster that her father was grooming for a high position of trust. Had he told the youngling what she was? What she did for him? If so, then that could very well account for the triton’s reticence.
Especially if the matter really was grave.
She turned her swim into the dolphin-kick herself. Although she had not got the advantage of flukes, the undulating swimming motion was much faster than any other form. As she swam, she “felt” for the magic of the sea, and asked it for help, and a moment later, a dolphin came shooting out of the distant waters. Though he wasn’t wearing a towing harness, she could, and did, still seize hold of his dorsal fin, and lay herself along his back. As soon as she had positioned herself, he put on his full speed, catching up with, then passing the triton.
She released the dolphin with silent thanks at the edge of the Palace grounds and cast around for her father.
She spied him swimming toward her and knew then that this must be the most serious trouble he had ever yet needed her for.
“There is a threat,” he said without preamble. “Do you know where the castle of the Katschei is?”
She nodded. “Just over the border of Led Belarus, in the wilderness. But the Katschei is dead, father. He went to another land, thinking that since their Tradition did not know him, he could conquer it. But he did not reckon on the ways of a Godmother, and he was killed in the trying. The castle is empty even of his followers.”
“Not anymore,” came the grim reply that sent shivers up her spine. “He may be gone, but something else has taken his place. And whatever that something may be, it is not of the local Tradition, it is very powerful, and altogether evil. Something, perhaps, has learned from the Katschei’s mistake and is moving to take advantage of his absence.”
She bit her lip, but he was not yet finished. “Whatever is there has taken one, or perhaps two, magical maidens. A swan maiden was taken right from under the noses of her sisters, and they came to me to ask for my help. There is a Snyegurochka, a Snow Maiden, missing, and she has not melted. I should not think twice about this except that she was walking in the cool of evening in the same area where the swan maiden was taken, and she did not return. The place where both vanished is very near the Katschei’s castle.”
“Have you sent anything to spy there?” she asked, knowing she would probably not like the answer.
He nodded. “Yes. And there is the trouble. My spies were seabirds and they have not come back. Your sister’s magic cannot pierce the dark veil about the place. You are the only one I have that can go to the Drylands with impunity.”
She nodded gravely. “Then that is what I must do,” she replied. She thought fleetingly of going back to Sasha and asking for his help—but the Katschei was not in his Kingdom, and he could not in good conscience leave home to help her. Right now, this was a concern only for the Sea King. The swan maidens had asked him for help, not the King of Led Belarus.
“Though your fighters cannot come that far onto land, I can get help should I need it with my paper bird,” she continued. “And if need be, you can trade future aid for me against aid from your allies. Besides,” she added, smiling slightly, “I have allies of my own.”
The Sea King nodded. “Then go with all speed, daughter. I feel great foreboding when I turn my mind in that direction. Whatever it is must have plans beyond the kidnapping of a maiden or two. The swan’s sisters are awaiting you on the shore at the point nearest to the castle.”
Somberly, she saluted him, and left. As she went to the stables to find another dolphin-helper, she tried to imagine what could have gotten wind of the Katschei’s absence and also known enough to subvert all her father’s formidable powers to keep him from discovering what was afoot.
For that matter, even vacant, the Katschei’s castle had some nasty protections on it. The Katschei had never been one to leave a door unlocked behind him. So whatever it was that had taken it—
Must be as powerful, or more powerful, than the Katschei itself.
The swan maidens were inconsolable.
There were five of them left, all told, and they huddled in their feather cloaks on the shingle and wept, and in between bouts of tears, told her their history. They were all sisters, and there had been seven at one point, but the youngest had been claimed by a mortal husband, who had won her freedom. She they saw from time to time—but this!
Patiently, Katya tried to unravel their tale; she appealed to the eldest as being, perhaps, the most sensible, sitting beside her and trying to make sense of what she was saying through her sobs.
“I can’t help you if I can’t understand what happened,” she said, trying not to sound impatient. “You have to tell me exactly, from the beginning, precisely what happened to your sister. Every detail. Details are important and tell me much.”
That elicited a wail from all of them. Finally the eldest managed to choke down her tears long enough to blurt out, “It was just like every morning! We went to the lake where the hot spring is to bathe and play in the water! Even when the Katschei was in his castle, no one bothered us there!”
“We thought it was safe!” cried another—Katya had stopped trying to tell them apart; really, between their floods of tears and identical swan cloaks, it was like trying to distinguish among a flock of real swans. And, sadly, they seemed nearly as bird-witted as real swans.
That called forth another spate of sobbing.
“All right, you went to enjoy yourselves. Why did your sister leave the rest of you?” she asked.
“We wanted to sun ourselves, but Yulya wanted to sleep in the shade,” wept a third. “So we—we—we—left her! Alone! And we heard a scream and a loud wind, and she was gone!”
“Show me the place,” Katya demanded. They looked at her doubtfully.
“It is dangerous,” said one, and “It is a long way away,” said another. “We can fly. You can’t,” said a third.
“This lake drains by the river here, yes?” she asked, suppressing her annoyance. “I can swim up the river as fast as you can fly. Show me the place.”
As they continued to hesitate, timorously, she lost all patience. “I can see you do not want my father’s help,” she snapped. “I will return to him and—”
They mobbed her, clung to her, wept all over her, begging her not to go. Finally, after far too much dithering, the eldest agreed to show her where they had left Yulya. With a sense of relief, Katya pulled loose from the others and dove into the river.
Though swimming upstream was generally an effort, the current was slow and the river placid—exactly the sort of stream that swans preferred—and Katya was at the lake only a little behind the eldest swan maiden. The girl was waiting on the bank, every feather in her cloak trembling as she shivered with fear.
Good heavens, Katya thought, with no little disgust. As timid as these girls are, I am amazed they ever leave their father’s palace. Perhaps it was nothing more than the force of The Tradition, for every swan maiden tale that Katya had ever heard involved one or more of the maidens being taken, or seduced, or hunted beside a lake far, far from their home. Perhaps they had no choice. Perhaps it was The Tradition itself that forced them into leaving home.
If that was the case…
Well, she could sympathize even while it made her impatient with their timidity.
She leaped out of the water like an otter, startling the girl, who jumped and squeaked.
“So, where was your sister when you left her?” Katya asked, looking around at the lush forest that surrounded the lake. She was not surprised that the swans came here. Not more than a few feet away, a hot spring bubbled up out of the ground and cascaded down a gravel bed, steaming, to end in the lake waters. The grass at the verge of the forest presented an attractive place to doze in the shade. And, she presumed, there were good places for sun-basking not far from here. Traditionally speaking, swan maidens, like her father’s mermaids, must spend a great deal of time sunbathing and combing their hair.
Don’t they ever get bored? She’d have gone mad.
Well, evidently not. Perhaps The Tradition ensured that all swan maidens were born as brainless as the birds themselves….
That’s unkind….
“Here,” said the girl, shaking in every limb, pointing to a spot where the feather cloak still lay.
But true. “You didn’t take her cloak with you?” she asked, a little stunned.
“No. Should we have?” The girl blinked at her.
“What happens if someone who isn’t one of your sisters puts on the cloak?” Katya demanded.
The girl blinked again. “They become a swan like us, I suppose….”
Katya did her best not to smack herself in the head in frustration. “And it didn’t occur to you that someone could put on the cloak, become a swan, and follow you back to your father where he—or she—could then enchant you and put you all in his power?”
The girl’s eyes widened, and she dropped to the ground, crying. “Oh no—oh no!” she sobbed “Oh this is terrible, dreadful—”
“Oh for—” Katya strode over to her and took her by the shoulders and shook her hard. “It didn’t happen! The cloak is still here! Get control of yourself, for pity’s sake!”
Startled, the girl stopped sobbing.
“Now, take your sister’s cloak and go,” she ordered. “Leave this to me.”
She didn’t have to give the order twice. In the blink of an eye, a swan stood where the girl had been. It picked up the cloak in its beak and flew off, white feathers streaming behind it.
Katya went back to examining the area where the swan maiden had been taken. And she was not too terribly shocked when she found a patch of moss in the deepest shade where the temperature was considerably colder than anywhere else. And beside that patch of moss, a cluster of snow-drops was blooming.
So, now she knew that both girls had been taken from the same place. What else did they have in common?
Magic, she decided. The likelihood that it was any other common denominator was vanishingly small. The snow maiden was a peasant, the swan maiden was a princess. One was born of magical blood, the other made by magic. One lived in a simple hut in the forest, the other in a palace East of the Sun and West of the Moon. One was hardworking, the other pampered.
Well, there was one good way to test this theory. And Katya didn’t think she was going to be able to get into the Katschei’s palace any other way.
But first, she needed a disguise.
Bereginia. She would disguise herself as the riverbank maiden. Magic enough, but not too much magic, and surely exactly what this kidnapper was looking for.
She waited for The Tradition to notice her, waited to feel it focusing on her. I must be a bereginia, she told it. This thing that hunts maidens does not belong here. I will make it go back to its place. But I must be a bereginia to do so—
She felt the magic of The Tradition gather around her, she pulled it to her, and felt it settle on her like a heavy cloak—
The sunlight gathered around her and dazzled her eyes. Then it was gone.
And there she was, dressed from head to foot in brown and green, green as the reeds and the rushes, green as the gras
s and the river water. Brown as the mud of the bank and the stones. She felt something on her head, touched it, and realized she was wearing a crown of water iris and plaited rushes. Her shift was of filmy brown linen, light as gossamer, with huge sleeves that swept the ground, embroidered in green. The sarafan, the over-gown, was green, and embroidered in a hundred different colors of green and brown. A green half cloak, slung over the right shoulder and under the left, was also embroidered in green and brown.
She was enchanted. She had never actually seen a bereginia; she’d no idea what they looked like or what they wore; she had only been hoping that it wasn’t entirely hideous, some strange primitive thing of rawhide and rattling bones.
She didn’t get much time to appreciate it though—
She heard a strange sound above her head, and looked up.
There was a whirlwind in the sky above her, descending rapidly down onto her. Her first instinct was to run—but of course, that was not what she needed to do. She stood her ground as the sand-colored, top-shaped vortex homed in on her, whining a high-pitched note that set her teeth on edge. Of course, this thing had waited until she was alone.
She ducked as it hit her, and used those long sleeves to screen her face; a good thing she did, or she would have been blinded by the debris in the wind. She was in the center of a whirl of hot, dry air full of sand and dust that engulfed her and almost stole her breath away. And then she felt her feet lose contact with the ground.
Despite her best intentions, she screamed. It did no good of course. She felt it take her, and with a sickening lurch, felt it hurtle up and sideways with her suspended in the middle of it.
All she could think of at that moment was Sasha….
It seemed to take forever, but the time between when the whirlwind picked her up and when it deposited her on the battlements of the Katschei’s castle could not have been very long at all. It had been mid-afternoon by the sun when she had called on The Tradition to disguise her. It was still mid-afternoon, though perhaps just a bit later, now.
Fortune s Fool Page 13
