by Dawn Steele
Snow White was stymied. “How can you possibly know what my father would do?” Seeing as I don’t even know myself.
“Hey, don’t get all defensive on me. In the village I come from, there’s this funny little place called the library. Perhaps you might have heard of it. It’s something I read about your Dad. He’s all avenger-like and he wouldn’t stand for spies in his kingdom. No way. He’d put them on the rack for sure.”
That was more than what she herself had read about her father. Isobel did not encourage books about the late King in the palace library, and Snow White had always been too consumed by insects to make an effort to find out more. She was ashamed of this now.
I am not a spy, she remembered Aein’s fervent declaration.
Her mind churning, Snow White nudged her horse ahead. What Gustav said swam in the back of her mind, its predatory fin cutting the water.
They were in the marketplace. The aroma of meat pies and venison rose from roasting spits. The stalls were decked with gaily patterned tents. Merchants selling everything from ribbons to apples to horse saddles cried out to milling customers. People openly stared at her face. Surely no one could recognize her. As a princess, she had never been the ambassadorial sort who waved from open carriages to folk on festive occasions. Walled up, they called her, in her own insect-filled tower.
They dismounted. While Wilhem tended to the horses, Snow White jiggled her full purse, pilfered from the caravan’s many contents.
She turned to Aein, suddenly feeling awkward. “I guess this is where we say goodbye. Thanks for saving my life.” She could not bring herself to look into his eyes, so she fixed her gaze at a stall piled with copper cookware instead.
“Snow White,” he said urgently, “at least let me come with you until you’re safely on board the ship.”
Gretel overheard. She swung her entire stocky frame and favored Aein with a death stare. She wore a brown cape that covered her skirts, but underneath, Snow White knew that the carving knife swung from her belt. “Still protecting her till the very end?”
“What is it to you?” Aein countered smoothly.
“I don’t need protection, Aein.” Snow White’s voice came out more harshly than intended. More correctly, she didn’t need protection from someone who thought her a pity case or who had dubious motives about her kingdom, when she found the inclination to be bothered about it, or both.
What a wreck she was. She inwardly groaned. Not only was she a terrible person, she was a terrible princess. How could she account for travelling hundreds of miles with a possible enemy of the state and thinking of nothing but her own survival and the taste of his warm mouth?
“Please,” Aein pleaded. “Let me come along with you to the ship. After that, you do not ever have to see me again.”
She felt something alight on her arm. It was a black moth. She frowned. Moths in a marketplace in broad daylight? As if reading her mind, it fluttered off to sail above the heads of the thronging people, who barely noticed it. It landed upon a pillar to which a fresh notice was tacked.
A sudden fear gripped Snow White when she saw the picture on the notice. The market seemingly retracted around her and the buzz audibly lessened as her eyes zoomed in onto the pillar.
It was an inked drawing of her face.
‘PALACE REWARD FOR MISSING GIRL: If you have information, contact the guards and claim 1000 gold taels!’
Self-consciously, Snow White drew the cowl around her head. No wonder people were staring at her. Suddenly, the busy marketplace took on sinister dimensions. Faces everywhere crowded in and tried to peer into her hood. Shadows grew longer, sharper, darker. Every pedestrian seemed like a potential assailant, ready to spring out at any moment and cry: “There she is! I see her!”
She glanced at Gustav. He was scrutinizing a model of the sun in a cluttered stall. It was a yellow disc with orange flares sticking out from its circumference.
“This is not what the sun looks like,” he declared. “The sun is a sphere.”
The merchant, a thin man with a tall hat and plucked eyebrows, bridled. “Are you saying I’m a charlatan?”
In the background, Aein observed a young boy slip his hand into a fat woman’s basket when she wasn’t looking. The boy pulled out a fistful of coins and scampered away. In another section, an auction was going on. A man was flogging a donkey to get it up on the stage. The poor animal bleated, its hide marked with red welts. Aein turned away, troubled.
Time for a change of plans. The sooner she got out of here, the better.
“I’m merely saying,” Gustav said, “that you have an incorrect representation of the sun. Take your moon, for instance.” He seized a yellow crescent mounted on a stick. “The moon is also a sphere. It merely looks like a crescent in certain phases because of the reflection of the sun.”
The merchant banged a fist down on the table, making his models jump. “If you accuse me of cheating my customers, I will call the guards on you!”
Snow White began to edge away. Promise to the twins or no promise, it was too dangerous to be around here any longer. As Gustav reckoned, there was probably only one ship to Lapland anyway. She would meet them on it if she weren’t caught first. They would understand.
“Hey,” Gustav said, “I was merely making an observation. Consider taking a tall cool drink to alleviate your overactive temper.”
Before the merchant could jump across the table and grab Gustav by the collar, Aein stepped in. “He is merely a boy speaking his mind.” He dropped a gold coin on the table. “Consider this a token for your troubles.”
The merchant grabbed the coin and bit it suspiciously. Finding that it did not crumble, he acquiesced.
“Hey,” Snow White heard Gustav say, much too loudly for her liking, “where’s Snow White?”
People swung their heads to look. As the crowd penned her in, Snow White weaved away, her heart pounding in her ears. After so many days in the wilderness, she wasn’t used to avoiding oncoming people on a narrow path, so she got several elbows in her ribs. Her toes were trod upon by more scuffed shoes that she could count. The sounds of the marketplace continued to assail her from all sides, together with the smells of roasted venison, sweat, and animal hides.
Where were the docks?
“Mantodea!” she heard Aein’s voice call above the din. “Wait up.”
She did not look back. She stepped out of the marketplace and onto the city streets, walking briskly and trying not to draw attention to herself.
“Mantodea!” Aein came running up. “What happened?”
She risked a glance backward. “Where are Gustav and the others?”
He turned to look. “We lost them.”
She shook her head and continued to walk fast.
“Tell me what happened.”
For answer, she rested her gaze on yet another notice tacked onto a shopfront window.
“Oh,” Aein said. He paused, debating what to do. “Then we better get you on the ship.”
“Don't you have a mountain to climb, Aein?” she said irritably.
He did not reply, and kept pace with her instead. In her current predicament, she welcomed his company, much as she hated to admit it. The tailors’ district gave way to the garment district, where cloths were dyed and hung from lines strung across opposing balconies. People milled everywhere, walking, chatting, arguing.
Several city guards in bright red livery approached from the opposite direction. Snow White automatically looked down. She was surprised when Aein linked his arm through hers.
“People will think we are betrothed,” he said in a low voice.
The guards flicked their gazes over Aein, appeared disinterested, and went back to walking their beats. Snow White let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Aein did not let go of her arm.
Several extremely tall figures walked just ahead of them. Black shrouds covered the figures from head to toe. When they turned, Snow White could see the latticework of black l
ace that masked their eyes. The shortest among them was easily two heads taller than Aein. The skin on their exposed hands was the color of rich chocolate.
The locals eyed them in distaste.
“We don’t want no darkies here,” someone shouted.
The black figures ignored this. Snow White thought their gait ungainly, as though they walked upon the balls of their feet. A little boy came running up. He picked up a stone and made to throw it at one of the figures, but Aein darted quickly for his fist.
“You do not want to do that,” he said.
“What’s it to you?” the boy said rudely.
Nevertheless, he dropped the stone. One of the black figures turned to regard this exchange. He held Aein’s eyes through his veil, and respectfully nodded.
The worm in Snow White’s chest twitched. It was exactly the sort of thing Aein would do, damn him. Why did he have to make everything so difficult?
They reached the docks. The ticket station was near the jetty, where seawater sopped at an embankment fortified by a low stone wall. It was closed for lunch.
“We will come back later,” Aein said.
Snow White’s stomach growled, so they stopped at the darkest tavern she could find. After her initial scare, she was beginning to calm down. The air outside smelled of brine, piss and fish, so she was glad to duck into ‘The Ship’s Armpit’, or so it said on the faded, creaking sign below the ornate bronze lamp outside its door. Maybe it would smell better. Then again, maybe not.
Inside, a large brick fireplace hosted a kettle brimming with stew. Its meaty aroma immediately made Snow White’s mouth water. Aein ordered two large bowls and two foamy tankards of ale. When the barmaid set the food down before them, her eyes were riveted on Aein’s face.
“Haven’t seen the likes of you in these parts,” she said. Her accent was coarse. Her blouse was cut low in the front and when she bent down, she gave Aein an eyeful.
“He’s from the East,” Snow White said shortly.
The barmaid’s eyes dipped to Snow White’s chest. What she saw made her smirk.
Snow White ate hungrily, sopping up the stew with black bread. The tavern’s other patrons periodically glanced at their table, which was nestled against a window. The bartender, wiping empty glasses at the bar, wore a perpetual scowl beneath his oiled handlebar moustache. The barmaid walked to and fro with more bowls and tankards, taking every opportunity to sashay by Aein and stare down Snow White’s significantly flatter chest.
“Pleasant city, this,” Aein said. “I will be glad when you finally get on the ship.”
His comment smacked Snow White. So her physical welfare was eternally a concern. What about her fragile emotional state? Her eyes narrowed as she fixed on him, finishing the last of his stew, a little gravy dribbling from his chin.
She said in a low voice, “Since you claim you’re not a spy, what exactly are you?”
Two men from the table next to theirs looked up. So much for trying not to attract attention.
Aein uneasily looked around. The other patrons were men with large beefy arms and tattoos of mythical sea creatures.
“We both know you’re not going to kill me,” Snow White went on, channeling the calm anger within her. Gustav was right. She should have done this the moment they stepped into Skiva. “So level with me, spy or whatever role you choose to go under. Are you trying to harm my kingdom?”
A glass shattered. The bartender had dropped a tankard. It lay in shards on the planked floor. The barmaid threw up her arms as she let out a string of words Snow White had never heard of.
“I am a tourist,” Aein said. The light in his eyes flickered.
“You’re a such a bad liar.”
She rose, her chair almost falling backward. Her hand delved into the purse around her belt. She dropped a shower of coins on the table in a gesture that was more closure than flourish. Without a last glance at Aein, she walked out of the tavern.
The barmaid was outside, throwing the broken glass shards into a pail of overflowing refuse. The smell of fish bones prickled Snow White’s nostrils harshly. She held her breath as she walked up to the barmaid.
“If you want to do something for your kingdom,” she said, her voice quavering, “the man I was with is a threat to us. After I leave, you must call the guards on him immediately. It’s very important that you do this.”
The barmaid’s jaw fell.
Snow White did not linger. She walked into the filthy streets, the pain in her breast flaring as though she had been physically pummeled. There, she had done her duty for her kingdom. A duty she should have done without being prompted by the son of a robber baron.
She dimly heard Aein’s voice calling from behind, “Wait!”
Guilt streaked in lightning flashes. Her head began to throb. She turned into another street, her feet picking up speed, squelching the litter on the streets. Why was Skiva such a pigsty?
A group of brightly clad city guards clomped in the distance, making a beeline for street. They wore their custom red coats above white breeches, a most inconvenient color for this city. She halted in alarm. They kept advancing towards her, ten of them in a cluster, obstructing several more figures behind them. All her instincts told her to run, but she swayed uncertainly, wondering if she should let them pass. They might just be doing their rounds.
The lead guard stared at her from two feet away. He was young and he wore a sparse, blond moustache.
“Mantodea!” Aein grounded to a halt behind her as soon as he saw the guards.
The lead guard flicked his wrist out and caught Snow White’s arm. “Is this the one?”
She gazed at him, fear tumbling into her mouth and paralyzing her tongue. His grasp was very strong.
The guards parted to let a man through. He wore a tall hat that was sprung with more feathers than a rooster’s tail. His hair was black and oiled, in contrast to his violently red moustache. He struck a fancy figure among the uniformed guards.
The man doffed his hat. Snow White absently noted the silver metal comb stuck into his hair. Why, he’s a dandy. “Princess. You’re a wily one.”
Snow White made to dart away, but the guard tightened his grip on her arm. Numbness began to spread to her fingertips.
Gretel stepped out from behind the fancy man.
“I told you she’d be here,” she said. “She ran away from us as soon as she saw her face pasted on every street corner. She’s a conniving one. Doesn’t stick to bargains.”
“I was going to meet you on the ship,” Snow White cried.
Gretel ignored her. “Now make sure you fulfill your end of the bargain to install me as royal chef,” she said to the man.
“My end of the bargain is to make a recommendation to the Queen,” the man replied. “Your culinary skills will have to determine the rest.”
“And for my sons too.”
The man rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. The archer and the stargazer. I got it the tenth time you mentioned it.”
Snow White struggled but another guard seized her by the waist. Panic swarmed her senses. She kicked out blindly at ankles, shins, whatever she could get her shoes onto, but a hand clamped down on her mouth.
“Let her go!” she heard Aein’s voice cry out.
Several guards rushed past her. Their heavy boots clacked on the cobblestones. There was scuffling and the sounds of a fight. She bit down on the palm stifling her mouth, tasting the dirt bits in its flesh. Her captor gave a cry of surprise, but did not yield. Gretel’s poisonous eyes held hers as Snow White elbowed the man behind her. The hand slipped from her mouth, but a fist cuffed her jaw, slamming her lower lip against her teeth. More rough hands seized her. She tried to stomp on the crowding feet. A fist smashed into her ear.
Cries from the guards behind her. Aein was not going down easy. But he was one and they were many. How could he possibly take them all?
“Princess,” the man with the hat said politely, “if you would permit me.”
He whipped out the metal comb from his shining hair. Her terror mounting, Snow White noted its deadly sharp teeth.
In a movement so fast that it resembled a blur, the man sank the comb into her scalp. A sharp pain scorched the top of her head as her vision swam.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Snow White fell onto the street. A blinding white light knocked around her skull and finally melded with her brain, airy as a feather. She scarcely felt her face slam against the cobblestones. She was only aware of a wetness trickling from her scalp – or was it inside her scalp? My brain is bleeding. I’m going to die.
Everything went disturbingly still, and she could only sense the soundless explosion in her head. Even her ears must been blown off. Then somewhere outside the cavern of light she was trapped in, like smoke from a cannon mouth clearing, she heard faint scuffles. As the white light continued to recede, she saw bits and pieces swarming before her eyes – hazy tinted jigsaws of body parts and faces.
The pieces solidified into the man with the red moustache. He knelt by her body and he held a long knife. The scent of metal and blood wafted to her nostrils.
“If you would permit me, Princess,” she heard him say in an echo, “a small token I would take of you. It will only hurt for a while, then never more.”
Snow White screamed, but the sound that came forth was the mewl of a kitten. Cold air licked her bosom as the front of her shirt was ripped. She locked eyes with the man with the red moustache. His were a cold glinting green, hers were mindless and pleading. Feebly, she tried to bat him off with her hands, but it was as though she had lost all coordination. The world retreated into a grey fugue, but the thought of Gretel ruling the roost in the royal kitchen made her claw her way out.
The knife dug into her soft flesh. The pain bit like a chip of ice before she knocked Red Moustache’s hand away. They’re all obsessed with ripping out my heart.
A blur, and Red Moustache was swept off his feet. Behind him stood a tiny woman with chocolate skin and eyes that burned fiercely in her shaven head. The apparition swam. Goddess, Snow White thought hazily. The woman’s nose was broad and flat, and her lips were full. She was easily half of Red Moustache’s size, but she wielded a spear twice the height of a man. Her brightly colored kaftan fluttered in the breeze.
