Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

Neither could last long.”

What could I say? That I would rather my sister not marry the man she loved, even if it meant she would be unhappy all her life? When I looked at it that way, it did not seem to matter what Sorrow was or what he might have become. How 322

could I wish his quest to fail, if that meant he and the fragile-looking Silence must return to the dark world of the Night People? But if he succeeded, Tati would say goodbye to her family and home forever. We might never see her again. Torn two ways, I held my silence.

“What is the nature of this quest, Your Majesty?” Tati’s voice was trembling.

It was Marin who answered. “He must journey within both your world and ours. Five items are to be brought back. A jewel from the ceremonial headdress of the Caliph of Tunis. A tail feather from the sacred phoenix of Murom-Riazan. A cup of water from the healing well of Ain Jalut, filled to the very brim, but not overflowing.”

“A tooth from the loathsome bog-beast of Zaradok,” added Ileana. “And a lock of hair from the head of a truthful man.”

“In one turning of the moon?” The incredulous voice was that of Paula, whose knowledge of geography was extensive.

“You can’t be serious! There’s no way a person could travel so far in so little time.”

“You’ve set Sorrow up to fail,” said Tati in a whisper. “You never meant him to—”

“Enough!” Ileana’s voice was imperious. “Perhaps you do not comprehend how rarely such an opportunity is offered—

how privileged the two of you are, to be granted our approval for your union. If Sorrow’s will to succeed is strong enough, he will complete the quest. If not, he does not deserve our favor.

Step back, Tatiana. Your audience is over. Jenica, you spoke out of turn. Leave us now.”

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I cleared my throat. “I have something else to say,” I croaked, trembling with nerves.

“Be brief.” The forest queen had risen to her feet. She towered over me, eyes baleful. “You have offended me.”

“I—it is possible I and my sisters may not return here after tonight,” I said. “Our cousin . . . He has a plan to get the secret of the portal from us. He intends to come through and use violence against you. We need to protect you: we owe you that, and much more. I think this may be our last visit. Even so, I can’t be sure we will be able to stop him—but we’ll do our best.”

Around Dancing Glade there was total silence.

“So . . . I want to say thank you. We have been so happy here, so honored. I know few human folk are granted the privilege of crossing over as we were, and the joy of meeting so many wonderful friends—” Across the circle, Ildephonsus broke into noisy sobs and flung his short arms around Stela’s neck. Sten was wiping his eyes on a crumpled gray rag. “There is no way we can thank you enough.” I was struggling now, my own tears welling.

“Of course,” Ileana observed, “there is a way to thank us.

Should Sorrow achieve his quest, you can agree to let your sister come across to us—to become one of us. That would balance the ledger perfectly. Or don’t you set such a high value on your lovely Tatiana?”

“You know I do,” I said, blinded by tears. “I understand what you said, that everything has a price. But that’s too much to ask. Tati’s my sister. I love her. It’s too final.”

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“Death is final,” the forest queen said. “The felling of trees is final. What we ask of you is simply the recognition of change, Jena. Yours is a world of constant change. You must learn to change, too. You spend a great deal of time worrying about others: trying to put their lives right, trying to shape your world as you believe it should be. You must learn to trust your instincts, or you are doomed to spend your life blinded by duty while beside you a wondrous tree sprouts and springs up and buds and blooms, and your heart takes no comfort from it, for you cannot raise your eyes to see it.”

Gogu made a sudden movement, as if in anger.

Ileana regarded him gravely. “I’m growing weary of this audience,” she said. “Young man, have you something to say?”

He stepped forward, bowed courteously, then lifted his hands and indicated his mouth and throat. Then he spread his arms wide, palms up, as if asking a question.

“You’ve lost something?” Ileana queried. A new warmth had entered her tone.

The young man nodded, pointing to his throat again.

“Ah,” said Ileana. “Dr˘agu¸ta’s been up to her tricks again.

Not content with tormenting the young lady, she’s decided to play games with you as well, frog boy. You want your voice back?”

So that was it: not that he would not speak, but that he could not. A spell of silence. I had been less than fair to him.

Ileana sighed. “The witch of the wood is overfond of such charms,” she said, snapping her fingers. One of her attendants came forward with a wand of plain willow, with a small star 325

at the end—the kind of thing I would have loved as a child when I was playing at fairies. “You’ve been a model of control over the years, young man—so much of one that even your best friend failed to see what you really were. Kneel down!”

He obeyed. The cloak he wore, my cloak, brushed the ground before Ileana’s throne. Anticipating magic, the crowd hushed again. The forest queen stretched out her arms, and the sweep of her vivid peacock garment caught the lights of Dancing Glade. “Speak again, young man,” she said quietly. “You have been silent long enough.” She touched Gogu gently on his bowed head with the tip of her wand.

There was no sudden flash of light, no explosion, no flying through the air. The young man said, “Thank you,” and got to his feet. He turned toward me, his eyes blazing. “Jena,” he said,

“don’t you know me?”

I stared at him. In my head, the mask of sweetness peeled back and I saw the monstrous reality beneath it. Don’t trust, don’t trust, don’t trust, a little voice repeated inside me. Don’t put your sisters at risk.

“Jena, I’m Costi. Your cousin. You must recognize me.”

“What—!” That was Paula.

“But Costi’s dead.” That was Stela.

“I’m not listening to this,” I said shakily. How dare he!

How dare he come up with something so outrageous and offensive? “You can’t be Costi—he drowned. Cezar saw it with his own eyes. You’re just saying that to . . . You’re just—” I could not look at him: I could not bear the look on his face, wounded, disbelieving.

“I’m not dead! I’m here. I am Costi—can’t you see? I’ve been 326

with you all along, since the day you found me in the forest.

Waiting—waiting until she lifted the spell, and I could be myself again, and tell you.”

“A spell of silence,” Iulia breathed. “Like Sorrow—a ban on talking about who he was and what had happened to him. But Jena’s right. Cezar saw what happened. So did she. They saw Costi dragged under the water. He couldn’t have survived.”

Despite her words, there was a note of wonder in her voice, as if she would be all too easily convinced.

“The audience is concluded,” Ileana said. “Young man, I wish you well. Strike up the music! The queen wants to dance!”

But for us, there was no more dancing. As the queen and her retinue headed back onto the sward, Tati crumpled to her knees. “Jena . . . ,” she whispered, “my head hurts. . . . I don’t feel very well. . . .” A moment later she fell to the ground in a dead faint.

“She’s hardly eaten a thing since the last time she saw Sorrow,” Paula said, crouching down to feel for Tati’s pulse. “And she’s overwrought. We should go home, Jena.”

“What’s wrong with her?” Stela was crying, half in sympathy with Tati, half in sadness and exhaustion. Ildephonsus clung to her, his gauzy wings enfolding her in a kind of cape.

“She’s fainted, that’s all,” I told her, not wanting to make things any harder. “Paula’s right. We need to go now.”

“I have to say goodbye,” Stela sniffed. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

“We’ll meet you down at the boats,” said Iulia.

“Wait—” The two of them were already gone.

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“Jena,” said Paula, “we need to get her down to the lake.”

“I’ll take her,” the young man said. “She’s very cold. Is there a spare cloak?”

“No—!” I began, not wanting him to put his hands anywhere near my sister, but he ignored me, picking Tati up as easily as if she were a doll. Paula and I followed him around the margin of Dancing Glade and down the path to the Deadwash.

None of us said a word. I was full of mixed-up feelings, upper-most being a sense of betrayal: how dare Dr˘agu¸ta meddle so cruelly? How dare this thing in a man’s guise play with my heart and disturb my mind? Of course he couldn’t be Costi. I’d have known! I’d have known, even when he was a frog. Wouldn’t I?

By the time we reached the boats, a silent crowd was following us: red-eyed Stela, somber-faced Iulia, and all our usual escorts and hangers-on. There wasn’t a smile among them.

Grigori took Tati from Gogu and laid her in his boat. She was beginning to stir, putting a hand to her brow and murmuring something. Then Dr˘agu¸ta’s great-nephew extended his hand to me. “You, as well,” he said.

Sten took Iulia, and the dwarf was boatman to Stela. Ildephonsus, refusing to accept her departure until the last possible moment, clambered into the small craft to sit by her, sobbing.

A hooded soothsayer ferried Paula, who was now carrying a mysterious bundle. On the shore behind us, the young man with the green eyes stood quietly, watching. He did not ask for a lift, and nobody offered one.

“Goodbye!” my sisters called. “Goodbye! Thank you!” But I had no heart for farewells; all I could feel was a numb disbelief.

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The folk of the Other Kingdom waved and shouted and sang, and one or two flew over us, blowing kisses and causing the dwarf to curse as he nearly lost his pole. Then the mist came down to cover us. Behind us, the Other Kingdom shrank . . .

and faded . . . and vanished.

“All will be well, Jena,” Grigori said quietly. But it couldn’t be. A terrible sense of wrongness was coming over me: the feeling that I had just thrown away my dearest treasure and that I would never, ever get it back.

I reached out to take Tati’s hand. She seemed fragile as a moonflower—destined to bloom for a single lovely night, and then to fade and fall. A whole month until next Full Moon: it was a long time for her to wait. And yet, for me, it was short.

Only a month, and my sister might be gone forever. How could I let that happen?

On the far shore, Ildephonsus refused to be detached from Stela. Both were in floods of tears. Paula disembarked, bundle in hand, and bade her boatman a grave farewell. She moved to Stela’s side.

“Stela,” she said with remarkable composure, “I’ve been given some books and maps and other things, see? Even if we can’t use our portal anymore, there must be other ways we can find. There are clues in here. We just have to work them out.

You can help me. I don’t believe it’s farewell forever.”

Stela dashed the tears from her cheeks, took a deep, unsteady breath, and stepped away from her friend. “Goodbye, Ildephonsus,” she said, hiccuping. Her expression told me she had suddenly grown up rather more than she wanted to. “We’ll 329

come back sometime. Paula knows these things.” She kissed him on his long pink snout. Ildephonsus wrung his paws and began a high, eldritch wailing. The dwarf bundled him back in the boat and, with a shout of farewell, bore him away.