Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing
I persuaded the gnomes to bring their trumpets up to Dancing Glade, for I knew Stela would love them. They marched ahead of us in formation, red-cheeked faces beaming with pride, instruments over their shoulders.
Jena?
The frog had come back to himself. I fished him out and set him on my shoulder.
“Good evening to you, young master.” Grigori’s deep voice was courteous.
“He would say good evening if he could,” I said. “He appreciates your excellent manners. There are many who wouldn’t give a frog the time of day.”
“In this realm, we understand that to make such a judgment is dangerous,” Grigori said. “A friend is a friend, whatever form he may take.”
I lost sight of Sorrow and Tati almost immediately. I danced with Grigori and with Sten and with Anatolie. I danced with the young forest men, all of whom had long, complicated names 113
that sounded like stars or rare plants or precious stones. The forest women danced as lightly as gossamer in the wind. Each was as lovely as an exotic bloom, as beguiling as a sparkling gem. As with their men, there was a certain sameness in their features, a certain coolness in their eyes—their beauty lacked the flaws that give individuals character. Myself, I much preferred the less decorative inhabitants of the forest: Anatolie, with his dry humor; honest, craggy Sten; Grigori, whose imposing frame housed the kindest of natures.
“Will you dance?” The voice was deep and dark, like indigo velvet. A chill went down my spine.
“If you wish.” I held on to my manners, despite my alarm. Information. An opportunity for information. I took the extended hand of the black-booted, waxen-faced man who was leader of the Night People, and stepped into the dance.
His hand was ice-cold; the grip was strong. Close up, I looked into a pair of lustrous sloe-black eyes, fringed by heavy lashes a young woman would give much to possess for herself.
The lips were thin, the nose a haughty beak. He was tall—
taller than Cezar. Even with my hair sticking out in all directions, I came up only to his chest.
“Your name is Jenica,” the velvety voice said as we began a stately progress across the sward, hand in hand. “A human girl.
Interesting.”
I struggled for an appropriate response. The one Gogu suggested could not be used: Do you mean as a source of food? Or are you just making polite conversation? “Er, yes, that’s right. What is your name?”
I had already made up my own names for the leaders of the 114
Night People, along the same lines as Sorrow. I had dubbed this dashing, dark-cloaked creature Arrogance, and the crimson-lipped siren Allure.
“You may call me Tadeusz,” he said, clearly surprised that I had dared ask something so personal. “My sister is Anastasia.
You dance well, Jenica.” He twirled me under his arm.
“Thank you. We’ve been coming here since we were little girls; we get plenty of practice.”
“You prefer this realm to your own?”
Something in his tone set alarm bells ringing. “No,” I told him firmly. “I love it here, but I belong there. Tell me, do you plan to stay long at Ileana’s court?”
“Why would you ask this?” We executed a gallop, both hands joined, and turned at the bottom of the line.
I was unable to answer. To come right out with my concerns about Sorrow and Tati to him didn’t seem right. “Is Sorrow your son? Your brother?” I asked, feeling the clammy sensation of his hand in mine and wondering how my sister could possibly summon warm feelings for people who felt like dead fish.
Tadeusz threw back his head and laughed. People stared.
So did I, fascinated and horrified. He didn’t exactly have fangs.
There was no doubt, however, that the elongated canine teeth were perfectly designed for inflicting a neat and effective puncture wound.
“I have neither son nor brother, Jenica,” the dark-cloaked man said, suddenly somber. “We live long, and each of us walks alone.”
I felt obliged to correct him. “You said Al—Anastasia was your sister,” I pointed out. “So you are not quite alone.”
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“Sister, lover, daughter, stranger—which of these would trouble you least?” He was flippant now.
“I like the truth, even when it does trouble me,” I said.
“Then ask what you want to ask.”
“Very well. I want to know when Sorrow is going home.
When he’s leaving.”
“And why would you be interested in such a thing? It is your sister who has attached herself to the young man; you, I think, cannot see past the frog.”
What’s that to you? If Gogu had had hair, he’d have been posi-tively bristling.
“I ask because of her—Tatiana. She seems to be losing sense of what is possible. I am afraid for her.”
“Really?” The dark brows went up. He was mocking me now. “You can’t live everyone’s lives for them. Maybe it’s time to let go; to live your own. You are young and not unattractive.
You dance well. You have a spark that’s sorely lacking in most human women. Why not abandon the rules with which you hedge in yourself and your sisters, and seek enjoyment, adventure, fulfillment? I would take some pleasure in teaching you. . . .”
He ran a chilly finger down my neck and across the part of my chest exposed by the green gown, a gesture of shocking intimacy.
Gogu made an ill-calculated leap, sliding down Tadeusz’s immaculate black shirt to land on the grass in an undignified heap. The dark eyes looked down impassively. One boot rose from the ground, wooden heel poised.
I swooped on my frog, snatching him from harm’s way. “I’m 116
sorry,” I lied. “I’m afraid Gogu’s left a trail on your shirt. I’ll take him away now.”
“Thank you for the dance, Jenica.” The music was drawing to a close. Tadeusz executed an elegant bow. It was not quite a mockery.
“Thank you,” I muttered, and lost myself in the crowd.
Shortly after that, Grigori came for me. He led me to the spot where Ileana and Marin sat on thrones of willow wood woven with ivy, resting from their exertions. Word of my request seemed to have gotten about. This would not be a private audience. Anatolie and three other dwarves were there, and Sten, and a good many others.
I swept a low curtsy, cleared my throat, and set it all out for them: Father’s illness, his departure, the unanswered letters.
Uncle Nicolae’s terrible accident. The fact that I believed Cezar might really plan to drive the fairy folk out of the forest.
They listened in silence. When I was finished, Ileana said calmly, “But we know all this. We watch you. We are everywhere.”
“We must do something,” I said. “Don’t you understand?
This could mean that in time the whole forest will be destroyed.
Dancing Glade could be gone. You’d have nowhere to live.”
“Your cousin does not own T˘aul Ielelor,” Marin said gravely. “He does not control Piscul Dracului. You will keep it safe.”
“I’m trying,” I said through gritted teeth. “But Cezar’s doing his best to take the responsibility out of my hands. Nobody sees anything wrong with that. To the men of my world, 117
his actions must seem quite reasonable. They wouldn’t expect a family of girls to look after an estate over a whole winter. And as for what Cezar intends to do to the forest, you must know that people fear you—that they blame you for many deaths and disappearances.” I caught the sardonic eye of Tadeusz, who had appeared on the edge of the crowd, and looked quickly away.
“Now that Uncle Nicolae’s gone, there’s nobody who can help us. And if Father dies . . .”
“What if he dies?” Ileana’s tone was cool.
“If he dies before a male grandchild is born, Cezar inherits Piscul Dracului outright. Then there really will be no forest left.”
“Mmm-hm. Why has your cousin made himself into an enemy? Why does he wish to destroy us all?”
“He believes your people drowned his brother, Costin. He was lost in the Deadwash long ago. Cezar swore vengeance on all the folk of the forest. I never thought he would go through with it. I believed in time he would forget his anger, or that I could make him change his mind. I think I was wrong.”
“Maybe not,” Ileana said, her pale blue eyes meeting mine with a penetrating look. “Your cousin listens to you. Inasmuch as he can care about anyone, he cares about you. Maybe you could drive a bargain, Jena.”
I did not like this turn of the conversation at all. “Your Majesty, I have come to you for help. I don’t think I can bargain with Cezar. I don’t think I have anything I’m prepared to give him. But if Father doesn’t come back, if he doesn’t get better, I need some way to stop my cousin from carrying out his threat.”
All of them just looked at me. I had expected fear, anger, a 118
shared purpose. I had hoped for solutions. This blank acceptance seemed almost like indifference. “This is your whole future!” I burst out, against my better judgment. “Don’t you care?”
There was a little silence. Gogu twitched. Uh-oh.
“What would you have us do?” Ileana seemed eerily calm.
“Wage war on this cousin, frighten him from his home? Set fire to his crops, strike his animals dead? Take such a course of action, and we would spark the kind of retribution that comes on the keen edge of a scythe, the piercing tines of a pitchfork. It is not our way. Your Cezar makes his own path. Whether it leads to good or ill, only time will tell.”
“So you would just sit back and watch as your kingdom is destroyed?”
“We will not interfere. This will flow as it must; it is not for us to stem the tide. Have you considered that the solution may be no farther away than your fingertips?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I could not keep hurt and annoyance from my voice. “I can’t even get workers to come up and mend the fences for me—how am I meant to solve a problem as big as this? Cezar’s a landholder now. He’s got power.”
“You must solve your own puzzle,” Ileana said. She rose to her feet and picked up a fold of her gold-embroidered gown, ready for another round of dancing. “You can do it. Music!
Come, strike up a reel!”
In a trice they were gone, heading onto the sward for more revelry. I was stunned. Not only had the forest queen made no offer of assistance, she’d treated my pressing problems—and her own—as almost inconsequential.
“She does care,” Grigori said. He was the only one who had 119
stayed behind. “It’s our way to let things take their course, that’s all. What was that you were saying about fences?
Sten and I could attend to your heavy work. You should have asked us.”
Sudden tears pricked my eyes. “Thank you,” I said, “but it’s best if you don’t. When you come across to our world, especially if you stay awhile, you put yourselves at huge risk. I won’t have you doing that for us. Cezar’s enough of a threat to you—we mustn’t make it worse by giving other folk the chance to see you on the farm. But I value your offer. Now I’d better go and find Tati.”
“If I may.” A tall, dark form appeared by my side. It seemed that one other had lingered after Ileana’s audience. The pallid Tadeusz reached to cup my elbow without a by-your-leave. His eyes met Grigori’s and, to my surprise, Dr˘agu¸ta’s kinsman backed away.
“You have troubles,” Tadeusz murmured, drawing my arm through his and starting to walk along the sward so I had no choice but to go with him. “I could help you. This cousin is nothing.” He snapped his fingers in illustration. “He can be stopped from interfering in your affairs. That would be an easy matter, Jenica. It would give me pleasure to be of assistance to you. He could simply be . . . removed.” I felt long, bony fingers close around mine; he lifted my hand to his lips. The chill touch of his mouth gave my skin goose bumps. In my pocket Gogu was cringing and silent. “Of course, I would require something in return. Nothing comes without a price.”
I felt sick. “Thank you, but I will find some other solution 120
to my problems,” I said, my heart pounding. “I’m sure I can work something out.”
He looked down at me, his dark eyes assessing. “Really?” he asked me, and lifted a hand to toy with my hair, twisting a brown curl around his finger.
“Really. Now I must go—”
“You should not be afraid, Jenica. My kind are not entirely what you believe of us. The tales your villagers tell give one picture of the truth, a picture distorted by superstitious fear.
But there are many truths in the Other Kingdom. It is a matter of perception. The eyes of each viewer see a different reality.
You would not judge so quickly, would you?”
I swallowed. His voice was a subtle instrument, soft and beguiling. The sound of it seemed to resonate deep within me.
“I don’t trust easily,” I said. “I don’t like violent solutions to problems. And I prefer to know exactly what I’m getting into.”
“Ah. But you come to the Other Kingdom every Full Moon, trusting that you will be safe, that your friends will be here to welcome you, that your night will be spent in innocent enjoyment.”
I stared up at him, wanting to be anywhere but here, yet held by his voice. Despite myself, I was intrigued by what he said. “I’m careful,” I told him. “I look out for my sisters. Anyway, it always has been like that. We’ve always been safe here.”
Tadeusz smiled, and I tried not to look at his teeth. “So young and so ignorant,” he said. “Yet maybe not so young. You watch your sisters, yes—one in particular you watched two 121
Full Moons ago, as she danced with one partner and then another. You made her go home before the dancing was over.
Why was that, I wonder? And again, at last Full Moon—was there perhaps a touch of jealousy in you, Jenica? A desire to be a little older, and to feel a man’s arms around your own waist in intimate embrace?”
I felt myself flush scarlet. “I’m not listening to this,” I said.
“I must go now—”
“Go,” he said airily, but his hand still held mine. “Go—and remain in ignorance, if that is your preference.”
“Ignorance of what?” Perhaps he had something to tell me about Sorrow, something that would help me persuade Tati to let him go.
“All these years you’ve limited yourselves to one visit a month—to one way of entering the Other Kingdom. There is another way. At Dark of the Moon, there is another portal.
With my help it can be opened to you. It will unveil a world of knowledge to you, Jena. At Dark of the Moon, you may look into Dr˘agu¸ta’s mirror. If you wish to discover the true nature of your sister’s lover, you will do so there. If you can summon the courage for it, you may see your own future and that of those you love.” His thumb moved against my palm.
“What do you mean?” I croaked, not liking the way his words made me feel, as if I had glimpsed something I wanted badly and knew I should not have. “That if we passed through this portal of yours, we wouldn’t be in Dancing Glade, but somewhere else? In your own realm? I was told you come from the forests of the east.”
