Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing
is full of fear, that I no longer have control of his business interests, and that Tati’s fallen in love with a . . . whatever he is. I could hardly have done a worse job of looking after things.”
You’ve left something off your list of disasters. You listened to that person in the black boots. You let him flatter you. You want to see him again, I know it.
I lifted my head to glare at the frog. “All right,” I growled,
“go on, make me feel even worse. I almost fell for an invitation to do something really stupid. And probably someone died because of that. Just because I don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean I don’t think of it every day, Gogu. If I could make time go backward, I’d erase that night completely.”
Gogu did not respond. Maybe he realized I was having to work hard not to think about Dark of the Moon, now only days away.
“We’ll have to clear out the storeroom,” I told him. “That means Salem bin Afazi’s shipment must go out to the barn until after Full Moon. We must move everything as soon as there’s a fine patch in the weather. I wonder if Aunt Bogdana has some tapestries she would lend me to cover the worst cracks in the storeroom walls? It’s going to be cold in there.”
You’re worried. But not about tapestries.
“No. I’m worried about myself. How weak I’ve been. What I might get wrong in the future. How much depends on me.”
Isn’t your grand party supposed to make everything right?
I stared at him, sudden tears welling in my eyes. His silent voice had sounded almost bitter. “You could be a bit more supportive, Gogu,” I said.
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Don’t mind me. I’m only a frog. Wallow in self-pity all you like.
“What’s this I’m only a frog? You’re my best friend in all the world, you know that.”
Go and try on your finery. Prepare your grand chamber.
Sighing, I got up. Gogu had been acting very strangely of late. I could not tell whether he thought the party a good idea or not. Something had certainly stirred him up. Perhaps the talk of marriages had made him uneasy about his own future.
“If I could avoid this cold-blooded search for suitors,” I told him, “believe me, I would. And I’d never marry anyone who didn’t like frogs. You’ve got a home with me forever. I swear it, Gogu. Stop looking so mournful.”
He did not reply. Increasingly, he had taken to going suddenly silent, as if he drew down a little shutter over his mind.
It worried me.
Go and try on your finery. Finery was a whole issue on its own.
Aunt Bogdana had insisted on new gowns for everyone. We had not told her that each of us already possessed a dancing dress, for fear of arousing suspicion. So we’d agreed to use the services of her household seamstress and allowed our aunt to select fabrics from her own substantial store. Our first fitting had not gone well.
“There’s no need to be critical about our getting dressed up, Gogu,” I told him now as we descended the stairs from the workroom. “Aunt Bogdana is making us wear what’s suitable.”
It was a pity that none of us liked our gowns, but we could hardly quibble when Cezar was paying for everything. Stela’s was to be a lacy white creation with a red sash. My youngest sister had declared it to be “a baby dress.” Paula’s was pink, 174
which made her look sallow. Iulia’s natural beauty would be dimmed by Aunt’s choice of a soft gray—the cut extremely demure, with a high neckline and long, narrow sleeves. Iulia called it drab, and I had to agree.
It was clear that our aunt intended for Tati and me to be the sisters who shone at this particular event. Tati’s gown was pale blue with silver thread. It had a high waistline and a long, trailing skirt. With every fitting the seamstress, frowning, took the bodice in further. Tati had little appetite these days—at mealtimes she would move her food around her platter, eyes distant. She did not conceal her lack of enthusiasm for the gown, the party, and everything to do with it.
Aunt Bogdana had decided to put me in dark crimson. The fabric was sumptuous and the cut flattering, though it put more of me on show than I felt comfortable with. It was a suitable choice for attracting men, but it was wrong for me. I knew Gogu didn’t like it; perhaps that was the reason for his sharp comment. There was no such red in the natural hues of the forest, not even in the most brilliant autumn foliage. I favored russet-brown, shadowy blue, a thousand shades of green. Never mind. It was only for one night. I’d need to make sure we were allowed to do the finishing touches ourselves so I’d have time to sew in a Gogu-pocket. I had a feeling I would need my wise advisor by my side more than ever this Full Moon.
I made my way down to the storeroom, planning how best we might move the many crates, bundles, and rolls of carpet that we had so painstakingly put away there. As I rounded a corner in the passageway, I halted abruptly. The big double doors were propped open. A crew of men was busy lifting 175
Salem bin Afazi’s precious cargo from the shelves and carrying it out into the courtyard.
“What are you doing?” I challenged them, striding forward. “Who gave you permission to move those?”
The men glanced at me but kept on working. I followed them out into the courtyard, where fine snow was falling. If the fabrics were allowed to get wet, they would lose most of their commercial value. We had been so careful.
A long cart was standing just beyond the entry, a team of patient horses harnessed before it. The burly figure of Cezar could be seen giving sharp directions as still more men loaded each item onto the conveyance. I saw that the goods were being layered with oiled cloth for protection; Cezar was a merchant and appreciated the value of such a consignment. That did not alter the fact that he was taking it away and had not consulted me. Why had I spent so long sitting upstairs, stewing over my problems?
“Cezar, what is this?” My tone was sharp. “The things only need to go as far as the barn. Why the cart? Why wasn’t I told about this?”
My cousin went a little red and hastened to draw me aside.
“Jena, please refrain from speaking to me in that tone in front of my workers,” he said. “Save your shrill comments, if you must make them, for a private situation.”
Shrill. That’s offensive.
“This is my father’s house, Cezar, and that is my father’s shipment. I’ll say whatever I want. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Your manner offends me.”
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“All I want is a truthful answer.”
“I thought you’d be pleased. You’ve been looking so pale and tired. This entertainment you’ve set your heart on for Full Moon is creating too much work for you, especially at such a frightening time.”
“Answer my question,” I said, through gritted teeth. They were bringing out the breakable items now—the little scent bottles, the porcelain cups in their padded boxes. Everything was going onto the cart.
“I only want to help you. You do need this chamber cleared for your party, don’t you? The goods will be stored at Vârful cu Negur˘a. I have plenty of dry space for them there. That will make it far easier for me to sell them when the weather improves. I will deal with the entire venture from this point on. I can get good prices for you, Jena.”
He was behaving as if Father were already dead; he was acting like some kind of patriarch. I wasn’t going to put up with it. “I’m not at all sure I trust you to get the best price,” I said, “or to pass the full profit back to us if you do. Father trusted me to look after these things. It’s a very special cargo. I know he’d prefer the goods not be sold until he comes home.”
“I’m a merchant, Jena.” His lips had tightened; it was clear I had offended him. “Do me the courtesy of recognizing that I know what I’m doing. You can accept my help with this matter. It must be to your advantage, and mine, if you learn cooper-ation. Not that I don’t enjoy a good spat with you once in a while, but you are a young woman now. Concentrate on your party. I hear from Mother that you are proving quite able at organizing it. I look forward to seeing you in your finery.”
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He makes me sick.
“This is very high-handed, Cezar. I was left with the responsibility for Father’s business, and I expect at the very least that you will consult me before making any major decisions. I think the hunt for the Night People must have addled your brain a little. Maybe you should concentrate on that, and leave Father’s business affairs to me.” Before I reached the end of this speech, I was wishing I hadn’t started. Cezar had narrowed his eyes—his irritation had turned to something far more alarming.
“Since you seem to have taken it upon yourself to point out deficiencies in my behavior,” he said, lowering his voice as the workers began to fasten ropes over the neatly packed contents of the cart, “let me return the favor, Cousin. There’s a small matter of some fencing you had mended, which you advised me was done by folk traveling through the area. I spoke to Petru about it the day after you told me, and congratulated him on finding such efficient workers. He knew nothing about it. As far as he was concerned, the job was still waiting to be done. It all happened rather quickly, Jena. It seems the repair was carried out overnight, so to speak. Someone was here at Piscul Dracului—someone you didn’t want to tell me about.”
I prayed that my expression would not give anything away.
I was unprepared for this, and could think of no satisfactory answer. Petru had not quizzed me about who had done the job. I had taken that to indicate it was a question the old man thought better not asked, and had offered him no explanation. “Petru was busy when the workers were here,” I said, knowing I must say something. “Then you all rushed off after the Night People.
I didn’t get the chance to tell him.”
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“Rushed off. Are you implying that my pursuit of these bloodsucking fiends was in some way too precipitate?”
“No, Cezar.” I was shaking; I stuffed my hands into my pockets, not wanting him to see how nervous he was making me. “They did something terrible. I know you believe it’s the right thing to hunt them down. Many people would agree with you.”
“But you do not?” His tone was incredulous.
“I wouldn’t attempt to pass judgment on such an issue. I understand the desire for vengeance—I imagine that Ivona’s family is feeling that right now. But folk say it’s dangerous to meddle with the powers of the wildwood. That it’s wiser simply to set up wards and take preventive measures. If Father Sandu had been here—”
“Oh, it’s that again, is it? Your resentment at my action regarding the wayward priest clouds your judgment once more.
This is petty, Jena.”
“I’m not a child, Cezar, as you yourself seem keen to point out whenever you get the opportunity. I think taking violent action may only make things worse. That’s all I’m trying to say to you.” I could not tell him what I really believed: that the miller’s daughter had died as payment for the mending of my fences, and that in the accounting of the Night People, the ledger was now balanced. That made a hideous kind of sense.
“If we waited and all worked together to protect the settlement, in time this menace would pass us by. The Night People would move on. That’s what they do.”
He looked at me. Seeing another question in his eyes, I made a desperate attempt to fend it off. “I’m worried about you,” I 179
told him, putting a hand on his arm. “You’re not safe out there after dark.” That was not a lie, either; none of them was safe.
Though my cousin was a bully, I had no wish to see him fall victim to Night People or anything else that might be out in the forest by night. That this was a minor worry against so many more weighty problems, I did not say.
Cezar’s hand came up over mine. I remembered, vividly, the touch of Tadeusz’s chilly fingers and the feeling that had aroused in me. I could not help shivering.
“I’m sorry I upset you, Jena.” My cousin’s voice had changed. I liked this softer tone even less than his hectoring one. “Believe me, it gives me no pleasure at all to have to reprimand you. Your distress troubles me. As for the Night People, have no fear for me. I’m an expert hunter. We’ll track this villain down, believe me. If fortune favors us, we’ll have him before Full Moon.”
It was a strange time at Piscul Dracului. On the one hand, preparations for our party were in full swing. A stream of women came up the hill each day to help Florica with cleaning and cooking, to lend a special jug or a strip of embroidered linen to cover a bare shelf. The kitchen was full of chatter.
Down in the village, the band could be heard seizing any spare moment for a little practice. Against this, every dusk saw Cezar’s group of grim-faced hunters setting out up the track toward the forest in their woolen cloaks, their fur-lined hats and heavy boots—some armed with such weapons as a crossbow or knife, others shouldering the implements of farm or 180
forge; it was known that the folk of the Other Kingdom feared iron. The hunters would return at dawn, frozen, exhausted, and thus far, empty-handed. I feared to see them come back triumphant, for my heart told me that more spilling of blood might well plunge the whole valley into chaos and darkness.
Perhaps that was what the Night People had wanted all along: to set their terrible mark on Ileana’s court and on our peaceful community.
Cezar and his friends snatched sleep in the mornings. It was the only time we did not have their large presences dominating our house and stifling natural conversation. The party and the hunt did not seem like things that could exist comfortably in the same world, yet both were designed to keep the valley safe.
I hoped our celebration would be seen by Tadeusz and his dark henchmen for what it was: a gesture of defiance, of independence. A message that I would not listen to them, and that I de-spised what they had done.
Tati had become eerily quiet. Her appetite had vanished; she found all kinds of excuses not to eat, and I was deeply concerned. She had never been a big girl, and I saw how her clothes hung on her now, as if they had been made for someone far healthier. She made no further attempts to argue with me about going across to the Other Kingdom. Instead, she wandered about the narrow hallways and crooked staircases of Piscul Dracului like a pale ghost. When she managed to evade the watchful eyes of Cezar and his friends, she disappeared for long, solitary walks in the forest. She would come home trembling with cold, with boots and hemline soaking wet and eyes 181
full of a desperate emotion that was somewhere between grief and fury. I took to looking out for her return so I could smuggle her in without Cezar noticing.
Two days short of Dark of the Moon, Aunt Bogdana visited Piscul Dracului with her seamstress, and we gathered in the formal dining room after breakfast for another fitting. Iulia stood on the table in her stockings while the seamstress pinned up the hem of the decorous dove-gray creation. My sister was scowling. She plucked at the high-cut neckline, experimenting to see whether it could be rendered just a little more revealing.
