Mercedes Lackey - Snow Queen

The girl nodded, as did Annukka, the girl with reluctance, the older woman with understanding.

“Then on the morrow we will try to revive the magicians,” Aleksia said. “And if we can, we will then see what they have to say.” She stood up and stretched. “And since I have an acute dislike for sleeping vulnerable — you will forgive me, but I am going to shift my shape, as I described to you.”

Aleksia had decided that rather than trying to hide the fact that she was shifting, she would let both women know she could do it, and see her do it now, under circumstances that were relatively controlled, rather than shock them at a time when none of them could afford to be shocked. If she had to hide herself every time she needed to shift, and hide the fact she was the one that was the helpful Bear, Swan, Falcon and so forth, making up excuses for her disappearances, she would grow mad. And worse, when the women did find out about it, they would no longer trust her. So as she continued her stretch, she let herself slide into the Bear form, feeling herself growing taller and bulkier, feeling her weight and center of balance shift, until at last it was a Bear that stood there on its hind legs, looking down at them benignly.

It was somewhat amusing to see the girl's eyes widen, see her shrink involuntarily back, as Aleksia dropped to all fours. Her muzzle was somewhat distorted compared to Urho's — she had kept enough of the human shape to it to be able to make understandable words. Urho could speak mind-to-mind with other creatures naturally. She could not.

“It is a great deal safer to have two Bears and two women sleeping in this cave, than three women and a single Bear,” she pointed out, her voice low and a combination of human speech and ursine growl. She tilted her head to the side, watching the fear and startlement fade from the younger woman's eyes.

The older woman laughed. After the initial moment of shock she had looked approving rather than frightened. Aleksia liked her more with every moment that passed. This was a sensible woman, much after her own heart. “I have heard of such magic as this, but never seen it,” Annukka said. “Can it be learned?”

“I would say 'perhaps,'” Aleksia replied, as Urho chuckled deep in his chest. “I am not as adept at it as my mentor was.”

“Since I see you doing this now, when you have warned against the use of much magic, I assume it does not shout one's presence as much as other spells?” Annukka continued, as Kaari slowly recovered from watching Aleksia shift.

“You assume correctly.” Aleksia coughed. “And it is unfamiliar to most magicians, so they do not think to look for it. Also — the creatures that have magic, like some of the things that dwell in deep forest, also use this same magic. Someone who knows to look for it not might think that it is a human that is using it.”

“And are you a human?” came the forthright question. Annukka stared directly into Aleksia's Bearish eyes. “Truly?”

“Human and as mortal as you,” Aleksia replied. “In time I will take an apprentice to replace me. I am no Fae.”

Annukka let out her breath with a sigh. “Well then. I would be interested to see if I can learn this shifting magic.”

“I would be willing to teach you. And I am sure you understand there are risks — ”

“There are risks in all magic, and I am not so foolish as to want to venture it here and now,” Annukka told her firmly. “But someday, when this is over and we are the unrecognizable beings in a tale. Meanwhile there is another advantage to this shape of yours. We will all certainly sleep warm.” She grinned at Aleksia. “One Bear was a fine thing to sleep up against. To sleep between two will be a grand luxury.”

Aleksia had to chuckle a bit herself.

They all slept soundly, with no dreams that Aleksia could recall. At dawn she and Urho went a-hunting as the two women prepared a more traditional meal for themselves. Aleksia did not want to stretch their supplies any more than was strictly necessary. Once they were all fed, they were off to the ice-forest as fast as they could manage with the sledge, with Aleksia scouting ahead in Hawk form. She saw nothing whatsoever to be worried about, but that did not stop her from being as wary as if she had spotted a potential ambush. Now was a vulnerable time for a Questing Party; The Tradition had not yet fully recognized them as such, and it would be very easy for it to turn its magics against them.

But there was nothing untoward. She landed beside the two frozen magicians, transformed into her human shape, and waited.

She did not have to wait for very long. Urho and the women had made excellent progress; she heard them arrive, then heard the sounds of footsteps crunching through the ice-covered snow until they entered the clearing, each leading her riding deer.

Annukka was first, with Kaari close behind her. They opened their mouths to greet Aleksia, but the greeting turned to a gasp as they caught sight of the two frozen Mages. And it was not that she had not described the bizarre sight — it was because no one could look on that and not gasp in shock.

For a moment there was nothing but the faint tinkle of ice as a breeze stirred the branches and bits broke from the birch twigs and fell.

Annukka was the first of the two to step forward to examine the two “patients,” and she hummed and peered at them as Kaari waited nervously.

“Now…I have to wonder,” Annuk ka said, looking sideways at Aleksia. “Do you know much about Sammi magic?”

“Not much,” Aleksia replied honestly. “Mostly that the most powerful is done through music.”

“And as such it tends to be compatible with just about every other form of magic,” the Wise Woman replied. “And it is in my mind that if you and I added our magic together, the whole is likely to be more powerful than the two used separately.”

Aleksia had to nod at that. “What did you have in mind?”

“That I will sing, and you see how you can fit one of your magics into the song.” The older woman was already rummaging through the saddlebag on the side of her deer. She brought out an object wrapped in soft hide that proved to be a kantele when unwrapped. She tuned it deftly and looked to Aleksia, who nodded. And with no more preamble than that, she began to play and sing.

She had a lovely, warm voice, low rather than the high-pitched tones most older women developed. The pitch was true, the tone was strong. It would have been a pleasure to listen to even if it had not been bearing great magic. As it was, the power in the magic made the music that much richer.

Aleksia listened, rather than acting at once, waiting to feel the song, and the flow of the magic, before she interfered. This would be a very delicate operation — not that she hadn't blended her magic with that of someone else before, but it was always tricky to accomplish, and it was seldom obvious how best to make the two fit together.

After a moment, she recognized the song; it was one that the Sammi sang at MidWinter, when the world was dark and cold, before the sun came up. The lyrics were very, very old, in a form of the language that was archaic even by Sammi standards. And yet, it was possible to sense what the song was about even without being able to understand the language. It spoke of hope and renewal, of pushing back the dark, of new birth and new life and the warmth of Spring even in the darkest hours of Winter.

When she came to the second verse, Aleksia began to fit in her own magics along with that of the song; she used images, rather than words. Annukka was clearly her superior in the area of words and music — if she were to make a judgment, she would have to reckon Annukka among the greatest of Bardic musicians. She wondered, in the back of her mind, how such a talent had remained overlooked in the vast hinterland that was the Kingdom of the Sammi.