Jim Hines - The Snow Queen's shadow

Gerta glanced at Talia as if for reassurance before answering. “Ermillina is my sister.”

“You’d trespass on my land and lie to my face?” Noita clucked her tongue as she examined Gerta, who flinched. “For a princess, you’ve no manners whatsoever. I pulled you from your mother’s loins, girl. These hands cut the cord and wiped you down. I know you.”

“Gerta’s telling the truth,” said Talia.

Gerta stepped closer to Talia. “My name is Rose Gertrude Curtana. I am Snow’s sister. Sort of.”

“The old queen had only the one child. Someone lied to you about your parentage, girl. Go home. There’s nothing for you here.”

“Did my mother bring you the bodies for your garden?” Gerta was hiding her fear the best she could, though Talia could hear the faint quaver in her voice. “Did she kill them for you, or did you cut their throats before laying them out in the earth?”

“What bodies?” Noita demanded, too quickly. “What stories have you been listening to?”

“I saw you.” Gerta’s courage seemed to grow as Noita shrank back. “Snow brought me. We watched as you planted your seeds in their bodies, pushing them deep into the flesh. Snow… she knew one of the boys, from the palace”

Noita sighed, sagging inward to lean more heavily on her crutch. “That was a long time ago. A different time.” She shoved tangled hair from her face. “You do share her features…”

“I am Snow’s sister.”

Noita hobbled closer and reached out with one hand. “May I?”

Talia raised her sword in warning. Danielle drew her own weapon.

“I’ll not hurt the girl. I only want to understand who she is.”

Gerta nodded, but stayed close to Talia. Talia’s nose wrinkled at the sharp scent of spellcasting.

Noita grunted in surprise. “Well that’s impressive.”

“What is?” demanded Talia.

Noita stepped back. “There are spells to split the soul, to send a part of yourself away. Dangerous, but useful for sending messages, digging out secrets, and so on. I’ve never heard of anyone casting such spells in quite this fashion, though.”

“Snow liked to bend the rules,” Talia said.

“Little Snow White,” Noita whispered. “Not so little anymore, I imagine. I’ve not seen her in a lifetime. I’ve often wondered what became of her after she murdered her mother.”

“Murdered?” Talia’s hand tightened around the worn leather grip of her sword. “Rose Curtana ordered her killed. She hunted Snow down, murdered the man Snow loved, and would have done the same to her.”

“Yet when they faced one another, Snow White was the one to walk away. How did she manage that? The girl had talent, but lacked discipline. Even with the best of luck, to defeat a witch like Rose. ..” Noita clucked her tongue.

“Snow beat her twice,” Talia said. “The first time, she killed Rose’s body. The second, Snow banished her spirit. Luck was not a factor.”

“Luck is always a factor.” Noita hunched her shoulders, her head poking forward like a turtle’s as she turned her attention to Talia. She poked her crutch at Talia’s cape. “What do you want from me?”

Talia swatted the crutch away.

“Please,” said Danielle. “We need your help.” Her words were slow, her tongue stumbling over the foreign words. She was far from fluent, but knew enough of the language to make herself understood.

“What do you know of Rose Curtana’s magic mirror?” asked Gerta.

“Ah.” Noita rested both hands on her crutch. Her body slumped, making her appear even older. “I should have known. You’d best come inside.”

Talia went in first. If this was a trap, she had the best chance of overpowering it.

Noita stopped to stomp her feet on a woven mat in the doorway. Her home was small and sparsely furnished, but had a cozy feel. Thick blue curtains covered the windows. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily, but without smoke. Split firewood lined the wall beside the hearth, making Talia wonder where it had come from. Noita certainly didn’t look strong enough to gather it herself. Dried flowers hung from the ceiling. A few of the withered, papery petals fell to the floor as Noita shut the door behind them.

With four people, there was barely room to stand. Noita made her way to a rocking chair beside the fireplace, the only chair in the cabin. A square wooden table sat against the wall, a bowl of ripe cherries near the edge. A scattering of pits and stems explained the dark red stains on Noita’s fingertips. “Please, help yourself.”

Gerta started toward the table, but Talia caught her arm. “Ripe fruit in the middle of winter?”

Noita smiled. “You thought witchcraft was only good for cursing beautiful maidens?” She popped a cherry into her mouth and spat the seed onto the table. “So Snow White took her mother’s mirror when she fled Allesandria. And now it’s turned on her, yes?”

“She’s taken my son,” said Danielle.

“Never trusted that mirror.” Noita pursed her lips. “Rose believed she could control it. She was arrogant. Convinced she was smarter and stronger than everyone else. Usually she was, but not this time. That mirror killed her, you know.”

“What do you mean?” asked Gerta.

“ ‘ Who’s the fairest of them all?’ A simple enough question, right?” Noita bit another cherry, and a rivulet of dark juice ran down her chin. She blotted it on her sleeve. “It’s a matter of opinion though, isn’t it? A farm boy looks at his first love and proclaims her the most beautiful woman in the world. An educated city man looks at her and sees a bumpkin, plain and dirty. Was young Snow White truly the fairest in all the land? Some might say so, but what does a mirror know of beauty? Why did it choose her, unless it knew what would come of that choice?”

Talia rested her hands on the edge of the table, which creaked from her weight. “We know about the demon.”

Noita’s voice was distant. “I warned Rose against it, but she wanted the power. We never should have brought that damned creature into this world. It’s broken free, hasn’t it?”

“It took Snow,” said Danielle.

“Then Snow White is gone.” Noita’s words, spoken so matter-of-factly, burrowed into Talia’s chest.

“You helped my mother imprison the demon,” Gerta said.

“Yes, though the price was a blot on both our souls.” She rolled another cherry between her fingers. “I’ve no doubt it remembers what I did.” She sighed and sank back in her chair. The creak of her rocking was the only sound, until Talia thought she might have fallen asleep.

“Noita?” Gerta asked.

“I warned her,” Noita said. “This was no lesser creature, but a true demon, all but immortal. Her mirror was a thing of genius, but it couldn’t endure forever. I looked to the future, and I saw what would happen when that mirror failed.”

“What did you see?” asked Talia.

“My death.” Noita licked her lips, and her gaze flicked to the back door of the cabin. “Fire and chaos. Death and madness, spreading throughout Allesandria. Even working together, Rose and I barely had the strength to trap the demon. Now that it’s free, with Ermillina’s power added to its own, I can’t-”

“She took my son,” Danielle interrupted. “You helped bring this creature into our world. You will help us to stop it.”

Noita started to answer, then sighed. “You’re right. I was part of the ritual. I share the responsibility.” She rose and moved to the rear of the cabin. Wood scraped against wood as she pulled open the back door, revealing a view so different Talia thought she might be looking through a magical portal.

A thin layer of snow crusted a grass path through a flower garden in full bloom. Delicate violets circled a stand of cherry trees. Lilies and snapdragons swayed together in the wind. Sunflowers as tall as Talia bordered the doorway like guardsmen. The smell of magic made her eyes water.