Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

Trust your instincts, I reminded myself. And trust your sisters. Without them, you wouldn’t have made it this far.

At the far end of the leafless orchard there was an old stone bench crusted with moss. I unpacked my knapsack, gazing between the bare branches at the stable building and, beyond it, the house itself. It was an expansive place, the walls of mellow stone, the roof red-tiled. In springtime the birches that grew close to the house would wrap it in a silvery, whispering cloak.

Smoke rose from the chimneys; Aunt Bogdana was home, but I could not see her until I had spoken to Costi. If he and I could not sort out our differences, I did not think I would be coming here again. It would be too painful. Even now, I felt sick at the thought of seeing him.

I was glad of the rabbit-skin hat. Spring had barely begun, and I did not know how long I might have to wait in the cold.

I took out Stela’s ribbon; on it, I threaded the seedpod in the shape of a heart, which had lain in my storage chest since the day Gogu gave me his token of love and I dismissed it with a patronizing comment. I tied it around my neck.

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I began to gather fallen wood for a fire. Stacking it method-ically, I spotted something small and bright lodged in a crack of a splintery old branch. I fished it out, and a smile came to my lips. I was certain now that someone from the Other Kingdom was helping my quest along. I placed the tiny item carefully with my other things and returned to the fire, with knife and flint in hand.

I was well practiced at building campfires, for Gogu and I had spent many long summer days out in the woods. Once the stack of wood was burning well, I opened Florica’s bundle and began to mix my ingredients in the little bowl. One essential item I had gathered on the way through the forest: a handful of fresh pondweed.

The sun moved overhead behind the clouds. The day passed, and I grew colder and more nervous. I stamped up and down, and clapped my hands together to keep warm. Nobody seemed to be about; the smoke from my little fire had not attracted attention. Perhaps the folk of the house thought someone was burning rubbish. I began to wonder whether Costi had decided not to come home today after all. Then I thought maybe he had already been in the house when I arrived, and that I would have to knock on the front door and think of something to say. The light changed. I judged it to be mid-afternoon, and I still had to walk all the way home. I must be there before dusk: it was the night of Full Moon. Whatever happened, Tati needed me.

Come on, Costi. Perhaps if I put the pan on the fire and started cooking, it would somehow make him appear. I set it over the embers, dropped in a pat of butter, and listened to it sizzling.

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When it was hot enough, I poured in the contents of the bowl and watched until bubbles began to rise through the miniature pancake. As I flipped it, I heard the sound of approaching horses. My little bit of magic had worked—he was home.

They rode up to the stables: Costi and two well-dressed men whom I did not know. They dismounted. A groom came out to lead all three horses inside. Stay, I willed my cousin. I slipped the pancake onto the platter I had brought and decorated it with a garnish of pondweed.

They stood there, talking awhile. I stood watching, a bundle of tension, with my little gift in my hands. Games were all very well, but sometimes the effort of playing them was almost too much. Then the three of them headed off toward the house.

Short of calling out to him, there was nothing I could do about it. Now what? Walk in and accost him, in front of his guests? I could imagine his face, embarrassed and awkward; I could see the look of disdain in his eyes.

The groom came back out of the stables with bucket in hand, heading for the well. I seized what was perhaps my last chance.

“Excuse me.”

He started, then bobbed his head. “Mistress Jena! Shall I tell the mistress you’re here?”

I dredged my memory for his name. “No, Geza, I don’t want her knowing—not yet. I need your help. You may think it’s a little odd, but I have a job for you.”

“Of course, Mistress Jena. But I must water the horses first.”

The pancake was still warm when he got back. There was 373

a certain curiosity in his eyes, perhaps sparked by the story of the girl and the frog that everyone in the valley had been discussing over the last few weeks.

“Take this to Master Costin,” I said. “Make sure he gets it.

I know he has guests, but you must disturb him, even if he’s busy. Don’t tell him who this is from. If he gives you a message, bring it straight back. If he doesn’t, come back anyway.”

“Yes, Mistress Jena.” He held the platter with the ut-most care.

“Thank you, Geza. I know it seems a little strange.”

I waited, pacing up and down, too keyed up to be still for long. It was getting late. I imagined Sorrow, a cup of water balanced in one hand, a little bundle on his back, running, running, eyes burning with determination in his chalk-white face. I saw Tati as she had stood in Dancing Glade, frail as a birch in winter, her words an iron-strong declaration of faith. I thought of Costi eyeing my gift with a sad smile and turning his back. Trust, I told myself. This is Gogu, remember: your best beloved.

It seemed forever, but at last Geza appeared again, hands shoved under his arms to keep warm. The light was fading already; sparks from my fire spiraled upward, like tiny wild dancers.

“Did you give it to him?” I grabbed his shoulders, then made myself let go. “What did he say? Why did you take so long?”

“He has two merchants from Bra¸sov with him, Mistress Jena. I couldn’t go straight in—”

“I said to disturb him!” I snapped, then relented at the look 374

on his face. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I have to be home tonight, and it’s getting late.” I knew I should be setting off right now, if I was to be certain of reaching Piscul Dracului before dark. “Any message?”

“No, Mistress Jena.”

“Nothing at all?” My heart plummeted.

“Well, he did eat it all up, even the green part. I think he liked it.” Geza sounded astonished.

I breathed again. Hope was not lost, after all. “Thank you,”

I said. “Will you take this to him now?” I gave him the item I had found earlier. It was the discarded carapace of a beetle, iridescent green and shaped like a heart. “Please be as quick as you can. Here, take this quill and parchment, too.” Maybe those were a heavy hint, but I had to speed things up somehow.

I waited again. My heart seemed to sound out Sorrow’s footsteps as he made his desperate way back toward Dancing Glade. I thought of my sister, so weak she could barely lift her head from the pillow. Stay with us, Tati, I willed her. Keep faith with him. And I wondered whether I should forget my own dreams and run home now so I could be by her side, but my feet did not want to carry me away from the quiet orchard and the plume of smoke from my little fire.

“Come on, Costi,” I muttered, wiping out the frying pan and starting to put things away in my pack, “meet me halfway, can’t you?”

This time Geza was much quicker, and he brought me a note, scrawled on the tiny square of parchment I had sent. It read: Don’t good things generally come in threes?

I felt a big smile spread across my face. Costi was prepared 375

to play. Geza had brought back Paula’s quill. Dipping it in the ink pot, I wrote: If you want the third one, you’ll have to come and find me.

“Right away,” I urged Geza. “Please take this to him right away. How did he look?”