Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

Tears spilled from my eyes. He leaned forward and kissed them away.

“Me too,” I said. “But it looks as if broken hearts can mend.

It’s quite remarkable. A phenomenon, Paula would say.”

“I suppose,” said Costi, “it is no more remarkable than boys turning into frogs, and frogs into men. Oh, Jena . . . When we’re married—that’s if you’ll have me—I want to keep on coming out here, and sitting by a campfire, and doing all the things we love doing.”

“Was that a proposal?” I asked, smiling through my tears.

“I can do better with practice,” Costi said, a little abashed.

“Shall I try again tomorrow?”

“If you want. I plan to say yes. It’s best if I tell you that now, so you won’t get anxious and go off to hide in the leaves.

I hope Aunt Bogdana will approve.”

“Mother will be delighted. She’s been nagging me ever since we got home to go down and mend things with you; she could see how miserable I was. But I couldn’t make myself do it.

You were braver than I was.”

“I was petrified,” I said, slipping my arm around his waist.

“But it was worth the effort. You played my game very well.”

“You know,” said Costi, “I did think I smelled pancakes the 381

moment I got off my horse. But I dismissed it as wishful thinking.” He was suddenly serious. “Jena, what’s going to happen tonight? Sorrow and Tati, I mean?”

“I don’t know.” As we walked on I explained how weak and dispirited Tati was, and what she had dreamed about Sorrow’s journey. Then we fell silent, thinking about what might happen if Sorrow didn’t come back. If Tati was prevented from being with her sweetheart, she might actually allow herself to die of a broken heart. It hardly seemed worth considering such practical questions as how we could get her across. Now that I had taken back my little crown and given up my free entry to the Other Kingdom, I did not think the old way would work anymore. Dr˘agu¸ta had granted Costi, Cezar, and me our wishes for a purpose, and that purpose was achieved now. Still, there must be some way for Sorrow to win his reward if he completed the quest. Let him reach us first, and perhaps the issue of a portal would take care of itself.

“You’re shivering,” Costi said, wrapping his arm around me. “Not far to go now.”

Then we froze. Someone was coming up the path through the forest. A small light bobbed into view, accompanied by scrabbling, hurried footsteps and the gasping breaths of someone who has run a long way in the cold. Costi moved me behind him. A moment later we could see a cloaked figure, face white and pinched, with lantern in hand.

“Paula!” I exclaimed. “What is it? What’s happened? Is Tati—?” I could not say it.

My sister was bent double, trying to catch her breath. She had set the lantern down.

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“Take it slowly, Paula,” said Costi. “We’re here, and we’ll help, whatever it is. Deep breaths if you can.”

“Sorrow—” she gasped. “Someone saw Sorrow in the woods. Now the men from the village are out after him—

scythes and pitchforks—come now, quickly!”

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Chapter Sixteen

“Where are they?” I asked as terror filled my heart.

“I saw them . . . I hid while they went past. They were saying . . . they were saying”—Paula hugged her arms around herself—“horrible things, Jena. . . . I heard what they’ll do to him if they catch him—”

“Which direction, Paula?” Costi had put a reassuring hand on her arm.

“Over toward the Deadwash, northeast of Piscul Dracului.

Jena . . . Costi, I . . .”

“What, Paula?”

“I know where Sorrow is,” she whispered. “I saw him on the way here. I know where he’s hiding.”

“Tell us while we’re walking,” I said. “Are you all right?

Can you manage to take us there right away?”

As we headed down the steep track under a stand of old oaks, Paula told us what had happened. Ivan had come to the 384

door near dusk to fetch Petru. The villagers had assembled farther down the hill and were heading up past Piscul Dracului to the northeast, where a farmer bringing his pigs out of the forest had spotted the pale young man in the black coat. Petru had refused to go—he was too old, he said. Iulia and Paula had been in the kitchen and had overheard.

“And Sorrow? How did you find him?”

“He called out to me.” Paula was doing her best to keep up with us; in the lantern light her face was wan and exhausted.

We could not run. The moon had not yet risen, and to try for haste in the growing darkness would be to risk broken limbs.

“He’s in a little cave not far from here. He asked me for help.”

“Why didn’t he wait near the castle? Tati’s much too weak to come out into the forest.”

“He went down to Piscul Dracului to try to find Tati, and Petru saw him. So Sorrow ran. He’d heard those others crashing about in the woods.”

“What about the quest?” I asked. “Has he—?”

“He had the things with him. But he won’t go back to the Other Kingdom without Tati. He’s hurt his leg and he seemed . . . desperate. As if he might do something foolish.

We have to help them, Jena.”

I looked at Costi, and he returned my look with a question in his eyes. I didn’t want Tati to go. I loved her. If I helped this to happen, I’d probably never see her again. Father would be distraught. And how would we explain Tati’s disappearance to Aunt Bogdana, and to Florica and Petru, and to all the folk of the valley? Besides, I still didn’t really know what Sorrow was, 385

or what he might do. But this argument hardly seemed to matter anymore.

“Of course we’ll help them,” I said as we followed Paula down a little branching track to the east. Scared as I was for Sorrow and for Tati, a deep joy still warmed me. I had Costi by my side and my world was back to rights again. How could I deny my sister the same chance of happiness? If I really loved her, I was going to have to let her go. In my heart, I recognized that I had been making this decision, gradually, ever since our visit to Tadeusz’s realm at Dark of the Moon. On that night, I had begun to see that Sorrow wanted only good for those he loved: for his sister, and for mine. “How much farther, Paula?”

“I’m here.” A white-faced figure stepped out of the bushes, making me gasp with fright. His eyes were wild. He had a bundle slung over one shoulder, and in his right hand he balanced a dark metal cup, so full of water the surface seemed to curve upward. There were scratches on his pale skin, and here and there the fabric of the black coat was rent, as if by great thorns or the claws of savage animals. “We must go quickly.”

“Where?” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. Distantly, I thought I could hear the hysterical barking of dogs and the voices of men driven on by fear and anger. “I think our portal is closed now. Anyway, I can’t get you into the house past Florica and Petru.”

“There is another way,” Sorrow said. “Bring Tatiana to me at a certain place in the forest, and I can take her across. But we must hurry—I’m afraid I cannot run much farther.” He moved forward and I saw that he was limping. “My leg is damaged. I have traveled a long way thus injured—I am paying the cost 386

now.” He struggled to keep the cup level, and I remembered Marin’s words: filled to the very brim, but not overflowing . This was cruel.

“Tati’s very weak,” I said. “She’s been seriously ill.”

Sorrow went still whiter. The cup shook. I regretted telling him.

“She won’t be able to walk; she shouldn’t even be moved,”

I went on. “Where should we meet you?”