Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

“I will show you.”

We went back the way we had come, then along the valley toward Piscul Dracului. I began to wonder, as Sorrow put one flagging foot before the other, whether midnight would come and go before we got as far as our own courtyard. Then there was a rustling in the bushes. A little voice hissed, “Dark!

Quick!”

“Cover up the lanterns,” whispered Paula, and we did. A moment later we heard the voices of the hunting party not far up the hill. As they came into view between the trees, the light of their flaring torches glinted on well-honed scythe and deadly pitchfork, on crossbow and cudgel and long serrated knife. One man was armed with a sharpened stake. A dog barked, and someone shouted.

“Fox, away!” said the same odd little voice that had warned us. There was a sudden pattering in the undergrowth, making steady progress straight toward the huntsmen. An owl hooted.

A flock of high-voiced, creaking things passed over, making Costi duck.

“It looks as if we’ve got help,” I murmured. “We’ll have to keep going in the dark.”

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“I will walk first,” Sorrow said. “I need no lamp.”

So we followed him, and I thought his ability to find his way in the dark was yet another indication that over the years in the Other Kingdom, he had steadily become more fey and less human. Farther up the hill there was a clamor of hounds and an outcry of excited voices, and the hunt took off in a different direction, following what I was sure was Dr˘agu¸ta on her little white creature. It was a night of surprises, a night of magic. My mind shied away from what might happen to the witch if they caught her.

The moon rose; a cold light began to filter through the woods.

“Here,” Sorrow said suddenly, halting by a round pond under a rock wall latticed with juniper. It was a place that Gogu and I had visited often, a good spot for gathering water-cress. Beyond that, I had never thought it particularly special.

“This is the crossing. Be quick! My strength is waning. Will you bring her, Jena?” He sank to the ground, the cup still balanced in his hand, not a single drop allowed to trickle down its curiously patterned exterior.

“I’ll do my best,” I said, wondering how Tati could possibly manage such a journey in the cold. Costi and I were both looking at Sorrow, who was plainly at the last point of weariness.

It seemed to me that before we had any chance of reaching home, he would be sprawled on the ground in an exhausted stupor—the cup would be spilled, the quest lost. Besides, he must stay alert or the hunters would surely find him.

“I’ll stay here,” Paula said, squatting down beside him. “Be 388

as quick as you can, please. It’s not the warmest of nights.” She was shivering; I knew it was not only from cold.

“We’ll run,” I said, taking Costi’s hand. And we did. “I must be mad,” I gasped.

“It’ll be all right, Jena,” panted Costi. I took heart, for there was no trace of a stammer in his voice.

We ran along the track and down the hill to Piscul Dracului. We sprinted across the courtyard and into the castle. As we passed the kitchen doorway, Iulia stepped out and hastily closed the door behind her, blocking anyone inside from seeing us.

“Hurry up!” she urged. “Tati’s really sick. Is he coming?”

We ran upstairs toward the bedchamber, Costi with lantern in hand. “You’ll be shocked,” I warned him. “Tati’s much weaker than at last Full Moon. She shouldn’t even get out of bed, let alone go into the forest at night.”

Costi nodded, sober-faced, and then we were there. I knocked, and Stela opened the door.

“Oh, Jena, you’re here! I can’t even hear her breathing anymore.” The words ended in a sob.

“Sorrow’s back,” I said, coming to kneel by the bed. “He’s out there with Paula, waiting. Tati? Tati, can you hear me?”

Stela crouched on the other side with tears streaming down her cheeks. “We can’t wake her up,” she said.

Faith. Trust. Love. I put my ear to my older sister’s parched lips and thought I could feel, faintly, the whisper of her breath.

“Tati, Sorrow is here,” I said. “And I have Costi with me.

We’re going to wrap you up and take you outside. Sorrow has completed the quest—he’s got all the things Ileana asked for.

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He just needs you to come out, and you can cross over together, if that’s what you want. Come on, Tati, please.”

She did not stir. Like an enchanted princess in some dark tale, she lay immobile against her pillow. The red glass teardrop glinted on her neck like blood on snow. Just the smallest stir of breath revealed that she had not already slipped away: the tiny, slow rise of her chest under the fine linen of her night robe. Doubt seized me. If I insisted on taking her out in the cold, it would more likely be the death of her than a happy ending. How could I live with that? But if I left her here, we would surely lose her anyway.

“Fetch her warmest cloak,” I told the weeping Stela. “We’re going to do this. Costi, help me lift her. . . . That’s it. . . .”

We wrapped her up as well as we could. “Stela, it’s best if you stay here until Costi and I get back. I’m sorry. Say goodbye now. Iulia will come upstairs soon. Please don’t cry. Maybe it’s not forever. Maybe nothing’s forever.”

It was cruel to give her so little time. Tati lay in her own world, cold as ice within her night robe and shawl and cloak. I doubted she could hear her little sister’s farewell. Costi carried her downstairs and past the kitchen door. Iulia heard us; she came out and touched a hand to Tati’s brow.

“I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “It’s like a bad dream.

Petru and Florica are just sitting in there, staring into space.”

I made a decision. “We should tell them,” I said. “They’ve known Tati since she was little—they should be allowed to say goodbye.”

“I think they’ve worked it out already,” Iulia said.

So we called them out, the two of them with their seamed, 390

strong faces and their work-worn hands. I told them, in as few words as I could, that Tati was going to the Other Kingdom, that she wanted this, and that it was the only thing that could save her life. They didn’t ask a single question. Florica kissed Tati on the brow. Petru touched her on the cheek, muttering something that might have been a prayer or a charm.

“What’s going to happen, Jena?” asked Iulia, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “Do you really think she’ll be all right?”

“We must believe that,” I told her. “Now say goodbye.

Maybe she can hear you. Then you’d best go up to Stela. I’ll be home again soon.”

It was no longer possible to run. Costi carried Tati in his arms and I held the lantern.

“She’s as light as a child,” Costi murmured. “What’s wrong with her, Jena?”

“I think she’s dying for love,” I said. “If I’m right, and broken hearts can mend, we may still have time to save her. Hurry, if you can.” I pictured Sorrow with his injured leg, trying somehow to carry both Tati and the brimming cup of water away to the Other Kingdom. “You have to have faith,” I muttered. “Faith in true love.”

“I do,” Costi said. “I always did.”

“Always?”

“Well, maybe my faith was shaken for a little. But it survived. Can you hear that sound, Jena?”

“Yes.” I shuddered. “They’re not very far off, are they?

Dr˘agu¸ta must be leading them in circles.”

We reached the round pond. Sorrow was sitting on the 391

ground, the cup still in his hand, and Paula was holding his arm, helping to support it. When he saw my sister limp and white in Costi’s arms with her hair spilling down to the ground, he sprang up. But even then he held the vessel balanced, not allowing the least drop to fall.