Juliet Marillier - Wildwood Dancing

Tati blinked at him in surprise, a piece of pastry halfway to her lips.

“I can speak for myself,” Paula said, her tone level, although her arms were folded belligerently across her chest. “Father Sandu and I have discussed this at some length. As he is a priest of the Orthodox faith, you can hardly claim his lessons to be contrary to the teachings of the Church. It’s true about people taking refuge in the forest. There are documents—”

“If you girls will excuse me,” said Uncle Nicolae with a smile, rising to his feet, “I’ll just go out and have a word with Petru before we leave. Cezar, don’t be long. We’ve work to attend to at home.”

If he’d hoped to calm an approaching storm, he was unsuccessful. As soon as he had left the kitchen, Cezar started again.

“This should be brought to an end right now,” he said, looking as grave as a judge. “Before any more damage is done.”

“What do you mean?” Tati stared at him.

“This teaching, these visits by the priest. History, philosophy, Greek . . . Most men get by well enough without that kind of knowledge, and a woman can have no hope of understanding it. It’s putting dangerous ideas in Paula’s head. In my opinion, Uncle Teodor showed a lamentable lack of judgment in ever allowing it.”

There was a silence. Paula went very red in the face, and the rest of us stared at Cezar, appalled. Tati recovered first.

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“Father entrusted the welfare of our younger sisters to Jena and me, Cezar,” she said calmly. “This is hardly a time to begin questioning his judgment—he’s only just ridden out of the courtyard. And I might point out that you’re not so very much older than I am. It’s not for you to pronounce on such matters.”

“Besides,” I put in, “there is a purpose to Paula’s education, and to mine. Since we have no brothers, Father’s going to need us to help with the business as we get older. Paula’s languages will be an asset. History helps people avoid making the same mistakes over and over. Geography allows a merchant to find new markets before anyone else does.”

“I see.” Cezar’s tone was chilly. “So your father sees no ill in Paula’s view that witches and lycanthropes and bloodsucking Night People are friendly creatures who want only to help us?

How would you feel if little Stela here went out into that benevolent forest one day and was torn to pieces by some monstrous beast? What if she fell foul of Dr˘agu¸ta, the witch of the wood? What price knowledge then?”

I pictured my smallest sister in her pink gown, dancing under the trees of Ileana’s Glade with her happy group of assorted friends, her rosy face wreathed in smiles. I thought about the Night People. Cezar was both right and wrong. A person couldn’t understand the Other Kingdom if he’d never been there—if he’d never experienced how beautiful it was, how magical and precious. Yes, it was dangerous as well, but dealing with that was a matter of putting Florica’s wisdom into practice: to give respect and get respect in return, and at the same time to be always watchful. Our cousin was not alone 40

among the folk of the valley in his attitudes. There were those who believed the Other Kingdom to be a devilish place, full of presences out to destroy humankind. The margin of the wildwood was hedged about with crucifixes; the trees on its rim were thick with protective amulets.

“Cezar,” I said, working hard to keep my voice calm, “if you think you must challenge Father’s opinion on this matter, please do us the courtesy of waiting until he returns from Constan¸ta, then speak to him personally.” I made myself smile at him, ignoring the anger in his eyes. He gave a stiff nod. Then he took my hand and raised it to his lips, startling me so much I sat frozen and let him do it. Iulia exploded into a fit of nervous giggles.

Gogu made a wild leap, aiming for my shoulder and over-shooting by at least an arm’s length. He landed heavily on an oak side table, skidded, and thumped into the wall. In an instant I was on my feet and had him cradled between my hands.

I could feel his heart pounding like a miniature drum. His body was possessed by a quivering sense of outrage. There didn’t seem to be anything damaged, save his pride.

“There’s something extremely odd about that creature,” said Cezar, eyeing Gogu suspiciously. “It just serves to underline my argument. A place in which a child can find an oddity like that frog is not a safe place to wander about. It is not the benign realm of your theory, Paula. Ideally, the forest around both Vârful cu Negur˘a and Piscul Dracului should be felled entirely.”

Perhaps he did not hear our indrawn breath of pure horror, for he went boldly on.

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“That would keep those presences I mentioned away from our doorsteps, as well as opening up additional land for graz-ing. The shepherds don’t like coming up here, not even onto the pasture areas, and with good reason. The whole of the eastern hillside is wasted as a result. A complete clearance, that’s what I’d like to see. As for the frog, you should get rid of it, Jena.

You’re a young woman now. If you must have a little companion, and I know ladies are fond of such things, a cat or a terrier would be far more suitable. I would be happy to make inquiries for you. That creature is . . . peculiar.”

I could think of nothing to say. I was used to his attitude to Gogu, which had grown stronger as I had become older.

As for the forest and its dwellers, there was a reason why Cezar feared them, a reason that made perfect sense to anyone who had not had the privilege of entering the Other Kingdom.

“Aunt Bogdana likes pastries, doesn’t she?” I said brightly.

“Florica, could you pack up some of these for Cezar to take home? I’ll see him out.”

On the way to find Uncle Nicolae, Cezar paused in the hallway, arms folded, his face half in shadow. “Jena?”

“Mmm?”

“You’re angry, aren’t you?”

“No, Cezar. I may disagree with your ideas, but that doesn’t mean I’m angry. It’s hard to be angry with someone who once saved your life. When you talk about Costi, I can still see it.”

His features tightened, his dark eyes turning bleak. “Me 42

too, Jena. I wish it would fade, but it doesn’t. Ten whole years.

Every night I dream of it. It won’t go away.”

“It was an accident,” I said, the pale waters of the Deadwash filling my mind, with the remembered terror of floating away from the shore—farther and farther away—as a thrilling game turned into a dark reality. “Nobody’s fault. It was terrible, yes. But you need to look forward now.”

“When I’ve destroyed every one of those creatures out there, when I’ve broken their world and stamped on the pieces, then I’ll look forward,” Cezar said. His words set cold fingers around my heart.

“Even if you did all that, it wouldn’t bring Costi back.”

We were going over old ground here. And the more we did so, the less ready he was to change his mind. Ten years was a long time. Wasn’t time supposed to ease grief ? It seemed to me that Cezar had grown sadder and angrier with every year that passed. “Hating people doesn’t mend anything.”

“I must go,” he said abruptly. “Goodbye, Jena.”

“Farewell, Cezar. I’ll see you at church, perhaps.”

T˘aul Ielelor had always been forbidden. Children love forbidden places, especially when they lie deep in a mysterious dark forest, where all kinds of wonderful games can be played, games that last from dawn to dusk and spring to life again next morning. At Full Moon, the lake formed the border where everything began to smell richer and to look brighter, where every sound became honey for the ears. Crossing the Bright Between made our senses come alive in a way we had never 43