they never had souls in the first place, to be honest.” She paused for a moment. “But you know, if there is such a thing as a seed for a soul — compassion is a very, very good place to start.”
Kaari wiped her eyes and smiled. “You know, Mother Annukka, I think you are right. And I wish them well.”
Kaari bit her lip, took a deep breath, and touched her heel to her deer's side to move it forward. “Oh, yes, Mother Annukka. Oh, yes.”
10
“Well, well, well!” Aleksia exclaimed, as she watched the forest spirits dispersing throughout the ancient woods. She was truly surprised for the first time in a very, very long time. The Brownie who stood silently next to her, also watching the strange events unfold, was equally baffled.
“How was that possible, Godmother?” the Brownie asked. “I thought they were cursed to be that way forever.”
“Well, all curses must have some way of being lifted,” Aleksia replied thoughtfully. “The Tradition requires it. Otherwise no one would ever have any hope at all. I sometimes think that The Tradition requires hope, that maybe it even feeds on hope somehow.”
“Odd sort of thing to feed on if you ask me,” the Brownie muttered dubiously, looking out of the corner of her eye at Aleksia. “A good lamb roast, or a nice meat pie, now, that's something a body can feed on.”
Aleksia suppressed a smile. For creatures of magic, the Brownies could be very earthy and literal-minded. “If The Tradition were something we could bribe with a meat pie, our jobs would be a great deal easier!” she said, and was rewarded with a half smile from her small companion.
Well, this was becoming more and more intriguing; she had spun a deliberately vague spell that the two women should be delayed without coming to much harm — and this was the result of it. She had felt a bit guilty about the bandit attack, for the younger woman had gotten a terrible fright out of it, but this — this was extraordinary. For as long as she had known about them, the forest spirits had been soulless and dangerous. To her knowledge — though admittedly, her knowledge was limited — there had never been so much as a hint that this situation could ever be turned around. But now, now they had been saved, so to speak. What was more, they had gone from being a danger to being protectors, of the innocent at least. This was a major change in the world, something that went right outside The Tradition, at least as she understood it….
Although it was certainly true that stories of redemption were part of The Tradition, and always had been, this had her completely baffled. She sensed, though, that this involved something older and deeper than even The Tradition itself. Something that The Tradition had built off of — something so old and deep that, when invoked, it could effortlessly change The Traditional path that a story was set on and redirect it as easily as she could change her mind and redirect what the cook was preparing for her dinner.
“Well, I need to make another excursion,” Aleksia said after a moment. “It will require an actual shape- change, and I may be gone for some time.”
The Brownie gave her a penetrating look. “Something tells me you don't intend to just go looking for information this time.”
“No. This is going to be far more involved than that.” She considered her options for a moment, and realized that it was completely unfair for her to just arbitrarily decide that she was going to pick up and abandon the Palace — at least, not without some consultation with the other creatures involved in her work. “I should like you to be here, Rosemary, as I consult with Godmother Elena. This could be quite dangerous for me, and I'd want every safeguard in place that I can manage. For that, I think, I will need the help of the Brownies, and I should ask you to represent them.”
The Brownie looked startled, and sat up straighter. “Me?” she said, eyes going wide.
“You want my opinion? You want me to tell you what I think that you should be doing?”
Unconsciously she smoothed her spotless apron with her hands, as if she was reassuring herself that she was the same person she had been a moment ago.
“As a representative of the others, yes, please,” Aleksia told her. “This will be something new for all of us. I am about to enter a tale myself, and that will mean — changes, certainly.” That was an under-statement. Rosemary looked more than a bit alarmed. “What kind of changes will be involved and what it will mean for all of you here, I am not sure. Godmothers have become active parts of tales before — certainly Godmother Elena has — but once you put yourself in the position for The Tradition to act upon you, you can lose some of your ability to act upon The Tradition.” She smiled down into the Brownie's bright brown — and now worried — eyes. “But look on the bright side! While I am gone, there will be no Kays here to plague you!”
The Brownie took a deep, long breath, ignoring that last attempt at humor. “Then we need to take every precaution,” she said with a decided nod. “We'll need to make sure that, if you get into trouble, we can help. As ever, Godmother, we are yours to command.”
Aleksia found herself grinning. Not smiling — grinning. No matter what came of this excursion, one thing was absolutely true. Nothing was going to be the same for her after this. And she was going to do things, get right out into the world and be a part of something!
“Let's go to the throne room then, and talk to Godmother Elena where you and whoever else wants to listen in can hear us. I would prefer it if you did all the speaking for the others, however, just to cut down on the possible chatter and confusion.”
“Certainly, Godmother,” Rosemary said with great dignity. She had quite the air of authority about her, which was one reason why Aleksia had decided to ask her to represent the others. For another, she was not one of Aleksia's three old friends among the Brownies. She knew what they would say — which was not to go. Rosemary, she thought, would be more impartial in her advice. And since she had been here, Rosemary had not been at all backward about taking charge of things. Aleksia had the feeling that Rosemary would take no nonsense from anyone, which was all to the good in this case. Some of the others were almost certain to be upset, and while Aleksia did want to hear what they had to say, she also was not going to be talked out of this.
Now that Kay was gone, the throne room was a much more welcoming place. The light from the dome had taken on a warmer tinge, like the rosy kiss of the first light of dawn on a faraway mountain peak. The benches had their cushions back again, and the air itself was warmer. And there was a faint scent of mint in the air. Other than
