give Annukka a measure of protection she would not otherwise have, as the Witch might hesitate to attack someone that powerful.
Lemminkal put down the piece of stump he had been carrying for Annukka to sit on.
Annukka took her seat gravely, with Lemminkal holding her hand for a long moment as she did so. Then he and the others withdrew — close enough to spring to her defense, but far enough to, hopefully, not look like a threat. Annukka took down her braids and undid them, took out the comb and touched it to her hair, and sat with her hands in her lap, waiting, the very personification of patience as the comb worked its magic. Lemminkal did not take his eyes off her, his very stillness betraying his intense anxiety.
Eventually one of the snow servants came to the Barrier. A hole formed in its head where a mouth would have been. “Who are you?” it said, in a voice like the cold echo from the back of an ice-cave. “What do you want?”
Annukka did not answer for a moment. Then, “That is for your mistress's ears alone,” she replied, with great dignity.
The thing repeated its questions twice more, but Annukka did not answer. The comb moved through her hair, gleaming, the brightest thing in that dead landscape. Annukka remained, unmoving and unmoved. Eventually the snow-servant went away.
There was a commotion at the door of the Palace on the other side of the Barrier. Something was coming toward the gate.
It quickly resolved into a sleigh drawn by two horses — but the horses, like the servants, were crude snow statues barely recognizable as horses, and the sleigh seemed to be made of ice. The entire rig pulled up beside the gate, and from the other side of the Barrier, the Snow Witch glared at them from her seat in the sleigh.
And the driver, seemingly indifferent to everything around him, was Veikko.
Annukka let the comb continue to do its work for a moment longer, then put her hand up to it. It stopped, and fell into her hand.
She held it, and simply looked at the Snow Witch, neither showing subservience nor fear.
The Witch looked possessively at the gleaming comb in her hand. “Your comb,” she said abruptly. “I want it.”
“I can well imagine,” Annukka replied, neutrally. “There is not another like it in the world.”
The Witch's eyes practically lit up with greed. “I will give you a diamond the size of my hand,” she said.
Annukka shook her head. “I do not want diamonds. I want an hour with that man — ” and she pointed at Veikko.
The Witch barked a startled laugh. “With my leman? Why? It will do you no good. He is mine, heart and mind and soul, and even if he were not, you are old enough to be his mother!”
Aleksia held her breath. Tell only the truth, she silently urged Annukka. Only the truth would serve them here. Every lie would make the Witch's power stronger.
“As it happens, I am his mother,” said Annukka, mildly. The Witch started, and laughed. Annukka held out the comb. “One hour, alone with him, and this is yours.”
“You may not take him by force,” the Witch said sharply. “He will come no farther than the gate. And you may not have those companions I see lurking there anywhere near him.”
“Done,” said Annukka, and the Barrier came briefly down, the gate swung open and Veikko came down stiffly from the driver's seat of the sleigh and walked across to his mother. The Barrier went up again, in a flash of blue, looking like the Northern Lights.
“Give the comb to him,” said the Witch from her sleigh.
Annukka did so. Veikko pocketed the comb with no sign of recognition, and stood beside the gate, indifferently.
Then began what Aleksia was sure was possibly the most painful hour of Annukka's life, except perhaps when her husband had died. As Veikko stood there with about the same amount of expression as the gateposts, she begged him to recognize her. A cruel smile fixed itself on the Witch's face as she watched Annukka and listened to her pleading. Annukka used every ploy she could think of, telling Veikko stories out of his own childhood, reminding him of past joys and sorrows, scolding him, praising him, weeping over him. She sang him lullabies, described the cloak she was making for him. All to no avail. And when she had talked, wept, begged herself hoarse, the last moments of the hour trickled away, the Barrier dropped, Veikko turned on his heel and left her, and the gates closed and the Barrier came up again. As they all watched, Veikko took his seat as the driver of the sleigh again, handed the Witch her comb, took up the reins and turned the horses. With a final triumphant smile, the Witch was driven back to her mockery of a Palace.
Lemminkal sprinted for the gate, gathered Annukka in his arms and led her away to the rest. When the pair reached Ilmari, Aleksia and Urho, they could all see that she was sobbing silently. Once among friends, Lemminkal folded his arms around her and let her sob into his chest, silently stroking her hair.
There was silence for a long time, as Annukka cried herself out.
Lemminkal cleared his throat, breaking the silence.
“Well,” he said, carefully. “Tomorrow, we will have to work even harder.”
Lemminkal sat at the gates of the Witch's Palace, on the stump they had put there yesterday. He was not dressed in finery; instead, he was wearing his shabbiest and most ill-used clothing. They had the Witch's attention, after all, and now she knew how the game was to be played. So Lemminkal was playing the feeble, absentminded old man, and providing a contrast, given his dilapidated condition, to the kantele on his lap. The last thing they wanted the Witch to know was that he was a Warrior-Mage.
Ilmari and Aleksia had debated over the presentation for some time last night. The truth was, the men didn't have anything that was the equal of Aleksia's outfit, and they didn't have time nor the energy to spare to conjure one up — not even if they used one of his two existing sets of clothing to build from. Granted, they could put an
