under the trees by the sward’s edge, watching gravely. Two tall women of the Night People flanked this slight figure; I could not escape the impression that they were acting as guards. The girl looked vaguely familiar. There was something deeply unsettling about the sight of her in this unlikely place; her frail innocence surely did not belong here. I saw that she was looking at a group of folk playing some kind of game with long barbed poles.
They were throwing high, competing to reach a trussed-up bundle that hung on ropes from a willow bough. The bundle was wriggling, struggling—there was something alive inside it. A stick found its mark; a cry of pain came from the target.
Anastasia was already drawing Tati away. “Over here,” she commanded, making her way around the edge of the sward. I followed, my eyes drawn to a circle of Night People who were not dancing, merely standing and watching a figure that capered in the center. It was a man, a human being of middle years, dressed in the ragged remnants of a shepherd’s garb—
long felt cape, conical hat—performing a crude kind of dance that jerked and contorted his body, as if a mad puppeteer were moving him against his will. I saw the agony in his eyes. He stared wildly at me, and his lips moved in a silent entreaty:
203
“Wait,” I protested. “That man—what are they doing to him? And what was that hung from the tree?”
Anastasia’s red lips curved in a smile entirely without mirth. “That man, and a woman of your kind, wandered a little too far,” she said. “Why would you protest? We have spared their lives: like many other foolish folk, they have become part of our revels.”
“But it looked as if that man couldn’t stop—as if he was forced to dance on and on, just so they could mock him.” I glanced back over my shoulder, but a frenzy of dancing creatures had moved between me and that sad, capering figure.
“Do not judge us, Jenica. Your own cousin tore one of Ileana’s folk apart, limb from limb. And for no good purpose, as it came about. Dwarves are ridiculously loyal.”
I made myself ask. “Can you tell me which one it was? Was it Anatolie?”
She laughed. The sound of it rang in my ears, derisive and harsh. “What would I care? They all look the same to me.”
“Where’s Sorrow?” Tati had stopped walking, and there was a new look of determination on her face. “I’m not going a step farther until I see him.” She reached back and grasped my hand. “Nor is Jena.”
“That’s right,” I said, fixing Anastasia with an attempt at a glare. “If you can’t make good on your promises, we’re going straight back home.”
She laughed again, and this time the folk who were dancing close beside us halted and fell silent. Suddenly we had an audience—an audience in which not a single figure was familiar. Where were our friends from Ileana’s glade?
204
“Home?” It was Tadeusz’s voice. I whirled, letting go of Tati, and there he was, right behind us. “That could prove difficult, Jenica. You will not cross the Dark Between without one of us as your guide. Don’t look like that—we mean you no harm. A little insight, some entertainment, then we will take you safely back again. You have surprised me.” He moved forward, his hand coming up to touch my hair. “I had believed you lacked the courage for this.”
“I’m not here because I want to be,” I said through chattering teeth. “I’m here to make sure my sister comes home safely.
And to tell you—” I halted. To come right out with a request—
no, a demand—that they leave the valley alone, in front of such an audience, did not seem particularly wise. “There’s something I need to explain to you,” I told him. “I would prefer to do so in private.”
Tadeusz gave a knowing smile; it reminded me of the way Cezar sometimes looked.
“I didn’t mean—” I blurted out, mortified.
“Oh, but I think you did.” The voice was at its velvety best, insinuating itself into the deepest recesses of my mind.
“Without wanting, you could not pass over. You and your sister both.” The dark eyes flicked to Tati and back again. “There will be time enough for private dalliance later. The night is long. Don’t you want to look into Dr?agu?ta’s magic mirror?
When you have done so, we will have a hundred new things to talk about, Jena.”
“I don’t care about the mirror.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Anastasia getting restless, impatient. She was examining her long, polished nails and glancing about her. “I’ll say 205
what I need to say now. You’ve brought evil on the valley, you and your people. You offered me something and I didn’t accept the offer, but you took payment anyway—payment in an innocent girl’s blood. You started this. You can’t say just wanting something means I’ve agreed to some kind of bargain; that isn’t fair. The people of the valley were already hungry: it’s winter, and times are hard. Killing their animals isn’t only cruel, it’s un-just. Not everyone is like Cezar. Most people understand the need to share. They understand that humankind and the folk of the wildwood have to live side by side, with proper respect for their differences. Ileana’s folk know that. It seems you don’t.”
“You promised that I could see Sorrow.” Tati’s voice was uneven. “If he’s here, I want to see him now. Show me that he’s safe and well.”
“Of course, Tatiana.” Tadeusz’s voice had become kindly, warm; he sounded utterly trustworthy. “I will take you to him.
He’s a shy boy, as you know. He won’t come out while so many folk are enjoying themselves. This way.”
“Wait!” It seemed my night was to be a long sequence of running, clutching, trying to keep up. “Don’t go without me—”
“This way,” said Anastasia, and I found that she was leading me down a pathway into the woods, and my sister and Tadeusz were nowhere in sight. I tried to pull back, to follow Tati, but my feet were obeying some force beyond me, dragging me along behind my pale-faced guide. I was engulfed by malevolence, in the grip of a fell charm. I tried to call to my sister, but my voice seemed to die in my throat—all I could manage was a strangled
