In Which a Bride-Price Is Arranged
Everyone in the village knew where the priestess’s house was—a solitary residence some distance away from the rest of the town, bordering the outer walls. What Tala hadn’t anticipated was how normal it looked. It was a small stone hut with a slightly lopsided chimney, the windows polished and the steps carefully swept. The stones had been scrubbed so thoroughly that they gave off a dull gleam as they approached. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the house, if one didn’t count the strange shrubs and plants that grew along the path. They littered the field and, despite the absence of wind and the persistence of winter, twisted in the air as they passed.
A large number of butterflies nestled in the trees around. They glowed steadily, flared brighter as they approached.
The door was open, as if their visit had been expected.
Inside, a fire burned underneath a large cauldron, and the nourishing aroma of chicken soup filled the air. The furnishings were few, but well kept; a couple of wooden tables and chairs laden with teacups and a silver kettle, some crockery and pots and pans strung neatly across a small ledge, and a fur rug by the fireplace.
The priestess waited, calm and poised, in a chair. She had white hair neatly tied back in a bun, partly hidden by a purple scarf wrapped around her head. In contrast to Tala’s expectations of what a priestess might look like, she wore a simple woolen dress dyed an ivory white, and had no jewelry save for a large ruby-red pendant around her neck. Her face was old and lined, but her eyes were a bright and mischievous brown.
The firebird made a joyous sound, dashing to her and skidding to a stop by the armchair.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The old woman had a low pleasant voice, musical in quality. She stroked the bird’s head; it cooed.
“Time flies when you pay little attention. Please sit, all of you. Would you like some tea?” Tala saw teacups lifting off the table, each drifting toward their chairs. “Or perhaps a hot meal? Why so surprised, Zoe of Fairfax? Did not the Count of Tintagel employ such magic as well?”
“How old are you?” Cole said, somehow making it sound like an insult.
“Now, you know it’s rude to ask a woman’s age. And in my case, as with Lola Urduja and her Katipuneros, age is very relative. The Dame sent you here, didn’t she? She’s quite the gentle soul.”
“You must have mistaken her for some other Dame,” Tala murmured. Gentle was not quite the description she had in mind.
“Zoe of the Fairfaxes and Nicholas of the Nottinghams. Of both Avalon and outland birth, yet never truly belonging to either. And Tala of the Makilings.” The old woman trained her eyes on her, and something in her steady, placid expression made it hard for Tala to meet her gaze. “You are exactly how I had envisioned, Spellbreaker. My apologies. I have that effect on strangers. Many of the villagers have grown accustomed to my little idiosyncrasies, and they no longer think anything of it when I call them by name long before they knock on my door.” She rose from her chair and began to move about the room.
“I suppose,” she remarked, “that you have questions.”
“Only about a billion and one,” Zoe admitted. “How did Ikpe survive the frost when the other towns didn’t?”
“A little luck, and a little help from the small mine we have guarded for centuries.” One of the butterflies alighted on her palm. “These creatures pollinate more than just flowers; they weave spells throughout the village, reinforcing the defensive charms on our walls. Nurturing our magic-fed runeflies has been our tradition for centuries; the priestesses who came before me predicted their necessity. When the frost hit, it could not penetrate past the walls at first. It gave us enough time to fortify the barriers, strengthen the shields, but there was not enough time to do the same to the other outlying villages.” She shook her head sadly. “Many spurned my offer. They had their own spells, their own priestesses, and thought it would be enough.”
“I scouted the perimeters of your village,” Cole said, “and didn’t see anything resembling a mine.”
Zoe shot Cole a dirty look, but the older woman laughed. “I would be surprised if you did, young Nottingham. There’s a reason this village was built upon a hillock.”
“The mine is underneath the village!” Tala gasped.
“Avalon is rich in the folklore of their ancestors, the Tuath Dé Dannan: fairfolk who once lived underneath the ground. The glyphs we take were once their treasure hoards. Time passes differently there; it is the same kind of magic that stretched our year into a dozen of yours.”
“But we thought the Snow Queen was responsible for that,” Zoe said, looking surprised.
“No, this is Avalonian magic, a boon rather than misfortune. The Beiran queen brought the frost upon us, but it was another who gifted the kingdom with Tuath Dé Dannan mortality, among other spells. Much like the legend of Talia, the Briar Rose, isn’t it? A beauty whose finger is pricked on a spinning wheel by a malevolent queen. Her godmothers could not prevent her death, so instead, the Nine Maidens were used to prolong her life until someone could come and break the cycle. And so we, too, have waited patiently for a year and a day of our lives, to see the rest of the frost’s curse undone.”
Tala nodded slowly. Alex had mentioned an ancestor in those same circumstances, though he didn’t mention that Maidenkeep’s strange spelltech had been responsible.
“Are you saying the Nine Maidens are the key to all this?”
“Little is known about that magic, but I believe it is a segen bonded to the kings of Avalon, and also a vital part of Maidenkeep’s defense. It is a spell that requires a sacrifice most royals are unwilling to make. There were some exceptions—all ended badly. Queen Melusine, who gave up her voice, her legs, and then her life, to save her beloved. King Steadfast, who literally burned for the love of a young dancer. Queen Helga of the Marshes, turned to dust, with only a flower to mark her grave. Perhaps the prince knows more.”
“Alex was only five when Maidenkeep was overwhelmed, and there’s no one who knows its secrets.” Zoe paused, thinking hard. “There’s a reason you and the Dame are so invested in meeting with us. Are we gonna win this? Are you predicting that we can free Avalon?”
“I can say this much: If you had traveled here without the young Makiling in tow, you would have failed, and the whole of Avalon would have been condemned to a perpetual winter.”
A chill took hold of Tala. “I can’t—you can’t put all this on me. How can my being here change things so much?”
“Your curse does more than just negate magic; it clouds the destinies of those around you. I am sorry that you are the one who must bear this burden. For all her wisdom, I sometimes wonder if Maria Makiling made a mistake to allow her descendants to become children of chaos.”
“You say we’d lose if Tala weren’t here with us,” Zoe said shrewdly, “but you didn’t say that her being with us now means we’ll succeed either.”
“Yes,” the priestess agreed. “I did not.”
“Are you serious, Zoe?” Tala exclaimed. “You’re not put off by her saying you might have died if I hadn’t gone through the looking glass with you?”
“Of course I am. I’m damn frightened, is what I am. But if I let everything that scared me also get to me, then I’d still be hiding out at that gingerbread cottage. Heck, I’d still be in NYC, ignoring the Cheshire’s summons. My mother sure as hell tried to keep me from leaving. You might think it’s a curse, Tala, but to me you’re a good piece of luck, because you’re giving us a fighting chance. The Dame told us there was something we needed to find here.”
“Yes, you do. I am why she asked you all to come to this small, unassuming town.” The priestess glanced outside her window, where the sounds of merriment wafted through. “My granddaughter is not looking forward to the marriage as much as my daughter is.” She laughed. It was a rich, vibrant sound.
“But destiny, sometimes, is easier to change than desire. Would you like to know of your doom, young Makiling?” The words should have sounded horrifying to Tala, if not for the kindly, friendly way she said them.
The woman opened a large cupboard. Inside were bottles of different sizes and shapes. No two liquids, it looked, were even of the same color. Some of these she poured into smaller flasks, which were then placed into a pouch. “Some are doomed to prick their fingers on their sixteenth birthday, or turn into stone, or become king. But your spellbreaking makes you unpredictable, young Makiling. I only know of one way to foretell a Makiling’s doom, would you like to hear it?”
Tala faltered. “I’m not sure I want to know what my doom is.”
“You are not ready,” the priestess said, nodding. “There will be time enough later. For now, it is important that you do what you feel, rather than what you know. When you are ready for answers, you must come to me again.” She turned her head to regard Cole, who had suddenly gone pale, his eyes wary. “And what of your doom, Nicholas of Nottingham?”
“That’s none of your business.”
The old woman laughed again. She glanced at Zoe.
“My mother had mine told when I was born.” The girl’s face was even whiter than Cole’s. “She insisted. I don’t believe in any of it.”
“Yours is not a pleasant doom, it is true. Perhaps that will change with time. Fear has never been your enemy, Zoe Fairfax; it has always been doubt. Now, I have a boon to ask. There is something I would like you to bring to Maidenkeep, something that could aid in the prince and the Duke of Wonderland’s war against the Beiran queen.”
“Why not bring it yourself?” Cole countered.
“Because I cannot leave this village.” The woman set the pouch onto the table nearest to where they sat. “Ikpe comes from a long line of Aesopian warriors. They were valiant fighters, yet their descendants have long since forgotten the darker arts of war in peacetime. Now, they have embraced the art of life, and this I will not change for anything. To leave now would sentence Ikpe to death.”
“You could be lying,” Zoe said.
“All seeresses speak what they know to be true, Lady Fairfax. It is why people fear us, and hate us.”
Their gazes locked for several seconds. “I do believe you,” Zoe said, if a little reluctantly.
“Will you accept my request, then? Naturally, I will pay for the trouble.”
“Oh, but you don’t need to pay us any—”
The priestess tipped over one of the small pouches on the table, and small silvery spheres the size of marbles rolled merrily across the surface, effectively silencing Zoe. Cole’s eyes widened, and he whistled low.
“Those are glyphs.” Zoe’s hands trembled as she picked one up. The small gem sparkled against her fingers; one could almost look straight through it. “Silver-marked glyphs.”
“Silver-marked?” Tala asked.
“Gray-marked are the most common. Blue-marked are used for mostly defensive spells like those cast on the walls, and green-marked have some elemental properties, like mine does.” Zoe indicated her whip. “Fire, ice, lightning, and so on. But silver-marked spellstones are those forged specifically for binding segen. They’re so rare that no known sword’s been forged with it in the last three hundred years.” Zoe’s voice trembled. “One of these alone would be almost priceless. I can’t accept something so—”
“You will take these with my gratitude and my blessings.” The priestess was firm. “Along with a bag of my medicine charms. You will need them long before you reach Lyonesse. What I ask of you in exchange is worth a hundred times as much.”
The firebird lifted its head and growled. Without warning, it stretched its wings, leaped, and flew out the cottage door, angry snarls blistering the air in its wake. From somewhere farther away, Tala heard the unmistakable sounds of howling, coming from the direction of the village.
“Ah. The butterflies.” The priestess closed her eyes, resigned. “Your Makiling curse is a good lesson in humility, Tala. Even my precautions have failed me. You will find my granddaughter at the tower.” She swept the rest of the stones back into the small sack, depositing it in turn into the larger bag. “She isn’t supposed to be there, though she thinks I don’t know. Look after her for me. Take this bag with you, with my thanks. It might be of use to you soon enough. Quickly, now. My people will take care of what Deathless are left, but you all must leave before the ice maiden comes. I can keep the frost at arm’s length, but not if it is the Snow Queen directing her full malice our way.”
The words took some time to sink in, but the color drained from Tala’s face when they did. Zoe had reached the same conclusion a few seconds earlier. She sprung up from the chair, accepted the pouch with a hurried “thank you,” and raced out the door, taking off down the path at a dead run, Cole catching up to her quickly.
Tala moved to follow, but the priestess blocked her path, laying a hand on her arm. “I cannot predict your doom, but of this I am sure. You will make a difficult choice at Maidenkeep, young Makiling.” Her eyes bored into Tala’s with an intensity she found frightening. “Choose wisely, Spellbreaker, and may the promise of spring guide your path.”
She let go, and Tala, shaking, stumbled out the door and into the small secluded road leading back to the village, leaving the old woman and her secrets behind.
* * *
A wolf waited for them along the small path.
Despite what the others had said, Tala had always thought of wolves as majestic and elegant creatures. That illusion was immediately dispelled. The creature barring their way was growling fiercely. It had rows of yellow canine teeth, red beady eyes, and ghostly white fur.
It was also as big as a lion.
The firebird was already facing off against the beast, flames bubbling up from its beak. Zoe stepped back, her whip raised. The wind seemed to pick up on her mood, whipping threateningly around her. Tala swallowed a squeak and retreated several steps back. The wolf rumbled, its eyes following their movements, but did not attack.
Then Cole was there, pushing his way past them.
“What’s he doing?” It was difficult to force her voice steady, but Tala tried.
The growling stopped as Cole approached, but the wolf showed no signs of withdrawing. The expression on its face was now strangely curious.
“It’s all right,” Cole said to it quietly, his usual harshness leaving his voice. He sounded gentler now, the words oddly formal. “Let this one and his companions pass.”
The wolf grumbled.
“This one knows, but his pack mates remain inside the village and are in danger. They are not one of those made of ice that you hunt.”
The wolf grumbled again, strangely disapproving, but moved out of their way. It sat on its haunches by the side of the path, and continued to stare at them with its shining red eyes. The firebird stuck a tongue out as it passed, and the creature’s jaws twitched, annoyed.
“You owe us an explanation, don’t you think?” Zoe’s voice was testy.
“It wasn’t important.”
“You don’t consider bringing wolves to the village important?” They maneuvered past the suddenly silent animal. Zoe’s voice was still raised slightly as they ran. “How many wolves are here right now?”
“A dozen or so. And I didn’t ‘bring’ them. They followed us.”
“A dozen?” Zoe was not a soprano by nature, but her voice climbed several octaves into that territory.
“They run in packs. They’re not going to hurt anyone.”
“Do you really expect me to believe that?” The sounds of baying were growing louder.
“They’re warning the villagers to hide. There are Deathless nearby.”
“How would they even know that?”
“I didn’t have time to ask.”
“If you’d told me there were wolves around in the first place…” Zoe trailed off, stopping so abruptly that Tala nearly crashed into her from behind.
The butterflies were now a bloody shade of red. They hovered in and out of view among the trees like eyes blinking up at them from the darkness. Trails of rosy sparks followed them, spinning threads around the village until they strung from rooftop to rooftop like a giant-sized cobweb, glowing an unearthly maroon.
There were no longer people dancing and laughing. The men had discarded their masquerades and taken up swords and spears, but the women were already wielding weapons as effortlessly as they wore their costumes. It appeared that most of the fighting was already over; they were herding bound Deathless into the center of the plaza. Quite a few of those Deathless, Tala was quick to observe, were prone on the ground, and she wasn’t sure from where she stood if they were dead or injured.
The innkeeper was leading their horses toward them, his wife beside him armed with a metal pan. Ken, Loki, and West were already there astride their steeds, and Alex was gesturing urgently at them to do the same. There were faint bruises along Loki’s jaw. A shallow gash on Ken’s face ran from temple to jawline, and he was no longer wearing his coat.
Zoe took one look at West and groaned. “West.”
“I didn’t have time to get my clothes back.” The boy wrapped his fur cloak tightly around him. “There were guys swinging axes at me.”
“Deathless are in the village.” Ken was more shaken than Tala had ever seen him. “An ice maiden’s been here. She converted some of the villagers, and they cornered us, demanding the firebird. We didn’t have much choice. They were ready to kill us.”
“Did you…” Tala felt sick at the thought, still staring at the unmoving figures.
“We only knocked them out. It took some time. She…they were pretty resilient.” Ken winced and touched the side of his face, then looked down at his hand, surprised to find it shaking a little. “All this howling is making my head hurt. What’s going on?”
“We’ll talk about that later,” Zoe said, with another glance at Cole.
“The village has been breached, milords,” the innkeeper said urgently. “Something has gotten into the butterflies. The spells woven within them have been negated somehow, and the loss allowed some of the Deathless entry. If you are to accomplish what the priestess has decreed you must accomplish, you must leave now.”
Tala’s mouth fell open. “No. Oh no.”
“We grabbed your things from the rooms,” Loki chimed in. “If those Deathless were sent here to stop us, we’re putting these people in danger if we stay longer.”
“We can’t leave you guys like this,” Ken protested.
The innkeeper laughed. “We come from a long line of warriors, youngblood. We can handle a few nightwalkers. But now you must leave. We will pound our drums and lure the ice wolves out to give you a chance to escape their notice. Hurry now, quickly!”
“Thank you!” Zoe dug her foot into her horse’s sides, and it went off at a brisk canter toward the gates, the others following her.
“It’s my fault they got in,” Tala choked. “The butterfly on my hand. I changed it, somehow. The priestess didn’t predict that—she was just as surprised.”
“It’s not your fault,” Alex said fiercely. “She knew the risks. For all you know, this was part of why we’re here in the first place.”
“We’re not leaving just yet,” Zoe said.
“Zo, there could be more of them around,” Loki argued.
“There’s something we need to pick up before we leave.”
“Why didn’t you do it earlier, then?” Ken asked irritably, laying a reassuring hand on his stallion’s mane.
“I didn’t know we had to until about ten minutes ago.”
“Where are we going?”
“The tower.” Zoe shook her head in disgust. “I knew they were hiding something in there.”
“What is it, then?”
“The granddaughter.”
“The one getting hitched tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
Ken paused, mulling that over. “Well,” he finally said, “we’ve accidentally lured Deathless in and ruined their festival. May as well kidnap the priestess’s granddaughter while we’re at it.”