scythes and pitchforks—come now, quickly!”
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Chapter Sixteen
“Where are they?” I asked as terror filled my heart.
“I saw them . . . I hid while they went past. They were saying . . . they were saying”—Paula hugged her arms around herself—“horrible things, Jena. . . . I heard what they’ll do to him if they catch him—”
“Which direction, Paula?” Costi had put a reassuring hand on her arm.
“Over toward the Deadwash, northeast of Piscul Dracului.
Jena . . . Costi, I . . .”
“What, Paula?”
“I know where Sorrow is,” she whispered. “I saw him on the way here. I know where he’s hiding.”
“Tell us while we’re walking,” I said. “Are you all right?
Can you manage to take us there right away?”
As we headed down the steep track under a stand of old oaks, Paula told us what had happened. Ivan had come to the 384
door near dusk to fetch Petru. The villagers had assembled farther down the hill and were heading up past Piscul Dracului to the northeast, where a farmer bringing his pigs out of the forest had spotted the pale young man in the black coat. Petru had refused to go—he was too old, he said. Iulia and Paula had been in the kitchen and had overheard.
“And Sorrow? How did you find him?”
“He called out to me.” Paula was doing her best to keep up with us; in the lantern light her face was wan and exhausted.
We could not run. The moon had not yet risen, and to try for haste in the growing darkness would be to risk broken limbs.
“He’s in a little cave not far from here. He asked me for help.”
“Why didn’t he wait near the castle? Tati’s much too weak to come out into the forest.”
“He went down to Piscul Dracului to try to find Tati, and Petru saw him. So Sorrow ran. He’d heard those others crashing about in the woods.”
“What about the quest?” I asked. “Has he—?”
“He had the things with him. But he won’t go back to the Other Kingdom without Tati. He’s hurt his leg and he seemed . . . desperate. As if he might do something foolish.
We have to help them, Jena.”
I looked at Costi, and he returned my look with a question in his eyes. I didn’t want Tati to go. I loved her. If I helped this to happen, I’d probably never see her again. Father would be distraught. And how would we explain Tati’s disappearance to Aunt Bogdana, and to Florica and Petru, and to all the folk of the valley? Besides, I still didn’t really know what Sorrow was, 385
or what he might do. But this argument hardly seemed to matter anymore.
“Of course we’ll help them,” I said as we followed Paula down a little branching track to the east. Scared as I was for Sorrow and for Tati, a deep joy still warmed me. I had Costi by my side and my world was back to rights again. How could I deny my sister the same chance of happiness? If I really loved her, I was going to have to let her go. In my heart, I recognized that I had been making this decision, gradually, ever since our visit to Tadeusz’s realm at Dark of the Moon. On that night, I had begun to see that Sorrow wanted only good for those he loved: for his sister, and for mine. “How much farther, Paula?”
“I’m here.” A white-faced figure stepped out of the bushes, making me gasp with fright. His eyes were wild. He had a bundle slung over one shoulder, and in his right hand he balanced a dark metal cup, so full of water the surface seemed to curve upward. There were scratches on his pale skin, and here and there the fabric of the black coat was rent, as if by great thorns or the claws of savage animals. “We must go quickly.”
“Where?” I asked, my voice dropping to a whisper. Distantly, I thought I could hear the hysterical barking of dogs and the voices of men driven on by fear and anger. “I think our portal is closed now. Anyway, I can’t get you into the house past Florica and Petru.”
“There is another way,” Sorrow said. “Bring Tatiana to me at a certain place in the forest, and I can take her across. But we must hurry—I’m afraid I cannot run much farther.” He moved forward and I saw that he was limping. “My leg is damaged. I have traveled a long way thus injured—I am paying the cost 386
now.” He struggled to keep the cup level, and I remembered Marin’s words: filled to the very brim, but not overflowing. This was cruel.
“Tati’s very weak,” I said. “She’s been seriously ill.”
Sorrow went still whiter. The cup shook. I regretted telling him.
“She won’t be able to walk; she shouldn’t even be moved,”
I went on. “Where should we meet you?”
“I will show you.”
We went back the way we had come, then along the valley toward Piscul Dracului. I began to wonder, as Sorrow put one flagging foot before the other, whether midnight would come and go before we got as far as our own courtyard. Then there was a rustling in the bushes. A little voice hissed, “Dark!
Quick!”
“Cover up the lanterns,” whispered Paula, and we did. A moment later we heard the voices of the hunting party not far up the hill. As they came into view between the trees, the light of their flaring torches glinted on well-honed scythe and deadly pitchfork, on crossbow and cudgel and long serrated knife. One man was armed with a sharpened stake. A dog barked, and someone shouted.
“Fox, away!” said the same odd little voice that had warned us. There was a sudden pattering in the undergrowth, making steady progress straight toward the huntsmen. An owl hooted.
A flock of high-voiced, creaking things passed over, making Costi duck.
“It looks as if we’ve got help,” I murmured. “We’ll have to keep going in the dark.”
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“I will walk first,” Sorrow said. “I need no lamp.”
So we followed him, and I thought his ability to find his way in the dark was yet another indication that over the years in the Other Kingdom, he had steadily become more fey and less human. Farther up the hill there was a clamor of hounds and an outcry of excited voices, and the hunt took off in a different direction, following what I was sure was Dr˘agu¸ta on her little white creature. It was a night of surprises, a night of magic. My mind shied away from what might happen to the witch if they caught her.
The moon rose; a cold light began to filter through the woods.
“Here,” Sorrow said suddenly, halting by a round pond under a rock wall latticed with juniper. It was a place that Gogu and I had visited often, a good spot for gathering water-cress. Beyond that, I had never thought it particularly special.
“This is the crossing. Be quick! My strength is waning. Will you bring her, Jena?” He sank to the ground, the cup still balanced in his hand, not a single drop allowed to trickle down its curiously patterned exterior.
“I’ll do my best,” I said, wondering how Tati could possibly manage such a journey in the cold. Costi and I were both looking at Sorrow, who was plainly at the last point of weariness.
It seemed to me that before we had any chance of reaching home, he would be sprawled on the ground in an exhausted stupor—the cup would be spilled, the quest lost. Besides, he must stay alert or the hunters would surely find him.
“I’ll stay here,” Paula said, squatting down beside him. “Be 388
as quick as you can, please. It’s not the warmest of nights.” She was shivering; I knew it was not only from cold.
“We’ll run,” I said, taking Costi’s hand. And we did. “I must be mad,” I gasped.
“It’ll be all right, Jena,” panted Costi. I took heart, for there was no trace of a stammer in his voice.
We ran along the track and down the hill to Piscul Dracului. We sprinted across the courtyard and into the castle. As we passed the kitchen doorway, Iulia stepped out and hastily closed the door behind her, blocking anyone inside from seeing us.
“Hurry up!” she urged. “Tati’s really sick. Is he coming?”
We ran upstairs toward the bedchamber, Costi with lantern in hand. “You’ll be shocked,” I warned him. “Tati’s much weaker than at last Full Moon. She shouldn’t even get out of bed, let alone go into the forest at night.”
Costi nodded, sober-faced, and then we were there. I knocked, and Stela opened the door.
“Oh, Jena, you’re here! I can’t even hear her breathing anymore.” The words ended in a sob.
“Sorrow’s back,” I said, coming to kneel by the bed. “He’s out there with Paula, waiting. Tati? Tati, can you hear me?”
Stela crouched on the other side with tears streaming down her cheeks. “We can’t wake her up,” she said.
Faith. Trust. Love. I put my ear to my older sister’s parched lips and thought I could feel, faintly, the whisper of her breath.
“Tati, Sorrow is here,” I said. “And I have Costi with me.
We’re going to wrap you up and take you outside. Sorrow has completed the quest—he’s got all the things Ileana asked for.
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He just needs you to come out, and you can cross over together, if that’s what you want. Come on, Tati, please.”
She did not stir. Like an enchanted princess in some dark tale, she lay immobile against her pillow. The red glass teardrop glinted on her neck like blood on snow. Just the smallest stir of breath revealed that she had not already slipped away: the tiny, slow rise of her chest under the fine linen of her night robe. Doubt seized me. If I insisted on taking her out in the cold, it would more likely be the death of her than a happy ending. How could I live with that? But if I left her here, we would surely lose her anyway.
“Fetch her warmest cloak,” I told the weeping Stela. “We’re going to do this. Costi, help me lift her. . . . That’s it. . . .”
We wrapped her up as well as we could. “Stela, it’s best if you stay here until Costi and I get back. I’m sorry. Say goodbye now. Iulia will come upstairs soon. Please don’t cry. Maybe it’s not forever. Maybe nothing’s forever.”
It was cruel to give her so little time. Tati lay in her own world, cold as ice within her night robe and shawl and cloak. I doubted she could hear her little sister’s farewell. Costi carried her downstairs and past the kitchen door. Iulia heard us; she came out and touched a hand to Tati’s brow.
“I can’t believe this,” she whispered. “It’s like a bad dream.
Petru and Florica are just sitting in there, staring into space.”
I made a decision. “We should tell them,” I said. “They’ve known Tati since she was little—they should be allowed to say goodbye.”
“I think they’ve worked it out already,” Iulia said.
So we called them out, the two of them with their seamed, 390
strong faces and their work-worn hands. I told them, in as few words as I could, that Tati was going to the Other Kingdom, that she wanted this, and that it was the only thing that could save her life. They didn’t ask a single question. Florica kissed Tati on the brow. Petru touched her on the cheek, muttering something that might have been a prayer or a charm.
“What’s going to happen, Jena?” asked Iulia, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks. “Do you really think she’ll be all right?”
“We must believe that,” I told her. “Now say goodbye.
Maybe she can hear you. Then you’d best go up to Stela. I’ll be home again soon.”
It was no longer possible to run. Costi carried Tati in his arms and I held the lantern.
“She’s as light as a child,” Costi murmured. “What’s wrong with her, Jena?”
“I think she’s dying for love,” I said. “If I’m right, and broken hearts can mend, we may still have time to save her. Hurry, if you can.” I pictured Sorrow with his injured leg, trying somehow to carry both Tati and the brimming cup of water away to the Other Kingdom. “You have to have faith,” I muttered. “Faith in true love.”
“I do,” Costi said. “I always did.”
“Always?”
“Well, maybe my faith was shaken for a little. But it survived. Can you hear that sound, Jena?”
“Yes.” I shuddered. “They’re not very far off, are they?
Dr˘agu¸ta must be leading them in circles.”
We reached the round pond. Sorrow was sitting on the 391
ground, the cup still in his hand, and Paula was holding his arm, helping to support it. When he saw my sister limp and white in Costi’s arms with her hair spilling down to the ground, he sprang up. But even then he held the vessel balanced, not allowing the least drop to fall.
“Tatiana! No—please, no!” Sorrow sounded very young, utterly distraught, and entirely human.
“She’s breathing,” I told him as Costi came closer. Sorrow reached out a trembling hand to touch Tati’s dark hair. His eyes were full of terror. “But only just. If you think taking her to the Other Kingdom will save her life, then you must take her now.”
“Who has done this to her?” Sorrow’s customary cool air was completely gone. His voice swung between fury and an-guish.
“Lack of food and creeping despair,” I said. “I think if anyone can mend this, it’s probably you. She started to lose her faith in true love.”
“But . . . ,” began Sorrow, incredulously. Then we heard the hounds again, much closer, and the shouts of men: “Down there!
Heading for the pond!”
Costi knelt and laid Tati on the ground with her head on Paula’s knee. “Jena,” he murmured, “I’ll try to keep them off. But it won’t be for long.” With that, he strode away toward the torches that could now be seen again, flaring under the trees not far up the hill. My heart was in my mouth as I watched him go, then turned to the others.
“Wake up, Tati!” I gave her cheek a gentle slap. “Tati, please!”
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Costi could be heard giving what sounded like a series of calm instructions. The men had gone quiet; the dogs still gave voice, perhaps scenting us within range of a short bolt through the bushes and a quick snap of the jaws. I rose to my feet, craning to see whether they were any closer.
“Sorrow!” Paula’s voice was sharp with alarm. “The quest!
What are you doing?”
Sorrow had put one arm around Tati’s shoulders, lifting her to a sitting position. Her head lolled against his shoulder. Now he raised the cup—the brimming cup that was a requirement of Ileana’s quest—and set it to her lips. “Drink, heart’s dearest,”
he whispered. “Drink and be well again.”
In the space between one breath and the next, Tati opened her mouth and drank, and it was too late to say a word. I did not know if what filled the cup came from our own world or the other. She drank, and the vessel was no longer full. Her frailty had stricken Sorrow with such terror that he had sacrificed the quest. He would let her go rather than see her die in his arms. This was the embodiment of true love in all its wonder and sadness. How could I ever have thought his intentions evil?
Tati opened her eyes and looked at Sorrow. His face was filled with love and longing and fear. She lifted a hand to touch his cheek. A flush of color crept back over her lovely, wasted features. “My love,” she murmured. “You’re here.” Then she put up her arms and embraced him, and he almost dropped the cup.
