Jeremy glared at her as he twisted the brim of his hat in his hands. He looked thoroughly annoyed. “No.”
“Shame,” Cora said through a mouthful of food.
The shuffling of grass out in the yard caught Jeremy’s attention, and he moved to the window.
“Here come yer brothers, Becky,” Cora said. “Open the door. I’m sure they’ve brought somethint grand. Oh, we’ll feast tonight.”
Jeremy went outside to head them off. “What have you been doing?”
“Nothin’,” the tallest boy said.
“Empty your pockets.”
The three tall, lanky boys obeyed. An array of money and other valuables appeared in their hands.
“How many times have I told you not to steal? Nobody will ever think any better of you if you keep on like this.”
“But she makes us,” the shortest of the three protested. Perhaps, to some, this might seem a weak defense. But what is a child to do when their own mother encourages them to steal? I imagined, from Cora Simkins, it was more than encouraged—required, is more like it.
“Have yer found a job yet?” one of the boys challenged.
“Not yet.”
“I heard Farmer Haskel’s lookin’ fer help in the spring.”
I wasn’t familiar with the name Haskel.
“That’s too late. I need something now.”
“Yer not goin’ ta find anythin’ in the winter.”
Jeremy looked out across the field, his face hopeful, determined, even expectant. With those far-away eyes, I wondered if he was thinking of Katiyana. Did he expect her to come walking out of the horizon? “I can’t wait that long.”
Cora called the boys inside. “Well, what’re yer still doing here?” she demanded when she saw Jeremy. “Shouldn’ yer be out looking fer more work? Two doces goes by fast in a house with so many mouths ta feed.”
Although Cora’s prodding got his feet moving once again, I imagined Jeremy was thinking only of one mouth—the mouth that he had kissed a few days before, the mouth that he had lost.
Winter
After watching Jeremy for two whole days, I knew little more than I had before, except he was trying to find a way to earn money and giving it all to the greedy Cora Simkins. Not much of a hero if you ask me, but I decided to withhold judgment long enough to see how things played out. In the meantime, I decided seven dwarves were the best chance I had for entertainment. And I longed to watch the princess interact with her new friends.
I had every confidence that Princess Katiyana would win over each and every dwarf in no time at all. But Jalb continued to resist her charm. There he sat, watching with disbelieving eyes as Katiyana kneaded bread. “There’s no way it will taste as good as the bread we buy at market. And how can paying a copper coin for flour make it less expensive than paying a grumpet for a loaf?”
“We’ve told you,” Corto said. “A sack of flour will make fifty loaves of bread.”
“Yeah, stop your complaining and let the girl work in peace,” added Arrapato.
Jalb pushed away from the table, knocked over his stool, and waddled with his stubby legs out the door, slamming it behind him. I marveled at how his masculine features and moody temperament starkly contrasted with his domestic skills.
Katiyana’s face sank into a look of disappointment, but her hands never stopped working the heavy dough.
After rising and baking to a perfect golden brown, the loaves were left to cool before being cut and spread with globs of Jalb’s own wild raspberry preserves. When Jalb came back inside, he resisted having a slice, although I’m pretty sure I noticed his mouth watering. But when he learned Katiyana had purchased the flour with her own money, he apologized for being leery and ate almost half a loaf himself.
“I’m sorry, Kat. I didn’t know you had any money.”
“Well, I have plenty. And I’d be happy to pay for my little spot on the floor by the fire as well. It only seems fair.”
“You don’t have to do that,” Kurz said, glaring at Jalb. “Remember Mother Dwarf,” he whispered as he elbowed him.
“Well, I’m the best cook in all of Mischief,” Jalb began. “But I’ve never been much of a baker. If Kat can provide us with bread, I see no reason why she should have to pay anything more for a spot of ground.”
“Thank you,” Katiyana said with a single nod of her head.
Over the next few days I watched each dwarf seek Katiyana’s attention and good opinion. Kurz and Duan spoke to her with kindness and complimented her on everything. “Well done,” Duan said every time he ate a piece of Katiyana’s bread. “You’re a wonder,” Kurz told her as she carefully and thoroughly swept the floor. “How did we ever do without you?” That one brought a grunt from Jalb.
I imagined saying such things to the princess myself, if I had the privilege of interacting with her. How I would have enjoyed that opportunity! I also watched them as they performed small acts of kindness, the kind I like to think I would have done as well.
Kapos collected cotton and feathers until he had enough to make a soft pillow for the princess. Corto and Arrapato never ceased trying to make the princess laugh. Jalb always invited her to work with him when vegetables needed to be chopped or dirty dishes lay about. But none of them received her affections so completely and readily as Pokole. Right from the start, the two were inseparable.
Katiyana even let him travel to the market with her. She carried him on her hip disguised as a child.
Kurz argued. “It’s too dangerous. He could get hurt by any number of careless, stupid people. Besides, he’s fifteen years old—he doesn’t want you carrying him around like a baby.”
“Yes, I do,” Pokole said.
Katiyana laughed. “Well, that settles it, doesn’t it?” She gave Kurz a kind, reassuring look. “I’ll take good care of him.”
And she kept her promise. She carried Pokole the entire way, walked with great care, and showed him all the delights of the market, all the things that still captivated her attention as well.
On her first trip to the market with Pokole on her side, the princess learned not to ask around for Jeremy Simkins. What the dwarves had told her was true, and mentioning his name limited where she could shop, since the two men she asked that day forbade her from ever coming back. And she avoided Juno altogether as well.
But there were many other shops and sights at the market to distract her from thinking about Jeremy Simkins. Katiyana, as Duan had said, really could bargain. I watched with pride as she remarked on vegetables being too rotten or prices being too high. But she always treated people with kindness and respect. She soon became known by many of the market sellers as a regular customer as long as they treated her with fairness. It brought me joy to watch as she greeted them with confidence, remembering their names and past conversations. And her compassion! If someone struggled, say, with pushing their cart or juggling their children, Katiyana offered help before any other.
Many of these trips were special favors to Pokole; she never brought him with her when she had to take Corto and Arrapato for a show or when she would have to carry back a sack of flour.
Although I sometimes found my thoughts wandering to what may yet be in store for Katiyana, the only thing I cared about at that time was that she was busy and happy, making important discoveries about the world and about herself, all while tucked away in a safe place. Maybe she’d live with the dwarves forever, or maybe she’d marry Jeremy or some other young man. Even if I had to stay in the mirror permanently, I could bear it as long as Katiyana stayed happy and alive.
The days with her seven little men turned to weeks, and weeks turned to months. The thin, crisp autumn air turned into stiff winter chill. Katiyana stopped going to Mischief Market, having stored enough flour and other supplies to last them until spring, and the eight of them hid away inside their small, one-room cotta
ge.
Only Jalb left regularly now, mostly to get away from the others and have some peace and quiet, if only for a minute. At least, that’s what he mumbled every time he walked out the door. Corto, Arrapato, and Kapos tried to come up with some magic or acrobatic tricks to try at the market in spring; they made the most comical human pyramid. They even got Kurz to try a magic trick with them. It involved trying to make a crowd believe Corto and Arrapato had actually been separated by a knife while inside a box. But Kapos and Kurz could not easily be made to look enough like the brothers to fool a crowd, except maybe from a great distance. But their efforts kept Katiyana and the rest of the dwarves—not to mention myself—entertained for hours upon hours.
Katiyana helped dispel the winter blues as well, reading stories by the short-reaching heat of the fire. She had bought several books at the market and begun a small collection.
I’ll paraphrase one of the stories the best I can, because I think it made her realize for the first time that Jeremy may never come back.
There had once been a little girl, the story began. She wore her hair in pigtails and carted about a doll whose own hair was made of red yarn. The girl’s only playmate was a selfish boy who loved to steal the doll and hide it for fun. Only the girl did not think it was fun. The boy secretly loved the girl, but didn’t know how to tell her. They grew older, and the boy had to go away for a time. He had places to see and things he wanted to do. First he had an adventure at sea, where he narrowly escaped an angry crew of sailors because he had stowed away. But they spared his life and allowed him to work on the ship. The boy saw so many places on his sea adventures, but loved none so much as a place far in the east where men and women both wore dresses and shaved their heads. He stayed while his ship went on. Then he put on a dress, shaved his head, and went to war for the foreign country, fighting enemies with a jagged sword. All this time, the boy wrote letters to his childhood playmate—letters that he never sent. Finally, the war ended and the boy was named a governor over many regions for his faithful service in the army. He could not refuse, and filled his duty with wisdom and love for the people of his newfound home. But there was the girl, always in his thoughts and plans, until one day he could not stand to be away from her any longer. He again boarded a ship and returned to the land of his birth at last. When he found his childhood playmate, she lay in a sickbed, aged and alone. Too far had he traveled; too long had he waited. She died shortly after his arrival.
“Well, that’s depressing,” Kurz said once Katiyana had finished telling it. “You made Pokole cry. And Jalb couldn’t even listen to the whole thing; he’s been outside for most of it.”
Katiyana hung her head, her face sorrowful, and her thoughts quiet and distant.
“Well, I thought it was charming,” Duan reassured. “And beautifully read.”
Katiyana smiled in appreciation.
“Yeah, and I didn’t cry!” Pokole yelled in his high-pitched voice, masking his emotions. “It’s just the onions Jalb cut up earlier.”
Kapos stood up and kissed Katiyana on the cheek. “Thank you for the story,” he said. “It was beautiful.” He glared at Kurz.
“What?” Kurz asked. “Wasn’t that the most depressing story you’ve ever heard? I think I’m going to find a nice dark hole to crawl into and cry myself to sleep tonight.”
Everyone pulled away from the fire to move about the room except for Katiyana and Kurz.
The dwarf studied the princess. “What’s bothering you? Besides how miserable that story was?”
“Hmmm?” Katiyana asked, pulling her eyes out of their inward focus.
“What’s bothering you?”
“Oh, nothing, I just . . .”
“You can tell me.”
I found his fatherly sincerity touching.
Katiyana rubbed her fingers across the front cover of the book. “I can’t stop wondering about Jeremy Simkins.”
“Because of the story?”
Katiyana nodded.
“What is it about the story that makes you think of Jeremy?”
Katiyana looked Kurz in the eye. “What if he comes back too late?”
“I don’t know,” Kurz said, leaning closer to the princess and resting his elbows on his thighs. “How late is too late?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’d like to hug you right now, but it’s awkward for me being so much shorter.” Kurz smiled, and I wondered if he was just trying to make the princess smile as well. If that’s what he aimed for, he succeeded.
Katiyana scooted her stool next to Kurz’s and stooped down so their heads came to the same height. She leaned onto him, placing her head on his shoulder. Kurz held his little arm across her back and patted.
“Listen,” Kurz whispered, and by now several of the dwarves looked on. “Either he comes back, or you figure out how long is too long and move forward. Understand?”
The princess nodded, her face scrunching Kurz’s white shirt as she moved.
Jalb came back inside, shivering despite the fact that he had plenty of clothing and body fat to keep a man warm on a mild winter’s evening. “Time to cook dinner,” he said.
Katiyana stood up. “I’ll help you, Jalb.”
“That’s all right,” he said, closing the door. He began selecting carrots and potatoes from a barrel in the corner of the room and muttered, “I don’t care if I hear another story for the rest of my life.”
While it brought me joy to see Katiyana doing so well, especially considering all that she’d been through, my heart ached for her company after her conversation with Kurz. Though I’d watched the girl closely over the years, she had never borne her soul to me the way she had to her caring little dwarf. Perhaps she never would. How unfair! It wasn’t often that I fell beneath the weight of despair, but in that moment I couldn’t block it out. I longed to be free. And more than anything else, I wanted to be a part of Katiyana’s life.
I shut off my thoughts after that, and the vision of the princess and her little men faded away until I sat alone in my black existence. I wiped a tear off my face and waited for time to ease the dispirited feelings of my soul.
^-]
To prepare you for what’s coming, I’ll explain that I had to be careful when I watched the princess; the queen of Mayhem consulted me often, and she could see whatever I looked at. My painstaking efforts over the years to keep the princess a secret had worked thus far. I would continue to watch with care, but sometimes trying to avoid catastrophe only ensures that you’ll get it anyway.
Queen Radiance
In order to tell the story of how I got in the mirror, I’ll have to include the queen of Mayhem. I hate to do something so unpleasant, but as I said in the beginning, this story is also about a queen.
Born Tirnosha (which means “cruel” in the language of the forefathers of Mayhem), she grew strong-willed and powerful in speech. Her parents died in her youth, and the viciousness of her rule began far too soon.
I knew little about it, other than what I had heard in town gossip. But the things I heard frightened me: implementing torture to enforce new laws, beheading servants who displeased her, burning the homes of those who could not pay taxes. I vowed to keep my distance; given the location of my home—dozens of miles from the castle and in the outskirts of Fluttering Forest—I thought this would be easy.
I still remember the day she came to my door; fear rose up within me when I saw her face. I knew her immediately, though I’d never seen her before. Her crown rested atop her head, colorful jewels fixed inside pure, thin gold. She wore a long, slender black dress, with sleeves to her wrists—the tops fitting to her arms, then spreading wide at the elbow, as if each arm wore its own billowing dress. The bodice framed her chest tightly, forcing me to pay attention to the shape of her body.
I had heard of her devastating beauty, but never could I have imagined
the figure before me. Her long, dark hair fell past her shoulders in soft curls. Her dark eyes penetrated mine, awakening something inside of me. Of course it pleased me to look at her, but real beauty is not something that can be seen with the eyes. Knowing the queen’s true character, I resolved not to let her appearance affect me.
“Q-q-queen Rad-d-diance,” I foolishly stammered. By this time she had changed her name to Queen Radiance—a little presumptuous, and certainly deceiving, but perhaps an improvement from Tirnosha. “What can I do for you?”
“May I enter?” If her looks hadn’t been enough, her voice lured me in, lower in pitch than I expected, pleasant and smooth. For a moment it felt the same as watching a brewing thunderstorm, as if something both dangerous and exciting was lurking behind the clouds.
“Yes, of course.” I opened the door wide to welcome her.
She gave a nod to her driver and guards, waiting in the royal carriage. She then stepped into my tiny cottage, lifting the hem of her dress, allowing me to sneak a glance at her sleek ankles.
I cleared my throat. “Can I offer you some tea?”
“Yes, please,” she answered as she scrutinized the room.
I pulled a chair out from the table and helped her sit down. Then I poured water from the kettle and made her my favorite rosemary and lemon tea.
She accepted the cup with her long fingers and sipped delicately.
As she slowly drank every last drop, I wondered why she had come. The suspense tormented me.
When she finished, she placed the cup down on the table and looked at me with those horribly irresistible eyes. “I hear you are skilled in sorcery,” she hinted.
“Oh, um . . .” I stammered, reaching for the teapot and refilling her cup with shaky hands. What would someone so cruel do with knowledge of sorcery? Destroy everything. A sorceress queen—I knew the dangers, the limitless powers. I determined to be strong.
Snow Whyte and the Queen of Mayhem Page 8