The Stepsister Scheme

by Jim C. Hines

  Talia shook her head hard enough that her hair fell in front of her face. Planting one foot in Snow’s right ear, she pulled herself up, grabbed a nostril for balance, and kissed Snow on the corner of her mouth.

  Snow’s eyelids began to flutter.

  Danielle stared, so stunned she nearly fell out of the ceiling.

  Talia was already making her way toward the edge of the coffin. She grabbed another spore from Trittibar’s pouch and popped it into her mouth. “Get ready, Princess.”

  The door creaked open. In the faint light, Danielle could barely make out the shapes of the two darklings running through the door. She shuddered when she recognized the one-armed darkling who had helped to age her unborn son. They spread apart, searching the room.

  Talia was already turning to face the darklings. She stood balanced on the edge of the coffin, arms outstretched as she continued to grow. When she was the size of an infant, she leaped soundlessly to the table behind the coffin. Another jump took her to the floor.

  The spore in Danielle’s hand was warm and damp from sweat. She could see the darklings making their way around the tables. Had they spotted Talia?

  Talia crouched behind the table, nearly full-grown. She held out both hands and whispered, “Jump.”

  The darklings heard. As they ran toward Talia, Danielle closed her eyes, prayed, and pushed herself out of the ceiling.

  Talia caught her in one hand and bounded onto the nearest table.

  Huge fingers jarred Danielle to and fro as Talia dodged the darklings. Danielle wrenched her arm free of Talia’s grip long enough to stuff the spore into her mouth.

  She nearly choked on it as Talia dropped and rolled beneath the next table. Talia set Danielle on the floor beneath the bench and whispered, “Stay there.” Then she was off and running, with both darklings in pursuit.

  Danielle freed her sword as she waited for the magic to finish restoring her. Talia hadn’t even drawn her knife. She was stalling, leading the darklings away from Danielle and Snow. She darted toward the door, and both darklings scrambled to cut her off. With a wild grin, Talia leaped and kicked off the wall with both feet, hard enough to launch herself over the darklings’ heads.

  The bench began to press against Danielle as she grew. She rolled out and stood. Snow still wasn’t fully awake, and Talia could do nothing to hurt the darklings. Moving as quickly and silently as she could, Danielle circled around the table where Talia had turned to face her opponents.

  Both darklings climbed onto the bench. Their limbs quivered as they prepared to leap. Talia smiled tightly as she spotted Danielle. Danielle raised her sword and nodded.

  Talia stepped back and pretended to stumble.

  They pounced. Talia rolled back, catching the first darkling with both feet, then launching him back through the air. He screamed and flailed, and Danielle swung with all her might.

  He was dead by the time he landed on the ground. And the bench behind her. A bit also sprayed onto the wall. The mess would take hours to clean.

  The second darkling was more fortunate. He landed higher, hands tangling Talia’s hair. One arm snaked around her throat.

  Talia sat up, then threw herself flat, crushing the darkling against the table with all of her weight. Her head snapped back, smashing the darkling’s face. A normal foe would have been stunned, but the darkling clung hard, ripping Talia’s shirt and biting her shoulder. Talia grabbed his wrist with both hands, trying to twist him away, but the black fingers simply dug into her skin.

  Danielle ran toward the table, changing her grip on the sword. One hand held the hilt, while the other grabbed the blade for control. As before, the sword didn’t even break her skin. “Talia!”

  Talia rolled, and Danielle plunged the blade into the darkling’s back. The darkling screamed and twisted. Hot blood splashed Danielle’s arm as the darkling tore free and scrambled to the edge of the table. She swung again, wanting nothing more than to destroy this perversion.

  “Fine control, remember?” Talia snapped. She rolled off of the table and staggered away, one hand touching her back. There was no blood, either from Danielle’s sword or the darkling’s attack. “You swing that thing like a farmer harvesting his crops!”

  “I’m sorry,” Danielle said, her voice tight. “Would you like me to put him back so I can try again?”

  “Will you just kill the bastard already?”

  Danielle tried, but the darkling twisted aside, going for Talia’s throat. The darkling wasn’t moving as fast as before, but he was still dangerous. Talia ducked again.

  “Talia?” Snow stared bleary-eyed at Danielle and Talia. Moving like she was still half asleep, she began to climb out of the coffin.

  The darkling streaked past. His movement was erratic, like an injured cat, but he bounded across the tables too fast for Danielle or Talia to stop him.

  “Snow, watch out!” Talia shouted, but Snow didn’t seem to hear. She rubbed her eyes as the darkling sprang, fingers outstretched.

  Snow smiled and tapped the edge of the coffin. A web of light shot up, spearing him in midair. It reminded Danielle of the light Snow had used back in the cave to drive the darklings back, burning their skin. Only back then, she had used only the small mirrors of her choker.

  Her coffin was made up of hundreds of broken mirrors.

  An instant later, nothing remained of the darkling but a puff of smoke and a smell that reminded Danielle of moldering leaves.

  Snow smothered a yawn. “Got you!”

  “About time you woke up,” Talia said, rubbing her shoulder. “Do you know how long it took me to find a counterspell to that silly sleeping curse?”

  Danielle blinked. Talia stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Breathe a word about what really happened, and I’ll kill you myself.”

  Danielle looked at Snow, then back at Talia. There was a kind of weary resignation in Talia’s dark eyes. Danielle thought back to what Talia had said about her bargain with the fairy girl, how Talia had promised her unborn child in exchange for the girl’s help. Snow clearly had no idea how Talia felt. No wonder Talia had been so upset by Snow’s flirtation with Arlorran.

  “I promise,” Danielle said.

  “How long did I sleep?” Snow asked.

  “A little over a month,” said Talia.

  Snow touched her bare neck and frowned. She reached down to grab her knife. “Where’s Prince Armand?”

  “Charlotte said he was with Stacia and the Duchess.” Somehow, Danielle kept her voice steady.

  “And my mother.” Snow reached out to touch the side of her coffin. “She’s watching us, though these mirrors. She’ll know I’m free.”

  “She must have sent the darklings to investigate when Talia broke the spell,” Danielle guessed.

  Snow’s expression tightened, and the coffin shattered. Thousands of fragments fell onto the table and floor, a glittering explosion of broken glass. She looked at Danielle again. “You look more pregnant than you should.”

  Danielle put her hand over her stomach. “Stacia used those darklings to age my son,” she said, pointing her sword toward the remains. “They want him ready by midsummer, so Rose can—” She clenched her jaw, fighting angry tears.

  “The conjoined moons,” Snow said. She rubbed her arms. “Clever. Wouldn’t want the king or queen to notice what’s going on.”

  “They’ve cast a new spell on Armand,” Danielle said. “Your mother gets my child, and the Duchess takes my husband in payment.”

  “Talia, get Princess Danielle to Armand so she can break the spell.” Snow’s voice changed, becoming harder. Danielle had never seen Snow truly angry before. She still smiled, but her free hand was clenched tight around the handle of her knife. The air itself seemed cold as a winter wind. “I’ll deal with my mother.”

  Talia grabbed Snow’s arm. “What are you—”

  “She cast me back into that damned box,” Snow said, wrenching free. “She murdered Roland. I’m going to destroy her this time,
Talia. I’m going to stop her.”

  “Snow, stop. There’s a tower at the center of the cavern,” Talia said. “Armand is probably somewhere inside. But the cavern walls are littered with caves and tunnels. There’s no way for us to simply stroll into the tower and search for the prince. The Duchess has goblins and ogres and serpents guarding—”

  “They aren’t the ones we need to fight,” said Snow. “The Duchess won’t hurt us directly. She’s still bound by Malindar’s Treaty, remember? She’ll let my mother fight, so she can proclaim her innocence if things go wrong.”

  “How are you going to stop her?” Danielle asked. “I know you’re angry. Your mother cursed me, too, remember? But she beat you in the cave, and she’s broken your mirrors.”

  Snow brushed her fingers over her neck, then shrugged. She strode toward the door. “I’ll find Armand for you. If he’s still enchanted, you’ll have to overpower him without—”

  “Stop,” Talia snapped. “You can’t fight her alone.”

  “I’m not going to.” Snow smiled. “I’m going to summon the dwarves.”

  “What dwarves?” Danielle stared from one woman to the other. Talia’s face was stone, and Snow’s smile was the thing of nightmares. “I don’t understand. The only dwarves we’ve encountered were at the king’s gate.”

  “Not them, Danielle.” Snow laughed and shook her head. “Haven’t you heard the tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves?”

  “You can’t.” Talia’s voice was firm, the voice of command. “We don’t need them. You’ve proven that you’re strong enough to destroy the darklings. We’ll return to Charlotte’s room and steal a mirror there. You can use that to fight—”

  “You expect me to face her with the feeble magic such a glass would produce?” Snow asked. “An impure thing of rippled glass and tarnished metal? You saw what she did to my choker, Talia. Even the enchanted mirror back at the palace might not be powerful enough. Not against her.” She drew her knife and pressed the tip to her left palm. “The dwarves beat her before.”

  Danielle grabbed her wrist, thinking of her stepsister. Stacia had used blood for her own spells . . . spells she had learned from Rose. “What are you doing? How can dwarves fight your mother?”

  “Let me go!” Snow wrenched away, but Talia caught her elbow and twisted the knife from her hand. “You don’t understand,” Snow said. She sounded close to tears. “I won’t let her win again. I can’t.”

  “Find another way,” said Talia.

  “There is none.” Snow turned to Danielle. “The dwarves can help me find your husband. They can save him. They can save your son. You have to let me do this.”

  Talia folded her arms and stepped back. “Tell her the rest.”

  “We don’t have time!” Snow said, her voice rising. “They know I’ve awakened. They’re already preparing to enchant us both again. Do you want to protect your child or not?”

  They were both watching Danielle, waiting for her answer. “There’s always a cost,” she said softly. “What happens to you if you summon these dwarves?”

  “You’re as stubborn as Queen Bea.” Snow tossed her hair over her shoulder. “How old do you think I am?”

  “I don’t know.” The question caught Danielle off guard. “Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

  Snow gave a quick bow. “I reached my eighteenth birthday earlier this year.”

  Danielle shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “They’re not dwarves, exactly,” Snow admitted. “They’re representations of the elemental powers of our world. But can you imagine a bard trying to tell the tale of Snow White and the Seven Anthropomorphic Incarnations of Elemental Magic? ‘Dwarves’ just sounds better, don’t you think?”

  “It was the seven dwarves who killed Rose,” said Talia. “Each one will serve Snow White without question, but each demands a year of her life in return.”

  “Seven years?” Danielle stared at Snow, who smiled.

  “That’s why my mother never summoned them,” she said. “Old age and ugliness frightened her even more than death.”

  “Talia is right,” Danielle said. “There has to be another way.”

  “Then name it.” Snow wiped her nose. “Choose quickly, Danielle. Unless you want to return to slavery.”

  Danielle racked her brain, desperately grasping at one idea after another. “Stacia’s knife,” she whispered. “I poisoned it. If we can force her to use her magic and draw her own blood, she might destroy herself.” Quickly, she explained what she had done with the rats and the poison.

  “I’m impressed,” said Talia. “I didn’t think you had it in you. But it probably won’t kill her. The dosage isn’t high enough. You might make her a little ill, but that’s all.”

  “Are you sure?” Danielle asked.

  “Trust me on this.” Talia’s smile was anything but pleasant.

  “Fine.” Danielle held out her arm. “Then give the dwarves seven years of my life. It’s my husband we came to rescue. My child we’re protecting. I’ll pay the cost.”

  Snow’s expression softened, and her eyes watered. She covered her mouth with both hands. “You’d do that for me?” Without waiting for a response, she threw her arms around Danielle and squeezed so hard Danielle could barely breathe. Then, trembling, she pulled away. “I couldn’t. You’re already so old.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Danielle snapped. She pushed up her sleeve, but hesitated before offering the arm to Snow. “Just promise I’ll be the only one to pay, not my son.”

  Snow nodded, still staring. “But—”

  “I would die to save Armand and my son,” Danielle said. “Seven years is a small price.”

  “Three and a half,” Talia said, her voice strangely soft. She returned Snow’s knife and extended her own arm. “We’ll share the cost.”

  Snow bit her lip, then embraced them both, nearly stabbing Danielle’s shoulder in the process.

  “Do you think perhaps we should get on with it?” Talia asked. “Or is all of this hugging and merriment a part of the spell?”

  Snow backed away, still smiling. “Don’t be afraid,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

  Snow’s fingers felt like ice water as she took Danielle’s hand. Her knife dented the skin of her inner wrist. Danielle barely felt the cut. So keen was Snow’s blade that only when Danielle flexed her arm did the skin separate and blood begin to flow toward her fingers.

  Snow did the same to Talia, and then to her own forearm. She twined her fingers with Danielle’s. Talia did the same, sandwiching Snow’s hand between Danielle’s and her own. Blood trickled over their hands and dripped to the floor.

  Snow closed her eyes and whispered,

  “Blood of life, blood of binding,

  hear me light and darkness blinding.

  Magic from the world’s first turning,

  Water flowing, fire burning.

  Awaken earth with life so old.

  Hear me, winds of winter cold.

  Share my—”

  Snow flushed. “I mean, share our blood, which I—, which we give freely, darn it.” She wiped her face and shared a sheepish smile before finishing. “By this bond, we summon thee.”

  Snow relaxed her grip and stepped back, motioning the others to do the same. Danielle moved cautiously, glancing all about as she waited for something to happen. Her hand was stiff, and the cut had begun to sting. “When will we know if it worked?”

  The oil lamps over the door brightened. The light of the small fires flowed together, growing into a tiny sun.

  “What’s happening?” Danielle asked, covering her eyes.

  “They’re coming.” Snow’s gaze was glassy, like she was watching from a great distance.

  Crude limbs flailed from the light, moving with the awkwardness of a newborn. Soon those limbs gripped the pipe more firmly. A small, squat man formed entirely of light dropped gently to the floor. His features were vague and blurry. Pinpoints of shadow suggested eyes, while a darker spo
t might have been a mouth. Danielle had to squint to look at him.

  Others followed. The fires of the oil lamp still burned, appearing weak and dim in comparison to the dwarf. Again the flames came together, and soon the lantern died as a second figure dropped down to join his companion. This one retained the strange yellow fires of the lamp. Flickers of blue swept across his extremities when he moved.

  Water seeped out of the wall, congealing into a slender, feminine form. Her long hair was a miniature waterfall, ending in white mist around her waist. With every movement, she gave off a faint trickling sound, like a stream in springtime.

  Snow’s own shadow rose from the floor with reptilian smoothness. Soon it was the perfect twin to the man of light. He stepped away, leaving Snow without a shadow.

  Floorboards splintered at Snow’s feet. Danielle grabbed her sword and stumbled back. Even Talia drew her knife. Snow merely smiled and stepped away from the widening hole.

  Dark green fingers of stone reached out. Moving as gracefully and easily as Talia herself, a statue climbed through the floor to join the others. Her skin was so finely polished Danielle could see the rest of the room reflected on her bare back.

  A sudden breeze made the man of fire brighten, though Danielle saw nothing.

  “What are they?” Danielle whispered.

  “Wind, fire, water and stone,” said Snow. “Light and darkness. The very elements of our world, summoned and made flesh.”

  Danielle kept her sword ready. “I thought there were seven.”

  Snow pointed, and the shattered remains of the coffin began to swirl about the floor. “The seventh is the embodiment of magic. She’s too wild to be given her own form, so she will remain within me. She’ll give me the power I need to find your husband and face my mother.”

  She stepped toward the cloud of glass, which began to re-form into a single mirror. Snow didn’t bother with rhymes this time. Fragmented images flickered before her. Danielle caught a brief glimpse of Armand sitting at a table. It was too fast for her to follow, but Snow said, “I know where they are.”

  The contours of a woman’s face began to emerge in the cloud of glass. The features resembled Snow, aged twenty years. Knives of glass settled around the brow, a mirrored crown. The oversized eyes blinked, and the harsh lips pulled into a smile. “I expected you to flee.”