tales of the latter kingdom 08 - moon dance

by Christine Pope

  “Who — ?” I began, but he caught me by the arm and propelled me toward the path.

  “He is coming. Go, Iselda!”

  There was such command in the stranger’s tone that I had no choice but to hurry off whence I had come, as if he had placed his own spell on me, one that compelled my feet to propel me forward, down the path and back toward the safety of my uncle’s lands. As I went, the branches overhead began to move in a fierce, unseen wind. Leaves tumbled all around me, and I started to run, ignoring the rocky ground, ignoring everything but the fear that had begun to rise in me.

  Something was coming. Something dark and dangerous. I loved my cousins, but I knew I could do nothing to help them. Nothing except run, and run.

  The stranger had said he would keep them safe. And they had returned home safely the night before, the only apparent damage they’d sustained to their slippers. I had to believe that he had told me the truth. As odd as the situation was, and though my mind was filled with unanswered questions, I knew I could not turn back.

  My cousins might survive whatever lay ahead of them, but if I did not go, then I could not be certain of sharing such a pleasant fate.

  As I ran, the rustling of the leaves overhead lessened, and the night air grew calmer. I let out a sob of relief when I heard the whispering sound of the stream as it moved over its stony bed. Yes, I had farther still to go, but for some reason that stretch of water, only a few yards wide, seemed like a barrier, or at least a boundary. Once I was across, I should be safe.

  Heedless of my skirts, of my shoes, I sloshed through the water at a place where I knew it would be only ankle-high. And then I was on the other side of the creek, and I could glimpse the open fields of my uncle’s lands stretching out before me.

  My wet gown slapped against my legs, and my shoes squished uncomfortably, but I ignored them as I found the path that would bring me to the castle wall. And there was the door, which I had left unlocked but pulled to, so that none of the guards would notice anything amiss if they should pass this way.

  Once I was inside, I closed the door and set the latch in place, then leaned against the wall and took in deep, heaving breaths. Surely I must be safe here.

  But the spell reached all the way into the castle and summoned Adalynn and Carella and Theranne and Janessa from their beds, I thought, a new chill striking me.

  Yes, that was true enough. But the silver-haired stranger had clearly believed I was unaffected by the spell, for whatever reason. Perhaps my forgetfulness on the subject of their disappearance was another spell, although I was not sure who had cast it — the same dark force that had summoned my cousins, or the young man who had clearly been trying to protect me.

  And how had he known my name?

  A puzzle I would have to work through later. For now, I knew I must go back inside and slip into bed, and pray that no one had taken notice of my nocturnal wanderings. And if the stranger was to be believed, when I awoke in the morning, I would find my cousins returned, no worse the wear except for a strange weariness — and some inexplicable damage to their shoes.

  The castle still slept when I entered, returning the same way I had left, through the kitchens and on from there to the great staircase that led to the upper levels. Was this another spell, to cast everyone into a deep slumber so that my cousins’ comings and goings might pass unnoticed? I did not think that so very strange, not when some unknown mage was capable of calling them forth from their very beds.

  Nevertheless, I tiptoed up the stairs and hurried down the hallway to my room. Janessa’s empty bed seemed to mock me with a host of unanswered questions. Who was this sorcerer, the one the strange young man had seemed so afraid of? And what on earth did he want with my cousins?

  As I stripped out of my soiled gown and wet shoes, I thought again of the strange luminescence I had seen drifting around my cousins and Janessa as they danced. What it had been, I could not begin to guess, although now that I recalled the scene to my mind, it seemed almost as if that light had been emanating from them, rising from the tops of their heads to mingle in the air above.

  Another spell, I assumed, although I could not think what its purpose might be. None of the girls seemed to notice that strange light as they danced. They had moved in perfect harmony, their steps as polished and precise as those of the most experienced dance troupe, and yet I did not think they knew what they were doing. Someone else had been controlling them.

  I swallowed, and felt myself shiver, even though the room was far warmer than the night air outside, the stonework trapping the heat of the day. It seemed best to climb into bed and pull up the covers, although I had no intention of sleeping. No, I would stay awake to see Janessa when she returned — and to witness the manner of her return as well. Would the mage who controlled my cousins send them directly into their beds, or was such a thing quite beyond his powers? After all, he had made them come to him on foot. But perhaps that was merely another way he asserted his control, delighting in making them trudge over rocky ground to do his bidding.

  That thought only made me colder. The stranger had said they would not be harmed, but I did not have any real reason to trust him. Only the look in his eyes and the pleading note in his voice, both of which had seemed genuine enough. Even so, although I had led a sheltered enough life, I was not completely naïve. There were many things that a man who had such powers at his command might do to a young woman…and dancing was certainly the most innocent of those things.

  Gods. I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them, attempting to reassure myself that Adalynn and all the rest of them were all right, that they had only been summoned to perform the strange dance, even if I could not begin to guess at its purpose.

  Should I have stayed? If anything terrible should happen to any of them, I knew I would never forgive myself. But they had survived the other night unscathed, and who was I to confront a mage with powers I could barely comprehend? I was only a young woman with no such gifts of my own.

  And so it went, as I wrestled with my conscience, and tried to make some sense of my decision. All the while, the night wore on, and Janessa did not appear. And although I had vowed to stay awake as I awaited her return, at length my eyelids grew so heavy that I could no longer keep them up, and darkness washed over me, bringing with it an oblivion I could not escape.

  * * *

  “Oh, mistress, whatever happened to your gown?”

  I opened one eye and saw Tarly, the maid who looked after Janessa and myself, holding up the dress I had worn the night before. Even in my bleary and unfocused state, I could clearly see the expression of dismay she wore.

  With good cause, too, as I forced myself to look away from her face and at the gown she held. I had been in a hurry as I undressed, and had tossed the garment onto a chair. The linen was now badly wrinkled, but that was far from the worst of it. The edge of the skirt was splashed with mud and grime, and I could also see how part of the hem had been torn out. I had a vague recollection of getting it caught on a fallen tree branch, but I did not think I had done that much damage as I jerked it loose.

  “I am sorry,” I said, then risked a quick glance past her to Janessa’s bed. It was now occupied, I realized, and relief flooded through me. Despite the commotion, she had not roused herself to see what was going on, which seemed to indicate that her exertions during her moonlit dance had wearied her even more than the other times she had been called out under the influence of that strange spell. “I was out looking for wildflowers and wandering along the stream. I suppose the skirt must have gotten caught on something.”

  Tarly did not appear terribly convinced by this explanation, and I could not blame her. I had gone picking wildflowers and walking by the stream many times before, but had managed not to ruin my clothes.

  However, she also knew it was not her place to argue with a young lady of the house, so she let out a very small sigh and draped the gown over one arm. “I will take it to the laundry, my lady, and see what can
be done. Luckily, it is not one of your better gowns.”

  Which was the reason why I had worn it in the first place, of course. Even so, my wardrobe was not so extensive that I could afford to damage many items in it. I would just have to hope that our laundress could work her usual miracles, and that the dress would be restored to some usefulness.

  “Thank you, Tarly,” I said.

  Apparently I sounded meek enough — or perhaps truly grateful — because she only replied, “Think nothing of it, mistress. I will bring up your tea, and perhaps by then Mistress Janessa will also be awake and ready to have hers as well.”

  “I’m sure she will,” I replied, although I had my doubts. She hadn’t stirred once during this entire exchange.

  Tarly nodded, then let herself out and closed the door behind her. Almost as soon as she was gone, I pushed back my covers and went to inspect the slippers sitting on the floor at the foot of Janessa’s bed. Her footwear was not nearly as fancy as Adalynn’s, but I could still see the scars in the soft, dark green kid, the soles scratched and scored, with a hole just beginning near the toe of the left shoe.

  It was not the sort of damage one could sustain from walking sedately about the castle, or taking a turn in the gardens, but I’d climbed over that rocky ground on the way to the clearing where the girls were brought to dance. I knew exactly where and how that damage had been sustained.

  The why still eluded me, however. What was the purpose in bringing them forth to perform that unearthly dance? I stole a glance at Janessa; although her dark hair was tumbled and tangled, she herself did not seem all the worse for wear, for her cheeks were pink and her breathing came regular and untroubled. Yes, one of those cheeks had a definite dirt smudge on it, but she could have suffered far more harm than that.

  As I stood there, staring down at her, she stirred. Then her eyes opened, and she gazed up at me in some confusion. “Iselda? What on earth are you doing?”

  She sounded normal enough, if rather irritated. I supposed I could not blame her for that, as I knew I, too, would be somewhat annoyed to wake up and find someone standing over my bed. “I — I thought I should wake you, for Tarly is on her way up with our morning tea.”

  A frown pulled at Janessa’s brows, but then she nodded and pushed herself to an upright position. As she did so, she groaned faintly, as if her muscles pained her. “I cannot think what I did yesterday to make it feel as if I’ve pulled every muscle in my arms and legs,” she complained. “I did not even go for a walk in the garden because the sun was too hot.”

  “Perhaps you slept in a strange position,” I suggested, and although her frown did not disappear altogether, she did nod.

  “Perhaps. It is so odd, for I feel as if I dreamt a great deal, and yet now I cannot remember any of it.”

  Were those “dreams” of hers actually memories of some of the things she’d done the night before, of making her way through a dark forest so she might dance in a woodland clearing under the humpback of a gibbous moon?

  I dared not ask. Perhaps it was wrong of me to indulge such reticence, to not go immediately to my aunt and uncle and tell them what was happening under their very noses. And yet something stopped me, told me that to make such a revelation would do no good at all. My uncle might have been Lord Danly, Baron of Linsmere, but titles and lands were not of much use in a battle with someone possessing magical powers.

  Indeed, even the king himself had not been able to withstand my brother-in-law’s own particular gifts.

  No, it seemed that more information was necessary before I did or said anything. If I had seen any actual signs of injury on Janessa — or on any of my cousins the day before — then I would have spoken. For the moment, though, they seemed well enough.

  And I knew I would follow them again tonight, and perhaps encounter that strange young man….

  “Goodness, Iselda,” Janessa said then. “Whatever is the matter with you?”

  “I beg your pardon?” I asked, coming back to the here and now with rather a start.

  “You went all dreamy and vague, as if you were thinking of something very far away. Or perhaps someone,” she added with a sly glint in her eyes. “Someone not so very far off after all?”

  “No, of course not,” I said at once. “I was only thinking of the weather, and if it would be so very hot again today.”

  She raise her eyebrows at this silly reply, although she forbore from saying anything else, as Tarly returned to our chamber in that moment, carrying a tray with our morning tea. She set it down on the table by the fireplace, although no fire flickered in the hearth now.

  Janessa reached for her dressing gown and pulled it on over her shoulders before slipping out of bed. From the sudden pucker of the maid’s brows, I could tell that Tarly had noted the smudge of dirt on Janessa’s cheek. Would she say something?

  I didn’t quite hold my breath, but I couldn’t help releasing a relieved sigh as the maid shook her head, then said briskly, “Here, my ladies. I’ve brought the honey, Mistress Janessa, just as you like, and the milk for you, Mistress Iselda.”

  Both Janessa and I thanked her, and she went out, saying that she would be back in a quarter-hour to help us with our hair and wardrobe. I thought it prudent to remain silent as I stirred milk into my tea, for none of the thoughts currently racing through my mind were ones I wished to share with my companion.

  So we drank tea in blessed quiet. If Janessa was surprised by my taciturn behavior, she did not show it. I thought it quite possible that she was wearied enough from her activities of the evening before that she did not have the energy to expend on idle conversation. To tell the truth, I was more tired than I had thought I would be, and also enjoyed those moments of peace and quiet while we finished our tea. That peace could not possibly last, for I knew the frenzied cleaning of the castle in preparation for Adalynn’s wedding was about to intensify, and after today we could expect to see the first guests arriving.

  The prospect of having so many additional people sleeping under our roof made me wonder if the mage who summoned my cousins would be able to cast all our guests into a deep sleep so the girls’ departure would still be kept secret, or whether perhaps he would abandon his game, at least until the celebrations were over and everyone had departed to their respective homes. Also, what would he do with Adalynn gone? Did it matter how many young women he called forth to do that strange moonlit dance? For of course Adalynn would leave here and become a great lady, the mistress of her own castle, with a title and husband, and a place at court, if her new husband was so inclined.

  Far too many questions, and I feared I did not have answers to any of them. Although the day was fresh and new, I found myself wishing for the return of night, so I might venture forth again and attempt to learn more of the strange spell at work here.

  And see more of that silver-eyed stranger, my mind jibed at me. I wanted to tell myself that was ridiculous, and yet….

  Something about the strange young man had captured my imagination. I had never before seen anyone who looked anything like him — and I was not some provincial girl with no knowledge of the greater world. I had been born in Bodenskell, my homeland’s capital, and lived there until I was thirteen years old. On the streets of that city I had seen dark-visaged men from Keshiaar, and fair-haired Southern Eredorians, and the handsome black-haired folk from the great empire of Sirlende…but I had never caught even a glimpse of someone with silver-pale hair and eyes to match.

  His accents bespoke a man of Purth, a countryman of mine, although I supposed the accent was something he could have learned. Even so, he had to have come from someplace, but where?

  Tarly reappeared then, and I was forced to put aside my musings as she helped us into our gowns and brushed our hair. Janessa looked on with envy as our maid took my gleaming strands of golden hair and twined them around her finger so they might fall in perfect spirals down my back.

  “It truly is not fair that you should have hair like that,” she said w
ith a disparaging glance downward at her own mid-brown locks.

  “I am not sure ‘fair’ has anything to do with it,” I replied. “I was told my great-grandmother had hair like this, and so it came to me. But that was only luck, nothing else.”

  She heaved a sigh, and looked as if she intended to say more. But then Tarly finished working on my hair and said, “Mistress Janessa, your own hair is lovely — so thick and glossy. I am quite sure there is no reason for you to be jealous of Mistress Iselda’s.”

  This unexpected compliment brought a flush of pink to Janessa’s cheeks, and she sat quietly enough as Tarly brushed her long brown tresses until they gleamed, then twisted them into elegant coils and braids and held them in place with pins of silver and garnet. Once our maid was satisfied with her work, she went to retrieve Janessa’s slippers — and made a shocked sound.

  “What on earth has happened to your slippers, mistress?”

  Janessa got up from where she sat at the dressing table and looked down at the pair of shoes Tarly held. In the bright daylight flooding in through the windows, the damage I had noted earlier was even more obvious.

  “Oh, no!” she exclaimed. “What in the world could have happened to them?”

  “I do not know,” Tarly said. “For I am quite sure they were not in this sort of condition when you wore them last.”

  “No, they were not.” Janessa did look truly dismayed; one hand went to her mouth, even as she shook her head. “And oh, those are the slippers my father sent as part of my birthday present. He will be so annoyed with me when he finds out what has happened to them.”

  Unfortunately, I thought he probably would be upset with her, even though the condition of those shoes was certainly not her fault. I had only met Janessa’s father once, for after he had left her with my aunt and uncle, he showed no particular inclination to spend any more time with his daughter. The loss of his wife had hurt him, I believed, but he wanted to be alone with his hurt, rather than see his wife’s features mirrored in his daughter’s face. I knew that Janessa resembled her mother greatly, for she always wore a silver locket with a miniature of her mother’s likeness contained within, and had shown it to me on more than one occasion. Even on that brief acquaintance, he seemed short-tempered and moody, and easily irritated. Moreover, their family was not overburdened with wealth. The cost of a pair of slippers did not mean that much to my aunt and uncle, but it was a far different matter for Master Marleton.