The dwarves rushed outside, brandishing picks and axes at the man and warning him to leave the coffin alone. The huntsman showed them his empty sheath and his unstrung bow, and they lowered their own weapons when they saw he meant no harm. The huntsman then told them that he had recognized the girl in the glass coffin, and that she was the only daughter of the king in the ancient castle beyond the forest.
The dwarves were greatly amazed, and were indeed so overcome by this news that they forgot to ask the huntsman why he had entered the forest with no knife and with only an unstrung bow. They did not know that the huntsman had been sent by the new queen to find the princess, with orders to bring her once again to the tower room.
The huntsman spoke to the dwarves, describing the king’s fear and grief at his daughter’s long absence, and soon convinced them that the princess should be returned to her family. The huntsman offered to carry the girl back himself, but when he reached out to open the coffin the dwarves stopped him.
They told him that the coffin must not be opened, or the body would not be preserved, and the princess’ great beauty would be lost.
The huntsman then produced a rope, and said that he would drag the coffin back to the castle. When he tried to tie the rope around the coffin though, the dwarves stopped him again.
They told him that the coffin must not be dragged through the forest to the ancient castle, as it would surely catch on roots or rocks and the glass would be shattered.
The huntsman asked with some asperity if perhaps they knew of some strong, obliging birds who might carry the coffin back to the castle on their wings, but the dwarves did not answer him, for they were talking amongst themselves.
They turned to the huntsman after a moment, and told him that they would all of them carry the coffin back to the castle themselves. They were strong, and would be able to carry the coffin and the girl together, and so they would not need to open the coffin and mar the girl’s beauty. They knew all the rocks and roots in the forest, they said, and they would not trip or break the glass. And no, they said, they did not know of any such obliging birds.
The huntsman was forced to agree to this plan, for there seemed to be no other way that the dwarves would allow the princess to be taken from them. The dwarves surrounded the coffin, three on each side and one in front, with the huntsman at the back. In a slow, mournful procession, they began their journey towards the castle.
III
The long gallery was once more filled with grieving people, as guests, family, and servants alike gathered to pay their final respects. Though it was the middle of the day, candles blazed throughout the length of the hall, for the sky was gloomy and dark. It had rained every day since the princess had disappeared, and the rain on the windows echoed the tears on the mourners’ cheeks.
The princess in her glass coffin was in the center of the gallery, and beside it stood the king, stroking the glass occasionally as if he could reach through it and smooth back his daughter‘s hair. The queen was not to be seen, but no one was surprised, as everyone knew that she had taken the discovery of the princess’ body very badly, and had barely left her rooms since.
On the other side of the coffin, a long line of people filed past, each of them pausing to gaze upon the young girl’s face for a moment before moving on. Some breathed short prayers, some left small flowers, and others kissed the glass of the coffin. All of them were startled and somehow humbled by the sight of the princess’ continued beauty.
Amid the guests were many important visitors. Ambassadors, nobles, and even neighboring kings had arrived to attend the princess’ funeral, and to commiserate with king Donavan in his grief. Among them there was a minor king and his third son. The minor king paused to exchange a few, simple words with Donavan, while his son stared at the girl in the coffin. When the minor king moved on, his son broke away from him and went to the back of the line of mourners, that he might have the chance of seeing the princess again.
Once the funeral was over, king Donavan gave orders that the coffin was to be placed in a room that was never to be dark and never to be empty. The glass coffin was borne away to a large, empty chamber. Guards were posted, and massive candelabras were brought in and lit. The princess would never be alone, even in death.
Many people visited the chamber at first, then fewer and fewer came each day. Finally, there were only two people who ever entered the room, besides the maids who came to clean it and the men who were still ordered to guard it. Those two were the girl’s grieving father, and the third son of the minor king.
The third son had fallen in love with the dead princess, and had convinced his father to remain at the castle for a little longer. Though he did not say so to anyone, the son had become convinced that the princess was not actually dead, but only sleeping, and so he spent much of his time in the guarded room. He wanted to be there when she woke up.
More than a week had gone by before Marya visited the room. When Tomas had first brought her word of his second failure to retrieve the girl, she had almost gone mad. Even worse, the princess had been returned to the castle in the most public way possible, and within minutes of the procession’s arrival everyone knew of it. First the grievers, and then the guards, made it impossible for Marya to get close to the girl unobserved.
In desperation, she had told the king that she might be able to help the princess recover somehow, but he had turned on her with such coldness, and had declined her assistance with such icy politeness that she had not dared to repeat the offer. Ever since then, she was certain, the king had been trying to avoid her. When they did meet, he did not even pretend to be glad to see her, as he used to do.
Marya had remained in her rooms for as long as she could after that, hiding from the coldness in the king’s eyes. She had spent long hours with her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking back and forth ever so slightly as she tried to think of what to do. That she had to do something, she knew. The king was further away from loving her than ever, and even the servants had begun treating her differently. Not just the servants, either.
Ever since her reaction at seeing the princess being returned to the castle in the rustic glass coffin, people had been acting strangely around her. They spoke gently, as if to a child, and they never met her eyes, as if they were frightened of her. Whenever she gave an order, instead of saying, “Yes, your majesty,” as they used to, the response was almost always now, “I’ll check with the king.”
At least she still had Tomas, Marya thought to herself. Tomas had failed her twice, but he had not wavered in his devotion, and he had kept his promise of secrecy. Marya did not mind that he also seemed to be full of guilt and remorse, nor did she mind that he had volunteered to become part of the guard that protected the chamber containing the glass coffin.
Now, as Marya stood in the guarded and brightly lit chamber, she finally had an idea. She stepped forward, and looked down at the coffin without touching it. A smile tugged at her lips as she saw the continued effects of her poison, and she did not notice the guard’s concerned expression.
Marya turned about abruptly, startling the guard. She pierced him with a direct gaze, which he had difficulty meeting for long.
“Why is there only one of you?” she asked after a long scrutiny.
“Your majesty?” the guard asked doubtfully. “I do not understand you.”
“Why are you the only one guarding my dear, departed step-daughter?” Marya demanded imperiously.
“Oh!” the guard looked relieved, for no reason that Marya was able to understand. “There used to be more of us, but the king changed his orders, since he needs more men for his search of the forest.”
“Search?” asked Marya, surprised that she had not heard anything of this.
“Yes,” the guard replied, surprised as well. “He is searching for an old woman, whom the dwarves claimed killed the princess. The king thinks that he met her by a river, and that if she could be found again he would recognize her.”
“I see,” said Marya. After a moment she smiled, and the guard became noticeably uneasy again. “Well, if it’s the king’s orders,” she said absently, then drifted out of the room, still smiling to herself.
It was not easy, with everyone in the castle watching her as if she were about to snap and start throwing things, but Marya managed to pay a visit to the head of the castle guard. While she was there, the slightest bit of pretending that she was unwell sent the man running for assistance, and she was able to find and alter the guard rotation.
When the head guard returned with one of her maids, she was so pleased with her cunning that Marya had difficulty in maintaining her role of invalid, but she allowed herself to be escorted up to her rooms and to be put to bed with a bowl of thin soup. Once the maid had left her alone, Marya set the soup aside and leaned back against her pillows to rest. A nap would be useful, she decided, since she was going to be up late that night. Tomas was now scheduled to be the overnight guard in the chamber with the glass coffin. The only guard.
* * *
Late that night, Marya slipped past her sleeping maids and out into the silent gallery. She drifted past the shadowed portraits and the curtained windows, and crept up the tower stairs to make sure that all was ready. She lit the candles in preparation, and arranged her components on the little table in the center of the room. Satisfied that all was in order, she slipped down the stairs again and made her way to the chamber with the glass coffin.
She entered the room without a sound, pausing at the threshold to let her eyes adjust to the sudden light. The glass coffin stood in the center of the room, unchanged, and in one corner of the room stood Tomas. His weight was leaning against the large pike that he held, and he was dozing lightly.
A few months ago Marya would have smiled indulgently at such a sight, but too much had happened since then, and she was too desperate. She crossed the room swiftly, stopping when she was at Tomas’ side, and called his name in a stringent whisper.
Tomas jumped, dropping the pike as he did so. It fell to the floor with a massive cracking sound, shattering the silence. It then making the disturbance worse by rolling in a wide half-circle, clattering all the while. Marya wanted to scream, but held it in. With her hands balled into fists at her side, she waited tensely for someone to come rushing in.
“My lady - I mean, your majesty - what are you doing here? I mean, how can I help you?” stammered the still-groggy Tomas.
“Hush!” Marya said angrily, still listening intently for the sound of approaching footsteps. Tomas obeyed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and abashedly retrieving the fallen pike. The minutes crept by, until Marya was finally satisfied that no one was coming to investigate the din that the pike had made.
Relieved, she turned towards Tomas and gave him a calculated smile.
“Tomas,” she said. “I have good news.”
“You have?” Tomas asked, clutching the pike nervously.
“Yes, indeed,” Marya answered readily. “I know that you have long felt guilty about the fate that befell the princess in the woods.” Tomas reddened, and looked at his feet. “And at last I have found a way to help you.”
“You have?” Tomas asked again, looking up in confusion.
“Yes, I have,” said Marya. “I have found a way to cure her.”
“Of death?” asked Tomas skeptically.
“No, don’t be silly. She is not dead, she has been poisoned,” the queen replied.
“She’s not dead?”
“I just told you that she isn’t,” said Marya impatiently, tiring quickly of these false explanations. “Now come, we haven’t much time if we’re to save her.”
“What do you need me to do?” asked Tomas, still confused, but eager to believe his patroness.
“Set down that pike, and then open the coffin,” Marya replied, moving to the other side of the room. Her hands were shaking with excitement, an excitement she had not felt since the day the princess had gone to pick wildflowers.
Tomas did as she bade him, carefully propping the pike up in a corner before approaching the coffin. He examined the fastenings carefully, undoing each seal in turn until the last was broken. Then he gingerly lifted the coffin lid, swinging it open and off to one side before gently lowering it to the ground behind him. He looked down at the princess, whose face was so gentle and peaceful that he was easily able to believe that she was in fact alive.
“What do I do now?” he asked over his shoulder.
“Now open her mouth,” Marya said, moving around so that she was behind him.
Tomas hesitated for a moment, then reached out and carefully opened the girl’s mouth. “There’s something there,” he said. “It looks like a bit of apple. I think it’s choking her!”
“Take it out,” ordered Marya, coming up behind him.
Tomas pulled a small knife out of his pocket, and very, very carefully used it to pry the piece of fruit out of the princess’ mouth. Once it was out, he whipped his wrist about quickly and sent the poisoned bit of apple flying across the room.
The girl’s eyes snapped open, and she gave a great gasp, filling her lungs with air as if she would never have enough. She sat up abruptly, then put a hand to her head to steady it against a sudden dizzy spell. After a moment her eyes cleared, and focused on Tomas. He was standing in front her, dazed, and in his raised hand he still held his knife.
The princess gasped again, clapping her hands over her mouth to stifle a scream. Before she could scramble out of the coffin, there was a loud crash followed by the tinkling sound of breaking glass, and Tomas slid to the ground, unconscious.
Behind him stood Marya, still clutching the remains of the top of the now-shattered glass coffin. The princess was staring at her in panic and confusion, looking back and forth from her to the fallen Tomas.
“Come, there’s no time to explain,” Marya said hastily, dropping her burden to the floor with another, smaller crash. “You are in danger. You must come with me.”
The princess, who had every reason to think that Tomas was indeed trying to kill her, and who still had no reason to distrust her aunt, nodded in agreement. Marya reached out a hand, and with her assistance the princess had soon climbed out of the coffin. Marya kept her hold on the princess’ hand, and began pulling her out of the room.
“Where are we going?” the princess asked, finally finding her voice. “What is going on?”
“There’s no time to explain,” Marya repeated. “Just come with me, I’ll take care of you.”
They hurried along the hall and up the wide stairway, then up another stairway towards the tower room. The princess was too startled and disoriented to question her aunt further, or to realize that they were taking a path where they would be least likely to encounter assistance.
Up and up they went through the darkness, Marya tugging on the princess’ hand all the while. The further they went, the faster Marya felt the need to move. She thought that she could hear sounds of pursuit behind her, and while a corner of her mind insisted that she was imagining things, she could not ignore the rising paranoia.
At last they reached the final set of stairs, and then Marya was pulling the princess into the tower room. She gave the girl a little nudge to send her further inside, then turned and slammed the door closed behind them, turning the key in the lock and then pocketing it with a great sigh of relief.
The breeze from the hasty opening and closing of the door had blown out half of the candles, and the tower room was thus half in shadow as the princess and the queen looked about. The queen barely noticed her surroundings, intent as she was on her goal, but the princess could not help but look at the contents of the room with misgiving.
The dusty trunks, the draped furniture, even the washbasin, all took on a sinister air in the dim light, and the shadows between them seemed deeper and more dangerous than any other shadows the princess had ever seen. After a moment her eye was caught by the small table near the middle of the room. It took a few seconds
to figure out what set it apart, but then she realized that it was the only item in the room that was clean and free of dust.
The princess continued to stare at the table, looking at the strange items that were littered across its surface. Marya brushed past her carelessly, causing another breeze that sent the candlelight dancing again. For no reason at all, the princess shivered.
The queen picked up an ebony bowl from the table, squinting at it in the low light, then set it down again. She poured a vial of white powder into the bowl, then pulled a small silver urn out from a shelf beneath the table. Holding the urn very carefully, so as not to spill any of its contents prematurely, she moved it up and over until it was right above the bowl. Slowly, methodically, she poured out its contents.
At first the princess thought it was water, but as the queen poured the liquid took on a darker hue, as if drawing it upwards from the ebony bowl. The queen then placed both hands on the table and leaned over the bowl, her hair falling down around her face. The queen gave a great shudder, and the princess bumped into the door, realizing for the first time that she had been moving backwards all this while.
A strange heat began to wash over the princess, and she could hear a faint crackling noise, like a winter fire. A wave of dizziness swept over her, and she could feel something being pulled away from her. A wind that didn’t exist began blowing her hair around her face, and she had to shout to make her words heard over the terrible, silently howling wind.
“What are you doing?” the princess yelled.
Marya looked up from the table, startled. The princess was at the door, but that did not matter since she had the key in her pocket. The spell was already beginning to work, for she could see the life force being drawn out of the girl. It still swirled around her, still clung to her, but that was to be expected. The spell was not done yet. She needed the girl’s blood to finish it.
“I am putting things right,” Marya said calmly. Though she spoke at a normal volume, the words were carried to the princess’ ears across the bellowing, silent wind like thunder.
Mirror, Mirror Page 5