Just one more death to lay at the feet of the Northern Church. Alyea kept going, throwing the words into the darkness, telling of the determined little girl walking up the mountain, trudging on without much rest or food, driven by the urgency of her quest. At last Krilla reached the top:
She was very tired, but the sight of the huge cave opening drew her on, heart pounding with hope. Approaching the mouth of the cavern, she called out, “Is this the home of the Lord of Winter?”
The echoes of her voice came back to her, and she began to lose hope. Then something moved in the darkness of the cave.
“This is my home,” said a deep, gravelly voice. “The home of the Lord of Winter is on the next mountain over.”
Krilla's legs gave out from under her, and she sat down and wept, the tears freezing on her face. “I'm so tired,” she cried, “and I cannot walk that far, and have nowhere to rest. May I please rest here for a while?”
“Hm!” said the voice, and “hm!” again. “Yes, come in and rest. I will give you shelter from the wind and snow.”
Krilla was too tired to be wary. “Thank you very much,” she said, and went into the cave.
“Why do you seek the Lord of Winter?” inquired the voice. “Move to your right a little more, there is a soft place for you to sleep on there.”
Krilla followed the directions, and found a pile of soft cloth to stretch out on. “I am going to ask him to turn aside the winter storms from our village,” she replied.
“Hm!” said the voice. “Why?”
“My family is too poor to arrange good husbands for my sisters. If the storms turned aside, we could earn enough to give them a proper dowry.”
“How do you feel about the weather?” asked the voice.
“I love it,” Krilla said. “I love to dance with the wind and play with the snowflakes.”
“But if the Lord of Winter agrees to turn the storms away from your village, you would not have those things any longer.”
“I know,” Krilla said sadly. “But my family is more important.”
“Hm,” said the voice. “Sleep, human child. You are safe here tonight.”
Alyea drew a breath, paused for a moment to rest her throat, then told of Krilla waking to discover that her host was an enormous white dragon, and that she had slept curled up on one of its huge forelegs. Realizing that the dragon must be the Lord of Winter, the child fell to her knees and presented her request for the storms to be turned aside:
“What would you give for this request?” the Lord of Winter demanded, his eyes suddenly stern and cold. “What price would you pay?”
“Anything,” Krilla said humbly. “I would pay any price for this boon.”
“Asking me to turn aside storms is not a light request,” the dragon warned. “It will carry a heavy price.”
Krilla swallowed back her fear and nodded. “I will pay it.”
The dragon considered her for a moment, then said, “I will tell you the price first, and let you decide whether you still wish to pay it. You will stay with me for the winter—this one, and every one that you wish to see the village spared from the storms. You will share my bed and do anything I ask of you while you are with me. Are you still willing to pay the price?”
Krilla choked back a sob. “I am.”
A tear rolled down her face and struck the layer of snow on the floor, freezing instantly into a perfect tear-shaped drop of ice.
The Lord of Winter reached out and gently picked up the tiny drop. “You are braver than many warriors. Very well. I will turn the winter storms aside from the village of Alonir.”
Then he transformed himself, and became as a reptilian human, and took her to his bed. Two drops of her first blood fell to the icy floor, and froze as had the tear; and the Lord of Winter put all three aside in a small box.
Alyea paused for a moment and opened her eyes. It seemed that the darkness had eased a bit; she thought she could see the faintest outlines of a massive form before her. She shut her eyes again and went on, telling of Krilla's return to her family in the spring, of their disbelief and mocking. At last, stung by the unrelenting laughter, Krilla showed her family the gems that had formed from the frozen drops of her tears and blood, which the Lord of Winter had warned her to keep hidden:
Her family looked at the gems with wonder, and just as she thought they believed her at last, one sister asked where she had found such beautiful gems, and the second sister said she must have stolen them, and the third sister reached for the box, saying these would make a grand dowry. And Krilla's parents stepped between, and took the box away, and said they would decide how the gems would be used, and that Krilla had done well.
Krilla went to bed crying, and during the night her parents looked at the gems, and spoke together in low voices, and formed a plan. When Krilla awoke the next morning, her parents told her that the rubies would serve as dowries for two of her sisters, and the diamond as dowry for the eldest, and that Krilla herself would go with the eldest of her sisters and serve as a handmaiden in a rich man's house. When she protested that she must return to the Lord of Winter come the end of fall, her parents called her mad, and demon-ridden, and shut her in her room.
Three suitable young men were found, one for each of the elder sisters, and engagements announced as summer faded into fall. At last Krilla was taken from her room and readied for the journey down the mountain. She had been told so many times during the spring and summer and fall that she was ill, that she had imagined her meeting with the Lord of Winter, that she half-believed it herself.
But the day before they were to leave, she found by chance where the box was kept, and in secret she took one ruby back. And she remembered that the Lord of Winter had said that if she commanded it aloud, the rubies would break and that would summon his aid; and she thought, “If I am deluded, if I was ill, then nothing will happen.”
She took the ruby to the fireplace, set it on the stone hearth, and commanded, “Break, ruby!”
The ruby shattered, and the banked fire came alive again, and from the flames spoke the voice of the Lord of Winter.
“Little one,” he said, “little human, do you call for my aid?”
Krilla became frightened, and said nothing.
“Little one,” said the Lord of Winter, “little human, my Krilla, why do you call for me?”
Krilla still said nothing, and backed away from the hearth.
“Little Krilla,” said the voice of the Lord of Winter one more time, and Krilla thought the voice sounded angry now. “You have called, and I have answered, and now you are silent. One more time only I will ask; why have you called me?”
Krilla ran away, and hid under her covers for the rest of the night. In the morning the fire was just a banked fire again and there was no sign of the broken ruby; not the smallest shard remained. And Krilla became truly ill, and could not be moved. She developed a strange wasting fever that stripped the weight from her so that her bones showed against the skin.
“We cannot wait,” said her family, “we must go without her.” And only the sister who could not marry because her dowry ruby had been destroyed stayed with Krilla. She was the same one who had said Krilla must have stolen the gems, and she was so bitter and angry over her loss that she did little to take care of her sister. The rest of the village tried. The priests of Alonir and of all the nearby villages prayed over Krilla, and the herb-wives and leechdoctors used their wisdom, but nothing helped.
At last in desperation they called for a healer from yet another village, a man of ill repute who was said to serve the old gods of the deep south. And this healer came, and he looked at Krilla, and asked her to tell him her story.
When she was done speaking, he said, “She speaks truth. She has seen the Lord of Winter, and made a pact with him, and shared his bed; those gems are her tears and her blood, and it is your taking them that has made her ill. These gems are a part of Krilla, and only she can safely handle them.”
The priests wer
e angry, and they threw the healer from the house, and told him never to return. And Krilla continued to get worse. The priests decided the gems were evil, and Krilla possessed by a demon; and they sent a messenger hurrying to the village at the foot of the mountain, to return with the gems. Although Krilla's parents protested, they did not dare gainsay the priests, and returned to Alonir, angry at how Krilla had ruined their grand wedding plans. And when they returned, the priests seized the box and tried to smash the gems.
But the rubies would not break, and the diamond would not break, and the priests prayed and cast exorcisms and at last demanded that Krilla break the gems herself, to be free of the evil.
Krilla could not rise from her bed by that time, and had no strength to resist their demands. When she picked up the ruby and whispered, “Break,” it shattered into a million pieces instantly. And one of the shards stuck in her hand, and a drop of her blood fell to the floor; and to everyone's amazement the drop of blood hardened and became another ruby, larger than a man's fist. It was too hot to touch, and seemed filled with an inner flame.
“Little one,” said the voice of the Lord of Winter from within the ruby, “little human, do you call for my aid?”
Krilla tried to speak, but the priests moved too fast, and closed her mouth.
“Little human, my Krilla,” said the Lord of Winter, “why do you call me?”
But Krilla was held fast, and could not speak. And two of her tears fell on the floor, and to everyone's amazement they became great shining diamonds, larger and finer than the first.
“Little Krilla, my Krilla,” said the Lord of Winter one more time, and this time his voice sounded very sad. “You have called me, and I have answered, and you are silent. I ask you again: why have you called me?”
Krilla could speak at last, because the priests, distracted by the diamonds, had loosened their hold on her to reach for the shining gems; so she cried out, “Help me, my lord!”
The ruby grew and grew at those words, and became another form, a large form, one that nearly filled the free space in the room, and took the shape of a dragon.
“I am here,” said the Lord of Winter, and two great golden eyes opened in the ruby shape. “What help do you wish, my little human?”
Before Krilla could speak, her mother pushed forward and said, “She wishes to be free of you and your foul bargain, monster! Begone!”
The Lord of Winter looked only at Krilla, and he said, “Is that what you want, my Krilla?”
And Krilla looked at the Lord of Winter, and he at her.
“If I break our bargain,” said Krilla, “will you still hold the storms aside?”
“No,” said the Lord of Winter.
“If I keep our pact,” said Krilla, “how long will you hold the storms aside from my village?”
“Until the end of our pact,” said the Lord of Winter.
“And how long will our pact last?” said Krilla.
“Until you die,” said the Lord of Winter.
“And when will that be?” asked Krilla.
And the answer the Lord of Winter gave struck everyone silent with wonder, even the priests; and Krilla said, “I will keep the pact, my lord; and I will stay with you not only in the winter, but the spring and summer and fall as well.”
Alyea remembered that she always had interrupted her nurse at that point, asking, “What did the Lord of Winter say? What did he say?”
Her nurse had shaken her head and said, “That part of the story cannot be told, child. Nobody knows.” And no matter how often Alyea pestered her, the nurse gave the same answer.
“And why would you do that, my Krilla?” said the Lord of Winter. “Because there is nothing left for me here,” said Krilla. “My family and my village will turn against me, whatever I decide.”
“But why would you stay with me, my Krilla, instead of making your own way and allowing your village to reap its own rewards?” said the Lord of Winter.
And the answer Krilla gave struck everyone as the wisest thing they had ever heard, and the diamond in the box shattered, and melted, and vanished forever. But the two diamonds formed of her most recent tears remained.
Alyea had started to interrupt again; her nurse had covered her mouth gently and said, “That answer cannot be told either, child. Nobody knows. Perhaps one day you will find out for yourself, and bring the rest of the tale to your children.”
The Lord of Winter smiled, and took her away; and she was never again seen in that village, and nobody ever dared climb to the highest peak of the Scarpane Mountains to seek her out. But when the wild winds screamed down the mountain, the worst of them passed around and over the village of Alonir; and the village was blessed with great harvest in fall and healthy newborn animals in spring, and a calm summer every year. And the villagers prospered, and set the two remaining diamonds in a carefully guarded glass case, and never touched them for their own profit. And they banished all the s'iopes from their village, and lived in great peace for many years.
Alyea had really liked that part. Even now it brought a wide grin to her face to say that line, although those words had probably been what sealed her nurse's grim fate.
One day the guards cried out and summoned the village, for the two diamonds in the glass case had shattered. And nobody could understand why, or what had happened. The healer from the next village was called upon once again, and it took him many days to arrive, for he was very old by this time, and near death. And he looked at the diamond shards, and handled them with great reverence, and blessed them in a strange language. To the amazement of all, the pieces melted and disappeared completely.
They clamored for him to tell them what it meant, and the answer the healer gave was the most astounding and joyous thing they had ever heard and they rejoiced. The villagers celebrated for many days, and named Krilla the patron Lord of their village.
Alyea hadn't even tried to interrupt at that point. She knew what her nurse would say. The ending wound through a series of thoroughly blasphemous statements that she'd loved hearing and even now enjoyed repeating:
So there are those in the north who quietly pray to Lord Krilla, and roadside shrines are dedicated to her. The priests seek to tear them down, but the shrines reappear within days or weeks. The wiser priests simply hold their notice aside and say nothing, while the foolish ones grow angry, blustering, and wear themselves out on a thing that will never change. There are no shrines to Krilla in the south, for she loves only the snowy lands, and will never stray from the Scarpane Mountains. But in the north, if one prays to the Lord Krilla with an honest heart and the desire to help others, one may find help when it is least expected.
Alyea drew a deep breath and opened her eyes. The darkness had lifted. She stood in a simple, pleasant sitting room; a man sat in an easy chair, facing her. A wide fireplace had a blaze laid in, and the warmth wrapped around her like a gentle blanket. Another comfortable chair stood a step to her right.
“Not exactly accurate,” said the man in the chair, frowning, and she trembled at the expression. “Please sit. There's a throw if you're cold.”
She found herself in the chair, drawing a thick blanket around her, with no clear memory of having moved.
“I admit you tell a story well, even if it was poorly chosen,” the man said. “I accept the gift.”
She stared at him blankly, unable to think of anything to say. His features wouldn't stay fixed in her mind; he looked thin and hard, one moment, gentle and soft the next. A desert lord, a northern noble, a comfortably padded well-off merchant; she couldn't quite pin what he looked like from moment to moment. Somehow it didn't matter.
“That was an unfortunate choice of story,” he said. “Too many inaccuracies, for one thing.”
Remembering the shape outlined to her vision for a heartrending moment, she licked her lips, tested her voice with a slight cough, and said, “Are you . . . dragons?”
“No,” the man said, his expression flickering into something distinctly
ugly. “You have no word, no concept that describes us well. We don't care for that story. As I said, an unfortunate choice of gift. But it's accepted. Not all gifts are . . . pleasant.” He drew a breath, let it out, then stood and held out a hand. “Come here. Time for my . . . gift. I'll give you those answers you wanted so badly.”
She was on her feet again, and standing close to him, before she knew she had moved. His hands wrapped gently around her upper arms. After a moment of looking at her intently, he slid one hand up to her shoulder and back down to cup her elbow lightly. The touch raised gooseflesh on her arm and a deep shivering heat throughout her body.
His voice lowered to a compelling whisper, barely audible, speaking words in a strange language. Her vision dimmed, or maybe the air hazed. She could see his eyes, dark and intense: and then that faded and she felt the heat of his body pressing close. Darkness folded around them, and heat rose and spread through her, wide and deep and wild.
There came pain, and joy, and then an infinite, eternal tenderness that at last overwhelmed her and pulled her completely into oblivion. She heard voices in the darkness, echoes of herself long ago, asking:
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