The Snow Queen's shadow pn-4

by Jim C. Hines

  “You know my price, Danielle.” Her profile shifted as she examined their surroundings. “Just as I know you wouldn’t pay that price if you had any other choice. I take it you and your friends have failed in your efforts.”

  King Laurence lost to Snow’s magic, Hephyra slain, Jakob still a prisoner… there was no point in denying the truth. “If you take my son, it shall be by my rules. No magic to sway his heart or mind. No charms to deceive his senses.”

  “No magic at all,” the Duchess agreed, “save that which is necessary to ensure his safety while in my keeping. He will be well-treated in every way. You have my word.”

  “Six months only.” Danielle reviewed the Duchess’ words in her mind again and again, searching for loopholes. “As determined by our calendar. Six months after entering your care, you will return him safely to us.”

  “Six months of each year, yes.” Blue light danced on her features. “In return, I will send one of my darklings to help you find your son.”

  “A darkling?” Danielle clamped down on her nervousness, remembering the last time she had faced one of the Duchess’ darklings. She didn’t know how powerful they were, but Snow had destroyed several of them before. “Will one darkling be enough to rescue Jakob?”

  The Duchess waved a hand, dismissing her fears. “He will be older than the ones you encountered. Not as powerful as the Dark Man, but strong enough to help you. Remember, I gain nothing without Jakob. It’s in my interest to help you rescue the boy.”

  “We must all be safely returned to Lorindar.” Danielle wouldn’t put it past the Duchess to order her darkling to kill them all and steal Jakob.

  The Duchess laughed, a much deeper sound than Danielle would have expected from a woman of her size. “I can’t promise your safety, or that of your friends. I’ll not harm you myself, but if one of you should come to harm, that doesn’t absolve you of your obligations. Once Jakob is safely returned to Lorindar, I will count my side of the bargain fulfilled. Six months from today, you will summon me again, and I will open a fairy ring to bring Jakob to me.”

  Danielle glanced at Talia. From her expression, her thoughts were following the same path as Danielle’s. They didn’t have to return home. So long as they kept Jakob away from Lorindar, the terms of the bargain weren’t met.

  Which meant she could either give up her son for six months of every year, or abandon her home forever, leaving Lorindar without an heir. It would mean stealing Jakob away from his home, away from his family.

  “We must be allowed to talk to him while he’s in your care, to make sure you’re keeping your word,” Danielle stalled.

  “You may speak together once per week, for no longer than half of one of your hours.” The Duchess pressed pale, slender fingers together. “Do we have a bargain, Princess?”

  Talia stepped closer. “Your darkling will obey us until we are safely returned home.”

  “Yes, yes.” She waved a hand, clearly growing bored.

  Danielle didn’t speak. She reviewed the terms in her mind, searching for omissions the Duchess could exploit. What was she missing? “When he comes of age, this bargain ends.”

  The Duchess pressed her fingers together. “When he is a man, he may choose for himself where he wishes to reside.”

  “A man by my culture’s rules,” said Danielle.

  “And which culture might that be, my dear? Human or fairy?”

  Her jaw clenched. “Human.”

  Gerta cleared her throat. “The longer we delay, the more likely Laurence or his Stormcrows will return.”

  Danielle nodded. “We’re prisoners in the winter palace in Kanustius. Can your darkling help us escape?”

  The Duchess’ smile was visible even through the rug. “Once you are free, he will bring you to those who can help you save your son.”

  “Who?” demanded Danielle.

  “Bellum and Veleris, fairy queens of the underworld in Allesandria. They can protect you and help you rescue little Jakob. I imagine they may even be able to help you save Snow.”

  Fairy queens in Allesandria. Danielle stared into the illusory pit. “I don’t understand. Allesandria drove the fairies from their land.”

  The Duchess laughed again. “My people are not so easily banished. We can be defeated. We can be pushed into hiding. But we existed long before your kind claimed dominion over this world, and we shall exist long after your age ends.” She leaned closer. “If you agree to my terms, spill three drops of blood into the portal.”

  Danielle looked to Talia and Gerta. Gerta sat against the wall, staring into the pit. Talia’s jaw was tight, but she nodded ever so slightly.

  They had no weapons. Danielle searched for a way to provide the blood to seal the bargain, but nothing in the room appeared sharp enough to cut skin.

  “Your nails,” Talia said softly.

  After a week of travel, Danielle’s nails were a ragged mess. She bit one, tugging the corner until the skin tore and blood seeped from the skin.

  As she held her finger over the carpet and squeezed blood from the tear, she wondered if Armand would be able to forgive her… or if she would ever forgive herself.

  Talia inhaled sharply, then slowly forced the air from her lungs. It was a sik h’adan breathing exercise designed to control fear and anger before a fight. It had never worked very well for her. Her jaw was tight. Her fists clenched as she waited.

  The darkling didn’t climb from the hole so much as he flowed. His limbs were shadow, the edges of his form a blur. Long fingers yanked the illusory rug aside.

  “What is he?” whispered Gerta. Snow must not have shared those particular memories when she created Gerta.

  “A darkling, a child of the Dark Man.” A single drop of sweat trickled down Talia’s back. The Dark Man was both bodyguard and assassin. His touch could wither a limb or turn a man’s eye to dust in the socket. He served none but the queen of Fairytown, and nobody knew how the Duchess had come to control his children.

  The darklings they had faced in Fairytown had been little more than children. This one was older, a slender adult with overly long limbs. His movements reminded Talia of a sea creature, sinuous and boneless.

  “The king may have sensed the darkling’s arrival,” said Gerta. “The palace’s wards may be damaged, but if he holds his scepter, he’ll know magic was used to transport something into these walls.”

  “Can you get us out of here?” Danielle asked the darkling.

  It stepped to one wall. Illusion melted away like ice shying from a fire as he reached out, revealing bare stone walls. He touched the wall, then drew back.

  “The prison was built to contain magic,” Gerta said. “Even fairy magic. Entering is easier than leaving.”

  “So we fight our way out.” Talia slipped out of her jacket, wrapping it tightly around her left forearm as a makeshift shield. “The walking ink stain should help. If the king sensed this thing’s arrival, he’ll be sending his people to investigate.”

  Talia kept most of her attention on the darkling as she stepped toward Gerta. “You were able to pass through the city walls. Could you also control this room enough to create an exit?”

  Gerta tugged the chain around her neck. “I might be able to, if not for this.”

  “Good.” To the darkling, she said, “Your touch ages flesh. Does it work on metal?”

  Without a word, the darkling reached out. Gerta shuddered as black fingers curled around the necklace. Talia stepped closer.

  “It’s all right,” said Gerta. “He’s not hurting me.”

  The darkling backed away a short time later. The necklace remained around Gerta’s neck, but the metal had lost its luster where the darkling had held it. The links were pitted, and rust flaked away as Gerta grabbed the chain and tugged. The necklace snapped. She flung it against the wall where the door had been a moment before.

  “Did you do that?” Danielle asked, indicating the vanished door.

  Gerta shook her head. “They know about
the darkling. The first thing they’ll do is try to use the room against us.”

  “How-?” Talia bit off her question as the cot behind Gerta disappeared. The candles vanished next, though the light remained. Gerta had captured the candle flames, which now flickered upon the tips of her fingers. The light illuminated water seeping through the naked stone floor.

  “Is it real?” asked Danielle.

  “Real enough to drown you.” Gerta moved to the wall, splashing through ankle-deep water.

  “I thought they intended to keep us alive,” said Talia.

  “Laurence could remove the water before we drown. He might just want to make sure we’re helpless when they come in to deal with the darkling.” Gerta dropped to her knees, squinting at the wall. “Or Snow might have changed her mind about letting us live.”

  The water was almost to Talia’s knees. Ice cold, it swirled around her legs, real enough to make her shiver. “Can you send it away?”

  “I can’t fight Laurence. The palace obeys him, and he’s too strong.” Gerta was tracing lines onto the wall with her finger, over and over. She reached into the water to retrieve the chain. Using one of the broken links, she sliced her fingertip and painted blood onto the stone. The blood washed away, swirling through the water, but she didn’t stop. “But I think I can do something even better.”

  Gerta pushed with both hands, and a section of wall slid outward. She held her breath, ducked beneath the water, and crawled through.

  “Go,” said Talia, pushing Danielle through. She glanced around the room one last time. To the darkling, she said, “Follow after me. If anyone else tries to come through, stop them.”

  The cold shocked much of the air from her lungs. The entire opening was submerged, though the water didn’t seem to be flowing out through the hole. She squeezed after Danielle, her shoulders brushing the stones to either side. Only a few paces beyond, she found herself on the floor of the icehouse. She was dry, though the frigid air was little improvement over the water. “How did you manage that?”

  “The passage works both ways.” Gerta grinned, her teeth chattering. “I remember the enchantments used to connect the palace to the icehouse. I reshaped our prison to mimic that enchantment, but there was no way to do it without Laurence knowing. He’ll be sending his Stormcrows to find us.”

  “Nice.” Talia turned to the darkling. Without the red cape, they had lost their magical protection. “Can you conceal us from magical eyes?”

  The darkling nodded silently, and the room seemed to dim for an instant.

  Talia pushed past them, hurrying up the stairs to snatch one of the chisels from the wall. The handle was too thick and the blade was triple the weight of any dagger, but it was better than nothing. Gerta followed suit, grabbing a small hammer. She handed a second chisel to Danielle. “Your sword…”

  “It’s gone.” Danielle’s words were flat.

  “We could sneak back inside,” Talia began. “Find Laurence and try to-”

  “No.” Danielle stepped to the door and cracked it open. “There’s no time. Snow controls the palace. We have to escape Kanustius.”

  Footsteps from below signaled the arrival of Snow’s slaves. Talia pushed the door wide and shoved Gerta outside. The darkling slipped past her, all but disappearing into the shadows. Talia and Danielle hurried out and slammed the door behind them.

  Talia wedged her chisel beneath the door to jam it, but it wouldn’t delay their pursuers for long.

  The sun had set, but the streets were as crowded as a market at midday. Families pressed together, lugging packs and wagons toward the blue glow in the distance where the city wall yet burned. Talia took Danielle and Gerta by the hands and dragged them past a horse-drawn cart. A tarp was tied over the cart, and two small children rode with their mother on the very back.

  “They must have seen the battle at the palace,” Gerta said. “It’s been more than a hundred years since anyone breached the walls of Kanustius.”

  Behind them, black smoke continued to rise from the heart of the city. “And now the palace burns.” Talia scowled at a boy who had approached too closely. “Keep an eye out for pickpockets.”

  “Where will they go?” Danielle asked.

  “Most will head south, assuming the guards allow anyone to leave the city,” said Gerta. “Some will try to cross the mountains. Most of the roads are snowed in, but the king keeps two passes cleared throughout the winter.”

  “Does it matter?” Talia kept close to the edge, avoiding the worst of the pressing crowd. “Snow took the capital of Allesandria in less than a day. At this rate, she’ll destroy the entire country before the month is out.”

  “Allesandria has been at war before,” Gerta argued. “Against fairies and humans both. The Circle will know the king has fallen. They will already be sending their forces to Kanustius to try to retake the palace.”

  “Maybe that’s her plan,” said Danielle. “To drag Allesandria into civil war and let it consume itself.”

  A loud crack elicited screams from those closest to the icehouse. Talia glanced behind to see four Stormcrows emerging from the shattered door. They looked around, but so far the darkling’s protection seemed to be working.

  Talia lowered her head and walked faster, trying to keep the cart between them and the Stormcrows. Just ahead, a girl carried a little boy on her shoulders. He was bundled in a fur blanket with only his face exposed, and he kept twisting around and pointing behind him. He was crying, and kept wiping his nose on the blanket, but it was the girl’s expression that most disturbed Talia. Her lack of expression, rather. She simply stared as she trudged ahead. Not a slave to the demon’s magic, but another victim, lost and in shock after seeing her palace burn.

  Talia’s tension grew with each step. There were too many people packed too tightly together, bumping and brushing against each other. It would be far too easy to slip a knife into your neighbor’s ribs. The press of bodies would keep the victim upright, and you’d be gone before anyone noticed.

  She did her best to watch Danielle and Gerta, guiding anyone remotely threatening away with none-too-gentle jabs of her elbows and fists. She couldn’t see their pursuers anymore, but given the Stormcrows’ powers, that meant little. Magically disguised, they could walk right alongside Talia and without her cape she would never know.

  The darkling had changed form, melting into something that resembled a blackbird if you didn’t stare too closely. It flew along the rooftops beside them.

  From the murmurs around her, the people knew Allesandria had been attacked, but not by whom. Some stated confidently that King Laurence was dead, and Hiladi soldiers were even now marching upon the city. Others claimed the attack had come from Morova, and that Laurence should never have married Odelia. One man argued it was a rebellion from within, that the king’s Stormcrows were attempting to seize control.

  “Mark my words,” he said. “It’s the Deathcrows, Queen Rose’s personal killers. They’ve been waiting for the right time to rise up and destroy her usurper. It’s the second Purge.”

  Talia could see the wall now, burning taller than the trees. Armored Stormcrows peered through the windows of the towers to either side of the gate.

  Angry shouts broke out from those closest to the gate. From the left tower, one of the Stormcrows shouted, “By order of King Laurence, the city is sealed. Return to your homes.” His voice carried clearly through the protests of the crowd, far too loud to be natural.

  Talia glanced at the darkling, perched lazily upon a chimney. The darkling didn’t seem to notice the smoke passing through its body. “We could try to fight our way out.”

  “Storm the tower?” Danielle asked. “With a chisel?”

  “I have a hammer, too!” Gerta offered.

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” Talia asked, mimicking Danielle’s intonation from before.

  Danielle scowled. “Gerta, can you open the gate?”

  Gerta shook her head. “I can’t control it. I m
ight be able to get through the flames, but there’s nothing to stop the Stormcrows from killing me as I emerge on the other side.”

  A change in the tenor of the crowd warned her. Talia had grown accustomed to the subdued murmurs, the muttered complaints, the weeping of children and the forced comfort of their parents and caretakers. The voices grew louder, more fearful behind her. Talia turned and swore.

  The four Stormcrows had spread out. Each wielded a wooden rod that glittered blue in the firelight. As Talia watched, one Stormcrow absently clubbed a man on the face. He staggered back, and blood began to well from the cuts the Stormcrow’s weapon had left.

  “The clubs are coated in glass dust from Snow’s mirror,” Gerta said. “Back in Lorindar, it took time for the demon to control its victims. Now it’s strong enough to do it almost instantly.”

  People were screaming now, pushing one another to try to get away. The Stormcrows moved without haste, striking everyone in their path. Already the first man infected had succumbed to the demon’s power. He seized a woman by the arm and dragged her toward the Stormcrows.

  The crowd surged past, trying to escape. Some pounded the doors of the tower. Others fled through the streets.

  “Fine,” snapped Talia. “You storm the tower. Find a way to open that gate and get out of here.” She plucked the chisel from Danielle’s hand. “I’ll need this.”

  “What about you?” asked Gerta.

  Talia squeezed past a man bent double under the weight of the belongings strapped to his back. “I’m going to try to slow them down. Go!”

  The four Stormcrows spied her at once, and began pushing through the crowd toward her. A man with a bloody hand grabbed her shoulder. She punched him in the nose, but the pain didn’t seem to affect him. With a curse, she seized his finger and twisted, snapping bone to make him release her.

  She shoved her way into an alley between a tavern and some sort of clothing shop. Chunks of ice dropped onto the street, her only warning before a body leaped from the roof to land on top of her. She rolled with the impact, coming up on top of her attacker, a heavyset, gray-haired woman who looked like she should be bouncing grandchildren on her knee.