by Jim C. Hines
And if they had been infected by Snow’s magic, it was too late to escape. “Do as they say,” said Danielle.
Hephyra flung up her hands in disgust. “We wouldn’t have to reduce speed if they weren’t so damned slow.” But she turned to shout at the crew, who began taking in some of the sails.
Already the two Allesandrian ships were lowering boats into the water. Danielle watched as they rowed toward the Phillipa. She counted ten men apiece.
“The man with the gold chain belt is the royal inspector,” said Gerta. “He’ll have studied magic for at least three years at the university. Don’t try to lie to him.”
The boats pulled alongside the Phillipa. The inspector lifted a rolled rope ladder in both hands and shouted a word Danielle didn’t recognize. The ladder uncoiled as if alive, appearing to climb up the Phillipa’s hull. The end of the ladder twined tightly around the rail.
Hephyra stood with arms folded as the first man climbed up. “If I’m to be boarded, I like to be asked nicely, first.” She was close enough to the rail that he had to move sideways to pass her by.
More followed, all armed with knives and small, polished hand axes tucked through their belts. Each wore a thick doublet, dark blue and heavily embroidered in white patterns that reminded Danielle of fancy carpeting. The inspector had added a white leather sash, decorated in gold, with pouches worked into the leather. He was the last to board. He laced his fingers together and surveyed the Phillipa, looking past Hephyra as though she were invisible.
“I am Relmar, Royal Inspector for His Majesty King Laurence of Allesandria.” He was middle-aged, heavyset but still fit, judging by the ease with which he had climbed aboard. Stubble shadowed his face and scalp. His skin was darker than Talia’s, and his accent marked him as a native of Najarin. Close to a third of his men appeared to be from other lands. Allesandria was known for taking in magically gifted children, training them in exchange for service to the crown. Most returned home when their service was complete, but others chose to stay in Allesandria.
“Princess Danielle Whiteshore, of Lorindar.” Danielle clasped her own hands in greeting; an old Allesandrian formality to suggest no magic would be used upon your enemy. “King Laurence is aware of our mission. We were promised free passage in Allesandria.”
“Your king said nothing about sailing a fairy ship into our waters, milady.” The toe of Relmar’s boot rapped the deck. Behind him, his crew was spreading out to examine the ship. “My men will need to look below as well.”
“That’s what they all say,” Hephyra muttered.
Danielle smothered a smile. “Are you accusing us of smuggling?”
“Not at all,” Relmar answered. “But with all due respect, have you inspected the hold? Have you searched every corner of this vessel? I’ve no doubt your mission is genuine, but fairies are masters of trickery and illusion.”
Hephyra snorted. “Just as humans are masters of—”
“How long will your inspection take?” Danielle asked quickly.
Relmar scowled at Captain Hephyra, then went back to ignoring her. “An hour, perhaps two. The nature of this . . . vessel . . . makes it difficult to search for other magic.” He frowned as he studied Danielle. Reaching into his sash, he produced an amber monocle which he held to his right eye. Tiny engravings marked the edge of the lens. “That sword you wear. Is it enchanted?”
“It is.”
“There are protocols for bringing enchanted items into Allesandria. Duties to be paid, permits to be procured.” He clucked his tongue and turned. “Your friend will need to do the same for her red cape, not to mention—” He frowned and paced a slow circle around Gerta, removing the monocle then replacing it again on his eye as if to confirm what he was seeing. “I am Relmar Yohannes Duban, Free Master of the Sorcerer’s Guild.”
Gerta raised her chin. “Gerta.”
He scowled. “Perhaps you’ve been long enough from Allesandria to forget your manners. With whom did you study?”
“My sister.”
“And that shape you wear. It’s natural?”
“I’ve known Gerta since the day she was born,” Talia said.
Hephyra chimed in, “Perhaps you should stop worrying about the girl’s shape and get on with things.”
Relmar started to respond, then frowned as two of his men climbed up from below deck and hurried toward him. Danielle could only pick out a few words of their conversation, but she saw Talia tense.
“You’ve prisoners locked below,” Relmar said. “Men who have been struck by a particular curse. One of the men whispered again, and Relmar rolled his eyes. “Very well. Men and one cat.”
“They were part of our crew,” said Danielle. “We were attacked two days out of Lorindar.”
Relmar appeared calm, but his people were another story. They kept their hands near their hips, ready to draw weapons. “Yet you survive.” He scowled. “Allesandria has been attacked twice in as many days. Reports describe a single ship, protected by magic, leaving chaos and riots in her wake. The Lord Mage Protector of Melavin was murdered in his tower.”
Danielle glanced at Talia, whose face was stone. “We’ve shared what we know with your king,” she said, keeping her voice calm.
“Yes, I’ve heard the rumors. Snow White has returned to destroy us all.” He didn’t bother to hide his disdain. “My orders are to quarantine anyone touched by Snow White’s curse.”
“You can’t seriously believe us to be a threat,” Danielle said. “You know the rest of us are untouched by any curse, and those men can harm no one.”
“My first duty is to protect my nation,” Relmar answered. “What if those men escape, or your fairy captain looses them upon our shores?”
“Inspector Relmar, I assure you they will not leave this vessel.” Danielle reached into the pocket of her jacket and removed a sheathed knife. The hilt was gold, the pommel rimmed in tiny rubies. “However, I do understand your need to keep Allesandria safe. The magic in this blade is old and potentially dangerous. Perhaps it’s best that it be turned over to you.”
Relmar pulled the dagger free and studied it through his monocle. “Thank you, Your Highness. We will see that it’s safely disposed of.” He stepped back, studying the crew. “I’m assigning two of my men to this ship to strengthen and supervise the quarantine of your prisoners. The king may also send his Stormcrows to examine them. However, once we’ve examined each of you to guarantee you’ve not been touched by the curse, I will permit you and your friends—your human friends—to enter Allesandria.”
“Thank you, Inspector,” said Danielle.
As Relmar turned his attention to his men, Talia sidled toward Danielle. “There’s no magic in that blade. I’d have smelled it.”
Danielle shrugged.
“You brought that knife on purpose. You planned this. I never thought the day would come when Danielle Whiteshore bribed a lawful government official.”
“Can you think of a faster way to reach the harbor? One that doesn’t involve bloodshed,” she added hastily.
Talia pretended to think about it. “How do you feel about severe bruising?”
Relmar returned a short time later. “I can’t permit the fairy or the infected men to set foot on our land, but I’ll let you dock at the harbor. You’ll be safe enough there.”
“Not if Snow finds us,” Gerta said.
Relmar gave her a patronizing smile. “Begging your pardon, but it’s one thing to take on an old and unprepared border lord like Ollear. This is the King’s own province of Tollavon. If Snow White is wise, she’ll keep her distance. Should she sail too close, we’ll take care of her.”
“My son, Prince Jakob of Lorindar, is on that ship,” Danielle said firmly. “He’s not yet three.”
“Rest your mind,” said Relmar. “Our weather mages have dealt with hostile visitors before. The winds will drive her against the rocks to the east, ripping the hull and leaving her stranded upon the rocks. Once we’ve taken care of the wi
tch, we’ll board the ship and find your son, don’t you worry.”
Gerta was shaking her head. “You should evacuate the harbor.”
Relmar studied the ship again before answering. “I know you’re shaken. I recognize what you’ve been through, and the state of your crewmen below. But she’s one witch. One ship. If she dares to press her attack against Allesandria—”
“She will,” said Gerta.
“Then we’ll face her when she does. If she’s truly possessed, as you say, we’ve the means to deal with that as well.”
Danielle wanted to accept his words. She wanted to believe Snow would be stopped, that Jakob would be rescued. Allesandria was known for its magic. They were far better prepared than Lorindar to face a threat like Snow. They might even be able to save her. Snow’s mother had trapped the demon once, after all.
If Relmar was right, then Jakob would be safe. If he was wrong... “Should she attack as you say and you do rescue our son, please tell him we’ll be back as soon as we can. You’ve my word I’ll reward you for your efforts.”
“I’ll look after him personally, my lady. I’ve three children of my own.” There was genuine sympathy in his words. “Your son will be with you again soon.”
“Thank you.” She looked to Talia and Gerta.
From the expressions on their faces, neither of them believed him either.
CHAPTER 10
TALIA HAD VISITED ALLESANDRIA ONLY once before. She hadn’t liked it then, either.
Mountains rose like a wall of shattered iron to the east, the tops dusted in snow. Lines of smoke decorated the sky to the west as they passed another village, the third since entering Tollavon the day before.
The wolfskin fanned her frustration. A part of her had wanted to remain with the Phillipa, to stay and fight. If Snow wanted to reclaim her throne, she had to come to Tollavon eventually. This demon had beaten them twice now. It wouldn’t do so a third time.
She quelled the wolf’s anger the best she could. She had been riding since she was five years old, and knew all too well how easily the animals sensed the tension of their riders. Her horse was jumpy enough about Talia’s cape, and wouldn’t have let her ride at all if not for Danielle’s urging.
Danielle was right. They weren’t ready to fight the demon. The cape might protect Talia from magic targeted at her, but it wouldn’t stop the demon from opening up the earth to swallow her whole, or shattering trees to crush her. Nor would the cape help her if the demon chose to use Jakob as a hostage.
Talia wasn’t the only one whose thoughts lingered behind. Danielle kept looking over her shoulder, her worry obvious even from a distance. She had barely spoken since leaving the harbor.
If Snow were here, she would have found a way to break the tension. An inappropriate joke or a ribald song. Even just prattling on about the white-barked trees along the road, the blue-tinged mushrooms growing on a fallen tree, or the techniques used to carve a path through the rock when the hills grew too steep. Talia saw no tool marks on the shoulder-high wall of dark, rippled stone which walled the road up ahead. No doubt it had been done with magic.
“I’ve finally come home.” Gerta’s expression was distant. She slowed her horse, allowing Talia to draw alongside. “I’ve returned to a land I’ve never actually seen. I could paint you every detail of our summer palace in the mountains, of the woods where my sister and I used to play, but I’ve never actually been there. None of it is real. All I have are memories.”
Talia shrugged. “That’s all any of us have.”
Gerta stuck out her tongue, her expression identical to Snow’s. “But yours actually happened.” Her smile faded. “What do you think Snow intended for me as she cast that final spell, splitting me from herself?”
“Snow doesn’t always plan things through,” Talia said. “She acts. Her instincts are usually good.”
“When she’s not releasing demons from their prisons, you mean?”
“I said usually.”
Gerta sighed. “How is this good? The demon took her, and I’m not strong enough to do anything about it. I’m not even sure I’m real.”
Talia nudged her horse to the edge of the road. She reached out and broke off a small branch, which she bounced off of Gerta’s shoulder. “You look real enough to me.”
“I’m part of her. She gave me so many of her thoughts and memories. But I’m not her.” Gerta lowered her eyes. Talia wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince. “We’re different. Different thoughts, different desires.”
Talia stiffened. She had almost convinced herself Hephyra had been wrong about Gerta’s feelings. “How long until we reach this witch?”
“Another day at most.” Gerta guided her horse closer. “I don’t know what Snow intended for me. But one way or another, she’s going to want me back. If I’m to have such a short time on this world, why shouldn’t I pursue the things I want?”
“You’ll have time,” Talia said uncomfortably. “Whatever happens, I’m sure Father Isaac can find a way to help you both.”
Gerta stiffened. “Please don’t lie to me. I know how you feel about her.”
So much for pretending not to understand. Talia looked straight ahead. “Snow never wanted—”
“I’m not Snow.”
Talia squeezed her knees, urging her horse forward. “You were a part of her.”
“Maybe I’m the part of her that wanted you, that wanted to be able to return your feelings,” Gerta said. “Did you know she considered taking a love potion for you?”
“What?” She spoke so sharply that Danielle turned around. Talia waved her on. Fighting to keep the anger and confusion from her voice, she asked, “When did—Why would she do that?”
“Because she trusted you.”
“She never said anything.” But of course, Snow wouldn’t have discussed it. She would have just disappeared into her library and done whatever she wanted.
“She chose not to go through with it. Maybe because she knew how you’d react. Maybe because she was scared.”
More than once Talia had daydreamed about herself and Snow, but she had known such imaginings would never be more than idle fantasies. Snow’s preferences were obvious to anyone who knew her. What would Talia have done had Snow come to her, her emotions changed by magic? “It wouldn’t have been real.”
“You’re an idiot.”
Talia blinked. “What?”
“I was created by Snow’s magic. Am I real?” Gerta was speaking louder now, earning a concerned look from Danielle. “Snow loved you. So much that she thought about changing who she was, just to be with you.”
“Shut up.” Talia’s mind was already tormenting her with what could have been.
“Snow was afraid. I’m not.”
“You’re not her.”
“Neither was Faziya.” Gerta’s voice dropped, taking on a new edge. “Snow gave me those memories, too, how you brought Faziya back with you from Arathea. How the two of you spent the weeks together like husband and wife newly wedded. How you moped for days after she left.”
“I wasn’t moping,” Talia muttered. Had Snow actually been bothered by all of the time Talia spent with Faziya? If so, she had never let it show . . . but again, Snow wouldn’t.
“Your time with Faziya showed her the kind of love she could have,” Gerta said.
“And she chose not to,” Talia said, trying to regain her balance. “Instead, she created you. Made you fall in love with me. Why?”
Gerta shrugged. “Maybe to make sure I stayed close to you, the one person she trusted to protect me. Or maybe she simply wanted us both to be happy.”
Her voice was different than Snow’s. Deeper, with a stronger Allesandrian accent, but the intonation of certain words was the same as her sister’s. Her hair was flame, but with the impossible softness of Snow’s locks. “So you would have me take advantage of a child little more than a week old?”
“Do I look like a child?” Gerta’s lips quirked into a crook
ed smile. “I know you, Talia. Regret has been your bedmate for too many years, and I love you too much to see you alone and in pain.”
“I’m not alone.”
Gerta looked ahead. “Danielle has her prince. Beatrice is gone. Snow White has been taken from us all.” She reached out, brushing Talia’s arm with her fingertips. “Choose soon, Sleeping Beauty.”
Desperation tinged her final words. Talia didn’t answer, but her skin tingled with the memory of Gerta’s touch.
Snow stood at the bow of the newly renamed Snow Queen, watching fog roll toward her from the two approaching ships. The winds had changed as she approached Tollavon, until even the most experienced sailor would be hard-pressed to tack into the harbor.
It was no matter. Their weather mages were mere gnats compared to the man who stood at Snow’s side. Age had stolen much of Eminio Perin’s stature. His head was hunched forward, and his hands were swollen at the knuckles, but he retained the presence of one used to dominating the stage. Snow had first heard him perform when she was six years old. He had stood before the queen and her court, a wig of soft auburn curls spilling down to his chest, as he sang a song of his own composition, glorifying Queen Curtana.
There were whispers about his private meetings with the queen, but few guessed his true profession. Perin was also a skilled wizard, and his fame as a singer gave him access to noble audiences throughout Allesandria. During the political slaughter known as the Purge, Rose Curtana’s Deathcrows had executed dozens of nobles in their own homes. Perin had murdered eight that Snow knew of.
To most, the Deathcrows were but rumors, phantoms that fueled the nightmares of a generation of children. Some people refused to believe they had ever existed, but Snow knew better. Her mother had handpicked the deadliest of the Stormcrows to serve as her personal spies and assassins.
Only two of the queen’s secret killers had ever been brought to justice for their actions. The rest had gone into hiding after Rose’s death. But through the mirror, Snow knew them all, including the man called The Butcher. Snow had no doubt she could have defeated him, but it had been easier to infect the young servant girl who answered the door of his mansion.