“The Queen suggested that there was no point in turning to you,” Day explained.
“Did she?” Barbara said, looking thoughtful. “How very interesting. I suppose that must mean you have a problem she thinks falls under my particular area of expertise, but for some reason she doesn’t want to authorize my involvement. Care to tell me what it is?”
Jenna put her fork down with a thud. “My family was cursed by a faery. And if you can’t help me, she’s going to steal my baby.”
* * *
BARBARA looked around the room. The woman had come into the house with a purse and a small backpack, which were still leaning against the wall in the front hallway, but she didn’t see a baby anywhere. Despite her time with Babs, she wasn’t very good with children, but you’d think that she would have noticed something like that.
Chudo-Yudo gave a snort, tiny wisps of smoke dissipating into the air. “It’s still inside her, silly. Can’t you smell the hormones?”
Barbara sniffed, but all she could smell was maple syrup and dark, rich coffee with a hint of blue roses. Still, when she focused on Jenna’s energy, she could clearly make out the tiny separate but attached aura of a growing Human life. Well, didn’t that just complicate things. She didn’t know what the hell Day thought he was up to, but she was going to give him a swift kick the next time she got him alone. Assuming she did, of course. He’d been avoiding her and her two Baba Yaga sisters since they’d rescued him from Brenna ten months ago. And now he’d clearly only turned up so that he could dump whatever problem this was on her. They’d see about that.
“So, you’re pregnant,” Barbara said to Jenna. She had a sudden, unsettling thought. “Wait, it isn’t Mikhail’s, is it? I mean, I thought he couldn’t, that is, we don’t know anymore, but—”
“Oh no.” Jenna’s cheeks turned quite pink in her normally pale face. “I only met Mick a few days ago. My car broke down and I twisted my ankle while I was walking through the woods in a storm. I showed up at his cabin and he took me in until I could walk again. I wasn’t going to say anything about the curse, but when I had a bout of morning sickness, somehow I ended up telling him the whole story.” She blushed again. “He’s very easy to talk to. You know, when he isn’t being horribly rude.”
“Horribly rude? Day? You’re joking.” But Barbara could tell by looking at the other woman that she wasn’t. She knew that his experiences in Brenna’s cave and the loss of his immortality had changed her friend, but she was surprisingly dismayed to hear that he had come so far from the man she knew, who couldn’t have been rude to a woman if you held a gun to his head.
Day stared ahead stoically, not commenting.
“Well, I was in his home when he clearly wanted to be alone,” Jenna said with a shrug that didn’t quite cover the hurt. “You can’t really blame him.”
Barbara could, actually, but that was an issue for another time.
“Why don’t you tell me about this faery curse,” she said. “And we’ll see if there is anything I can do. But I have to warn you, such things are complicated.”
“Complicated?” Jenna said. “What do you mean?”
Barbara sighed, tapping the side of her coffee cup with one blunt-cut nail. “Faeries. Curses. Fairy tales. They’re a pain in the ass, frankly.” At her feet, Chudo-Yudo woofed in agreement. “There are all sorts of rules and traditions that have to be followed. Sometimes they work in your favor; sometimes they don’t. And when they don’t, they really don’t.”
“The Queen already told us that she couldn’t help me,” Jenna said. “And that you couldn’t either.”
“Oh?” Barbara stared at Mikhail, not at Jenna. “Then why are you here?”
“The Queen very clearly pointed out that you would not be allowed to do anything in your capacity as Baba Yaga,” Day clarified.
“Ah,” Barbara said. Things were becoming clearer.
“And the faery involved, Zilya, has already made one attempt to seal her claim on Jenna’s baby.”
“Huh. As I said, fairy tales, very annoying.”
Jenna blinked at her. “But, uh, aren’t you a fairy tale? I mean, the Baba Yaga is a fairy tale, right?”
Barbara gave her guest a sharp-edged grin. “Yep. And sometimes I’m a pain in the ass too. Let’s just hope in this case, I can be a helpful one.”
“I could use all the help I can get,” Jenna admitted ruefully. “But I’m not sure where to start.”
“The beginning is always a good place, I find,” Barbara said, only a trifle sharply. “Why don’t you start there and just go on. Tell it as though it were a story, if that makes it easier.”
Jenna nodded. “Okay, then.” She took a deep breath. “Once upon a time in a land far, far away, my many, many-times-great-grandmother Rose lived in a small village in the middle of Europe. She was nothing much to look at, so I’ve been told, but sweet and generous of spirit, and hardworking. From the time she was young, she’d been best friends with the son of the local blacksmith, and it was widely accepted that they would marry as soon as they were old enough.
“Then a mysterious woman appeared in the woods near the village. She was very beautiful, with shining hair and fine clothes. The young blacksmith, who was only seventeen, was flattered by her interest and spent many a fine afternoon in her company when he should have been working, or helping Rose with her chores.”
“Aha,” Barbara said. “Enter the faery, stage left.”
“Something like that,” Jenna said. “The story passed down through the family says that her loveliness and charm, even when she was glamoured to appear as a Human noblewoman, entranced the blacksmith, John, and they dallied together for a time.
“But John was an honorable man, and already engaged to his childhood sweetheart, Rose, a plain but decent girl who lived in his village. Although he was intrigued and flattered by Zilya’s attentions, he eventually chose Rose over her. Zilya was furious, and couldn’t understand how some plump and homely Human girl could ‘steal’ the man she wanted. Although, of course, Rose loved him with all her heart, and Zilya was incapable of such an emotion.
“When Rose became pregnant on their wedding night, Zilya flew into a rage and cursed the girl and her entire line, swearing to steal a child in each generation as payment for the man who was stolen from her. Rose, who knew her lore of the fae folk, demanded a way to free herself from the curse, and Zilya gave her an impossible riddle. Alas, no one in Rose’s line has ever been able to decipher the riddle, and so the curse continued into the present day.”
Jenna sighed. “And that brings us to me. I was so determined that the curse would end with me, since I am the last of my line. But as you can see”—she patted her barely visible belly—“I underestimated the power of the curse. Now my only chance is to figure out the riddle and beat Zilya before she can take my baby too.”
“No one in your family was ever able to make any sense of it?” Barbara asked. “I know it was designed to be tricky—they always are—but there are rules to these things, and one of the rules is that the riddle has to provide an answer for the one who is clever enough to unravel it.”
“My grandmother is the only one who even got close,” Jenna said. “She devoured every fairy tale she could get her hands on. I remember her reading most of them to me when I was growing up. She told me that her research eventually led her to the land of the faeries, and she was finally able to make her way there with great difficulty when she was in her fifties, right after my mom got pregnant. But the Queen had to rule in Zilya’s favor, apparently, because the curse predated her ban against such things.”
As Barbara listened to Jenna tell the story of her great-great-whatever-grandmother’s misadventures, her heart sank. She really liked the girl and she wanted to be of assistance, but it clearly wasn’t going to be that simple. Faeries, bah.
“You can’t help her, can you, Baba?” Chu
do-Yudo said, his massive head sagging onto his equally large front paws.
Barbara shook her head. Frustration bubbled up like a mishandled potion. Helping worthy seekers on their quests was usually one of her least favorite parts of the job, but she would have made an exception in this case. After all, the woman liked her dragon-dog. And Day brought her. Barbara really hated the idea of letting Day down, especially after everything he’d been through.
“So, what do you think?” Jenna asked eagerly, her icy blue eyes wide and filled with hope.
“Zilya, huh?” Barbara said. “I’m not really familiar with her, although I can ask a few friends at court if they know anything about her.” She got up to get a chocolate chip oatmeal cookie. Yes, she’d just eaten pancakes, but cookies helped her think. She offered one to Jenna, who nibbled on it absentmindedly.
“But here’s the big problem,” she went on. “Remember how I said there were all kinds of rules about these things?”
“Sure,” Jenna said. “Like how my many-great-grandmother was able to force Zilya to give her a riddle that would enable her to undo the curse, if only she could figure it out. Because there was a rule that said Zilya had to. Mick and I talked about that while we were walking here.”
Mick, eh? Barbara raised an eyebrow. There was more going on here than met the eye, or she wasn’t the scariest witch in town.
She tapped her finger on the table. “Exactly. Only that’s the problem. Normally, if someone came to me with Ye Olde Evil Curse, I’d be able to jump in with both booted feet because the person who cast the curse in the first place didn’t play fair. But since your great-grand was clever enough to insist on the riddle, tradition was satisfied. My hands are tied. You have to solve this one yourself, I’m afraid.”
“Oh. I see.” Long black lashes blinked back tears, but Jenna held her head up high. “Thanks for listening, anyway.”
Dammit. She really liked this girl. She had spunk. And she’d talked Babs into going to school without a fight. That bought her something right there.
“Hang on a minute,” Barbara said, holding up one hand. The fact that it happened to be the one holding the cookie only took away from the drama of the gesture a little. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t try to help, just that I couldn’t do anything in my official position as Baba Yaga. But you already knew that. If the Queen sent you to me, even obliquely, she must have thought I could do something.”
Under the table, Chudo-Yudo made a coughing noise that sounded a lot like “Softie.”
“Is your dog okay?” Jenna asked, bending down and looking at him with concern. “It sounds like he might be choking.”
“Not yet,” Barbara said with a growl. “But if he keeps up the wisecracks, it might become a distinct possibility.”
Chudo-Yudo chuckled and moved over to lay his huge head on Jenna’s foot, generously allowing her to scratch his favorite spot under his chin in case it made her feel better.
Barbara drummed her fingers on the table, thinking so hard that some spindly geraniums in a ceramic pot on the windowsill grew three inches and turned from red to pink. “There has to be something . . . You said that no one in your family has ever been able to figure out this riddle?”
“No. My grandmother thought that there was something in it that indicated part of the answer might lie in the faerylands—sorry, the Otherworld. But she didn’t get any further than that.”
“Huh,” Barbara said, thoughtfully chewing on her cookie and scattering crumbs all over the table. “This riddle, can you recite it for me? The Queen must know it; she knows almost everything her people are involved in. Maybe she thought I could come up with a clue that could help you unravel it.” She smiled at Mikhail. “And my friend here was always great at riddles. Between us, perhaps we can see something you didn’t. I’m guessing that’s what the Queen had in mind, although it is always hard to tell with her. She’s about as easy to read as a muddy lake in a snowstorm.”
“Um, wouldn’t that be cheating?” Jenna asked, a hesitant smile flitting over her face.
“Not if you do the solving yourself,” Barbara said. “I can’t actually tell you the answers, even if I could figure them out. But maybe I can at least find you a place to start and a hint or two. And there is nothing to stop Day from helping you solve it.”
He choked on a pancake and pushed his plate away.
Ha. As if she was going to fall for the old “unload my problem on you and run away” routine. The Queen might be subtle and devious, but Day was as clear as glass. Nice try, old friend, but I’m onto you, Barbara thought smugly.
“That would be great,” Jenna said. “To be honest, I’m completely stuck. I’ve been going over and over it since I was a kid and my mother first taught it to me, but it all just seems like nonsense.”
“All good riddles do,” Barbara said. “That’s what makes them riddles. But the classic fairy-tale curse riddle usually comes in three parts. The first part tells you what you did, the second part spells out what’s going to happen to you because of it, and then the rest of the riddle contains the solution to breaking the curse. So that’s what you really want to focus on.”
She refilled their coffee cups and got them each another cookie, plus one for Chudo-Yudo so he’d stop giving her that pitiful look. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s hear it.”
Jenna took a deep breath and recited the riddle, her voice a mixture of resignation, desperation, and a persistent, lingering layer of hope.
“I chose a man and he chose me
You should have simply let it be
I chose a man and he chose you
Now this choice you both shall rue
You stole mine so I’ll steal yours
Each mother’s child that she adores
From every generation born
The first new child she will mourn
This curse unbroken now shall be
Down into eternity
Unless you find the pathway through
And solve the riddle with this clue
A rose’s cry at rock enchanted
The sun’s bright ray where none is slanted
A magic key to a gift divine
True love must merge when stars align”
“Well, well, well,” Barbara said. “Isn’t that interesting?”
Chudo-Yudo picked his head up. “What am I missing?”
Barbara ignored him, although she’d happily explain it later, when the other two weren’t there.
“Did you get something from that?” Day asked. “Already?”
“Maybe,” Barbara said, not wanting to sound too encouraging. From the look on Mick’s face, she succeeded. Barbara knew she would have to play this very carefully, or risk having the situation backfire and become worse instead of better. But if she was right, the solution to the riddle might solve two problems at once. And as far as she was concerned, she was willing to bend more than a few rules and, if necessary, twist a few arms, to make that second one happen.
“The riddle clearly follows the traditional format. The first stanza explains why the curse was cast—in short, because some bad-tempered faery thought your great-great stole her man. Who wasn’t hers in the first place and who she would have lost interest in sooner or later anyway. But never mind that. The why is rarely fair, unless you happened to be stupid enough to steal some enchanted item from the witch it belongs to.” That had happened once or twice, and in her experience it never ended well for the other party.
She went on. “The second stanza spells out what the curse entails, of course.”
Jenna held one hand protectively over her belly. “Yes, that part is crystal clear, unfortunately. And the section after that just tells me I have to solve the riddle to lift the curse, and something about a ‘pathway through’ that my grandmother thought meant that the solution lay in the Otherworld. The true riddle is t
hat last stanza, and that’s the part no one has ever been able to decipher. I don’t even know where to start.”
“I suggest starting in the land where the sun’s rays are never slanted,” Barbara said with a grin. “With the sun’s bright ray.” She lifted her mug in Day’s direction. “Have you met my friend the White Rider, sometimes known as my ‘Bright Day’?”
CHAPTER 6
DAY snorted coffee out through his nose.
“What? What?” He grabbed a napkin and wiped his face, then waved it like a white flag. “No way, Barbara. You are not going to tell me that I am in the goddamn riddle.” He glared at Barbara, which had about as much effect as it usually did. Which is to say, none whatsoever. This was SO not going the way he’d planned it.
Barbara shrugged, not bothering to try and hide the hint of a smile that hovered around the edge of her lips. “I wasn’t telling you. I was telling Jenna. You just happen to be sitting at the table.”
“That line does not refer to me.”
“Really?” Barbara said. “You don’t think ‘The sun’s bright ray where none is slanted’ refers to the Baba Yagas’ Bright Day, who comes from the Otherworld, where there is no true sun? It seems like rather a good fit to me.”
“It could refer to Gregori Sun,” Mikhail said, knowing he sounded a little like a child wanting to put the blame for a broken vase on someone, anyone, else. “After all, it says ‘sun’ right in the phrase.”
Barbara just stared at him.
“Okay, fine! Day threw up his hands. “It has to refer to someone from the Otherworld, and it does sound like it could mean me. But it could mean something entirely different. That’s all I’m saying.” He subsided back into his seat and picked up his coffee again, glowering equally at Barbara and Jenna (but not at Chudo-Yudo, since, after all, he was depressed but not suicidal).
“I don’t understand,” Jenna said, glancing from Barbara to Day and back again. “How can Mick be part of the solution to a riddle that was created hundreds of years ago?”
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