But then, searching for a foe he could reach, the Jinn turned in midair. She felt his hot, desperate gaze on her.
And that was when he saw the bottle in her hand, realized what she had, and his anger exploded.
“Never again!” he screamed in a voice filled with such rage that she shrank back, her determination withering. “Vile, mortal worms! Never again will you hold me! Now DIE!”
Sheer terror engulfed her, as the sky exploded with flame.
Dimly, she heard the dragons bellow a challenge; she clung to Sasha’s hand as his song faltered, then began again. She reached for her power, sent the waterspout into his face—
Gouts of fire lashed the earth around her; she screamed as tongues of flame licked at her before she could call more water to deflect them. She felt Sasha’s arms go around her, as he shielded her with his own body, still singing, defiant, mocking, throwing all that they had in the Jinn’s face. “You will always be alone,” the song mocked. “We have friendship, love, the strength of companions. You cannot conquer that. You can never conquer that. Your sterility will blanket the earth and you will still never conquer that, nor ever have it for yourself.”
She lashed at the Jinn with her waters, throwing them at him as spray, sleet, even sheets of fog, anything to confuse his sight. The Jinn screamed his anger and returned with gouts of fire that struck all around them. The dragons roared from somewhere up above and the occasional shrieks of pain from the Jinn marked the times when they scored a hit on him.
It was stalemate, she realized. He couldn’t take them, but neither could they take him. With a tingling of despair, she wondered if the best they could hope for would be to be locked in a never-ending fight with the Jinn, until they all dropped dead of exhaustion—
“Die mortal worms!” the Jinn bellowed, as a gout of flame scored a direct hit on Adamant, and sent the dragon into a tumbling fall from which he only just recovered before striking the ground. Gina dove down to protect her mate as he struggled to fly, to gain the comparative safety of height. Icy fear clenched Katya’s heart as the Jinn turned his attention to her—and to Sasha—
“And now I see the weakest link in your chain,” the Jinn sneered.
With horror, she realized he was looking, not at her, but at Sasha.
“The song dies with the singer—” the Jinn snarled in triumph, and flames began to build around him.
“No!” Katya screamed, calling her waters to her—knowing that this time they would not be enough.
“Indeed, no. Enough.”
The Jinn froze; Katya didn’t blame him.
Literally rising from the earth, came the Queen of the Copper Mountain.
She was sheathed from head to toe in a—sculpture, was all that Katya could call it—of malachite. It began with an elaborately carved crown, which somehow flowed over her head and down her neck, into something like a gown, the sleeves of which covered her arms to the first knuckle of her hands and dripped down to the ground like the flowstone of a cave, the body of which did the same, to pool around her and become the column of stone upon which she was rising. It was as if an artist of exquisite genius had fused woman and statue into a living whole.
The eyes of the Jinn met the eyes of the Queen—and the Jinn’s were the ones that showed fear.
Two voices roared out of the sky. “Iblis Afrit En Kalael, we smite thee!”
Sasha’s arms tightened around Katya, as he sang, “Iblis Afrit En Kalael, I blight thee!”
Katya called up her waterspout again and shouted with all of her strength, “Iblis Afrit En Kalael, I blind thee!”
And slowly, the right hand of the Queen of the Copper Mountain rose, until the index finger pointed at the Jinn, the rest curled against her palm. “Iblis Afrit En Kalael, I bind thee!”
With a scream, the Jinn started to struggle, as wisps of fog, tendrils of flame, a blast of wind carrying the dust of malachite that lifted from the earth at the Queen’s command, all began to circle him. Wordlessly he howled as Fire, Water, Air, and Earth formed into dark green chains, chains that encircled him, wrapped him in their coils, and bound him tightly.
Katya snatched up the half-forgotten bottle and pulled out the stopper, holding it with the open neck, pointing it at the now fruitlessly writhing Jinn. Everything she had talked about with Sergei surged through her mind, and she knew at that moment what she was going to say.
“Iblis Afrit En Kalael, we command thee in the name of the Law, in the name of Justice, in the name of Compassion and in the name of Peace, to be bound into this vessel until you repent and reform, and join the ranks of the Lawful Jinn of the City of Brass!”
With a terrible cry, the Jinn, chains and all, dissolved into green vapor, vapor that was sucked into the bottle in the time it took for hearts to beat twice. As the last of it vanished, Katya grabbed the stopper and drove it into the top, and the Queen of Copper Mountain made another little gesture, and the last of the malachite dust still hanging in the air coalesced about the top of the bottle, forming into a malachite seal that covered the entire top. “There will be no more deserts here,” the Queen said, coldly.
Only then did the Queen look into Katya’s eyes, and smile.
“An interesting choice,” she said. And the malachite column shrank back into the earth, taking the Queen with it.
With a thunder of wings, the dragons landed beside them.
“Looks like we won!” Adamant said with a gleeful grin.
Katya sighed, put the bottle down carefully at her feet, and with weary joy felt Sasha’s arms go around her again.
“Yes,” she said, and closed her eyes. “Yes we did.”
Epilogue
The desert was gone. Once again, the Castle of the Katschei was surrounded by forest.
But it was forest that was very much changed.
Gone was the briar maze that had once surrounded the Castle. In its place was a lake—the water was far too wide to be called a moat—with the Castle as an island in the center of it. The miners and excavators of Copper Mountain, it seemed, were also superb engineers. A canal cut to the broad Viridian River kept the lake filled and provided access to and from the sea, at need.
Where the fountain had once been, there was now a much more elaborate construction that, paradoxically, looked utterly natural, a high mound that mimicked the shape of Copper Mountain, with the water from the spring flowing down the side in a waterfall, and channeled out of the garden to end in the lake.
The Castle, newly cleaned, revealed itself to be made, not of grim grey granite, but a rosier form of the same stone. The gardens were bidding fair to be second to none. This shouldn’t have been a surprise, since they were in the charge of a small, dark woman with a mysterious smile and amazing ways with plants. She was aided in this by her partner, a quiet, contained girl who spoke mostly to animals and had made it clear to the creatures of the forest which items were off-limits and which had been planted for their particular enjoyment. Very few people noticed them, and fewer knew their real names. Most called them “Flora” and “Fauna,” and they seemed perfectly content with that.
There was a new addition to the Castle, a single large building that almost rivaled in size the Castle itself; after all, dragons have a hard time fitting into ordinary rooms and through conventional doorways.
The lake played host to one of the most beautiful flocks of swans in all of the Five Hundred Kingdoms. And if now and again one, two, or three of them swam up to the castle, transformed into lovely girls, and left their feather cloaks in the formidable care of the bear that denned in a kind of gatekeeper’s cottage by the lake, well, with all of the other wonders of the Castle, it was hardly noticeable.
What was noticeable, however, was the nightly frolics of the Rusalkas; their exuberant water ballet provided a form of entertainment—in good weather, that is—that furnished the Castle’s inhabitants and visitors with a great deal of pleasure. None of these creatures seemed at all inclined to drown anyone, which often surp
rised newcomers.
Visitors there were many, especially now that this area had come under the aegis of the King of Led Belarus. In fact, in a peculiar way, the Kingdom of Copper Mountain was part of, yet separate from Led Belarus. The Queen and King had come to a very amicable alliance: she ruled everything beneath the surface, and he ruled everything above. This was a perfect arrangement, so far as the King was concerned. Let someone else have the reputation for wealth and opulence. Led Belarus was still known as bucolic, pastoral, comfortable, but wealthy only in the fruits of its fields and pastures. And Copper Mountain could drive its tunnels and mines wheresoever it wished.
And if anyone wished to trade with, or ally with, or acquire the services of the Queen and her people, they came here.
Because across the lake, new buildings were arising under the auspices of the Queen’s people. The most prominent of them thus far was the Embassy of Copper Mountain itself, although the Sea King had a representative here, as did the Dragons of Light, the Fair Folk, and it was said that there were other non-human races considering establishing a presence.
Also under construction was what—according to rumor—was going to be a College for Wizards and Witches. Since it was going up with no visible workers in sight, that was entirely possible.
Across the lake from the Embassies and the College was a semipermanent Gypsy camp. Semipermanent, because although the camp itself was permanent, most of the inhabitants came and went as their fancies took them. The only truly permanent resident was a highly skilled fortune-teller known only as Magda, and her handsome husband.
Whatever needed policing or guarding around the lake was taken care of by the Company of the Wolf Brothers, a troupe of former mercenaries who still, on occasion, hired out some of their young recruits. These went out under the command of Piotr the Clever, and the Company mascot and Scout, his wife Lyuba. He was called the Clever in no small part because of his success in securing Lyuba as his wife. There were currently bets on about whether their offspring would be cubs or children.
All that would certainly have been enough to ensure that no one ever attacked this place. But there was, of course, more.
For the Castle had a new name and a new purpose.
This was the Belarus Chapter of the Champions Order of Glass Mountain. The Knight Commanders were the two resident dragons, Adamant and Gina, and there was even a Godmother-in-training here, a former wizard’s apprentice named Klava.
And on almost any given day, the first hint of hostility would have been met with such a bristling of weaponry and magics that the air itself would probably withdraw a little, just in case.
The wagon approaching the Castle was not quite a gypsy caravan. It had much the same shape, but it was nothing like as brightly—one might say gaudily—painted. The two horses drawing it were also a bit odd for a gypsy caravan; they bore a suspicious resemblance to warhorses, though if that was what they were, they were also clearly past their prime.
The caravan however, despite its relatively sober colors of dusty-blue and midnight, was in excellent repair and condition. The woman driving it—
—was certainly no gypsy. Her coloring was wrong for one thing; she was tiny, and blond rather than dark of hair and eye. And very few gypsies could have afforded her clothing; blue, high-heeled boots of the finest leather, full, calf-length skirt of heavy silk twill, wide belt that matched the boots and laced up the front, and a pristine high-necked white silk blouse, heavy with embroidery down the arms and around the high collar.
“Are we there yet?” called a voice from inside the caravan, mockingly.
“You know, I could turn this caravan right around—” she said, laughing.
“Bah, you wouldn’t do that, your father would have us ambushed at the first river crossing and hauled into his presence.” Sasha stuck his head out through the curtains at the front of the caravan. “Ah, we are there yet!”
Katya ruffled his hair. “You know, you could have been the one driving. Then you wouldn’t have had to keep asking.”
“So you could lounge back there like an odalisque in splendid isolation? I think not!”
“Or you could have sat up here with me.”
“But then I couldn’t keep asking ‘are we there yet?’” His eyes sparkled with laughter, then he turned to examine the lake and the Castle. “Well, hard to believe all this went up in a year.”
She shrugged. “When you have that many magicians available to make things happen, that many magical workers, and that much magic that The Tradition is throwing at a place to erase the last little thought of something like a Jinn, things tend to happen quickly. Castle first, or Father?”
“Castle.” He sighed. “While this arrangement of splitting our services between your father and mine is an excellent idea, I must admit I am not looking forward to a year of eating seaweed balls and raw fish.”
“It isn’t all seaweed balls and raw fish,” she replied, then reached behind his head and pulled him to her to kiss him. The horses continued to plod along, not needing her hand on the reins, which was just as well anyway. “Besides,” she murmured into his ear. “Remember how you liked the honeymoon underwater?”
“Hmm.” He chuckled.
Katya had very fond memories of all of the ways that being buoyant improved lovemaking, and from the state of things, so did he.
“All right then.”
“Horses,” he murmured. “Drive now, canoodle later. Ditch bad, bed good.”
“I hear and obey, master.” She turned her attention back to the horses and the road, just in time to prevent them from going down the road to the gypsy camp and sending them across the causeway to the Castle.
They had sent word days ago via the paper bird that they were on the way, and Klava must have had people watching from a tower for their coming. The horses had barely stopped moving when there was a groom at their head to take them and the caravan off to the stables, and Klava herself came flying down the stairs to catch Katya up in an exuberant embrace. Only after she had hugged Katya and kissed Sasha, was Katya able to take a look at her outfit.
It was a confection in scarlet; panniered overskirt, brocaded underskirt, low-cut bodice, puffed half sleeves reaching to the elbow, with her hair put up and a wide scarlet ribbon with a bow at the back around her neck. Scarlet lace everywhere it was logical to put lace. “Well! I see we have chosen a theme, finally!” Katya remarked, eyes sparkling with laughter, since the last time she had heard from Klava, the latter had been unable to settle on a Fairy name.
“Cardinal Fairy. There is a lovely vine called Cardinal Climber, as it happens, and I love red,” Klava replied, dimpling.
“And a good thing you do, too,” Sasha chuckled. “Well, there will be no mistaking you for your mentor, for certain!”
“Godmother Elena the Lilac Fairy? They’d have to be blind.” Klava laughed at that. “Not even at a distance! Come along, you two, you must be famished!”
“So tell me, what has been happening?” Katya asked, allowing herself to be pulled inside the Castle by her friend.
“Since you cheated us of a wedding here by having it underwater, Marina had hers right here,” Klava replied, taking them to the old throne room, which was now, by the heavy tables and benches, the Chapter refectory. It clearly made a lovely place to eat, what with all the windows. The old battle banners of the Katschei’s conquests had been taken down and replaced with new ones, presumably representing the victories of the new Chapter.
“So she married that bashful boy from her village? I hope he knows he’s to do all the cooking,” Katya replied. “One touch of a fire—”
“No!” Klava exclaimed. “That’s the wonderful part! Do you remember that delegation of Flora’s people, the ones that came in this winter on reindeer-drawn sledges?”
“I remember you writing me about them. Why?” Katya was momentarily distracted by the arrival of what looked like a child bearing bowls of meat-filled borscht and cups of wine. Except it obviously w
asn’t a child….
“She and the youngest fellow, Flora’s cousin, I think, took one look at each other and simply fell head over heels! Here’s the best part—he’s from so far north, the snow never melts!” At Katya’s astonished look, Klava clapped her hands and laughed. “It’s true! Can you think of anything more perfect for a snow maiden?”
“Not unless she married Father Frost! That’s lovely, but what about her poor old parents?” Katya nearly swooned when she tasted the borscht; she hadn’t had any soup that good in—well—a very long time.
“They are very happy for her, but I think it was a relief for them to know that they were not going to have to guard against her melting anymore,” Klava told them.
“It’s a definite consideration,” Sasha put in. “Good saints, Klava, who is your cook? This is amazing!”
Klava chuckled. “We have Brownies now. Wait until you taste the bread!”
So that’s what the little person wa—ah, is! Katya thought, as the small fellow returned with a basket of bread so fresh-baked it was steaming, and a pot of butter.
“We’ll have to spend more time here, that’s clear!” Sasha said, cutting a slice and buttering it. “Oh—my—” he added around his first bite. “Definitely.”
“The advantages of being an apprentice Godmother—though Elena keeps threatening to turn me loose on my own!” Klava didn’t look the least bit unhappy about that idea however, which made Katya take a longer look at her.
Hmm, I should think so. It’s time.
“Good. It’s about time Led Belarus had a Godmother, what with all of this going on.” Sasha waved his hand wide to indicate the entire lake complex. “A Fortunate Fool can only do so much, you know.”
“I know, believe me, I know.” Klava rolled her eyes. “The Baba Yagas alone could keep a Godmother busy. It’s a good thing that they tend to do as much good as evil.”
“And speaking of evil, we met with Sergei on the road,” Sasha told her. “He’s just back from the City of Brass. They have the bottle and have agreed to keep it, but he told us they were playing very aloof and not terribly communicative, so heaven only knows what they plan to do about the Jinn.”
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