by Jim C. Hines
“You worry too much. We’re all going to die someday.” Roudette pulled the skin tight. As the wolf enveloped her, she added, “If it’s today, you might as well go out fighting.”
The cave the fox had found was hardly an ideal location for Snow’s magic: low and cramped, full of sand and old spiderwebs. It had been full of old spiders too, until Snow used a quick spell to clear them out. She shivered, trying not to think about the parade of spiders and other creepy things that had poured from the shadows.
She would have given much for the comfort of her library, not to mention a good night’s sleep.
“You can’t restore her if you don’t know what you’re restoring her to,” Trittibar said.
“I know that!” Snow scowled at the tiny image in her mirror. Trittibar’s arm was bandaged against his body. His clothes were more subdued than normal, and his voice had lost some of its spirit, but he was doing his best to help. Unfortunately, there was only so much he could do from Lorindar. “When I use shapechanging magic, the subject’s own memories help restore her to her natural form. Faziya has no memory of her former shape.”
Snow turned the mirror so Trittibar could get a better view of Faziya, who lay curled in a furry ball near the back of the cave.
“We can argue for as long as you’d like,” Trittibar said. “If you’re right about Zestan, the kind of magic we’re dealing with is far beyond anything I could counter, even when I was still able to draw upon the power of Fairytown.” He stumbled only briefly. “Jinniyah aren’t powerful enough for this kind of magic. Given what you’ve described, I’m sure she used Zestan’s power to cast these curses.”
“We already figured that out,” Snow complained. “You’re no help at all.”
“Even if we knew how to break the spell, there’s a possibility neither one of us is strong enough to pull it off. Especially with your condition.”
“I’m fine,” Snow snapped. She clenched her jaw. Dropping the illusions on herself and Danielle had helped, but her head still throbbed from the spell she had cast into the jinniyah to prevent it from using a fairy ring. Not to mention the magic she had to maintain to keep anyone from scrying on them. Talia should be protected by Roudette’s cape, but if anyone thought to search for Faziya, Snow wanted to be certain they found nothing. “There has to be another way.”
“We’re outmatched, Snow!” Trittibar pulled on his beard. When he spoke again, he sounded calmer. “Even with both of us at our best—”
“I know.” Snow rubbed her eyes.
Outside the cave, Danielle called out, “They’re back.”
“Already?” How long had she and Trittibar been working? She muttered a farewell to Trittibar and returned the now vacant mirror to her choker. Faziya appeared content to sleep for the moment, barely cracking an eye as Snow crawled out of the cave.
The sun was dipping behind the hills. No wonder Snow’s stomach had begun to complain.
Talia carried two large waterskins, one strapped over each shoulder. She wore a heavy pack as well. Sweat and dust caked a stripe across her eyes, though her forehead and the lower part of her face appeared clean. She must have pushed back her head scarf just a short time ago.
Roudette also carried water and supplies. Snow stared. Roudette appeared almost cheerful. She was even whistling.
“Where did these come from?” Danielle asked, stepping away from the horses.
“Courtesy of Jahrasima.” Talia handed one to Danielle, who struggled with the unfamiliar skin. These waterskins were far larger than the bottles they had brought in their saddlebags. The bulging skin appeared to be made of goat hide, still covered in fur. The skin was stitched in a long, curved shape. When carried, it would fit around the ribs with the strap worn over the opposite shoulder. A small tube of ebony horn formed the mouthpiece.
Talia demonstrated with her remaining skin. Keeping the strap on her shoulder, she lifted the skin to the front of her body so the mouthpiece was on top. She used one hand to support the skin and the other to untie the mouthpiece. Pressure compressed the skin, shooting water into her mouth without spilling a drop. She swallowed and asked, “How is Faziya? Have you found a way to restore her?”
Snow took the waterskin from Danielle, drinking to give herself time to answer. The water was warm and faintly sour, but Snow gulped it down until Talia tugged the mouthpiece away.
“Don’t drink too much at once,” said Talia. “And make sure you don’t completely empty the skins, or they’ll go brittle and crack.”
Snow stretched, arching her hands over her head and cracking her back. “Trittibar believes the spell was cast with an object. A wand or a piece of jewelry, something imbued with Zestan’s magic.”
“Meaning what?” Talia demanded.
“The safest way to break the spell would be to sneak into the mansion a second time and find whatever object Jhukha used when she cast the curse.”
Talia stared. “They’ll have figured out how we got in, and the guards will be on alert. Even if I go alone, it would be difficult—”
“You can’t,” said Snow. “You wouldn’t know what to look for.”
“So what do we do?” Talia removed the other waterskin and leaned it against the rocks.
“We can’t go back. But there might be another way.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
Snow paced in a circle. She knew exactly how to proceed. She could see the spells she would need to cast. A circle to contain Faziya. A second spell to calm her. Back home, Snow would have brewed a potion to help her sleep. She had hoped Trittibar would have another option. “There are three known ways to break this sort of transformation. The first is to allow the spell to wear off on its own. Uf’uyan would have returned to his natural state within a day or two.”
Talia nodded. “How long would Faziya—”
“Your curse lasted a hundred years.” Snow glanced into the cave. “If this is deev magic, it could survive a thousand. The second way is built into the spell itself. You know the stories. The prince who’s trapped as a frog is freed by a princess’ kiss.”
“We’ve got three princesses here,” Talia said. “I could—”
Snow shook her head. “The kissing component is local to the lands around the Carifone Sea. Lorindar, Hilad, Najarin, and so on. Neither Trittibar nor myself have ever heard of it being used this far south. We can try, but I wouldn’t expect it to work. Only the one who cast the spell knows the key to reversing it.”
“Even if we could get our hands on Jhukha, I don’t know how to make her talk,” said Talia. “What’s the third option?”
Snow turned away. “This sort of curse usually fades when the victim dies. As their life slips away, they shift back to their true form. Either the magic loses its grip as the victim’s life fades, or else it’s a deliberate piece of the spell, designed to give them a chance to speak their final words. Fairies like that kind of drama.”
Talia’s voice was hard. “You’ve spent too long in the sun.”
“We don’t have to kill her,” said Snow. “The spell is broken in those final moments before death. That’s the key. If we bring Faziya to that point, I could save her before—”
Strong hands grabbed Snow’s shoulders, spinning her about. Talia squeezed Snow’s arms. “Find another way.”
“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Snow struck Talia’s wrists, breaking her hold. She flexed her arms. Even through the desert robe, Talia’s grip had been strong enough to leave bruises. “Without whatever tool Jhukha used—”
“Then we return to Jahrasima,” Talia said.
Roudette chuckled. “We’ll be sure to tell Faziya how you ran off to die for her. I’m sure she’ll appreciate your courage. Or she would, if she weren’t a jackal.”
“I can save her,” Snow insisted. “Remember when Beatrice was stabbed? The blade nicked her heart, but I—”
Talia whirled. “I remember that Beatrice is dying!”
“Enough.” Dan
ielle stepped between them.
Talia moved toward the horses. “I’ll be back before morning.”
“No, you won’t,” said Danielle. “Talia, stop.”
“This isn’t Lorindar, Princess,” Talia snapped, climbing onto the horse. “Arathea is my land. You don’t give the orders here.”
Talia tugged the reins, kicking the horse in the side. The horse simply snorted. Talia tried again, then glared at Danielle.
“You may not listen to my orders, but they do,” said Danielle. “If you rush back into Jahrasima, you’ll be giving yourself to Zestan. It’s your people who will suffer when she uses you against Lakhim. Your sons who will fall to the same curse that took your family.”
Rarely had Snow seen such fury in Talia’s eyes. “You heard what Snow’s asking. What if it were Armand?” Her words were sharp as any blade. “What about Jakob? What would you do if I told you the only way to save your son was to drive your knife into his heart?”
“If I had to choose between trusting Snow’s magic or losing him forever?” Danielle shook her head. “Faziya is your friend. She wouldn’t want you to throw your life away like this.”
“You don’t know her,” Talia said.
“None of us do.” Danielle clucked her tongue, and the horse stepped closer. “But I know how you feel about her. I’m sorry, Talia. I can’t let you go.”
“She was the first . . .” Talia’s voice grew even quieter. “You’re not even sure this will work.”
“It should,” said Snow. “Fairy spells bind to life. The life of the fairy hill, the life of the victim . . . with that life cut off, the spells fail. It’s why pixies lose their glow shortly after death. They—” She stopped herself. “If there were any other way . . .”
Slowly, Talia slid down from the horse. “Do it,” she whispered.
Snow stood. “It will take me an hour or so to prepare the circle. Danielle, I’ll need as many flat stones as you can find.”
“Snow.” Talia was crouched in front of the cave, staring into the darkness. “If she dies—”
“I know.” If Faziya died, Talia would never forgive them. Snow took a long, slow breath, then pulled out her knife and began drawing a circle in the dirt.
CHAPTER 16
TALIA DID HER BEST TO STAY OUT OF THE way as Snow laid stones around her circle, marking a different rune on each one using blood from her finger. Danielle sat with Faziya, talking gently to keep her calm and relaxed. Roudette had crawled off to sleep. The cave made her snores sound twice as loud.
So far, Talia had watered and brushed the horses, eaten some of their stolen rations without tasting them, and inspected every one of her weapons twice. Stars were beginning to appear in the sky. The air would cool quickly with the sun gone. She spun around, intending to retrieve blankets from the saddlebags.
Danielle’s fingers stroked Faziya’s neck. “The more agitated you get, the harder it is to keep her calm.”
“I’ll go. I could hunt for—”
“Sit.” She smiled. “It will be all right.”
“Because things have been going so well for us thus far.” Talia scowled, but she sat beside Danielle. Faziya growled and started to back away, but Danielle whispered to her, petting her fur and calming her until she settled her head back down on Danielle’s thigh. Faziya’s ears remained high, and her eyes never left Talia.
Danielle took Talia’s hand. “It’s all right,” she said again.
Talia wasn’t sure if Danielle was speaking to her or to Faziya, but she allowed Danielle to guide her hand. Their fingers brushed the dusty fur on Faziya’s neck. Faziya tensed but didn’t pull away.
“I’ll find the one who did this to you,” Talia promised. Jhukha was only a servant. It was Zestan’s magic that had cursed Faziya.
Snow removed her remaining mirrors from her choker and set them around the circle. When her neck was bare of glass, she touched the gold wires circling her neck. The wires pulled free, wrapping themselves around her index finger.
Snow avoided looking at Talia as she went to the saddlebag and pulled out a spare head scarf. Talia almost asked what it was for. She looked down at Faziya, imagining that scarf soaking up blood as Snow worked to save Faziya’s life.
Snow folded the scarf and set it carefully on a stone. She raised her other hand, pursed her lips, and blew. Frost filled the circle.
“The cold will slow the bleeding,” Snow said. “It should give me a little more time.” She pulled out her knife.
“No.” Talia allowed her hand to linger on Faziya’s neck, feeling the quick, frightened breaths, the heat of her skin beneath the fur. “A sharper blade will make a cleaner cut, with less pain. Danielle, would you . . . ?”
Danielle stood and drew her sword. Faziya jumped to her feet and backed away.
“I should do it,” Talia whispered. That blade was sharper than any razor. With luck, Faziya would hardly feel the cut. Talia made no move to take the sword.
“You don’t have to,” said Danielle.
“Yes, I do. You need to be able to speak to her, to keep her steady. Snow has to concentrate on her magic.” Talia swallowed.
“Animals are built along the same principles as us,” Snow said. “A cut to the throat will spill the most blood, but I’m afraid it would be too much, too fast. Try the leg, close to the shoulder. You’ll hit—”
“I know.” Talia thought about the mercenary who had taught her that move. She couldn’t remember the man’s name. He had been arrested less than a month after Talia met him, but he had shown her a number of knife tricks in that time. Block your opponent’s knife hand with your forearm, opening up his arm. Slice your own blade up the inside of his biceps. It didn’t take a deep cut to kill a man that way.
“Dogs’ limbs are built differently,” Snow said. “You’ll need to cut closer to the front instead of the inside.”
Talia took the sword. “I’m ready.”
“Faziya?” Danielle crouched, one hand extended. “Please come with me.”
Faziya’s eyes were large, and she was panting, the tip of her tongue protruding from the right side of her mouth. Danielle stroked Faziya’s back as she led her into the circle.
“Tell her not to move,” Talia said. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
“I will.” Danielle knelt and began to whisper. Faziya was shivering, from either fear or the rapidly cooling night air.
Talia glanced at Snow, who nodded.
“You’re doing the right thing.” Roudette yawned as she crawled out of the cave, staring unabashedly. “Even if she dies, she dies human, free of their curse.”
“She’s not going to die,” Snow insisted.
Talia tightened her grip on the hilt and stepped into the circle.
“Don’t be afraid,” Danielle said. Faziya glanced up at the sound of her voice.
Talia moved without thinking, taking advantage of Faziya’s distraction the same as she would with an enemy. In a single motion, she thrust the sword and slid the blade along Faziya’s leg.
Glass cut through skin and muscle, and she could feel the edge scraping bone. Even as Talia pulled back, she knew she had cut too deep. The sword was too sharp. She stumbled back, needing all of her will to keep from flinging it away.
Faziya snarled and snapped at Talia, then lunged at Snow, but she seemed unable to move beyond the circle. She kept her leg tight against her body and whimpered as blood spilled into the sand.
Talia stabbed the sword into the dirt and knelt at the edge of the circle. She forced herself to watch as more blood darkened the dirt. Faziya tried to lick the cut, but she couldn’t reach it. She looked at Danielle and let out a low whine. Danielle had her hands clasped together, her lips moving silently.
All too quickly, Faziya grew lethargic. She retreated to the far side of the circle and curled up in the dirt.
“How much longer?” Talia whispered.
“Soon,” said Snow. “As the life drains from her body, the curse loses its hold.”
Talia couldn’t remember the last time she had prayed. Losing everything and everyone she had ever known to a fairy curse had pretty much ended her faith in God and his prophets. But now she begged God to let this work.
Blood spread through the dirt around Faziya. She whined again, weaker this time, and Talia’s heart constricted. “It’s not working.”
“It will,” said Snow.
Faziya closed her eyes.
“Snow, stop this.” Talia stepped toward the circle and froze. If she tried to move Faziya, she might only make things worse. “Help her.”
“I know what I’m doing. The body can lose a great deal of blood and still survive.”
Talia stepped around the circle. This time Faziya lacked the energy to flee. Talia reached out, resting a hand on the warm fur of Faziya’s neck. “Forgive me.”
“Got you,” Snow whispered.
Faziya’s body twitched beneath Talia’s hand. Her legs kicked out, and clumps of fur fell away to reveal skin the color of oiled olive wood. Her eyes snapped open, and her body began to grow.
Snow was already moving. She shoved Talia aside and rolled Faziya onto her back. She pressed one hand over the bloody cut on what was becoming an arm. More fur fell away. Faziya’s next gasp sounded almost human.
“Press here, now!” Snow indicated a point above the cut, near Faziya’s armpit.
Talia obeyed, squeezing hard. Snow whispered a spell, and the gold wire around her finger thinned like thread as it burrowed into the cut.
Talia brushed snarled black hair back from Faziya’s eyes. Her face was cool to the touch.
“Too much blood,” Snow muttered. “Press harder.”
Talia tightened her grip, though Faziya cried out.
“Hold her still!”
“I’m trying,” Talia said, grabbing Faziya’s other shoulder and pressing her flat. “Faziya, it’s me. It’s Talia. I’m going to help you. Try not to fight.”
“Sing to her,” said Danielle.
Talia swallowed. One of her fairy blessings had been the gift of song. It was a gift she rarely used in front of anyone older than two. In a low voice, she began to sing an old ballad about an eastern prince and his Kha’iida lover.