Rosa and the Veil of Gold

by Kim Wilkins

“That’s why I’m here,” she said. “Grigory sent me. We’re returning to him immediately with the bear. On the sleigh.”

  “Forgive me. If I’d known I would never have tried to stop you.” He considered Daniel over Rosa’s head. “I’m sorry about your travelling companion.”

  Rosa turned to Daniel. “Em? Where is she?”

  Daniel’s face spoke for him, his disbelief and shock plain around his eyes and mouth.

  Rosa felt a rush of cold prickles. “No. Not here, Daniel. Not here. She’ll wander revenant forever. Where is she? Take me to her, straightaway.”

  “Back towards the stream,” Daniel said.

  “I’ll lead you,” Morozko said, turning with his wings folded behind him.

  Like a funeral procession they returned to the site of Em’s death. Morozko, marble-cold with snowy wings. Rosa, black-haired and dressed in crimson. Daniel, dirty and clothed in brown. The grey sky lowered over the yellow-green grass, and the hidden sun glared across it all.

  At the side of the stream, in muddy grass, Em lay crumpled in a heap. Rosa felt for a pulse, but there was nothing. Morozko knelt beside her, and Rosa could feel the intense cold which radiated from him.

  “I didn’t intend to kill her,” he said to Rosa. “She was a creature unlike any I’d known. I was curious. I explored her. It ended badly.”

  She turned her gaze to his, and saw distress in his eyes.

  “She survived so long here, on her wits.”

  “She didn’t have her wits at the last.” He dropped his head.

  Rosa returned her attention to Em’s body. She closed her eyes, opening her second sight and ranging it around. Nearby, but fading fast, there was a tiny glow of warmth.

  “She’s around still,” Rosa said, clearing her vision. “She hasn’t joined the revenants yet.”

  “You can bring her back to life?” Daniel said, incredulous.

  “No. No, Daniel,” she replied, regretting arousing any false hope. The anticipation in his face made her sad and she had to look away. “Death is forever. But…” She untied the shoes at her waist, realising now who they were for. “Here,” she said, handing one to Daniel, “help me get these on her.”

  “What are they?”

  “Quickly now. They’ll take her soul to the one place she can find great joy.”

  Daniel hurried, Rosa too. Then she laid her hands over Em’s heart and closed her eyes again.

  Calmly, quietly, she began, “I beseech the moon and all the stars…” She knew the zagovor, having heard Anatoly chant it to Nikita’s revenant spirit. She had none of his impassioned fury. She didn’t need it. The shoes would take Em where she needed to go. This was just to make it simpler.

  “My word is firm,” she finished. “So it shall be.”

  The warm light which had been fading suddenly bloomed into brightness on her second vision, nearly knocking Rosa over. Daniel gasped. He could see it too, and Rosa wondered how long he’d had the second sight. The light dazzled for a moment, then, with a sound which might have been a sigh of relief or an unstructured humming melody, it extinguished to black.

  Rosa opened her eyes.

  “What do we do with her body?” Daniel said. “We can’t leave it here for witches or wolves.”

  “She’s not in it any more, Daniel,” Rosa said.

  “But still…”

  “I’ll take her,” Morozko said. “I’ll take her back to the ice caves with me. Nothing will touch her there.”

  Rosa and Daniel watched as Morozko folded Em’s body gently in his arms, easing her head gingerly onto his bruised shoulder. Then, with an athletic leap, he took to the sky and spiralled up towards the clouds. They watched until he disappeared from view.

  Rosa turned to Daniel. He was fighting tears.

  She took his hand. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get away from here.”

  Voron waited. Rosa climbed in, but Daniel hesitated.

  “Daniel,” she asked. “Not still afraid of flying?”

  He shook his head, smiling ruefully. “Yes, I am.” He took a step onto the sleigh. “But I’m coming with you.”

  Rosa’s here. Rosa’s here.

  It was what Daniel had dreamed about every day since his arrival in Skazki, and now she was finally here he could scarcely believe it. No matter that the sky beneath the sleigh was miles deep, that he clung to the side of the sleigh until his knuckles threatened to break through his skin. Rosa was beside him, and he felt a first glimmer of the possibility that he might be happy again some time.

  Em’s death was a sad weight on his heart. All the horrors of their journey together condensed into one impossibly real moment when her body slammed the ground with its full dead weight. If only Rosa had come moments sooner…

  “Tell me everything,” Rosa said as they shot through a crossing on the raven sleigh. The sky shattered and resolved, the wide steppe behind him at last.

  So he told her everything, and she told him in her turn, and he clutched her hands and allowed himself to weep for Em as the air split again and they found themselves above a deep woodland, night full upon the sky. Rosa commanded the sleigh to land, and soon they were building a fire in a broad clearing. The stars were quiet, but the trees whispered among themselves.

  Daniel and Rosa sat together on the velvet seat of the sleigh, while the fire roared next to them. They ate pancakes, and Daniel amused himself watching Rosa’s two shadows flicker in the firelight.

  “You’re so warm,” he said to her, amazed by the heat of her shoulder beneath his arm.

  “It’s not me,” she said. “It’s this dress.”

  “I’m used to Em…she was so cold towards the end…” He trailed off, as the sadness stilled his tongue. Em had been cold in more than body. She had been incapable of love, but somehow he had grown to love her. He would miss her blunt practicality, her poised mannerisms, her games of numbered lists.

  “You must have grown very close,” Rosa said in a soft voice.

  “We did. I mean, I did. I don’t know how she felt, if she felt…but she was a good friend, and we looked out for each other. In the end, I didn’t look out carefully enough.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Daniel,” Rosa said, stroking his fingers gently. “Wherever she is now, she’s happy.”

  Daniel gazed at her. She was so unspeakably beautiful, had such fire in her veins. She smiled at him.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry, Rosa,” he said. “I still love you.”

  Her eyes changed. Some of the fire dimmed. She fought with words for a few moments, then said, “It’s all right, Daniel.” She leaned into kiss him. It had been so long since he’d touched her lips with his, and feelings both tender and violent rose in him. His hands moved into her hair and he pressed his body against her. Such sweet bruising warmth.

  “Get me out of this stupid dress,” she laughed, unpicking the soundless bells.

  He stripped her and laid her in the cold grass on the bank. She smelled like heaven: warm skin and clean hair and musky female scents. She drew him down beside her and wrenched his clothes from his body, lips like fire on his flesh. Everything about her was laid open to him, he plunged into her and the brilliance of his desire sizzled through his veins and sinews. Grass tickled his bare skin. He pushed her head back and kissed her neck; her pulse thundered under his lips. The night enveloped them.

  “I love you,” he murmured against her ear. “I love you and the stupid words aren’t enough.”

  “I know,” she said. “They never are.”

  It was too cold for nakedness, and they dressed again, in time, and huddled together next to the fire, still in the dreamy weariness of lovemaking’s wake. Rosa was fighting a dislocation, an anxiety that she couldn’t name. So now she had to tell him everything. And telling was remembering, dragging up every detail and seeing the whole awful mess laid out.

  “How soon can we go home, do you think?” Daniel asked.

  Rosa fell silent, and could fee
l the unease stiffen into Daniel’s shoulder.

  “Rosa? We are going home, aren’t we?”

  She took a deep breath, released it. “It’s confusing,” she said.

  “What’s confusing? We take the bear to Grigory, then we go home.”

  “I’m not sure what we’re going to do with the bear.”

  “But, Rosa—”

  She continued, more forcefully, cutting him off, “And I’m not going home.”

  He sat up and pulled back so he could look at her. Seconds passed.

  “What?” he said at last.

  “I’m not going back to Mir.”

  He was frantic now, and the guilt soured her stomach.

  “Why not? Why stay here? It’s full of horrors.”

  “And wonders.”

  “Rosa, don’t fuck with my head. You can’t possibly mean to stay here because the sky’s a pretty colour.”

  Rosa turned away, and watched the fire. Shadows moved across her face. She searched for words. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Try me.”

  Anticipation prickled. The feeling of adrenalin that she ordinarily loved so much, now so unpleasant. She was afraid, but she tried to smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Daniel. Last time I saw you, I promised to tell you something.”

  “Yes,” he said slowly. “You promised you’d explain why we split up.”

  “It’s the same reason. The reason I have to stay here in Skazki.” She held out her hands, palms up and shrugged apologetically. “I realise now that it’s something I should have told you a long time ago.”

  A breeze shivered across the treetops. “I almost don’t want you to tell me,” Daniel said. “You’re frightening me.”

  “I have to.”

  “I know.”

  Rosa paused. Where to start? Anywhere, she supposed. All roads led to the same awful destination.

  “When my mother died she was only fifty-two,” she said. “Her mother died aged fifty-seven. They both died of the same thing.”

  Daniel was puzzled. “Is that it? You think you’re going to die young?”

  “Wait,” she said, holding a finger to his lips. “Wait. Don’t say a word, not until I’m finished. Let me tell my story. I don’t much like it, but it’s mine to tell.

  “Mama died at fifty-two, but she was sick for a long time. In fact, the first symptoms started to show up when she was only in her thirties. At the time, she put it down to the shock of Papa’s death, but things got worse, not better. By the time she was forty-two, she had been diagnosed. The doctor who was treating her was the best we could find. Uncle Vasily funded it all. Dr Howlett was part of a research project at a big Canadian hospital, and because of the family history, because of the early onset of the illness, he asked Mama to be involved in the research. He sequenced one of Mama’s genes.”

  Daniel nodded, but she knew he didn’t really follow. He’d always been more interested in art than science.

  “They found a mutation.” She realised her words were rushing out, flat and breathless, and tried to regain control. Fate weighed heavy. “A mutation on the PS–1 gene.”

  “What does that mean, Rosa?” he prompted.

  “It meant that I could be tested too. If I wanted. Dr Howlett was very keen, my friends were less so. I was young and cocky, so I took the test.” Yes, she had once felt invincible. What a horror it had been to find out that she wasn’t. She tried an ironic smile. “I had the same mutation. It’s genetic fate. I’ll die of it too.”

  Daniel shook his head. “You’re going to die in your fifties? And for this you won’t be with me now?”

  Rosa felt then that Daniel could never understand. He probably thought she had inherited some romantic illness; something fitting for the raven-haired goddess he had always taken her to be, and she’d always encouraged him to imagine. A romantic wasting disease, a scented deathbed, perhaps, all covered in vines and rose petals. And then, an angel weeping on a headstone and two or three liquid-eyed children to console him. She could have laughed, but it would have sounded bitter and hard.

  “Don’t you want to know, Daniel? What I’m going to die of?”

  Daniel shrugged. “Cancer?” he asked, probably because his own mother had died of cancer. He had been too young to see any of the mess and substance of her suffering.

  “No, not cancer,” she said, twisting the hem of her skirt between her fingers. “Nothing nearly so easy on my dignity.”

  Daniel shook his head, growing impatient. “Rosa, we might have thirty years together. That’s enough time for love, and children, and holidays at the beach. What could be so bad that…”

  The fire cracked and popped expectantly. An owl on a nearby tree ruffled its feathers and swooped away. Rosa felt the pressure of fear, of embarrassment.

  “Alzheimer’s,” she said, setting the word free at last. And, damn, here came the stupid tears.

  “Alzheimer’s?”

  “Yes, yes. Forgetting who I am. Becoming a dead-eyed vessel.” Her voice died off to a whisper.

  Daniel was silent. A few moments passed, and she knew already that he was as repulsed by the illness as she was.

  But then, “Rosa, Rosa,” he said, reaching for her hand, “it might not be so bad.”

  She snatched her fingers away. “I know precisely how bad it will be. I nursed my mother through it. She didn’t know who I was some days. Some days she threw things at my head. Some days she cried for hours and asked where my father was. Some days she just sat there like a zombie while I mopped up body fluids. I know exactly what I’m in for.” Then, quieter: “What you’re in for.”

  “I love you, Rosa. I’d look after you, no matter what happened.”

  Her mouth contorted and she reined in a sob, angry that she couldn’t get her feelings under control. “Don’t you understand? I don’t want you to look after me. Not under those circumstances. I don’t want you to see me so ruined.”

  “I wouldn’t mind.”

  “I’d mind! This isn’t about you.” Her face grew warm. “This isn’t about wanting to spare you the pain. This is about me. I want to stay beautiful and clever. I want to remember everything. I want to remember myself. I don’t want to lose myself.” The yawning chasm of fear opened up within her as she named it, the worst fear she had.

  He reached out to touch her, but she shrugged him off, leapt to her feet and paced, swallowing her sobs and feigning composure. “That’s why I’m staying here, Daniel. Here, my own death can’t find me.”

  “Rosa, if you stay here you’ll die horribly.”

  She shook her head, calming herself with her new exit clause. If Papa Grigory was telling the truth, there was a way out. If he was telling the truth. “No, no. You see, I’ve met Papa Grigory now. He keeps himself safe, and his little girl. I can live with them.”

  “And never leave his cottage? You? Spend forever in a tiny space like that? You’d go insane.”

  She hadn’t yet imagined it, and Daniel’s words deflated her. “Well, then, if I hate it after a hundred years, I can always walk out and be torn to pieces in the forest,” she said flippantly.

  “Just as long as you don’t think you can walk out, back to Mir and find me. Because I’ll be dead before the hundred years is up.”

  His serious voice annoyed her. She waved him away. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t make me feel guilty. This is my decision, my life, my brain.” She tapped her head. “I’m staying here.”

  Daniel shook his head sadly. “Then I’ll let you go,” he replied, “but I will love you every day of my life.”

  Rosa returned to the fireside, folded her arms around him. “Daniel, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  He was stiff in her embrace. “You know, all of this is so…” Anger confounded his words. “I can’t bring myself to wish I’d never met you,” he finished, “but if I was sane, I would wish it.”

  She drew back to look into his eyes, and saw how tired he was and cursed herself for b
urdening him with this when he should have been resting. He had slogged for months through hostile countryside. “When was the last time you slept properly?” she asked. “You should lie down.”

  “I’m not going to sleep. Not now. How could I, after what you’ve just told me?”

  “Then just lie down next to me.” She encouraged him to lie, his head in her lap. “We’re here together now, Daniel. Let’s enjoy it.”

  “I’m not enjoying anything. I want to know how—”

  “No. I won’t discuss it any further.” She loosened the dreaming girdle from her waist. Without him knowing, she smoothed it across his shoulder. It would help him sleep, deeply enough to dream at least. She stroked his hair and gazed at the fire, muttering a little sleep incantation under her breath.

  “Rosa?”

  “Let’s not talk any more. There’s nothing more to talk about.”

  One minute passed. Two. Then he was asleep.

  Rosa watched the fire for a long time, thinking. Stars glimmered coolly above her, Anatoly bumped inside her. From time to time, she glanced at Daniel, his beloved face made childlike by sleep. She ached to be with him, to live out those fantasies which she knew he harboured as she did. But what choice did she have? If Anatoly had left her even a shred of her own magic to grow, she could return to Mir and then come back here in ten or fifteen years, before it was all too late. But she couldn’t leave Anatoly inside her much longer. He would eventually choose his own death to imprisonment in the dark spaces under her ribs, and he’d be clever enough to do it without passing any magic into her.

  Daniel was right in one thing. Living forever in Papa Grigory’s little cottage was not ideal either. Eventually she’d be tempted out, longing for adventure, for sights and sounds as yet unwitnessed, and then she’d meet her death and wander revenant, a miserable confused soul forever.

  Thoughts of Papa Grigory led to thoughts of the Golden Bear. Why had Perun and Veles told her a different version of events? What motives did each party have? It wasn’t that she believed them over Grigory—he’d been more than generous to her—it was simply that something Veles had said repeated over and over in her head: At least go to see the Snow Witch. Once you see her, all will be clear.