Rosa and the Veil of Gold

by Kim Wilkins

  Grigory lunged, and Rosa thrust Daniel away, pushing him out the door.

  “Run!” she shouted, doing the same thing herself, in the opposite direction to Daniel. Grigory paused in the corridor, trying to decide which one of them had the bear. Daniel was moving swiftly up the corridor. Grigory was turning his attention that way.

  “The Golden Bear is mine to keep,” Rosa stopped and called. He hesitated, turned to her.

  “Rosa. What’s all this nonsense?”

  “I’m not giving it back,” she said, and started to run.

  Then he was barrelling down the corridor towards her, his advanced age no handicap, and she was flying away from him. Her feet skidded on the ice and snow as she wove through the tunnels of the Snow Witch’s palace. Up ahead, she could see daylight, so she ran directly for it, emerging from the icy half-light into full sun. Before her spread a frozen lake. She paused, wary.

  He was right behind her.

  She put her foot on the ice, and picked her way over it, towards the other side.

  Grigory had pulled up on the edge. “Rosa, what are you doing?”

  “Running away from you.”

  “You, of all people, know how dangerous the ice can be.” Crack. A split in the ice fissured in a crooked line ahead of her. Its awful creak echoed in her memory, all the way back to the night her father died. She pulled up sharply, turned.

  “Did you do that?”

  In answer, another crack appeared beside her.

  “Stop it,” she said. “Let me go.”

  He had her trapped on the ice, and he moved towards her deliberately and unhurriedly. No matter. Daniel had the bear. He would climb into Voron and get away from here. Wouldn’t he? Her body was trembling all over, even though the sarafan kept her blood warm.

  “As I see it, you have three choices,” he said as he drew closer. “You can die like your father, you can die like your mother, or you can listen to me and have your wish. Do you understand?”

  “Who is she?” Rosa asked. She swallowed hard, thinking of the poor soul suffering inside the palace. She raised a hand and pointed back the way she had come. “Who is that?”

  “That is the Snow Witch.”

  “Rubbish. You said the Snow Witch was a horrible monster. She’s just a girl.”

  “Yes, yes, a girl full of bullet holes and bayonet wounds. She’s a horror to look upon, wouldn’t you say?” He pulled up in front of her. The bright light illuminated a thousand wrinkles on his brow.

  “What the hell happened to you?” she said, a cloud of fog rising from her lips.

  “I had to reassure Totchka before I left. She made me reinforce the barricade. It’s very demanding.”

  Rosa shrugged. “Well, you have me now. A captive audience. You might as well produce your explanations.”

  “They are not explanations,” he muttered darkly. “They are stories.”

  “Go on then.”

  Grigory began his tale. “On a hot night in July 1918, I brought the wounded Grand Duchess Anastasia to my cottage in Skazki. I laid her in Totchka’s bed, while Totchka sat frightened in a corner of the room, glad that I was home but unforgiving of the gasping, bleeding intruder.

  “I was surprised. Foolishly, I had thought that the moment I brought Anastasia to Skazki, she would recover, sit up and look around. As Totchka had, two years past when I’d brought her back with me. Of course, it was not the death fated for Anastasia: it was a death not-her-own, the kind of death which Skazki could not save her from. So now I was burdened with the most serious problem Skazki had been faced with. Since Aleksandr’s half-promise, Skazki’s tie to Mir had been on the brink of disaster. As soon as the last of the magic blood had gone cold in a human body, the worlds would slide apart for good. With it, every Skazki creature would disappear from Mir, every Mir creature would disappear from Skazki.

  “Morning was still hours away. The girl moaned in my arms, asking over and over for her mama, shudders of pain wracking her body. I could not let her die. Yet at any moment her body was going to give up its spirit. I could feel life ebbing from her.

  “Sitting, just at my left hand where I had put her, was the Golden Bear. So many times, I had used it to store her brother’s soul while I healed him. So easy. I hummed my little tune, lifting the soul from Anastasia’s body and sending it rushing into the bear.

  “This brought Anastasia no peace, you understand. Perhaps if I’d sent her into the body of a fox or a bird, her poor pained body might have fallen to rest, but I wasn’t sure if that would work, if her soul in the warm body of another creature was enough to keep the worlds tied. I knew, from experience with Aleksei, that when the soul went to the bear, the heart in the body still beat.

  “‘Papa, I don’t like that dead girl in my bed,’ Totchka said.

  “‘She will be gone by morning, little one, I promise you,’ I said. ‘Tonight will be long. Be brave, and wait here for me.’

  “‘You’re not going again?’ she said, her voice rising in panic.

  “I leaned over her and grasped her head gently in my hands. ‘No, no, sweet child. I go only as far as the edge of the circle. I must call a friend to assist me. This problem is too big for your papa to solve on his own.’

  “I left the cottage, and the warm bubble which was its safe circumference, and stepped into the wild night alone. ‘Morozko!’ I called, sending my voice vibrating out over the veil, so that wherever he was he would hear it. ‘Koschey needs your assistance. If ever you were a friend to me, come now.’

  “Then I returned to the cottage and soothed Totchka in a pile of blankets on top of the stove, where she slept for a little while. As the firelight gleamed on the bear, I waited next to Anastasia’s body. It was not easy. A corpse is unpleasant company, but a girl suspended at the moment of her painful death is far worse. She shuddered and cried, convulsed and cursed. Her wounds seeped blood and her breath came in trembling gasps. Two hours passed, then three. Finally, I heard a voice far away, calling me.

  “‘Koschey, if you want my help, you’ll have to let me into this infernal bubble.’

  “Morozko! You have met him now, Rosa, so I need not describe his firm physique, his cold aura, his snowy wings. Totchka woke as I led Morozko into the cottage, and she shrank under her covers and gazed at him with eyes saucer-wide, both frightened and amazed.

  “I explained to him the situation, and why I had brought him here.

  “‘If the injuries are not too deep, perhaps you can freeze them closed,’ I said. ‘Then, her body and soul can be reunited and she can live here safely.’

  “Morozko frowned, prodding her bloody wounds. ‘She is full of holes, Koschey.’

  “‘But she was not yet dead when I pulled her soul out. Let us try it.’

  “‘If I do this, she will always be cold, from this day forward.’

  “‘It’s the least of her problems. Go ahead.’

  “Morozko leaned over the girl’s body, and I could feel the waves of cold which rippled out from his body. He gingerly extended his index finger, and eased it into one of the bayonet wounds. Anastasia shrieked and convulsed, and Morozko withdrew his bloodied finger.

  “‘Did it work?’ I asked, examining the wound. Already the girl’s body was going cold, the wound had frozen over. No more blood oozed from it. ‘Good, good,’ I said. ‘And now the rest.’

  “One by one, Morozko froze the wounds, and Anastasia’s lips turned blue with cold. Her skin was icy, but beneath her wrists I could feel her veins pulsing. This body was alive. We still had hope.

  “‘Now, sit back,’ I said to Morozko, ‘and I’ll attempt to tip her soul back into her body.’

  “With my fingers still pressed into her wrist, I hummed my magic tune. Such a delicate operation. Have you ever cracked an egg, pouring the white in hope of keeping the yolk separate without it following all in a rush? So it was as I tipped Anastasia’s soul back into her broken body, only to feel her pulse slow and falter. Death sucked at her soul, and
I knew the instant it reunited fully with her body she was lost. I pulled her, slowly and carefully, back into the bear.

  “‘I couldn’t do it,’ I said. ‘She will die the moment she is whole again.’

  “‘Then leave her separated,’ said Morozko.

  “‘Forever? In so much pain?’

  “A loud rattling stole my attention at that moment, and Totchka squealed and shouted, ‘Papa, Papa, the bear is moving!’

  “I turned to see the sight which had so terrified the little girl. The bear had rattled off the table, and was now suspended in the air between the table and Anastasia. The pull of the body on the soul, the pull of death over life was so strong. I seized the bear and jammed it firmly between my knees.

  “‘No, you shall not have it, Anastasia,’ I said. ‘Morozko is right. Your body and your soul must remain separate.’

  “Morozko took Anastasia’s body to the snowfields, where he built her a palace to live in. I sent the bear back to St Petersburg, to a bathhouse I once practised magic in, never dreaming that anybody would ever find it. The rest you know.”

  Rosa stared at him solemnly. “And this is the truth?”

  “You are too clever for lies, Rosa. You have proven that.”

  “Anastasia has been lying in that cold place, in her death throes, for nearly ninety years?”

  “Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “What is her suffering, Rosa, compared to mine? If I were to lose Totchka, I would die each morning when I woke to the emptiness in my bed.”

  Rosa closed her eyes, shutting out the bright snowy scene. Keeping the two worlds tied was the only way she could escape her own dreadful death, but for her happiness to be built on such misery…?

  “So, Rosa, it is time for you to choose your fate. Your father’s death, your mother’s death, or something else?” He held out his hand. “Come, you can join me on the safe side of the ice.”

  Rosa looked at his old fingers, and a feeling of dread weighed on her heart. Of standing at a moment in her life from which great happiness or great unhappiness might proceed, with only a hair’s breadth of movement either way. Shadows gathered, expectant as vultures.

  “Rosa? Are you ready to make your choice?”

  She nodded gravely. “Yes, Koschey. I am.”

  Daniel paced the circle around Voron for the hundredth time. Where was Rosa? Did she want him to take the sleigh to the sky and look for her? He didn’t have a clue how to operate it. Nearly half an hour had passed and no sign of her. The wolves, still frightened by Rosa’s incantation, sat off in the distance gazing at him. Only a matter of time before they grew bold and came back.

  “Damn it,” he muttered, trudging down the slope towards the cave. Rescuing Rosa was a complicated undertaking. There was a good chance she wanted him to stay away, was in the middle of some grand scheme which depended on him not being around. She’d asked him to guard the bear with his life, but he cared more about her than the bear. Back inside the icy palace, he retraced their earlier steps. The music sighed and creaked around him. His breath was fog and his heartbeat was rapid. The entrance to the Snow Witch’s chamber loomed ahead. He clamped his arm down across the bear, took a deep breath and dashed past the entrance, grateful he didn’t have to see the suffering woman again. Her moans followed him down the corridor, where he found footsteps in the snow. Rosa’s, then Grigory’s. He tracked them towards an opening, then peered out into the sunlight.

  Standing out on the lake, Rosa and Grigory faced each other, deep in conversation.

  She didn’t look like she was in danger. Perhaps he should just go back into the cave.

  Then Grigory held out his hand to Rosa, and Daniel hesitated. Rosa’s face was serious, sad. She reached for Grigory’s hand, and he saw that the old man was helping her over a wide fissure in the ice.

  “Rosa!” Daniel called.

  He received neither an admonition, nor a gasp of relief. She smiled and waved, and he met her halfway across the ice, taking her hand in his.

  “I am Grigory,” the old man said, extending his hand. “It’s good to meet you properly.”

  Daniel took his hand and shook it. It baffled him, that he should be standing here shaking hands with history. Grigory’s wolf-eyes were narrowed and knowing.

  “Rosa?” Daniel said uncertainly, turning to her. “What’s going on?”

  “Grigory has explained everything,” Rosa said. “We were mistaken.”

  “But the girl?”

  “The Snow Witch often poses as an injured young woman, to draw people into her trap,” Grigory said.

  “We were lucky Grigory came when he did.” Rosa smiled up at the old man. “She might have killed us. He is here to protect us.”

  Daniel glanced from one to the other. Relief. Somebody to protect him in Skazki. Soon all the horror would be behind him. “And the bear?”

  Rosa nodded firmly. “We’re taking it back to Papa Grigory’s cottage. From there, it’s all up to you.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  In contrast to the lengthy journey Rosa had made alone in Voron, once Papa Grigory was in control they sped through crossings faster than an arrow. He explained that his role as ambassador meant that all crossings were open to him all the time. Their distances collapsed to nothing. He said it smugly, with a conceited tilt of his head. Rosa recoiled inwardly from him. Since the story told to her on the ice, she found him abhorrent. How could she be anything but unhappy in his company? How could she be anything but unhappy with herself? For a lifetime or more.

  Rosa turned her attention to Daniel, who nursed the bear in his lap, gazing at her strange face and trying not to look at the sky beneath them. Within hours, the bubble of sunshine over Grigory’s cottage was visible, and they landed in the late afternoon light. Totchka waited anxiously by the door, launched herself into Grigory’s arms and demanded he never leave again.

  “I won’t, I won’t, my little one,” he said, cuddling her so fiercely Rosa feared the girl’s bones might break. “That is the last time, I am certain of it.”

  “Hello,” Daniel said, smiling at Totchka.

  “Hello,” she replied shyly. “Who are you?”

  “This is Daniel,” Grigory said. “He’s going to make everything all right. Can he stay here tonight?”

  “Rosa too?”

  Grigory glanced at Rosa and back at Totchka. “Well, Rosa may stay a little longer.”

  After supper, Rosa walked out into the garden to savour her own company for a few minutes. She stood, right at the edge of the circumference of safety, and gazed out into the trees. It was an artificial contentment she felt. Life waited out there: movement, wildness, shadows and promises. It beckoned her. It might always beckon her.

  What am I doing?

  She heard the door open behind her, and turned to see Daniel emerging.

  “You see?” he said. “You’re already longing to be out of here.”

  “Don’t, Daniel,” she said, turning from him and sitting in the grass.

  He sat next to her and was silent for a long time as they watched the shadows together. Finally, he said, “Rosa, if you come back with me, we’ll have time together. There are no guarantees on anyone’s future.”

  “I don’t want to hear this.”

  “We could get a little place, have some babies…” He trailed off. He probably already knew that it was hopeless. “I do love you, Rosa.”

  Rosa forced a hard edge into her voice. “Back at the snowfields, you said you wanted to rescue me. You can. By taking the bear and going and not looking back. Okay? Forget this other stuff, this love stuff.”

  Daniel frowned, irritated. “Don’t ruin our last evening, Rosa. ‘This love stuff’ is important.”

  “I know, I know,” she said, immediately regretful. She sighed, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I have a lot on my mind.”

  “Do you want me to go back inside?”

  “Can you stay and just not say anything?”

  “I can.”
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br />   So they sat, side by side in the grass, while the moon rose overhead and night deepened around them. Rosa turned an idea over and over in her head and decided that she would sleep on it.

  “Whatever happens,” she said, taking Daniel’s hand and kissing his palm, “I did love you.”

  “I know.”

  Morning dew still clung to the clearing as Daniel waited for instructions. Rosa and Grigory were nearby, Totchka safely back at the cottage. If he squinted, he could bring on his second sight and see the veil moving, a multi-hued curtain drifting on the morning breeze.

  “That will go,” Rosa said, tapping his arm. “There’s no way Anatoly will let you keep a shred of magic.”

  “What does Anatoly have to do with it?”

  “You have to take him back with you.” She touched his lips with cool fingertips. “He’ll be cranky.”

  Daniel’s skin cried out for her, but he kept silent.

  Grigory stepped forward. “You have the bear?”

  Daniel patted his ribs, where the bear was slung. “I’ll be glad to get rid of her. I have bruises.”

  “You’ll have more than bruises on the other side,” Grigory said. “The crossing back to Mir might be brutal. The bear doesn’t want to return, so I’ll have to push you through very hard. You may find yourself dizzy. You may even faint.”

  “Anatoly will be there,” Rosa said.

  “Cranky Anatoly?”

  “He’s a good man underneath it all,” she said, “and he owes me. He has all my magic. Did you hear that, Anatoly?” She smoothed her skirt across her belly, head drooping and hair trailing. It was similar to the gesture of a pregnant woman, and Daniel had to battle through more regrets, more discarded fantasies.

  “What do I do?” Daniel said.

  Grigory stroked his beard. “Nothing, just walk forward. I’ll say the zagovor.”

  Daniel turned to Rosa. “That’s it? It’s all over.”

  “You have to return the bear to her hiding place,” she said, distracted as she fastened the clasp on his fur cloak. “Uncle Vasily will help you.”

  “And that’s it,” he muttered, his eyes drinking in her face for the last time. “That’s it.”