The Snow Queen

by Mercedes Lackey

  But it was when they saw a thin plume of smoke in the distance, a plume of smoke toward which they were heading, that she was sure that there was a great deal more going on here than she could ever have guessed.

  They left the stream that they had been using as a road, crossed what must have been a meadow, and which now was a blessedly flat stretch of snow, approaching a mountainside and the start of a forest. The smoke rose above the trees in a thin, white stream. She wasn’t at all surprised to see that there was a human-shaped figure waiting for them—but what did surprise her, and send a jolt of fear down her spine, was when she realized that the person beneath the long, white, fur cloak was a woman.

  All she could think of was—this was the Snow Queen! The terrible creature that the North Wind had told them about, the thing that had stolen Veikko from them, had somehow found them. The Witch had tracked them down and the Bear was her creature, sent to bring them straight into her trap.

  Kaari realized it at the same time, and both of them pulled their deer to a halt and fumbled for their bows.

  “Peace!” called a clear, low-pitched voice, as their Bear put on a burst of speed and interposed his body between them and the woman—was she the Snow Queen after all?—so that they could not shoot her without shooting him.

  Peace indeed, came a rumbling voice in Annukka’s mind, startling her so much that she fumbled the arrow she was trying to notch to the bowstring, dropping it entirely. This is the Snow Queen, yes, but not the one you want.

  As Annukka sat on the back of her deer like an old sack of grain, the woman spoke again. “I am Godmother Aleksia, the Ice Fairy, also known as the Snow Queen,” came the voice from the other side of the bulk of the Bear. The woman stepped out into the open, with one hand on the Bear’s shoulder. “And I am not the one who stole your son and betrothed, Annukka and Kaari. Nor am I the one who slew helpless people of three villages.” Her eyes flicked from Annukka to Kaari and back again. “Still, I know who did. And I mean to stop her. But I need your help.”

  She was one of the most striking women that Annukka had ever seen. It began with her hair, arranged in braids coiled about her head, as white as the snow around her, yet it was clear from her smooth face that she was no ancient. And that face itself was remarkable; strong and full of character, with a delicate, but square chin, high cheekbones and penetrating eyes of a piercing blue. She held herself as upright as a spear, and there was a sense that there was nothing she would not face if she had to. Annukka judged her age to be near her own or, remarkably, perhaps a bit younger.

  She wore garments as white as her hair; white boots, white trews beneath a short gown, a white fur coat, held close to her body by a belt of silver plaques.

  You have trusted me. This is my good and wise friend, added the deep voice in her mind, that Annukka assumed must belong to the Bear. Will you trust her?

  The silence lingered. The sun shone down on them all, and there was no sound but the sighing of the wind in the bare branches. Kaari was the first to put up her bow, stowing it in the sheath at the side of her saddle. “Mother Annukka, if this woman had wanted us dead, she could have had the Bear slay us days ago,” the girl pointed out. “How hard would that have been? And what could she gain by bringing us here to kill us? If she meant to capture us, for what purpose? We are of no use to her. She knows our names, she knows about Veikko. I have heard of the Godmothers, though our land has never seen one. They are said to be able to hold the fates of entire lands in their hands. We would be foolish not to trust her.”

  Annukka did not bother to point out that an enemy would also be able to know their names and their intentions. Because Kaari was right—if this “Godmother” had wanted them dead, the Bear could have finished them off long ago. She and Kaari would make poor slaves, and if they had been meant as sacrifices—well, there were easier wasy to have sacrificed them. She put down her bow. But unlike Kaari, she did not stow it away, instead, she kept it on her lap, with one hand on the quiver full of arrows.

  “All right,” she replied cautiously. “I am willing to listen.”

  “Then come into this cave and out of the bitter cold,” the woman said, with a glance at the setting sun. “There is room for deer and all there, and I have started a fire. These things are better discussed over heat and food and drink. We have a hard task ahead of us—and one that will require much planning.”

  The woman had cleared the cave and the fire she had built was burning bright, showing the rough stone walls around them. The sledge they left outside, disguised with brush and snow, but the contents were all brought into the cave, as were the deer. And, of course, the Bear, who was indeed one of the Great Beasts and who was called, so the woman said, Urho. The pack on Urho’s back proved to belong to the woman, and held clothing, a sleeping roll and most of the same things that Annukka and Kaari had with them. That, strangely enough, was reassuring. This was not some strange monstrous thing in the shape of a woman, nor a ghost nor vengeful spirit, nor one of the creatures like the forest spirits. This was a woman who needed clothing, needed a comb and hair pins, needed blankets to sleep in. If she was some sort of powerful Witch or Sorceress, she was not making profligate use of magic, and that was reassuring.

  And the more she spoke, the better Annukka liked her.

  She begged their hospitality, as she had no provisions of her own. “There are means I can take later to help our supplies,” she said, spreading her hands wide, “But not at the moment.”

  “We have enough to spare,” Annukka replied after she and Kaari exchanged a long look. “As you have welcomed us to your shelter, we welcome you to share what we have.”

  It was clear that the woman did not know how to cook, but Annukka would hardly have expected that of her kind. They were used to servants and being tended to, not doing the tending. Nevertheless she was willing to put her hand to whatever was needed, and for that, Annukka had to give her full credit.

  It was a long night around the fire in the cave. Wariness slowly gave way to agreement, and agreement to trust. Odd as that seemed. Perhaps it was because of the way that the woman spoke to them—as equals, not as inferiors, asking rather than dictating what would be done.

  Annukka began to believe that they had—as had been predicted—an ally in an unexpected place.

  Aleksia was actually relieved; she had anticipated a great deal more trouble convincing the two women that she meant no harm to them. After all, if she had been in their place, she would not have trusted her! Here she was, intercepting them by means of—presumably—magic, getting a Great Bear to bring them here in the first place….

  And she had no provisions to add to their stores, which should have made her unwelcome.

  But as they spoke over cups of herbal tea, and shared out some of the food the women had wisely brought from the destroyed villages, a strange bond began to form among the three women. Logically, she could not account for it.

  Then again, she could see and sense The Traditional magic swirling around all of them in a kind of state of agitation, so that might have had something to do with the way they readily fell in with her and her suggestions. As she had guessed, The Tradition did not have a clear path to follow, and it wanted one. The best it could manage was to induce them all to form a Questing Party. After that, it was lost, and it did not “like” that. It wanted direction.

  They were going to have to give it a direction. That much was clear.

  Aleksia began by telling them what she knew.

  When Aleksia had finally finished describing everything she had found or seen until now, the girl Kaari was pale, but looked determined and the older woman, Annukka, looked very thoughtful.

  “Veikko is still alive, then?” was the first thing she asked.

  “When last I saw him, yes, and I think he is not likely to fade too much for some several weeks or moons more,” Aleksia replied firmly. “I would show him to you in my mirror, but I do not know if you could see him in there, and I am loathe to us
e enough magic to enable you to do so—”

  “Nor would I ask you,” Annukka replied with a shudder. “Let us not, by all means, set aflame a bonfire that all may see where we are and what we are made of. No, the less magic, the better, unless it is something we truly, truly need.” On that, it was clear, they were in complete agreement.

  I concur, said the Bear, Urho. Just because Godmother Aleksia and her servant did not see this Sorceress looking for mirror-magic, it does not follow that she does not have things to alert her if other magic is used.

  “Actually,” Aleksia confessed, reluctantly, “I thought I sensed her hunting for me at one point. It was not because of mirror-magic, but it might have been because she sensed some of my other abilities.”

  Even though Kaari bit her lip and looked unhappy, Annukka nodded. “You have told us that Veikko is alive, if not well, and is like to stay that way for now. That is enough for me. Now about the others, Ilmari and Lemminkal—you think they can be revived?”

  Aleksia hesitated. “I know that the bird was. I also know that the larger the creature, the harder it was to revive. I never tried anything larger than a hare. So I cannot be sure that they can be brought back to life, but…I think, working together, we may well be able to find a way to do so.”

  Annukka rubbed her thumb back and forth over the surface of a little bone toggle holding her sleeves closed at her wrist. “Even if it wasn’t a terrible and cruel thing to leave them to die,” she said, finally, “I think there is no doubt that we need them. They are, after all, great magicians.” She could easily see where it might take more than one magician to defeat this other woman. In fact, she could easily see where it might require an army.

  And all they had were themselves.

  “How great can they be if they were caught so easily?” Kaari demanded, her voice cracking a little with pent-up nerve. “Look, they froze solid just sitting there while Veikko was fighting for his life!”

  “We don’t know that—he could have been surprised as readily as the others. No sign does not mean no struggle. And these two were frozen in the midst of their camp,” Aleksia felt impelled to point out. “And these men are very great Mages indeed. When one has been virtually unopposed for a long time, it is easy to become complacent. No, do not fault them for this. It is no measure of their power. Even a dragon can be caught while asleep.”

  The girl nodded, as did Annukka, the girl with reluctance, the older woman with understanding.

  “Then on the morrow we will try to revive the magicians,” Aleksia said. “And if we can, we will then see what they have to say.” She stood up and stretched. “And since I have an acute dislike for sleeping vulnerable—you will forgive me, but I am going to shift my shape, as I described to you.”

  Aleksia had decided that rather than trying to hide the fact that she was shifting, she would let both women know she could do it, and see her do it now, under circumstances that were relatively controlled, rather than shock them at a time when none of them could afford to be shocked. If she had to hide herself every time she needed to shift, and hide the fact she was the one that was the helpful Bear, Swan, Falcon and so forth, making up excuses for her disappearances, she would grow mad. And worse, when the women did find out about it, they would no longer trust her. So as she continued her stretch, she let herself slide into the Bear form, feeling herself growing taller and bulkier, feeling her weight and center of balance shift, until at last it was a Bear that stood there on its hind legs, looking down at them benignly.

  It was somewhat amusing to see the girl’s eyes widen, see her shrink involuntarily back, as Aleksia dropped to all fours. Her muzzle was somewhat distorted compared to Urho’s—she had kept enough of the human shape to it to be able to make understandable words. Urho could speak mind-to-mind with other creatures naturally. She could not.

  “It is a great deal safer to have two Bears and two women sleeping in this cave, than three women and a single Bear,” she pointed out, her voice low and a combination of human speech and ursine growl. She tilted her head to the side, watching the fear and startlement fade from the younger woman’s eyes.

  The older woman laughed. After the initial moment of shock she had looked approving rather than frightened. Aleksia liked her more with every moment that passed. This was a sensible woman, much after her own heart. “I have heard of such magic as this, but never seen it,” Annukka said. “Can it be learned?”

  “I would say ‘perhaps,’” Aleksia replied, as Urho chuckled deep in his chest. “I am not as adept at it as my mentor was.”

  “Since I see you doing this now, when you have warned against the use of much magic, I assume it does not shout one’s presence as much as other spells?” Annukka continued, as Kaari slowly recovered from watching Aleksia shift.

  “You assume correctly.” Aleksia coughed. “And it is unfamiliar to most magicians, so they do not think to look for it. Also—the creatures that have magic, like some of the things that dwell in deep forest, also use this same magic. Someone who knows to look for it not might think that it is a human that is using it.”

  “And are you a human?” came the forthright question. Annukka stared directly into Aleksia’s Bearish eyes. “Truly?”

  “Human and as mortal as you,” Aleksia replied. “In time I will take an apprentice to replace me. I am no Fae.”

  Annukka let out her breath with a sigh. “Well then. I would be interested to see if I can learn this shifting magic.”

  “I would be willing to teach you. And I am sure you understand there are risks—”

  “There are risks in all magic, and I am not so foolish as to want to venture it here and now,” Annukka told her firmly. “But someday, when this is over and we are the unrecognizable beings in a tale. Meanwhile there is another advantage to this shape of yours. We will all certainly sleep warm.” She grinned at Aleksia. “One Bear was a fine thing to sleep up against. To sleep between two will be a grand luxury.”

  Aleksia had to chuckle a bit herself.

  They all slept soundly, with no dreams that Aleksia could recall. At dawn she and Urho went a-hunting as the two women prepared a more traditional meal for themselves. Aleksia did not want to stretch their supplies any more than was strictly necessary. Once they were all fed, they were off to the ice-forest as fast as they could manage with the sledge, with Aleksia scouting ahead in Hawk form. She saw nothing whatsoever to be worried about, but that did not stop her from being as wary as if she had spotted a potential ambush. Now was a vulnerable time for a Questing Party; The Tradition had not yet fully recognized them as such, and it would be very easy for it to turn its magics against them.

  But there was nothing untoward. She landed beside the two frozen magicians, transformed into her human shape, and waited.

  She did not have to wait for very long. Urho and the women had made excellent progress; she heard them arrive, then heard the sounds of footsteps crunching through the ice-covered snow until they entered the clearing, each leading her riding deer.

  Annukka was first, with Kaari close behind her. They opened their mouths to greet Aleksia, but the greeting turned to a gasp as they caught sight of the two frozen Mages. And it was not that she had not described the bizarre sight—it was because no one could look on that and not gasp in shock.

  For a moment there was nothing but the faint tinkle of ice as a breeze stirred the branches and bits broke from the birch twigs and fell.

  Annukka was the first of the two to step forward to examine the two “patients,” and she hummed and peered at them as Kaari waited nervously.

  “Now…I have to wonder,” Annukka said, looking sideways at Aleksia. “Do you know much about Sammi magic?”

  “Not much,” Aleksia replied honestly. “Mostly that the most powerful is done through music.”

  “And as such it tends to be compatible with just about every other form of magic,” the Wise Woman replied. “And it is in my mind that if you and I added our magic together, the whole
is likely to be more powerful than the two used separately.”

  Aleksia had to nod at that. “What did you have in mind?”

  “That I will sing, and you see how you can fit one of your magics into the song.” The older woman was already rummaging through the saddlebag on the side of her deer. She brought out an object wrapped in soft hide that proved to be a kantele when unwrapped.

  She tuned it deftly and looked to Aleksia, who nodded. And with no more preamble than that, she began to play and sing.

  She had a lovely, warm voice, low rather than the high-pitched tones most older women developed. The pitch was true, the tone was strong. It would have been a pleasure to listen to even if it had not been bearing great magic. As it was, the power in the magic made the music that much richer.

  Aleksia listened, rather than acting at once, waiting to feel the song, and the flow of the magic, before she interfered. This would be a very delicate operation—not that she hadn’t blended her magic with that of someone else before, but it was always tricky to accomplish, and it was seldom obvious how best to make the two fit together.

  After a moment, she recognized the song; it was one that the Sammi sang at MidWinter, when the world was dark and cold, before the sun came up. The lyrics were very, very old, in a form of the language that was archaic even by Sammi standards. And yet, it was possible to sense what the song was about even without being able to understand the language. It spoke of hope and renewal, of pushing back the dark, of new birth and new life and the warmth of Spring even in the darkest hours of Winter.

  When she came to the second verse, Aleksia began to fit in her own magics along with that of the song; she used images, rather than words. Annukka was clearly her superior in the area of words and music—if she were to make a judgment, she would have to reckon Annukka among the greatest of Bardic musicians. She wondered, in the back of her mind, how such a talent had remained overlooked in the vast hinterland that was the Kingdom of the Sammi.