Nir watched his human prisoner from a distance, pleased to find her getting on so well. Then he went to look for Kiba’s mother to discuss his orders for the clothes. As they talked, Willow walked up and stood respectfully, waiting to be acknowledged. He was on guard duty in the forest to the south of the camp.
“The elf goblin is here to see you,” he announced, “and he’s brought a big wooden thing with him.”
“A big wooden thing?” wondered Nir. “You may bring him into camp.”
After a few minutes, Willow returned with Seylin, who was towing a large desk with the Carrying Spell. He lowered the desk to the ground.
“Elf lord,” he said, “I’ve brought the first of the elvish spell books. This one has healing spells in it, so I thought you’d want to see it right away.” Nir took the book from the goblin, his eyes betraying a gleam of excitement. “And I brought copying materials, too, as requested. We weren’t sure you had a comfortable place to write, so I’ve brought one of our writing desks for you to use.”
The heavy desk was made all of a piece with its bench attached, and the writing surface had room for two books to be opened on it side by side. A little sensitive at the arrival of the goblin, which reminded him of Arianna’s horrible ordeal, Nir genuinely appreciated this thoughtfulness. It was true that his camp wasn’t well set up for writing.
“Thank you, friend goblin,” he replied. “I look forward to learning the spells.” Dismissing Willow, he sat down at the desk, laying the spell book on it, and examined the blank book and writing materials. “And how is Arianna?” he asked reluctantly. He wasn’t sure that he really wanted to know.
“Oh, she’s fine, as well as could be expected,” answered Seylin. “We persuaded her to eat a little this afternoon.” The elf didn’t look up at this encouraging report. He trimmed the tip of a quill with his knife, dipped the pen, and started writing in the blank book. Seylin still lingered. He had the air of a person not yet discharged of his mission.
“Elf lord,” he asked, “is it true that the human girl, Miranda, is in your camp?”
“Not a terribly useful name for her, is it?” remarked the elf. “Yes, she’s here. Why would it matter?”
“The goblin King has been concerned about her,” replied Seylin cautiously. “Miranda is his ward; he considers her a goblin subject. She was distressed last night, so as a kindness, he let her return to her human home under guard. But he wants her brought back into the kingdom as soon as possible.”
“Why would he want her to come back?” asked Nir. “He has another Miranda now.”
“Oh, Miranda’s very special,” answered Seylin. “Her parents were both raised by the goblins, and the old King lavished great care on her, weaving enchantments through and through her. She’s a strong human bride who will be very important in the genealogies; her blood will be an asset to the high families for generations.” He paused. “May I see her now?”
Nir continued copying for some time after this speech ended. He didn’t know why it should make him so angry. After all, they had gone to a lot of trouble over her, and there was no reason why they should think that she would matter to anyone else.
“Of course you may see her,” he said finally. “Ama,” he called to a young elf woman passing by, “please tell Sika to come here.”
Miranda walked up a short time later, studying the writing desk with curiosity. Then she caught sight of Seylin and stopped. As Nir glanced up, she gave him an indignant glare. Traitor, said the glare.
“Miranda, I’m glad to see you’re well,” said the handsome goblin in a friendly way, stepping toward her. She reminded herself that he had known all about Catspaw’s new bride and hadn’t bothered to warn her.
“How kind of you,” she replied coolly. “I really can’t imagine why you’re here.”
“I’ve come to take you home,” answered Seylin. “I know you were upset last night, and I certainly don’t blame you, but you must realize by now that you belong with us. You won’t be happy anywhere else.”
“Being happy has had little to do with my life so far,” responded Miranda. “Now that Marak is dead, I don’t expect it to again. I have no intention of returning, and what’s more, I have no need. Catspaw gave me my freedom when he broke our engagement.”
“The King did what he had to do,” Seylin replied smoothly. “But you’re still his ward, and you owe a debt of gratitude to his father. It’s time for you to honor that debt and come home.”
“Come home to what?” demanded the girl skeptically. “To take over Kate’s English classes?”
“No, to get married,” replied the goblin. “Catspaw says you can have your choice of any man in the high families, but I think the best match for you is Tattoo. Sable would be so pleased to have you as a daughter, and you know you’re fond of them both.”
The pain of all that she had lost struck Miranda like a stinging blow.
“Marak didn’t raise me to be Tattoo’s wife!” she said with icy fury. “So Catspaw did what was best — well and fine, but I don’t have to kiss his cheek for it! I won’t come back now and curtsy to him and marry one of his lackeys. I was raised to be a King’s Wife — a King’s Wife, Seylin! And I won’t be anything less!”
“Now, that’s a fine plan,” remarked the goblin with weary patience. “And just how do you intend to accomplish it? Wait around here with your nose in the air living off the goodwill of the elves? They’re not interested in a human, no matter how grand her destiny is.”
Miranda had no answer to this, and they both knew it. She turned away from him, fighting back tears. “I’d be dead by now if I had my choice,” she said bitterly.
“Don’t take it so badly,” advised the goblin, putting an arm around her shoulders. Then he jerked back with a sharp cry of pain.
“What’s the matter?” she asked. Seylin was staring at her wrists in avid fascination.
“Miranda!” he gasped. “It’s the Seven Stars! The Seven Stars! I can’t t believe it!”
The puzzled girl looked down at her wrists and touched the circles of stars. “What do they have to do with this?” she wanted to know.
“Everything,” answered Seylin ruefully. He paused to think and then gave a sigh. “I’m afraid the elf lord’s been having a nice laugh at my expense.
Nir glanced up at that, and it was true that his eyes were suspiciously bright. “I didn’t realize that your King would still be concerned for her welfare,” he said. “Please assure him that he has no need to worry. The stars keep her perfectly safe.”
“They certainly do,” agreed Seylin sadly. “Especially safe from goblins. You can’t come home anymore. And you would have been happy with us, I know it.”
Miranda hid her astonishment at this unexpected victory. “Marak didn’t raise me to be happy,” she replied. “He raised me to be a King’s Wife.” And she turned on her heel and walked away.
Most of the elves were in the little meadow now, dancing to the music of pipes, harps, and a sweet-toned violin. Feeling bewildered, Miranda wandered down to watch them. The white stars were thick in the black sky overhead, and the graceful dancers were mysterious and alluring by their faint light. Miranda let herself be captivated by the bewitching spectacle and forgot about her grief for a while.
She felt better, she realized. She had stood up for her honor and refused the comfortable life that the goblins had planned. But this was certainly no place for her, either, with nothing to do. These elves were even stranger than the goblins.
She mulled over what she had learned from Seylin’s conversation. The elf lord hadn’t enslaved her after all. He had been so angry about her suicide plan, so insistent that she was a child who needed care. He had clearly just done what he thought was the responsible thing to do. She felt grateful for this, and she supposed she shouldn’t have been so curt and uncivil to him. He had given her a second chance to think things over.
Well, she had done it, and there was no avoiding the obvious conclusion. She
would have to go back and face her family and find a new life among human beings. That would be hard, but Catspaw was right: she was strong, and she would survive. Marak had raised her to be both brave and practical. There was no sense putting it off.
The elf lord was copying his spell book when Miranda approached. Looking at his pale face, she felt a wistful pang. She would never see anything like him or his elves again, and she was sure that she would never forget him.
Nir glanced up at his prisoner’s purposeful expression. Then he put down his quill and waited. He already knew what she was going to say.
“Thank you for saving my life,” she began. “You were right about my killing myself; it would have been evil and absurd. You were right, too, that I should have been at home. I’m ready to go back to my own world now.”
“Your world, Sika,” murmured the elf lord. “And what world is that?”
“The daylight world,” she answered, thinking of the warm sun overhead, the greens and browns of the trees, a pale blue sky with clouds of white and gray and lavender. She couldn’t wait to see the sun again. That would make up for a great deal.
Nir winced at the happiness that shone in her eyes.
The little boy lay in his tent in the predawn hush, listening to her argue and beg. “I don’t belong here,” she said, her soft voice pleading. “Ash, let me go back to the daylight.”
Father’s voice followed hers, quiet and sad: “Will the daylight hunt for you? Will the sun bring you food?”
Nir shook off the memory with an effort. “You told me that you had no people,” he pointed out.
“I didn’t think I did,” she said, rather embarrassed. “I thought I was too good for them, I suppose. I’d been raised all my life to think of myself as something extraordinary, someone set aside for a special destiny. Marak told me that, and I believed him.” She sighed. “I thought he could read it in my face.”
“The goblin King is right,” remarked the elf. “You aren’t ordinary, and you have a special destiny. I’m glad that you were raised to know it. It may be the only thing that brings you comfort in your life.”
Miranda stared at him, taken aback. She couldn’t imagine what he might mean. “I don’t care anymore,” she assured him. “I’m ready to go back to my family whether I’m ordinary or not. Would you please remove the magic now?” She rubbed her hand over the stars at her wrist.
The elf lord looked at them, too, and rubbed his own finger over the stars. “I can’t remove them,” he said quietly, “and neither can anyone else. Only time can take them away.”
This shook Miranda at first, but she rallied, determined to be logical. “Even if they’re permanent,” she pointed out, “they don’t have to keep me here.”
“It is true that the stars can let you leave camp,” he agreed.
“Then you can just do that,” proposed the girl. “And if they keep protecting me from harm at home, then that would be a good thing.”
Nir studied her moodily for some time, still rubbing his finger over the stars. Once again, he saw no way out of his dilemma.
“You don’t understand,” he said at last. “I’m not concerned about the magic. I would let you leave if I could, but I can’t let you go. You’re too important to the elves.”
Miranda stared at that unearthly face, at those beautiful, unread able black eyes. He could read her own expression easily enough. She looked absolutely horrified.
“Important how?” she demanded. “Why should elves care about an ordinary human?”
Nir angrily considered the suffering he was causing. “Not ordinary. Extraordinary,” he corrected.
Miranda hesitated, trying in her shock to frame an argument to refute him. She didn’t know what to say. After all, Marak had raised her to be extraordinary.
“But I don’t have to be,” she pleaded at last, in defiance of both great lords.
“You already are,” he answered. “That’s what my magic tells me.”
There was nothing more to say. Miranda just turned and left. Tired and numb, she wandered away and dropped down on the grass by the river, listening to its soothing rush and gurgle in the darkness. The tangle of trees closed around her, cutting off the light of the stars. Miranda stared up at the pale undersides of leaves caught in the bracelet’s weak light. Its faint reach was so short, and the night was so immense. Blackness, all around her. A world without the sun. She couldn’t go home because she was extraordinary. She was where she would always be.
You have to get used to it, gloated a silky voice in her mind. You’ll live your whole life in the dark.
Miranda flinched, trying to dodge the memory. Would she never be free of her mother? Unbidden, her mind went back in time. She was standing in total darkness, pounding on that locked door, begging to be let out.
“You’re cursed,” purred that voice. “You’ll never see daylight again. You can’t imagine the things that live in the darkness. They’ll be your only friends.”
The little girl was hysterical, wailing and screaming, with no dignity left at all. Anxious, whimpering, late into the night. Waking up to find that he had come. Pulling her pillow over her head. Afraid to walk down the hall in the darkness. Afraid to face him again.
She heard the bedroom door open and felt him sit down on the bed. “How’s my little girl? Miranda? What’s wrong?”
Sobbing, Miranda threw herself into his arms, telling him of her childish treason. In broken sentences, she confessed all her sins against him. But here was no icy contempt, no harsh disapproval. She was cradled in warm arms, safe from the darkness.
“I shouldn’t cry, ” she bawled helplessly. “You aren’t raising a crybaby.”
“It’s all right, ” he consoled her. “‘Sometimes crying is good.”
He waited until she had cried herself out, and then he had her tell him what had happened. His calmness steadied and comforted her. Whatever he might have thought of Til’s behavior didn’t show on his face.
“Your mother can’t curse you,” he explained. “You’re protected against that.”
“But she knew my future,” Miranda protested tearfully. “She did. She said so!”
He held her away, studying her face. He had never looked so wise.
“She didn’t know your future,” he declared finally. “I do. I’m not raising my little girl to be trapped in the dark like a ghost. You have a special destiny, and that’s why I teach you so many things. I’m raising you to be a King’s Wife, and that’s what you’re going to be.”
“A Kings Wife?” She thought about that and felt a spark of hope and courage. “Just like in the stories? I’ll marry a prince and live happily ever after?”
“Just like that, “he promised, smiling. “Except that he’ll be a King.” And he tucked his little girl back into bed.
“You’re a King, ” she remarked hopefully as she settled onto her pillow.
“And about fifty years too old for you,” he chuckled. “You’ll have to wait for the next King. Sleep well, Miranda. I’ll stay here to watch. You’re going to have nice dreams.”
Miranda found that she was crying. All her love and faith in Marak and all his love and faith in her had turned out to be for nothing. She would never make him proud, and there would be no living happily ever after. In the end, it was her mother who was right.
A hand touched her arm in the darkness, and she jumped in alarm. The elf lord stood beside her.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” he said. “Nothing comes into an elf camp but elves and those creatures the elves bring. Not even a fly or an ant can come in. Nothing can hurt you here.” Miranda could have pointed out that her mother still had an uncanny ability to hurt her, but she couldn’t speak because of the lump in her throat.
“It’s time for the morning meal,” he noted. Miranda just shook her head. He took her hand, and she stood up, the stars on her wrists and ankles lighting in protest.
“You don’t have to eat, but at least come spend time wit
h us,” he said, and the silver stars winked out.
Later that morning, she sat at the opening of the tent for as long as she could to see the colors return to the woods. Squinting through the bright light, Nir watched her and wondered how the daylight world looked.
• • •
Seylin stood outside the goblin King’s bedroom door and gave a gentle call in his thoughts. If the King was asleep, he could wait until morning to hear the bad news. But after a minute, Marak Catspaw emerged, wearing a shirt and breeches of dark blue elf cloth that Irina had made for him. Seylin wasn’t surprised. His monarch always dressed like an elf at night because the stretchy cloth was so comfortable to sleep in.
The King motioned for silence, and they tiptoed to a small study. Catspaw closed the door and sank down wearily into a chair. “She couldn’t sleep,” he sighed. “Or rather, she wouldn’t sleep. Finally I used magic on her, but she fought me for a long time. I’m impressed at her strength. She has a lot of magic, and she isn’t afraid to use it. She’s resting now, but not very well. Where’s Miranda?”
“Still at the elf camp,” said his chief adviser slowly. “I couldn’t bring her home.”
“What do you mean, you couldn’t bring her home?” demanded Catspaw. “I’ll go tomorrow, then, and I’ll bring her home.”
“In the first place, she refused,” observed Seylin. “She says that you gave her her freedom.” When his King made no comment at this indirect reproach, he continued, “And in the second place, he’s used the Seven Stars.”
“The Seven Stars!” Marak Catspaw sat bolt upright and stared at him. ‘Adviser, you’re mistaken! There can’t be an elf left alive today who knows that spell.”
“This one does,” replied Seylin. “The stars are in place and in force. They burned me badly.” He gingerly pulled up his sleeve to reveal a line of nasty wounds and blisters. “That was from one touch,” he observed.
Catspaw leaned forward to look at the damage, frowning with concern. “Seylin, you should have healed those!” He left the room to retrieve a jar of salve.
“To be honest, I tried on this area,” confessed Seylin when he returned. “You can see that it didn’t do much good. Besides, I thought you should see them.”
In the Coils of the Snake Page 11