In the Coils of the Snake

by Clare B. Dunkle

“They’re not for dancing, they’re for eating,” he explained seriously, plucking one of the gleaming white mushrooms. “When I think of all the nights I went hungry! I would have loved to have known a spell like this.”

  He took her to watch the crescent moon rising over a small lake. Miranda thought about food as they walked along.

  “We eat bread all the time,” she pointed out. “I’ve seen sacks of flour in camp, but I didn’t think the elves farmed.”

  “The elves don’t farm,” answered Nir, smiling at the thought. “An elf with too much hard work to do is a very unhappy elf. The First Fathers arranged our lives so that we could play and be beautiful. Beauty and hard work don’t belong together.”

  This didn’t come as a surprise to Miranda, but she was more forgiving of the idea than she once had been. After all, she thought appreciatively, there was something to be said for beauty.

  “We buy our bread,” said the elf lord. “I think we always have. We buy the flour from whoever mills it nearby.”

  They came to the lake and sat down on an outcrop to rest. The stars shone out above them and below them as well, reflected in the calm water.

  “Where would elves earn money?” Miranda wanted to know.

  “We enchant a few springs and pools on the perimeter of our land, putting spells on them for health and beauty. Humans come to drink the water, or the women wash their faces in it to improve their looks. Human men don’t seem to care how awful they look,” he mused. “I don’t think they ever wash in the water. But in gratitude for the help, the humans throw in a little money.”

  Miranda thought about this, gazing at the mirrored skies of stars.

  There was a pool near the Hall that the servant girls washed their faces in on Midsummer morning. She knew that they always threw in a penny. “I thought that was just superstition,” she said with a frown.

  “It is if there aren’t elves nearby,” answered Nir. “Those enchantments don’t last forever. I renewed them on a pool the other night when I was out hunting. The water probably hadn’t been anything but plain water for at least a hundred years, but I found lots of money in it anyway. You’d think the poor humans would have noticed. It seems so sad,” he sighed. “To be so ugly or sick that you’ll keep desperately throwing money away even when it obviously isn’t helping.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” said Miranda reassuringly. “The ones I knew who threw money into a pool didn’t take it too seriously. It was just an old custom.”

  “Then it’s stupidity,” countered Nir with a shrug. “That’s one way we earn our bread. And Galnar’s taken his violin to village fairs. He doesn’t do it to earn money, of course; he does it because it’s fun, but he comes away with lots of money, and he has to be careful not to take too much. Humans will pay an elf musician every penny they have. As long as he plays, they won’t stop dancing, and when he stops, they want more.”

  “There’s a nursery rhyme about that,” laughed Miranda. “We say it to the children when they’re small.”

  Nir smiled to see her laugh. He wondered if she had ever laughed for the goblins. “I’m not surprised,” he commented. “It would be an experience never to be forgotten for a human to dance to elf music, and certainly something to tell the children. Why haven’t I seen you dancing? You’ve probably hurt Galnar’s feelings.”

  “Oh, I don’t know how to dance,” said Miranda carelessly.

  The elf lord stared at her, speechless from shock, but Miranda didn’t even notice. Telling an elf that she didn’t dance was like telling a dwarf that she thought precious stones were ugly. Nir could hardly believe it. To be almost a woman, and never to have danced! He blamed the goblins, of course. They’d raised her so carefully to be that monster’s wife, but they’d never given her the chance to laugh or dance.

  The next night, Miranda was lying on her stomach, making grass whistles with little Bar, when the elf lord appeared beside her.

  “Come along, Sika,” he said, reaching down a hand. Miranda climbed to her feet and dusted off her dress.

  “Are we going for a walk?” she wanted to know. “I’d like to go back to the lake again; it was so pretty to see the stars twice.”

  “No,” said the elf, “we’re not going for a walk. Tonight we’re going to dance.”

  Miranda was alarmed at the thought, and the stars flashed out their light for the first time in weeks. Nir eyed the stars critically as they walked along together. Sometimes, he decided, the spell was a good thing.

  “But… I don’t know how to dance,” faltered Miranda in distress.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” replied the elf lord. “No one knows how to dance any more than they know how to breathe. You just breathe, and you just dance.”

  They reached the meadow and joined the dancers, and the astounded girl learned that this was perfectly true. She danced immediately — she danced the whole night — without knowing how. Perhaps it was because of the Seven Stars, or perhaps it was because of some charm in the music. Perhaps it was simply because she was out with the elves, the changeling girl lured into their play. Miranda’s feet flew. She held hands, broke, whirled, and grasped hands again. All around her were faces alight, eyes shining with joy, and her face was a mirror of theirs.

  Miranda forgot the darkness, her dignity, and her uncertain future. She forgot who she was, where, and when. She could have been a dancer in any age of the world, on any grassy field in any land. She faded away from herself and took her place in something greater, a beautiful, harmonious plan. She was a part in a pattern still whole and unbroken, before it had broken apart. It should have stayed whole. The pieces should have stayed in their dance. They didn’t even have to know how to stay. They had had to be taught how to break.

  As the two of them walked back to the forest for the morning meal, Nir wondered what she was thinking. That was fun or I liked it? Or, a little better, I didn’t want to stop? He knew she could never be an elf, but how much of her could feel like an elf? How much of her could belong to that world that wasn’t really her own?

  Miranda looked up, her brown eyes very thoughtful, to meet his attentive gaze. “I never knew dancing was so important,” she said. And while she watched, startled, the elf lord laughed, completely happy — happy for the first time in months.

  • • •

  Marak Catspaw was strolling with Arianna in the ornamental gardens of the palace. They passed the lamplit fountains and flower beds filled with creations that the dwarves had made from precious stones.

  The elf girl gazed at the colored rocks carved to look like living plants, their stiff, cold forms a travesty of nature. “Oh, I don’t like it here,” she sighed.

  “I know,” said Catspaw sympathetically. “What would you change if you could?”

  A little color came into Arianna’s thin cheeks as she thought about this. “I’d open up the cave so that the stars could shine in,” she declared. “I’d throw away these rocks and grow real flowers. I’d bring in rain and wind and snow, and foxes and deer.”

  The goblin King contemplated this untidy wilderness in his pleasant, orderly kingdom. It made him feel a bit gloomy. “And you’d change me for that elf lord, I suppose.”

  Arianna considered the suggestion. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “You don’t?” asked the astonished King.

  “You’re ugly, and he’s not,” she pointed out in justice. “But you don’t scare me anymore, and he still does.”

  That blackguard, thought Catspaw grimly to himself Of course. I should have known. “What did he do to you?” he demanded.

  “Nothing,” answered the elf girl. “Nir was always very kind.” She stopped, hoping that he would change the subject, but he didn’t. “It’s just that he wasn’t like US,” she went on slowly. “He was always so worried and sad. He didn’t control his magic; it controlled him. We never knew what it would tell him to do — even he didn’t know.

  “He was kind, but his magic wasn’t,” she confessed in a low voice
. “I was afraid about marrying him. They said that he actually killed his own wife.”

  The goblin King held his peace and smiled reassuringly at her, but that evening he broke the news to his lieutenants.

  “Richard,” he said, “Miranda is definitely in danger. We have to get her away from that madman. Ask Sable to risk contacting her again to tell her about the goblin spies near camp who can help her. The dwarves have been modifying the old elf prison; she can stay there until she’s free of the stars.”

  “Until?” asked Seylin sharply. “The end of the stars means the death of the elf lord. You know how important he is!”

  “I think, adviser,” said Catspaw in an even tone, “that you should know how important Miranda is. She meant the world to my father, and she means a great deal to me. When that vindictive elf enchanted the goblin King’s ward, he placed his life in balance with hers. Which life do you think I value more?”

  Chapter Twelve

  The elves moved to their autumn camp, a thick patch of pine forest nestled against steep bluffs that blocked the biting wind. A brook came springing down the nearly vertical slopes, jumping the rocks in waterfalls and rapids. At a level with the tents, it became calm water and gurgled along its way again.

  The elves were still wearing their sleeveless green clothes, but now they wore their green cloaks as well. Igira had made Miranda a new outfit in preparation for winter. The dress had long sleeves and a longer skirt, but her legs were still bare. In the winter snows, the women wore brown leggings, but it wasn’t time for them yet.

  Miranda wasn’t used to being outside in cold, wet weather. She had enjoyed walking in the summer rains, but the autumn rains were another matter. She wore her winter clothes while the elves wore their summer clothes, and she still found the lengthening nights uncomfortable.

  Soon after they had settled into their new home, Nir went hunting, and Sable hurried into camp.

  “Miranda, you’re in danger,” she said. “We’ve learned that the elf lord is insane, that he killed his own wife. He controls you completely with those stars, and there’s no telling what he means to do.”

  “That’s not true!” protested Miranda. “Nir didn’t kill Kara, his magic did. He was terribly upset about it.”

  “What difference does it make if he or his magic killed her” inquired the elf. “He thinks that he’s kind and good, but the people around him suffer. The Guard is watching the camp, and they’ve noticed that you can go outside the boundary with the women. The next time you go, the Guard will help you escape.”

  “Nir always orders me to stay near one of the others,” observed the girl.

  “Then point her out, and the Guard will capture her. You can follow her back to the kingdom.”

  Miranda shook her head. “I won’t do it, Sable. I know you’re not lying, but I don’t believe that Nir would hurt me.” She hesitated. “I might as well tell you the truth. I love him, and I want to stay here.”

  “You love an elf man?” exclaimed Sable. “Miranda, you’re noth.ing but a slave! You don’t mean a thing to that lord!”

  “That’s not true,” replied Miranda steadily. “He feeds me and hunts for me; he shares his tent with me. He spends more time with me than he does with anyone else.”

  “Charming,” said Sable coldly. “But that will stop in another two weeks, when the full moon comes back. You don’t understand. To the elves, you’re a child right now, so you have to live with someone. You don’t have a fiance to live with, so the elf lord is keeping you with him. But as soon as you’re eighteen, you’ll be a woman: you’ll live like a widow and have a tent of your own. Then the elf lord won’t have to worry about you anymore.”

  Miranda felt stunned. Nir couldn’t just cast her aside. After all, she mattered to him. She reminded herself, heart sinking, he had said that she was important to the elves. She just wanted to think that she was important to him.

  “Why can’t I stay in his tent?” she asked in dismay.

  “You’ll be ready for marriage at the full moon,” said Sable. “If you stayed in the elf lord’s tent, that would mean you two were married, and he’s not about to marry you. Elf men never marry human women. They can’t even have children together.”

  Miranda thought about that, and her world became a bitter, cheerless place once more. It wasn’t that she expected Nir to marry her. She had just thought that he would always spend time with her. But of course he was just looking after her, taking care of a homeless child. It was like him to be that considerate.

  “I understand,” she sighed. “I know I’m a slave. But I don’t believe he’s insane, and I love him. I want to stay here.”

  “Did you know that he’s turned you into a weapon to kill goblins?” demanded the elf. “If you held a goblin’s hand long enough, you’d burn right through the bones. You need to give up this pretty dream, Miranda, before his ‘magic’ kills you, too. Try to find a reason to leave camp.”

  • • •

  Nir returned from the hunt to find the human girl in tears. “That goblin elf was here again! What did she say to you?” he demanded.

  “Nothing that matters,” Miranda assured him. She tried to smile, but her eyes were miserable, the way they had been when she had talked about being cursed. Nir was too upset to stay and look at them.

  He stalked out to the south guard post. Hunter stood there, whistling quietly, having just relieved Sumur. Nir felt his skin crawl and mentally located the unnatural rat crouching in the bushes nearby. How he hated goblins!

  “We need to hunt again tomorrow night,” he said. “I won’t be able to take my next turn. Tell Sumur that he and Willow can hunt for us at the three-quarter moon.” He felt the rat sit up in its hiding place at this news, its whiskers quivering with excitement. “I can’t stand it!” he exclaimed passionately. “It makes me positively ill. Don’t tell me you can’t feel that!”

  “Feel what?” inquired Hunter, looking around.

  “That!”

  A great, twisted shape erupted from the bushes directly in front of the blond elf Hunter had a confused impression of round eyes and long floppy ears before the creature loped away through the trees.

  “Oh, that!” he gasped once his heart restarted. “Of course I noticed that.”

  “This forest is full of goblins now, night after night,” said Nir grimly. “The treaty means nothing at all. They’ve talked to Sika again, and now she’s crying. The goblin King must have realized why she’s here, and he means to turn her against me. If we give that monster another month, the elves will be finished. I have to find out what to do!”

  “Just out of curiosity,” said Hunter, “why is the human girl here?”

  But the elf lord wasn’t listening. He stood motionless, eyes closed, rapt in the deepest concentration. After a minute, his right hand grew incandescent, brightly skeletal. The bones shone as if they were made of light, the skin that covered them glowing dusky pink.

  Nir opened his eyes with a joyful laugh. “I can stop them!” he cried. He reached out to clasp Hunter in an ecstatic embrace, but the blond elf stepped back nervously.

  “Good — good for you,” he stammered, eyeing the luminous hand.

  “We’ll be rid of these monsters once and for all,” Nir continued in excitement. “I tell you, Hunter,” he added, shaking a finger at the elf, “they’ll see who they’re dealing with!”

  Hunter shied sideways and then turned to see the boulder that he had been leaning against transform itself into a spiky mass of deep blue delphiniums. “I say,” he said anxiously, “do you mind terribly not waving that hand at me?”

  “Did you want something?” asked Nir with absentminded good humor. “I’m sorry. It’ll have to wait.” And he disappeared between the trees in the direction of the retreating goblin guard.

  The night was cold and blustery. Depressed, Miranda retreated to the elf lord’s vacant tent and curled up on her pallet, reading his spell book by the light of her diamond bracelet. She didn�
�t know all of the words, but the goblin that she had learned was not a sorry waste of time after all. The magical characters shared by the two races apparently had the same meaning.

  Lying on her stomach, she paged through the big old volume. A spell for preventing worms in deer. A spell for preventing cough in humans. Wonderful, she thought dully. I’m one of the livestock. A spell for producing apples in winter. Not that they’ll cook those apples into anything tasty, she reflected. Their food is simply terrible. A spell for traveling by cloak. By cloak? Mildly cheered, Miranda thought of climbing onto one and using it as a flying carpet. A spell for keeping humans inside the boundary. Her heart fell into her toes once more. She shut the book and pulled her own cloak around herself, closing her eyes.

  Much later she became aware that someone was shaking her. “Sika, wake up,” said the elf lord’s soft voice. “I need your help.”

  Miranda sat up, blinking. It was dark in the tent. It was always dark, she thought sadly. The only thing that brightened her endless night was the elf lord’s stunning appearance. He knelt by her, his beautiful black eyes shining in the light of her bracelet. “Sika, I need your help against the goblins.”

  She stumbled after him through the windy forest. Her cloak whipped behind her and caught on passing bushes. “Against the goblins?” she asked, her brain foggy with sleep and misery. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing that will harm you,” he replied, walking rapidly and guiding her awkward progress.

  Miranda thought about what Sable had told her. “Nir, I don’t want to help you fight goblins,” she told him worriedly. “Why should I?” But the elf lord made no answer.

  They came to a perfectly round hill rising out of the woods. The night was moonless, and clouds hid the stars, but Miranda could make out a line of tall, straight ash trees climbing the hill in a curve. Nir led her along a path that lay at their roots, spiraling up the steep slope. The whole dark forest spread out below them.

  “Now, do you see the water shining over there, under the stem of the Leaf?” he asked.