The King's Daughters (31 page)

The Baba sighed. "Those bears gave us so much trouble. They kept escaping, forcing poor Isabo to chase them all over the countryside. When she lost one in the forest, she even had to ask for my help to bring it back. Good thing I love riding at night, so I went and fetched the bear. Of course, it had returned to the village . . . again."

I nodded, recalling the bear's and hunter's tracks we had followed in the woods, the hunter was Isabo and the rider I saw later that evening was none other than the Baba. I shook my head, remembering that peasant who kept insisting that he had seen the Baba leading the bear away that night. I guess he wasn't dreaming after all.

"So I was right. Isabo
is
innocent." A question was burning my tongue. I wanted to know if the Baba had helped Isabo discover the truth. My gaze met the Baba's. Her eyes were warning me to be prudent. Beware your words, young man, they said. Tread lightly, very lightly.

I hesitated. Maybe if I made statements instead of questions. "Isabo . . . Isabo knows the rules. She knows how to ask questions."

"Yes, she does. Blue roses don't bloom often, so it took her some time before she could gather enough flowers to learn the truth—too much time maybe."

I sighed. So Isabo knew the truth. She knew who was behind this, but didn't have the time to tell anyone. Whoever was guilty of those acts got to her before she could speak, and that person made sure that Isabo would never speak again. Sadly right now, I couldn't see any other way of uncovering the truth.

I advanced toward the bears' enclosure alone—Eva couldn't bring herself to do so and had stayed at the cabin.

The bear closest to the fence raised its massive head and sniffed the air. A low growl escaped its throat.

"I wouldn't get too close if I were you," said the Baba. Wrapped in a brown shawl, she had suddenly appeared a few steps to my right. "The longer they remain in this form, the more their behavior becomes like bears'. The youngest has already forgotten her former life."

"Thalia was older; her sisters were just little girls. She was also the last one to be enchanted. Perhaps that's why she was so intent on coming back home. She remembered it more vividly than her sisters."

The Baba produced an enigmatic smile. "Yes, that one was determined to fight."

I nodded, recalling how Thalia had attacked us. Blinded by rage, she was then. Still, despite everything, she had managed to regain enough control over her growing animal instinct to rein herself in and spare Diego's life. Thalia had recognized the man she loved. She had stopped herself from killing him.

"Wait a minute . . . " I stared at the bears. If Thalia could recognize Diego and not rip him to shreds, maybe she could also recognize the person who had enchanted her. Was she, like her sisters before her, roaming the castle with the goal of killing that person, but only wound up killing innocent people instead? Could that be what had happened?

I turned to the Baba. "I think the princesses knew the person who did this to them."

The Baba didn't make a sound.

I continued, "Hm, I just don't understand why they were enchanted in the first place. That part doesn't make any sense."

The Baba let out a bitter chuckle. "On the contrary, it makes perfect sense. It's a means to an end."

I crossed my hands under my chin. "A means to an end? I suppose you can't explain that without breaking the rules?"

She shook her head. "I will say no more on this subject. I can offer you a ride to your horses, however. If you accept my offer, you will gain precious time. And time is now of the essence."

"Then I will accept."

* * *

If I had known that the ride the Baba had offered us wasn't on horseback or in a sleigh, but in her walking house, I would have thought twice before saying yes.

Standing very straight in the center of the main room, the Baba ordered, "Hold on to something."

I gripped the doorframe, while Eva's arms circled my waist.

The Baba clapped her hands three times and commanded, "House up."

In a lament of twisting wooden planks and a
clink-clank
of pots and pans, the house stood up.

The rapidity of its ascension took me by surprise. I felt as though my stomach had leapt right into my throat. My knees weakened for a brief instant before regaining stability again.

"House forward," said the Baba.

The house began rocking back and forth. Regardless of the solid grip I had on the doorframe, I was being thrown about on all sides.

For her part, the Baba remained fixed in the center of the room. She was as unmoving as a tree. After a short period of intense shaking, she ordered, "House stop!" followed by "House down!"

There was a last bone-jarring, stomach-flipping crash downward and everything became still. Only then did I risk letting go of the doorframe, and after having thanked the Baba, Eva and I staggered outside.

Fortunately, our horses were still tied to the tree where we had left them. In a hurry, we climbed on their backs and began retracing our steps in silence. Throughout the trip back to the castle, the Baba's words kept twirling in my head: a means to an end, a means to an end.
What end? What is it? If only I could learn that, I'd know who is behind this. What does that person want? Who has the power and knowledge to cast such powerful enchantments? Who was Thalia hunting that day? Who else was in the cemetery that day—besides everybody? What about her sisters? They too had tried taking revenge on someone. And why were they all attracted to the village?
So many questions, it was overwhelming, I didn't know where to start.

As I massaged my temples an idea came to me. Maybe I should start over. Maybe I should retrace the bear's footsteps inside the castle. I might learn something new this time. Yes, I would do that, I promised myself.

* * *

Once we were back at the castle, Eva left for her apartments right away. I had hoped she would stay with me for a while longer. Yet, I thought it best not to show my disappointment at her departure. I knew how distraught she was at learning of Thalia's death, and I understood her need to be alone. Also, it would've been insensitive, if not reprehensible, on my part to place any demand on her at this time.

So, it was alone that I shuffled my feet toward the junction of the main entrance where so many people had died. I was halfway there when Diego met up with me. "Where were you? I've searched the entire castle for you."

"I was out riding," I answered vaguely.

"Alone?"

I shrugged. I wasn't sure if I should tell Diego anything more.

"Have you heard the news?" Diego asked.

"What news?"

"The king will remarry."

"Yes, I heard that."

"Well, he's making it official tonight at a special banquet."

I nodded. "How's Lars?"

Diego gave a joyless chuckle. "At this point, it's hard to say if he's more dead than alive, or more alive than dead. All that praying people are doing isn't helping much." Diego became pensive all of a sudden. I could tell that something was bothering him. I thought of asking him what it was but he spoke before I did. "You know, Amir, I've been thinking that maybe the savages cast a spell on him."

"I doubt it, Diego, they saved his life."

"That's it. Maybe they didn't save him. Maybe he's still dead. He was dead when I pulled him out of the water."

I explained to Diego the technique used by Khuan to reanimate Lars, even though the entire thing sounded like a fable to me. I had a hard time believing that one could be brought back from the dead in such a fashion. I also told Diego about the green algae Lilloh had pulled from around Lars's neck. And that, in my opinion, was what allowed Lars to breathe again.

"Algae? Sea-hag hair, you mean?"

"I don't know, but Lars seemed to have become entangled in them."

"That's strange," said Diego. "I grew up by the seashore. That sort of algae is common in the sea. I didn't know it could grow in a lake though."

"Really?"

"That's what I thought—apparently I was wrong. Could be something else altogether—hard to tell without looking at it."

I nodded in agreement. If only Lilloh had thought of keeping some of those green strings so we could give it a look. "What else do you know about sea-hag hair?"

Diego stuck out his lower lip. "Old tales. Nothing important."

"Tales. What do they say about it?"

"Mainly, that these strings are water spirits' hairs left behind when they are called upon to do some misdeed. That sort of story."

I scratched my beard, thinking about what Diego had just said. That shadow under the ice, could it have been a water spirit? It sure had looked like a fish to me. "Shall we pay a visit to Lars?"

Diego's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Certainly. However, you must tell me why you're suddenly so interested in his health."

"Can I do it once we get there?"

Diego sighed heavily, then acquiesced.

Good, I thought. Now I had a bit of time to decide how much information I wanted to tell Diego—because at this point, I trusted no one in this castle.

* * *

We entered Lars's quarters and, ignoring the people assembled in his receiving room, went straight for his bedroom. The tense atmosphere of the room was suffocating. Right away, I noticed that two groups of people were posted on either side of Lars's bed.

Kneeling on the left side were Countess Ivana's friends, a dozen beautiful young ladies and gentlemen dressed in humble mourning garments. This group had been busy praying in low voices when we entered. They immediately stopped their litany and acknowledged our presence with kind smiles and solemn nods. After a bow in their direction, I turned to the right where the second group stood: Baron Molotoff, his three sons, and a few loyal army officers. This bunch of stiff-backed figures with their dark, hungry gazes reminded me of a gathering of vultures waiting for a wounded creature to die, so they could tear his body apart and rejoice.

My eyes darted from one group to the next. They seemed to be waging some silent war over Lars's inanimate body.

"Intense, isn't it," murmured Diego in my ear. "One party is praying for Lars to live, while the other is waiting and wishing for his passing. I have no doubt on the latter. With Lars dead, the road to the throne becomes wide-open for the Molotoffs."

"Are you serious? Surely the king has other nephews. One of them can take Lars's place."

Diego shook his head. "If Lars dies, the Molotoffs will succeed the Andersons on the Sorvinkian throne. Poor King Erik, the man's unlucky. With the exception of Eva, he has lost his entire family."

I threw a discreet glance at the Molotoffs. Now I knew why the king was in such a hurry to remarry. He needed a new heir . . . because this one was about to pass. I made my way to the bed and looked at Lars.

His brow was sweaty, his eyes closed and sunken, his face waxy. Lars's condition had not improved since I had last seen him. Actually, his breathing seemed shallower than before. I turned to the prayers. They all bore anxious looks; some even had fear in their eyes. The baron, on the other hand, seemed unmoved. I returned my attention to Lars. I cringed. In my opinion, the greenish hue of his skin was a bad omen. It was the color of pus, as if something was festering inside him. I touched Lars's forehead. A sudden burst of light exploded behind my eyes. It hit me with the swift brutality of a lightning bolt, leaving me blind and dizzy. I was so shaken by this unforeseen attack that I had to grab one of the bedposts not to fall down. I felt a strong hand gripping my elbow, which helped me regain my balance. I didn't question whose hand it was. The strong perfume enveloping me was a dead giveaway.

"Amir, are you falling ill?" Diego asked in a concerned tone.

"No," I managed to blurt out. "Tired, that's all."

Having regained my countenance, I eyed Lars again. He was under a spell, and a strong one at that. The fabric of that spell was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I extended a trembling hand toward Lars and lightly grazed his forehead with my fingertips. A succession of bright sparks flashed behind my eyes again. But as my hand moved down to his nose and over his lips, the sparks diminished in intensity. They only increased again once my fingers reached his chest, taking on an angry red hue. I blinked, then rubbed my eyes to get rid of them.

"Amir, what are you doing?" Diego sounded embarrassed.

"Hush!" I said, placing my hand over Lars's abdomen. Darkness filled my vision. I pulled away my hand fast. In doing so my fingers bumped Lars's right hand. A sharp flash of green light burned my retina. "
Oooh
," I mumbled, quickly covering my eyes with closed fists.

"What's happening to you, Prince Amir?"

I recognized Baron Molotoff's deep baritone voice. "Nothing—nothing."

"Lies! Clearly something is ailing you."

I shook my head. "It's an old wound. It comes and goes." Using Diego as support, I straightened myself. "See, now I'm well again."

Baron Molotoff sneered at me, and then he lowered his gaze to Lars.

So did I—to his hand actually. The root of the evil that was slowly killing him had to be there. I was sure of it. And after a close inspection of his fingers, I found it. Well, I thought that could be it. A long greenish hair was tightly wrapped around Lars's ring finger. But the moment I tried pulling it off, I was once again struck down by a green flash of light. Except this time the luminous blow was so powerful that I nearly fainted.

"Your old wound again, I presume," commented the baron in a skeptical tone.

Ignoring him, I turned to Diego, who had thrown an arm around my waist to stabilize me. I didn't protest his initiative. Frankly, without it, I would probably be face down on the floor by now.

"Amir, you're truly ill."

"No. I'm fine." I stared at the hair. It needed to come off, but how? I couldn't touch it, well, I could but not without fainting. Surely there must be a solution to this problem. I tried getting closer to the bed. My knees buckled and I nearly collapsed.