The Princess and the Snowbird (12 page)

J
ENS’S HANDS WERE
ragged and bleeding from pulling on the ropes, and his feet were numb with pressure when he heard a group of men coming toward him. His blindfold was torn off, and Jens had time to register that it was still dark, but then he found himself looking into the face of the Hunter.

“Karl told me that you tried to help the girl in the jail escape. You bribed the guards with a very valuable item.” The Hunter held up the jeweled half circlet and tossed it back and forth from hand to hand as if it were no more than an ordinary seashell. “Tell me about her and I will give this back,” he offered.

“Why do you want to know about her?” Jens asked. “Are you afraid of her power?” He did everything he could not to sound frightened. Liva was still alive, and that was good. But he did not want to give any information to the Hunter that might harm her. He certainly did not believe
that the Hunter would give him the half circlet, or anything else he promised.

The Hunter put away the half circlet and took out his stone knife. “She has a good measure of the aur-magic, I will admit. But I have this stone knife to cut into her. I will cut into her again and again, if necessary. And if that stone breaks on her, I will get another. And another. I assure you, she will not escape me. No, I am not afraid of her power. I am merely curious about how she has eluded me for so long. And I think you may have some answers.”

Jens thought of the bear and the hound and how they had protected their daughter, taking her so far to the north, making sure she had no contact with humans. He shook his head. “I don’t know anything about her,” he lied.

With a shrug, the Hunter took the knife and put the point of it at the base of Jens’s left eye. “Tell me her name,” he said. “Only her name. That is all I ask. It is such a small thing, to save your eye, is it not?”

“Whose name?” asked Jens, and he kept his voice steady. He kept his body proudly steady, too, though the knife cut into his face and the blood dripped down his chin. But the Hunter leaned closer to him and stared at the wound.

Jens realized in that moment that he should have pretended that magic was pouring out of him. The Hunter expected it from everyone else.

“The rats did not touch you. The knife cuts only your body. You have no magic at all,” the Hunter said, his voice half in awe. “I have been waiting to find another born like myself—”

He leaned in closer to Jens and touched lightly on Jens’s naked chest. Jens felt as if there were tiny pinpricks in a pattern around his heart. “No, not born this way, after all,” he said. He paused a long moment, and Jens pressed himself to silence, despite his curiosity. Then the Hunter shook a finger.

“We met once, years ago,” he said. “You may not remember me, but I remember you. I was impatient with waiting to find others without magic. I knew that they must be born somewhere, but perhaps too far from here. And so I began to make others without magic on my own, so that I could see how they grew.

“Many times I have wondered if I would come across you again. I should have known the first moment I touched you. I remember it all so very clearly.” The Hunter let out a breath slowly, and his face looked as if he was in ecstasy.

The hairs on the back of Jens’s neck rose.

“You look like her, you know, especially around the lips. She had such beautiful, pale, pouting lips. Has anyone ever told you that about your mother?”

Jens went cold. It was not possible that the Hunter had known his mother. She had died so long ago.

But the Hunter went on speaking. “Would you like to
hear of her death? I suppose you must have heard some tale or other as you were growing up, but your father would have withheld the whole truth from you. He likely did not want to remember it himself. But the other villagers, they knew some of it. Did they treat you badly as a child? Did they make sure you knew you were damaged? Your mother had the aur-magic, though her village did not know of it. That is why I must constantly patrol all villages too close to forests, because those within them are far more likely to have the worst of the magics.”

Jens did not answer. He would not give any sign that he believed the Hunter, not one.

“She had hair as pale as yours, though cleaner and better kept. She always wore it in braids circled above her head. She was tall and lean, her hands rough with work. She did not even try to hide her aur-magic. She seemed to love doves above all other animals. She would make little figures of doves, with absurdly wide white wings, and set them to fly around the village.

“Your father found her aur-magic attractive. He loved her too much—enough even to let her bear a son who would have the same aur-magic that his mother did.”

What? Jens had never had magic.

“I came to the town and saw that she was near birth. I waited until the time had come upon her. Your father had gone out hunting, you see, to make sure he had meat when she needed to rebuild her strength. And the other women in the village went to get water for her. But when
they saw me, they did not stop me. They kept away as I approached her hut.”

No
, Jens’s mind screamed.

“I came to the door and had only to put my knife against it before it parted for me. She lay on the floor, wrapped in wool blankets, and next to her was a small, squalling red face. There were still streaks of salty sweat lining her face from the effort of birth. Her husband was not with her, and she would have done anything to draw me from her child. She thought to save you from my stone knife, to protect you and your aur-magic, and to make sure that the world still had the gift of her ancestors.”

All Jens’s life, the villagers had told of how his mother had died because of him, and how he had lain with her body for three days until his father returned from a hunting trip and found them both.

And all this time, Jens had felt guilty for his mother’s death. But it had nothing to do with him. She had not died because of him. She might never have died—if not for the Hunter.

“She saw me and she got to her feet with great effort,” the Hunter went on, his eyes distant. “I think she believed her aur-magic would disguise you.

“She stood in front of you. ‘And so you have come for me,’ she said.

“‘You must consider it a compliment, for I do not bother with those who are unimportant,’ I said to her.

“She did not answer me, but tried to push aur-magic at me to throw me off balance, or perhaps even to kill me.
I think she was not so stupid, though, as to think it would work.

“I held up the knife, and it cut to pieces the aur-magic she tried to press toward me. Then I took the blade to her flesh. The magic dripped out of her, but she did not cry out in terror or pain. Instead she looked at me with pity.

“‘I know what you are,’ she said. ‘I have felt the horror in you. Let me give you magic to heal you.’

“As if I needed her! I was angry at her superiority. So it always is with those who have the aur-magic. They think it is their right to rule over us, to be kind to us, to condescend and share their largesse with us. Well, I taught her the truth of the matter. Magic is nothing. And so I prove, day by day.

“She died as I cut her again and again. I think it was her love for you that kept her alive for so much longer than the others. For your sake, she tried to live.”

Jens did not want to hear more. It was too horrific. And yet, his mother had died trying to save him. That part was something to hold to his heart. She had not died for hatred at the sight of him, as his father had sometimes told him cruelly.

“When she was dead, I turned to you. Quiet there, though your eyes were open. Your hand was in your mouth. Not just the thumb of it, but the whole fist, and you made a strong sucking sound, but no cry.

“I took off the great wool blanket she had put you in, as if you were a bear cub instead of a human baby. I took
the knife to you and I cut tiny slivers into your skin, all over your whole body, so small that they left neither blood nor scars, but enough so that you could hold no magic of either kind.”

Jens had to hold his head straight ahead to keep himself from looking down for signs of the Hunter’s knife, all those years ago.

“Then I left you there, still living, but with your magic gone. And now you have come back to me, to show me the results of my handiwork. I worried you would not live long. But now I know why this old blade cuts only into your body. It has already done its work on your magic, more thoroughly than any other that has ever felt the knife and lived.

“You are my masterpiece, and you did not even know.” The Hunter let his hand slide onto Jens’s spine, and then gave a cry of joy.

“It is almost enough to make me set you free. But not quite. For I think I could use one such as you here. And you owe me. Your life, such as it is, has always been mine.”

I
T WAS SOME
hours later; nighttime. Liva heard the sound of loud, drunken singing coming from the guards on the other side of the locked door of the prison. She had been rubbing Tern’s back until he fell asleep. Now as she slipped him off her lap, he murmured, “Mama.” She was determined that his trust would not be in vain. Her father had died and she had not saved him, but Tern she would not sacrifice. Not for anything.

Liva had taken the stone necklace off earlier and set it as far from her as she could, while being able to still reach it at the sound of the door.

There was laughter and then a key turned in the lock. Sensing with her magic, Liva was sure the Hunter was not behind the door this time. It was only the guards. But what did they want?

Liva crept toward the door and crouched. Her
aur-magic, this close to the nearby necklace, was too weak for her to transform herself fully, but she changed both of her arms into those of a bear.

When the door swung inward, she slammed into it with the strength of her bear’s arms. There was a sound of grunting surprise, and then a stifled cry of pain.

She stepped through the door.

The two guards were struggling to find their feet. At the sight of Liva’s rapier-sharp bear claws, the younger one gave up and scrambled backward before turning tail and fleeing. The older one stood and held out a sword.

Liva flung one of her bear arms at him and caught him by the shoulder. His shirt opened and his skin burst. Blood splattered her. He fell down after a long moment with a sigh. Liva could see the rise and fall of his chest, so he was not dead, but he would not be rising soon.

Liva wished she had been able to get the other guard as well. Now she and Tern had to move quickly. If the other guard had gone to tell the Hunter what had happened, the Hunter would be after them both soon.

Changing her bear paws back into human hands, she looked up behind the town to the hill into the forest, thinking about the difficulties in getting Tern there. It was already dark, and it would take hours to reach that far with the young boy at her side. She could not transform into any animal to carry him, because that would reveal them both more surely than the Hunter’s call.

“Tern, come,” said Liva, going back inside the jail.

The boy stumbled to his feet, blinking his eyes rapidly. Liva thought for a moment he would sink back into the stupor of the jail, but he nodded, and a look of determination spread across his face. He stepped out and looked at the fallen, bloody guard.

“Follow me,” said Liva, to distract him from the sight.

“That one tied Mama’s hands.” Tern rubbed his wrists, and Liva guessed that he was remembering his mother being led to the bonfire where she was burned.

“Well, now he is hurt, too,” said Liva.

Liva took his hand and he did not fight against her as she pulled him into the shadows. She forced herself not to run, to walk at what would appear to be a leisurely pace.

The first thing Liva did was get both of them away from the jail. She did not care which direction she went, but took the first street she found and turned away, and did it again when she came to the next street. She made up a story in her head about herself and Tern. He was her younger brother. She was bringing him home to their parents. They had played long and hard that day and were very tired. He had gotten lost, and Liva had spent hours finding him. She might be a little sharp with him, in exhaustion.

When she saw a couple staring at them, she scowled at Tern. “Home,” she said. “We have to get home or we’ll be in trouble with Mama and Papa. Hurry up, you.” She didn’t dare use his real name, in case the Hunter
had made it well known.

“Mama? Papa?” said Tern, his face suddenly light, and his stumbling legs sprightly and deft.

“Yes,” said Liva, hating herself.

As soon as she got away from the couple, she had to tell Tern the truth. “It was a story,” she said. “About a different mama and papa. Not yours. You know already where they are, don’t you?”

Tern sighed and slumped forward. “Fire,” he said.

“Yes. But what remained of their aur-magic returned to the air and the forest. Take comfort in that. For we are going to the forest.”

“Forest,” said Tern.

Liva did not say anything about her story aloud again. They walked as it grew dark. There were few people left on the streets by then, except for those who slept there. Liva was afraid every moment, not just because of the Hunter’s men who might come for them, but also for the other dangers of Tamberg-on-the-Coast. A port town would have many layers of criminals, and the Hunter was only at the top. She and Tern could be attacked by any number of those, and if Liva used her aur-magic as protection, it might only make things worse.

Close to dawn she had to stop, for Tern was dragging himself along and breathing so heavily that he had become conspicuous. She searched for a safe place to hide for a while, a tree or a bush. But there were none in the town.

She chose a pile of refuse that stank and swayed in the slight breeze, but she thought that she and Tern could pass as street children themselves now. Better if others were afraid of them than the other way around.

“A moment,” whispered Liva to Tern. “We’ll rest for just a moment.”

She let herself take several deep breaths.

“Forest?” said Tern.

“No, not yet,” said Liva.

“Mama, Papa?” asked Tern.

“No,” said Liva, her heart heavy.

“Home?”

“Soon,” said Liva.

He tucked himself next to her and was sleeping in moments.

Liva watched as the town gradually came to life over the next hour. When it was fully light, Liva knew it was time to move again. She hated to wake Tern, though. He needed sleep, and she felt guilty already for all that he had suffered before she had come to help him.

Liva looked around the growing stream of people moving into the center of the town, toward the ocean. It was then that she saw the old woman pushing a cart. She wore a scarf wrapped around her face and she moved with a lurching, stumbling gait. The woman’s aur-magic was small, just curling around the edges of her heart.

Liva had gone longer periods than this without food; she might have passed the woman by and tried to go on
alone. But Tern had been in the jail for much longer than Liva, and from what she had seen, he had been offered very little food during his stay there. And the Hunter had weakened him in more ways than one.

So Liva approached the woman. “Please,” Liva said, standing in the woman’s way. “My brother is very weak with hunger. We are trying to follow our parents, but they have gone ahead.” She gestured vaguely to the north. “Can you help us?”

The woman wore no smile, but she was sturdily built, and her face was softly wrinkled. Liva thought she looked like an owl, and liked her even more when she pressed her lips into a circle and let out a low hoot.

“You’re aur-magic. Both of you. Ain’t you?” she said. “It’s in your faces, in your sadness and in your desperation.”

Liva tensed. She could not harm this old woman, but she must be prepared to flee. “Now, don’t worry none. I’m not one of the Hunter’s. I won’t betray you. Is he chasing you?” She looked around them, and Liva did the same, but as yet the morning was cool and very quiet.

“Not yet, then. I expect the dogs will come out before long.”

That thought sent a chill through Liva’s heart.

“But I won’t let him have you.”

Tern stirred. “Mama?” he said to the old woman.

“No,” said Liva again, her heart breaking.

But the old woman put an arm around him and kissed
him on the cheek. Tern seemed to rest more easily then.

“I’m sorry. He’s confused,” said Liva.

“Nothing to be sorry about. I take it as a compliment when a child wants me as a mother. Never had enough children of my own to satisfy me.” She struggled to put Tern’s sleepy form into the cart, but Liva helped her, and together they managed to get him in without banging his head or limbs against the hard, wooden sides.

“We can push it together,” said the old woman. “We’ll cover him with some blankets and it will look natural-like.”

Liva said nothing about the jail or about Tern already being captured and tortured, but the woman seemed to have guessed it already. Hoping she was doing the right thing, Liva did as the woman said. They began walking.

“You need to get north, I daresay. To the hills and the forest beyond.”

“Yes,” said Liva.

“Well, we’ll see how far we can get you.” The woman gave her a bit of hard bread that crumbled as soon as Liva touched it to her mouth. It was salty and dry and tasteless. But it settled her stomach. Tern seemed to like it as well.

Liva began to think the woman was too good to be true. Could she be a spy of the Hunter’s, taking them back to him? She looked suspiciously at the woman, who read her gaze.

“You think that everyone in Tamberg-on-the-Coast is
like the Hunter?” asked the woman.

Liva did not know how to answer.

“It isn’t so,” she said. “Some of us hate him. Him and his burning and his speeches against magic. We know what’s what. We know what the aur-magic is to all of us, and how it keeps us alive. We know how there is no tehr-magic without the aur-magic, too.”

“Then why do you let him have power?” asked Liva.

“He took it before we knew what he was doing. In order for us to fight him now, many of us would die. He has the strength, but that does not mean he will always have it. We wait. One day his own men may rise up against him. He does not treat them well. And when that happens, we will be free again.”

The woman offered her dried berries. They were very tart, a variety Liva had never tasted before. “Gor berries,” said the woman. “Growed in my own yard, by my own hands.”

A long, low whistle came from the distance. The woman started, and Liva knew what this meant. She and Tern had been discovered gone.

As soon as the whistle stopped, there was the call of barking dogs. They barked in imitation of human sound, and it pained Liva’s aur-magic. Of all the animals, the wild hounds were those she knew the best. The language of the wild hounds was like a mother’s lullaby to her ears. This—it felt like claws to her heart. This was aur-magic twisted into something else.

“You must get gone and quick, both of you.” The woman reached into the cart and pulled off the blanket that had covered Tern. She shook him awake and tried to help him climb out. He was confused and clumsy.

Liva had to lift him.

“This is as far as I go,” said the woman.

Liva nodded, holding Tern. “You have helped us enough. Thank you. I do not blame you for not giving us more.”

“You do not blame me, but I do. To think that we were ever taken in by him and his promises—we thought he would tame the forests by killing the magics, and bring us easy living. We did not see the price of it.”

Liva put her hand on the woman’s arm and squeezed. “Go now,” she said.

“And you,” said the woman.

Tern began to sob tearlessly, and she could feel the shaking of his ribs against her own chest.

“She has to go,” Liva whispered in his ear. “She is trying to save you.” Steeling herself against the sadness, she carried Tern down the street and found a shed to hide him in.

“Remember,” Liva said. “We are going home to the forest. Where the aur-magic lives.” She held Tern’s eyes and used her magic to make him sleep. Then she went out to meet the Hunter and the dogs. It was the first bright light of morning by then, and the sun was at her back.

The Hunter squinted in the light. He had one human
at his side—Karl. In front of them stood four huge dogs, nearly as tall as any human. Liva was surprised he had not brought more men with him. It showed how little threat he thought she was to him, after all.

Well, she would show him.

Liva ran at the first dog. It snarled and snapped at her, and Liva could smell its rank breath when its teeth came close to her face. She changed then into a bear fully, for she had no more reason to hide her aur-magic, and stood up on her hind legs, roaring.

The dog whined and fell back.

Liva challenged the other dogs with another roar.

Then the Hunter stepped out into the street and called the dogs back to his side.

As a bear, Liva felt confidence. Her father had not had her aur-magic when he faced the Hunter. But she was ready now. Or if she was not, then she never would be.

“I thought you might have rejected my first gift because it was too small. So I brought you this one instead,” said the Hunter. He had a huge stone, the size of his own head. He threw it toward her, and it rolled to a stop at her feet. Before she could move away, Liva felt her magic drained away by it.

Liva felt her body lose the shape of a bear, and she was quickly on her knees, her head on the ground, hardly able to breathe. She tried to tell herself that she had the aur-magic still, though it felt completely lost. She only had to get away from this stone.

But she knew that the Hunter would have his knife. He planned to cut her. It was only a matter of time.

“Where is the boy?” asked the Hunter.

Liva shook her head weakly.

“Oh, I will find him. But first I will deal with you. I am so glad to discover you have even more aur-magic than I thought. I have been looking for a challenge. There was a man-bear not long ago, but—he was not as difficult to kill as I had hoped.” The Hunter’s eyes met hers.

She lurched to her feet and threw herself at the Hunter. She had little strength left beyond that of a normal human, but what she had, she used to some effect. She scrabbled at him with her frail human fingernails, leaving scratches down his face and side. She spat at him and punched at him until he pushed her away from him and laughed.

“Is that all?” he said. “I would have thought it would be more. Your friend thought that you would defeat me.”

Her friend? Liva went very still. She had only one friend. Jens. But she had left him in the forest, safe. Why had he come after her?

“A handsome young man,” the Hunter went on. “I can see why you are so close to him. He is the only human who would have you, is he? The others are all too afraid of your aur-magic. But he can’t sense a bit of it. And he’s half animal himself.”