The Snow Queen (34 page)

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.

Or had she been? Perhaps the talent had never blossomed until now, either because it had never been needed, or because it had not been wanted. Power was a blessing
and
a curse, and there were those who were willing, more than willing, to do without the blessing in order to avoid the curse. She saw that often enough as a Godmother—people caught up in Traditional paths who only wanted normal lives, no matter what they had to give up to get them.

She turned her attention back to the task at hand, and loaded each trickle of power with memories of warm Spring days, of the sun shining on the wakening earth, of seedlings pushing their way through the warm earth, of buds unfolding, of flowers blooming. She remembered her own childhood and how magical even the most ordinary of Spring days had seemed. She remembered baby things—lambs, kittens, rabbits, chicks. No matter that later those baby things grew up to become dinner; in the Spring, all babies were precious and life-affirming. She reached out to add those memories to the mix. Kaari closed her eyes and began to hum, her face flushed and her lips growing a little redder, as if the sun—or something else—had kissed them. From Kaari came other sorts of memories and images, also life-affirming. How it felt to be in love on a warm Spring day. The touch of a lover’s hand, the sweetness of a kiss. The stirring within, when life demanded to be created and re-created again. The sensual joy of skin on skin.

Aleksia felt The Traditional magic eddying formlessly around them seize on the song, and the images—and suddenly, completely out of the blue, she had a
lot
more power on her hands! The Tradition itself was answering the age-old call of Spring and new life, even now, in the midst of Winter.

She looked up to see if either of the other women had noticed. A glance at the Sammi woman told Aleksia that Annukka was thoroughly wrapped up in her song-spell now, and an erupting volcano couldn’t shake her. Kaari was the same. Both were lost to the music and the magic, weaving it into a web of life-affirming and life-giving power tied to the very earth itself.

Aleksia opened her mind and let The Traditional power flow through her, like a warm golden river. This was the moment that made all the hard work of being a Godmother worthwhile, when the power answered you at last, when you coaxed it into the shape you wanted, and you knew there was going to be a happy ending. Even if she only shared in that ending vicariously, the power sang in her veins now, and brought everything about her to life.

The power flooded through her. And through her, into Annukka, and into Annukka’s song.

Suddenly, the clearing filled with the scent of blooming flowers and new grass. A thousand wonderful scents filled the air, of new rain, and freshly turned earth, of young herbs and linen drying in the sun, of honey in the comb and grapes ripening on the vine.

A warm breeze circled the place, banishing the icy cold for a moment; the sun acquired new warmth as it touched them, and somewhere in the distance a bird broke into song.

A brilliant ray of sunshine broke through the clouds, penetrating the bare branches of the birch grove, and gilding everything with warm, golden light. Everything felt suddenly more vivid, more real, more alive. Aleksia felt the sudden urge to run and dance, as the snow in the clearing began to melt. Never had she ever seen snow melt this quickly. She spread out her arms to the warmth of the sun, basking in it. Both Annukka and Kaari had their faces tilted up to the sunlight, eyes still closed. Aleksia continued to weave her magic into Annukka’s, and watched, eyes narrowed, as the ice encasing the two Mages began to melt.

It was the elder of the two, Lemminkal, who thawed first, dropping out of his frigid position with a huge gasp, to half-lie, panting for breath, on the thin brown grass revealed by the melting snow and ice. Then Ilmari followed, and as the Sammi magician reached the final verse of the song and took a deep breath to begin another iteration, Aleksia tapped on Annukka’s shoulder to tell her to stop.

She strummed a few final chords and let the music die away. The golden light faded first, returning to the dull gray of a deep-Winter afternoon. After that, the cold returned, and the clearing began to freeze over again. The snow was gone, but the ground turned hard in moments, and any moisture that remained became ice again. The scents vanished altogether, leaving not a hint behind—if indeed they had ever been there at all, and had not been figments of their imaginations. And the birdsong stilled, bringing back the frozen silence of this forest of ice. It all returned to the state it had been when they first entered the clearing. Aleksia watched this with regret. The hint of Summer in the midst of all this cold, of life in all of this death—it had been a moment of relief, as well as a reminder of why she was here in the first place.