Wildwood Dancing (18 page)

I sat down on a stone wall, wrapping my arms around myself. Gogu had begun to forage in some old decaying wood. I averted my gaze. If he planned on eating beetles, I didn’t particularly want to watch. “It’s not just Tati,” I said. “Iulia’s been behaving strangely, too. Cezar accused her of flirting, and I think he did have some cause for it. She’s too young for that. I hate to admit it, but Aunt Bogdana has a point about manners
and deportment. We all need opportunities to meet suitable young men. Like it or not, if we don’t want Cezar in complete control of Piscul Dracului and making all our decisions for us, we need to take this first step. We have to accept that Father may not be coming back.” I shivered. “Gogu, I can’t imagine Cezar as master of Piscul Dracului. He doesn’t love the place as we do. It would be just … wrong. Almost anyone would be better than him. Perhaps Aunt Bogdana’s friends have sons we could like, given time. Young men who would look after the castle and the forest. Men with good judgment and kind hearts.”

Gogu was pursuing a small scuttling creature. His thoughts were held tight.

“All right, then,” I grumbled. “If you don’t want to talk, don’t. Leave me to sort out my problems all by myself. We need an heir for Piscul Dracului. One of us has to marry. If Tati won’t do it, I think I’ll have to. I’d always planned to do other things with my life—have adventures, go on voyages, become a merchant in my own right. And if I did marry, I’d hoped it would be for love. I used to dream about how I’d meet an exotic stranger in a foreign port and know instantly that he was the one. Of course, anyone wanting to marry one of us would need Father’s permission. But—” I choked on the words. If Father should die, Cezar would instantly gain control of everything. It was unthinkable. A man with such anger in his eyes should not be allowed to decide the fates of others. “Gogu,” I said, “I need to go and visit Aunt Bogdana. Will you stop crunching those things? It sounds disgusting.”

He hunkered down in the woodpile, abruptly silent and
near-invisible. I reminded myself that not long ago I had almost lost him.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “The thing is, I’m so close to you I forget sometimes that we’re separate people. I just say what I think, and don’t realize I’ve hurt you until the words are out of my mouth. Gogu?”

I peered down between the logs. All I could see were his eyes—wide, unwinking, desperately serious.

“Gogu, I’m sorry. Come out, will you? I really need your advice.”

He made me wait long enough to realize how badly I had wounded him. Then he hopped onto the seat beside me, holding something in his mouth. He dropped it into my lap.

“What’s this?” A gift, clearly. He’d never made such a gesture before. It was a little seedpod, mousy brown and shaped like a heart. “Thank you! How sweet!”

He cringed. Maybe my tone had been a little patronizing.

“Gogu, I value your gift,” I said, taking off my glove to stroke his head with my finger. “On the first day of spring, I’ll cook you the finest pondweed pancake you ever tasted, and too bad if people say I’m behaving like a child. Unless there’s something else you’d like in return.”

I caught something bright and strange in his thoughts, gone so quickly I could not begin to interpret it. After a little, I sensed a more hesitant approach.

You could …

“I could what, Gogu?”

You could … Nothing
.

“You’re in a very strange mood today. I wonder whether that trip across the Deadwash on your own has scrambled up your head a little. Are you going to tell me how you did it?”

Silence.

“That’s a no, I take it.” Now I was hurt. We had always shared our secrets, the two of us. Ours had been a friendship of perfect trust.

Jena?

“Mmm?”

A party. You will marry a man you meet at a party?

“I don’t even know if we can do it yet, Gogu. It depends on what Aunt Bogdana thinks is right. This will be the first time I’ve spoken to her since the
pomanǎ
, and I have no idea how she’ll react. If she’s still terribly upset, I may not even get as far as suggesting this. Anyway, it wouldn’t be a party, more like a polite gathering—though I’m hoping we can have music and good food. As for the marrying part, the idea of going about that as if it were a business transaction makes me feel sick. But I’ll do it if I must.” I slipped the seedpod into my pocket. A number of hurdles lay before me: the fact that Cezar had said his mother wanted no visitors; the possibility that my request might offend her deeply; the need to ask my cousin for funds; the snow lying heavy on the paths around Piscul Dracului, making travel by cart difficult; the Night People. Everything suggested that my idea was foolish and impractical. But with Father in such fragile health, I did not want to wait for springtime. “In the morning I’ll go up and see Aunt Bogdana. If she says yes, I’ll tell the girls we’re not going to the Other Kingdom again until the
Night People have left the valley. So you see, Gogu, I am being sensible. I’m following your good advice.”

I’m sorry, Jena
.

“Sorry? What do you have to be sorry for?”

I’m sorry I cannot protect you
.

Unease was plain in the frog’s hunched posture and the forlorn tone of his voice—the voice only I could hear. Abruptly, I was on the verge of tears. “Don’t be silly,” I told him, sniffing. “Why would I expect that? It’s ridiculous. Friendship and good advice, that’s all I need from you.”

Put me on your shoulder now. I want to go inside
.

“Jena! How lovely to see you!” It seemed that Aunt Bogdana was no longer too distressed to receive visitors. Her severe black dress accentuated her pallor and she was looking thinner, but her smile welcomed me as Daniela showed me into the sewing room. “Daniela, we’ll have some coffee, please. Come and sit down, Jena. I’m sorry I have not been out and about. It seems such an effort without Nicolae. Everywhere I go, I feel his absence.”

“I’m so sorry, Aunt Bogdana. I can’t imagine how it feels. If there’s anything we can do …” I seated myself on a little chair with an embroidered cushion. From the shelf nearby, Costi’s painted eyes watched me.

“And now there’s this terrible news of the miller’s daughter.… It’s as if a curse has fallen over the valley, a kind of darkness. It makes me wonder what we have done to deserve such ill fortune. And Father Sandu is gone. That was a blow.
It is at times such as these that a community sorely needs its priest.”

I refrained from mentioning her son’s role in Father Sandu’s departure. “Cezar seems to be doing his best to hunt down the offender,” I said. “They didn’t succeed last night, but I think he will keep going until they do. He’s very determined.”

Aunt Bogdana sighed. “To be quite honest with you, Jena, I’m not at all sure that is the way Nicolae would have gone about it. A blessing on the settlement and on the margins of the forest, the erection of a crucifix, those things he would have done. But this …” She shuddered. “It’s answering blood with blood. I fear for Cezar. I fear for all those men. One does not meddle lightly with the forces of the forest.” She cleared her throat; her eyes were on Costi’s picture. “Cezar, of all men, should know that. Ah, here’s Daniela with the coffee. Allow me to pour for you, Jena. How are your sisters?”

“They’re well, thank you. Upset by what’s happened, of course. Aunt Bogdana, there’s something I need to ask you. You must tell me if you think it’s inappropriate.”

“Go on, Jena.”

I stumbled through my proposition, hoping I would not reduce my aunt to tears or make her angry by trespassing on her grief. Aunt Bogdana regarded me over her coffee cup, not interrupting. She did not seem upset, only intrigued. “And so,” I said eventually, “I did wonder if we might have a small gathering, perhaps just a few carefully chosen guests. I know it’s not the best time, but actually it might lift people’s spirits. In fact, I thought the folk of the valley might see it as a good thing to
do. A gesture to show we are not afraid, that we are prepared to light lamps against the darkness. You wouldn’t need to do anything, Aunt, just advise me on how to go about it and suggest whom we might invite. I realize we should perhaps wait until spring, but—”

Aunt Bogdana lifted a hand, and I halted in midsentence. She sipped her coffee, her eyes thoughtful. Waiting, I gulped mine down. Daniela hastened to refill my cup. Gogu had escaped my pocket and was on my knee. He made a sudden leap, landing on the arm of Aunt Bogdana’s chair.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” I began.

“Not at all,” Aunt said absently. “Now, Jena, this is a matter of balancing what is right for you and your sisters with community expectations. It happens that an old friend of mine, a lady with extremely good connections, is staying near Braşov over the winter and is likely to have a significant number of houseguests. I think it is possible we might do something, as long as it is kept sedate. The season being what it is, we cannot expect folk to travel far. And with this new threat, it will be necessary to offer guests a night’s accommodation at Piscul Dracului—nobody will be wanting to be outside after dusk. You’ll need to clear out your storeroom. It’s the only place where you can entertain so many guests.”

“So many?” I had imagined we might put people in the formal dining room.

“Jena,” declared Aunt Bogdana, evidently warming to the challenge, “there’s no point in doing this if you don’t do it properly. While you cannot expect to find suitors in one evening, if folk see you at your best, they’ll talk. Word will get about,
even in winter, believe me. By springtime there will be invitations flooding in for you.”

She had astonished me. I realized I had been expecting a flat refusal. “You think the guests will come?” I asked her. “Even with the Night People in our forest?”

“We can only try, Jena. As long as movement in and out is by daylight, I think we can achieve something. You’ll all need new gowns. My seamstress should be able to do the job, with a little assistance. When did you plan to do this?”

“I thought maybe at next Full Moon.” I imagined explaining this to Tati. “If that allows sufficient time to organize everything. I’ll work hard, Aunt Bogdana.”

“This is quite a change of heart for you, Jena.” My aunt’s eyes were shrewd. “If anyone had asked me last summer whether I would ever persuade you to show interest in such activities, I’d have said I thought it an impossibility until you grew up a little. What has prompted this?” She had crumbled a dainty biscuit at the edge of her plate; Gogu was investigating.

I gave her as much of the truth as I could. “Uncle Nicolae’s death; my father’s illness. We do need to look ahead. And … I do believe in what I said before, about giving the appearance of being strong and brave. I’m as much afraid of the Night People as anyone is. But I think this would be good for the village, especially if we get folk involved. I would need quite a bit of help getting things ready.” I wondered how I might approach the delicate question of payment.

“No dancing, of course,” Aunt Bogdana said. “That’s a shame, really. Nicolae did so love to dance, and I know he
wouldn’t mind, yet it would be inappropriate so soon after.… But I think we could invite the village band, just for some quiet tunes in the background. The men could do with a few extra coppers to tide them over the winter. And we’ll ask the women to come up and help Florica with the supper. That way we do everyone a favor, and if they’re all together they will feel safer after dark.”

“Aunt,” I ventured, “I’m not sure whether Cezar will think this a good idea. He has all our funds at present. He’s approving our expenses one by one.”

Her brows shot up. “Really? He can hardly raise any objections to this, as long as it has my approval. Don’t worry about the cost, Jena. Nicolae would have been happy to do this for you. Think of it as his farewell gift.” Abruptly, her brisk manner turned to tears, and I got up to put my arm around her shoulders. “You’re a good girl, Jena,” my aunt said. “Perhaps a little unusual, like poor dear Teodor, but your heart is in the right place. I’m all right, my dear. This will give me something with which to occupy myself. We can start the guest list now. Daniela, make a note of this, will you? Judge Rinaldo, of course, and his son Lucian …”

I had never seen Tati so angry. When I told her we weren’t going across at next Full Moon, at first she thought I was joking. Then, when she saw I meant it, she shouted at me. I had closed the bedchamber door; I’d warned the others to stay away. Tati paced up and down, using all the arguments she could think of, one by one. We couldn’t have a party now, she
insisted, it was too soon since Uncle Nicolae’s death. I told her that both Aunt Bogdana and Cezar had agreed to it, as long as we kept it sedate. Then she said, “But we always go. The others will be upset.”

“I’ve already told them, and they’ve accepted this. It makes perfect sense after what happened to Ivona. It’s logical for us to stay away until we know the valley is safe again.” I struggled to sound calm and controlled. I would not let her know the compulsion I felt to cross over at Dark of the Moon, to confront Tadeusz and make him understand that I did not want his help—not at such a cost. “And we don’t always go. What about the times when one of us was ill or away from home? We’ve certainly missed a few over the years. Ileana and the others are unlikely to be upset if we don’t make an appearance. It’s not their way to trouble themselves about such things.”

“What about Sorrow? He’ll be upset. He’ll think I’m staying away because I believe he did it—that he’s capable of killing someone in cold blood. I must go, Jena. I must explain it to him!”

“He mightn’t even be there anymore,” I told her. “Ileana’s probably sent the Night People away by now. Their crimes must put her own people in danger. You weren’t there when Cezar and the others stormed out of Piscul Dracului with their pitchforks and crossbows.”

“Sorrow won’t go,” Tati declared. Her pale cheeks were flushed a hectic red; she looked as if she had a fever. “Not even if Ileana banishes them. He won’t leave me.”

“This is stupid! You’ve only seen him a couple of times, Tati! You know what it means for a human woman to ally herself with someone from the Other Kingdom. You’d go and you’d never be able to come back. You’d get older and he wouldn’t. One day you’d be an old woman, all wrinkles and toothless gums, and he’d still be a lovely young man. You’d never see any of us again. Is that really what you want?”