Page 9

A fter many minutes, the steep path widened onto a small promontory, an ice-crusted and precarious outcropping with the salt wind whipping up in their faces. Alexander turned left into a cave and an even deeper darkness.

The path was level, and for some distance he did not turn to either side. Gytha kept herself flat on his back, both for warmth and for fear of bashing her head on some unseen rock. The darkness was absolute.

Soon the rushing of the waves grew distant and Alexander turned downward on a long, sloping path. At last there was a faint light around a corner. When they reached it, Gytha could see that they were in a long, rough hallway carved of stone, and at the end there was a set of softly glowing doors.

When they drew closer, Gytha saw that the doors were made of ice or some translucent crystal, for the pattern on them was intricate but hard to discern. The refracted light gleamed and glittered on many carved surfaces, so that the doors were like two enormous jewels.

The doors swung outwards, and a strange little man nodded them inside.

Alexander and Gytha passed through a short hallway into a great hall, which was lit with myriad lamps.

She looked at the little man, but after so long in darkness, her eyes were dazzled, and she could not tell what about him had struck her as so strange.

The hall was a marvel! The ceiling rose far overhead, carved of smooth stone and vaulted in elegant lines.

Great columns marched up each side of the room.

The floor was polished stone, but over it were thick carpets of unusual colors, colors Gytha had only seen in small, expensive bundles of embroidery thread.

So many rugs of such fine thread was almost unimaginable!

On every wall hung tapestries of equally fine make, and near one corner there was a desk, beside which there were several baskets containing a few skeins of wool, and knitting needles.

The room was cold. The bear walked through it as though it were familiar and uninteresting, but Gytha craned her neck to see it all.

Alexander continued through the center of the room and turned into another corridor which led to another room of similar size, with different tapestries and carpets, and then another room, smaller, with a fireplace, and another room with a pool of water beneath a waterfall, and another like the first. Then another hall and more rooms, great hall after great hall, all luxurious and unique and deserted.

At last, after another corridor, the bear turned through an open door into a room smaller than the rest but still quite spacious, about the size of her family’s lodge, including the side that housed the animals and the storeroom .

On one wall there was a fireplace, cold now but with logs cut and kindling ready.

There was a low pallet of thick woolen blankets and piles of furs, enough to be comfortable even without sisters to help warm it.

The ceiling was not as high as in the other rooms, nor was it smooth; the stone had been intricately carved to depict flowers and vines, the delicate petals coming out of the stone in gorgeous relief.

Alexander crouched, and Gytha slid off his back with a groan. Her sore legs buckled, and she fell in an ungainly heap to the floor. The bear lowered his head in what appeared to be sympathy.

Without rising, Gytha looked around, noting the washing basin carved into the wall.

Next to it was a wooden table with a lovely alabaster pitcher.

The room was lit by several lamps on small tables throughout the room.

The light was warm and friendly, picking out the red accents in the thick rugs layered in front of the fire.

On another wall, several low wooden shelves held books!

Even the rich merchants in town only had a dozen or so books, and these shelves held several hundred.

The books were large, with neatly lettered titles painted in gold on the spines.

The leather covers looked old, well-used but well-kept.

There was something tall in the corner covered with a white cloth that draped all the way to the flagstone floor.

By the sleeping pallet, there was a pair of lambskin slippers and a robe of heavy silk.

“Is this where you live?” Gytha turned to Alexander, who lowered his head and stared at her wordlessly.

No, that could not be right. Everything except the books looked new, yet Gytha had the feeling this was a very old place. Old, and full of stories. Full of sorrows.

Besides, bears did not sleep in beds, nor did they need layers of wool or lambskin slippers to stay warm. What a strange thought. This room was obviously intended to be hers .

Gytha got to hands and knees, grimacing as her sore legs protested, and slowly made her way to her feet. The room spun for a moment, and she wondered why she was dizzy again.

It must be the hunger. She had been so cold and so nervous about this strange world that she had forgotten she had not eaten in quite some time. Had it been many hours or days? How many days? It was hard to tell, since there was no dawn or dusk. Only night.

Suddenly Alexander gave a low, almost inaudible growl. He rose, the motion smooth and silent, and took two steps, putting himself between Gytha and the door.

Then a beautiful woman appeared in the doorway.

She was captivating, enchanting, so beautiful it hurt to look at her, yet Gytha could not look away.

Her hair was as black as night, her skin white as ice, and her lips like ripe berries.

She wore a green velvet dress, low-cut and tight-waisted, with sleeves that fluttered away from her shapely white arms. Gytha’s mouth fell open.

This was a fairy queen! Gytha knew it without any doubt.

No human had ever looked so regal and terrifying, so cold and sharp and dangerous, so untroubled by the deadly chill of this place.

If a bear could talk, any story of magic and wonder could be true, though Gytha could not immediately recall a story of a fairy queen. Her thoughts raced.

The woman’s ebony hair was caught up in loops by a hundred pins topped with pearls and sparkling crystals, and more glittering gems adorned her neck and ears. Her bare shoulders shone pale in the lamplight.

When she caught sight of Gytha, she laughed and strode past Alexander, catching the girl’s face between her long, elegant hands.

“Oh, bear! You’ve brought me a girl! How perfectly sweet of you!

She’s so beautiful!” Her laugh was like bells tinkling, a crystalline beauty that rang and glittered in the air.

She caught a little bell from her skirt and rang it, the sound less lovely than her voice. “Servants! Come! You have a task!”

Gytha blinked and tried not to recoil too obviously.

The woman pinched her cheek with one hand, and her fingers were icy cold. She turned Gytha’s face one way and then the other, and then stepped back and looked at her from head to toe. “Oh, she’s beautiful! Too skinny, of course, but that can be fixed. How marvelous! Oh, excellent work!”

The girl’s heart sank, though she could not have said exactly why. A little coil of fear twisted in her empty stomach. She tried to catch a glimpse of the bear’s face.

The bear had withdrawn to the darkest corner of the room and stood there motionless. Gytha could not read his expression; all her thought earlier of how she could see the kindness in his eyes seemed foolish. His face was impossible to read, and if he thought of anything at all, she could not tell.

The beautiful woman continued to talk, her voice like bells and her hands as strong as iron as she turned Gytha this way and that. She seemed pleasant enough, but Gytha was so exhausted that she could not keep track of what the woman was saying.

Without the bear’s warmth against her body, the room was frigid. Gytha began to shiver.

A servant slipped into the room without a sound, ducking her head as the woman gave her instructions.

Wordlessly she stripped Gytha of her worn, thin clothes and pulled a long silk chemise and then a new dress over her head.

All blue velvet and intricate silver embroidery, the dress was exquisite, but Gytha was too dazed to appreciate it much until she realized that it was warmer than her old clothes.

At any other time she would have been amazed by its beauty, but she was so tired and cold and hungry that she could barely keep her eyes open.

She did wonder briefly whether it was strange for the bear to see her without her clothes, but when she caught a glimpse of his face, his head was on the floor and his eyes were closed. He looked asleep.

The servant was strange, and even up close, Gytha had a hard time figuring out why.

It was a puzzle for another day, perhaps, because as soon as she was dressed to the queen’s satisfaction, with warm silken trousers on beneath the dress, silken stockings and sheepskin slippers on her feet, the queen whisked her down the hall to yet another hall.

Alexander heaved himself to his feet and followed, padding softly behind them. Gytha imagined he was as exhausted as she was; his steps sounded heavy and slow.

The next room was a banquet hall, with a long table and many seats.

Dozens of the strange servants stood along the walls, as if there were dozens of guests, but there were none.

The queen sat at the head of the table and directed Gytha to sit on her left.

The bear stood in the corner, watching silently.

The servants brought the food in courses; Gytha had never eaten a meal in multiple courses other than when the soup wasn’t finished when the children were hungry and so her mother gave them bread first. This was intentional.