The Princess and the Snowbird (10 page)

“No,” she said.

He did not know what to say then. Should he ask her how she liked being a bear? Whether it was better than being a pika? Or an owl?

“I hope you do not mind that I came here,” said Jens.

“Why should I mind?” she asked.

Because it was her forest? Because she had everything that he did not?

He sighed. What could he offer her? He put a hand to his pouch but then moved it away. The half circlet her mother had given him was not meant to be used for wooing. And somehow he knew it was not time yet to give it to her.

“The snowbird feather,” she said, looking at his hand. “Did you see the bird itself?”

“Yes. I saw it,” said Jens.

“I do not think any other humans have seen one,” she said. “They are ancient creatures, from the beginning of the world. Most humans believe they have long since died out.”

“But there is at least one left,” said Jens.

“Yes. It is said that the last of them will have a gift to save the aur-magic. I was born to save the aur-magic as well.”

“Yes,” said Jens. Was this his conversation with her? Yes, no. Telling her things she already knew. He might as
well have been an animal and grunted at her.

“Would you like to hear a story about a mouse?” she asked suddenly.

It was enough to make Jens laugh, so out of place. It was not what he wanted at all. But it was something, at least.

“It is the wrong thing, isn’t it?” said Liva. “Of course you do not want to hear a story about a mouse. But it is the only thing I could think of, when I was planning in advance what to say to you.”

She had planned what to say to him?

“I don’t know humans, you see. I don’t know what they do when—” She stopped and colored.

His heart thumped hard in his chest. He was afraid to hope that this meant she thought of him as much as he thought of her. Perhaps he misunderstood.

“I know how animals talk, but I thought I was sure to say the wrong thing to you.”

This was so like Jens’s own fear that he let out a sound like a laugh.

“I have said the wrong thing, haven’t I?”

“No!” Now he was mortified. He should not have laughed at her. Of course that would offend her. He put out his hands. “You don’t understand. It’s just that I don’t—”

She spoke at the same time. “I am not human enough for you, I think. For anyone. I was not sure I wanted to be human before I met you.”

Jens stared into her eyes, her human eyes, unlike those of anyone he had ever known. But so perfect. “And now you are?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. I want what I cannot have. I think my mother would say that was the most human thing of all.” She twisted her face into a sad smile.

And then Jens saw her hand lift and begin to shimmer into a bear’s paw. In a moment she would be gone. He had never felt so many things at once before. In the village he had felt bad most of the time. But when he had felt good, he felt good. Now he felt bad and good and sad and unsure and desperate and hopeful, all at once.

He held out a hand and shouted, “Stop!” As if he had power to stop her from doing anything she wanted with her magic.

She stopped.

“Stay. Please.”

To his surprise, she did. And spoke.

“Tell me about the village. About how girls there speak to boys they like to look at.”

“You like to look at me?” he asked.

“Why would I not?”

“I like to look at you, too,” said Jens. Then he told her about the village, about the traditions of matchmaking, of the dance that a couple did in front of all those who loved them, when they wished to show their intentions toward each other.

“Show me,” said Liva, smiling.

Jens showed her the first step, one hand on the small of her back. He could feel the warm pulse of her vein there, and it made him breathless.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Step, step,” he got out, stumbling over her.

They tried again, but with the same result.

“I think those traditions are not for us,” said Liva, standing to face him.

“I think you are right,” said Jens.

“We must make up our own.”

But what would they be? It was so much harder when there were no clear signals to show what was meant. To say it all openly was so uncomfortable. It took more courage than anything.

Courage, yes.

“Your mother is a hound,” said Jens.

“Yes,” said Liva.

“A black hound about this tall.” He put his hand to the top of his legs. “With piercing eyes and a sharp bark.”

“How did you know…,” Liva began. And then she flushed. “She came here, to see you.”

Jens nodded.

“She follows me. I am sorry. Did she bother you? Hurt you?” Liva looked him up and down as if for wounds.

“No,” said Jens. “It was odd. She seemed to want to get to know me. As well as she could, under the circumstances.”

“Truly?” Liva looked suspicious.

“Yes. She was—interesting. She is very proud of you.” Jens thought of the jeweled half circlet.

“She used to try to be more human. With my father,” said Liva.

“I liked her very much,” said Jens. “All humans should have mothers as protective as hounds, and as persistent.”

“She did not tell me she was going to come see you.”

“You would have tried to stop her,” said Jens.

“Yes.”

“You would have had no luck with it, I think. She is not easily persuaded.”

“And she does hate her time to be wasted,” said Liva with a smile. She laughed. “Well, I am glad that you met her and that she did not frighten you.”

“Oh, she frightened me,” said Jens. “But in a good way.”

“Do you think I take after her?” asked Liva slyly.

“Yes, very much when you are a she-bear. You are as fierce and terrible as she was.”

“Did I frighten you?”

“Not me, but the other two boys. Isn’t that enough?” asked Jens.

“Well, you knew who I was from the first, didn’t you? You’ve always known.”

“And you always seem to know when to come rescue me,” said Jens.

“I think the last time I came, it put you in danger.”

“But how did you know to come this time?” Jens
persisted. “You said that you heard someone in the aur-magic call for help?”

“Yes. It was in a dream. My father used to have dreams, too. But then he died. And the dreams came to me. When I wake, I am always in the form of a bear—because the dreams remind me of him.” Tears began to fall from her eyes.

He had never seen her cry before. After seeing her as a bear, a pika, and a felfrass, it was strange to see her so human, so soft and vulnerable. “I’m sorry,” he said. He should not have mentioned her being a bear. He should have known it would upset her. But he did not know. She had said her father was a bear and her mother was a hound, but he had seen the hound alive. The bear must have died recently, so the wound was very fresh.

“He went to help someone with the aur-magic, but he was killed in a terrible way. Some kind of blade that cuts not just flesh but magic.”

Jens pulled back, tension knotting through his shoulders. He thought of the Hunter’s knife, and his father’s.

Liva did not notice his stiffness. She told him about her father’s stories, his games, his jokes.

“You must have loved your father very much,” Jens said slowly, and felt a twinge of jealousy, for he had never known such love until now.

“Yes. And now that he is gone, it is all my responsibility. The aur-magic—I must save it. His dreams—now they are mine. I see people at night who are calling out for help.”

Jens put his hand to her hair.

She did not flinch away from him, so he stroked the fine dark strands over and over again.

But her body tensed as she spoke: “If ever I find the man who killed my father, I will have my revenge. You should know that. I think I am an animal in that way. Whoever it is, I cannot let him go free. He deserves to die.”

“And you think that makes you an animal? It makes you very human, I promise you.” Jens had wished for revenge on others more than once: the other boys in the village, even his father.

“It is always life and death when we are together, isn’t it?” said Liva, looking up and taking his hand in hers.

“It is,” Jens agreed.

“But tiring. Let’s do something that is nothing to do with the aur-magic or the end of the world or the snowbird. Let’s just be happy,” said Liva. “It’s been too long since I was happy.”

“I am always happy when I am with you,” said Jens. He knew he should tell her about the Hunter’s knife, but he was selfish enough to want her attention for himself.

So for a time he let himself forget, and she seemed to forget as well.

He caught a rabbit for her. She caught a fish for him. They ate, and spoke very little, and touched often—yet never enough.

T
HAT NIGHT IN
the forest with Jens, Liva dreamed of a boy with the aur-magic. The boy could not have been more than five years old, with a funny smile, and his front top teeth missing. She saw his parents burning before him. She could not save them, since her dreams only showed her what was happening in the moment, but she had a chance to save him, for he was still alive. For the first time, she was glad she had had a magical dream.

There were images from the dream of a port town that told her he lived south, past the village where Jens had once lived, past the forest where her father had died.

Behind the pyre of the boy’s parents, she had seen the rise and fall of ocean, and ships in docks. It must be Tamberg-on-the-Coast.

She had heard her father speak of the place, but she had never been herself. There would be many humans there, more than she could imagine. And all of them hated
the aur-magic. In her dream Liva saw them shaking fists as the man and woman burned.

It would be dangerous to go there.

The boy was already in custody, captured by a gray-haired man who spoke of hunting down others with the aur-magic. She could not delay. She could understand now why her father’s decisions had to be made so hurriedly.

Liva must act quickly, too. She could not stop to wake Jens, nor to return to her cave and tell her mother. She gazed for a moment at Jens’s relaxed features, and hoped that she would see him again soon. But he could not help her. She must do this alone.

Liva scratched a message in the dirt, then changed into a kestrel and soared out over the forest. She flew on all day, directly south, following the river. At dark, she could tell by the unfamiliar salty smell in the air that she was approaching the ocean, and the town. Her heart pounded into her throat, and her stomach ached with anticipation of what was to come.

She quested out toward the boy with her aur-magic. She could sense him, but only just.

For her entry in the port town, she debated whether to be a gull or a pigeon, but in the end thought she might try a common magpie, a bird her father had called the least worthy of all birds. He told her mother once it was because a magpie ate the young of other birds.

“And humans do not do the same? And many others?” demanded her mother.

Her father sighed. “Most humans do not eat others of their kind.”

“What they do is the same as eating,” said her mother.

“You do not like them. I understand,” her father said. He turned to Liva. “There was one particular flock of magpies who lived just outside the palace, when we were newly crowned, she and I. They cawed at her, circling, whenever she came out. They smelled the hound on her.”

“Horrible things,” said her mother.

All those years ago, Liva thought. Her father and mother, king and queen of a kingdom far from here. In some sense, Liva supposed she was a princess because of them, but even the thought of a port town with its many humans frightened her. She had always thought she belonged in the forest.

The sun set brilliantly against the final hill, and Liva smelled the first rank scent of humans gathered together, combined with the salty tang of the sea. She winged closer, using only enough of her magic to feel out where the boy was in the port town. He was on the far end, of course. Nothing could be made easier for her.

She rested for several hours in darkness, and then woke fully and began to plan in the light of the dawn. What shape should she take at this point?

Best to be human, she decided. She’d need to speak to others, to move about and get information. Liva changed herself near a farmhouse where there were a few worn
but clean shifts lying out on a fence to dry. She grabbed one, then hurried away. Once she was a safe distance, she put on the rough shift, instead of the soft skins she had left in the forest. Then she ran fingers through her hair, long because it had been some time since she had bothered with cutting it. Her fingernails and toenails were clean, at least. And her teeth.

If she needed anything else to fit in, she would have to get it as she went along.

She took a breath and told herself to be calm, not to assume that she was in danger. She could not, at any cost, change into an animal here, no matter how she was tempted. That would only lead to her being captured and discovered by the Hunter, and that would be no help to the boy.

Keeping her face bent downward, she started into the town itself. Her bare feet were tough and callused, so she felt no pain walking, but the shift was too tight around her chest and chafed under her arms. She did not understand why humans wore such uncomfortable things, but that was the least of her concerns.

Liva walked on the widest street for some distance, few humans awake at that hour to pass by. She went over a small rise and then stopped still at her first sight of the ocean.

It was one thing to smell the water from a distance, to feel it dimly with her magic. It was another thing entirely to have nothing between her and the vast, living thing that
was the ocean. She was struck by the caps of white water, the ships lined up along the docks, the gulls cawing up and down the length of the shore. And the life in the ocean itself, calling to her, teeming, moving, breathing.

She gasped as something moved from a rock into the water. A splash came up, and she saw a face. It was almost human, and for a moment she thought of stories her father had told her of mermaids and other half-human creatures that lived in the sea, their magic so strong that they never returned to fully human form.

But then she saw the whiskers on the head and a flash of flippers. A sea lion!

It was a wrench to move from the joy of that feeling to the terror and hopelessness she could sense of the boy from her dream. He was in a small square building near the docks to the south.

The sun was bright now, and Liva could see other humans milling about.

She passed by the boy’s building once, then stopped and turned back.

There were metal bars on the windows and guards at the door.

She tried to cross close enough to call out to the boy softly in the language of a gull, which he would surely know if he lived close to the water, but the guards saw her and motioned her away roughly.

She retreated into an alley to watch, then went back when she saw the two guards moving to sit and eat with
their backs turned to the jail. Quietly she moved back and put her hands to the wall of the jail. Suddenly a voice cried out behind her, “You there!”

Liva looked behind her and saw two young men. One of them she recognized—she had chased him as a bear in the forest. He had curling hair and fingernails bitten down to the quick. “What are you doing? This is the Hunter’s jail. No one should be near it.”

“Karl, don’t get so angry,” the other young man said, hanging back.

The Hunter? Was he the man with graying hair she had seen in her dream, the man who had caused the boy’s parents to burn at the stake?

Liva began to move away from the jail. She would have to come back later, sometime when she would not be seen.

“I asked you a question. Who are you?” Karl demanded.

Liva turned and fled.

“Stop! Stop her!” Karl’s voice shouted after her.

She could hear the footsteps of the two boys chasing her. They were faster, and they knew the city better. However, they were not running for their lives, and she was.

Liva crossed a cobblestone street and ran down it, heart leaping in her chest as if she were in a hunt. Then she realized she was, but she had never been the one hunted before. She wished she knew the terrain better,
and hoped the street did not end abruptly.

Twice figures stood in her way and she slid around them. She had to cross the path of a horse and was able to ask it for help, for it had retained some of its wild speech.

Hampered by the cart it was pulling, the horse did what it could to get in the way of the chasing boys. Liva lifted her skirt and ran still faster. She was not used to running on rock, and the jarring in her spine ran up her back and into her head.

Liva turned a corner, away from the ocean, then turned another corner, back toward it. She thought she had lost the boys behind her, and let herself slow to catch her breath. But as soon as she did, she heard the cry behind her again, “Catch her! For the Hunter! For the Hunter! Catch her!”

If they did not know she had the aur-magic yet, they would soon. She could not let herself be taken.

Yet now she had no idea which way she had come. She had a sense of where the boy in the prison was, behind her, and of where the ocean was, but the rest of the town was a blur.

She ran toward a man who was holding a square frame of wood very gently, as if afraid it would break. There was something strange about it. But before she could tell what it was, she had run into it, and felt the impact of her head as if on stone. She blinked and put a hand to her head, saw blood on it, and felt the warm
wetness dripping down her face and into the shift at her neck. She heard the man next to her shouting, “You’ve broken my glass!” and then there were footsteps coming toward her.

She tried to escape but could do no more than crawl. She felt arms grabbing her from behind, and she used her magic to fight them. It was a mistake.

“She has it! The aur-magic!!” she heard dimly.

But then Liva’s vision wavered and the world went dark.

When she woke, her head throbbed and she felt only pain, no magic. It was still early morning, and she was being dragged back toward the boy’s jail, away from the ocean.

Liva put a hand to her throat, and felt a necklace around it, with a stone hanging on the end of it. There was something very wrong in the stone—it made it difficult for Liva to breathe. With every step, the stone from the necklace swung out and then hit her in the chest. Each stroke made her light-headed, and more distant from her magic.

She could not get away from it. It pressed on her as if it were a hundred times its true weight. She tried to look into it with her magic, to understand it so that she could break its power. She could see the layers it was made of, each as thin as a leaf, but combined tightly with death.

At last the movement of her captors stopped and Liva saw that she was at the jail again.

“Here she is. Another one for the Hunter,” said Karl triumphantly. He pulled her up roughly by one shoulder and thrust her toward the two men who stood as guards, one much younger than the other.

“Nice,” said the younger one, staring at Liva, drawing close enough that she could smell the fish on his breath. He moved closer and ran a finger across her jaw.

Liva flinched.

He laughed. “She’s a fresh one. Not from here, is she? She doesn’t have the look of it.”

“What does it matter where she’s from? It only matters if she has aur-magic. The Hunter will be pleased with this one,” said Karl, swaggering.

“You think this will lift you a notch in his eyes? You think he will ever see you as more than a street boy?”

“I will do whatever it takes. I only have to prove that to him.”

“I’ll tell him.” The older guard looked pitying. “Now, go.”

Karl retreated backward through the streets until he had disappeared and Liva was left alone with the guards.

“Like to give me a kiss to make me sweeter?” suggested the young guard in a voice low and thick. He cupped a hand around Liva’s head.

But the older guard stepped in front of him.

“You’re not to touch her. You know that,” he said. Liva could see the sword at his side, but wondered whether he ever needed to use it. His hands seemed just as deadly.
“The Hunter will see to her first.”

“I don’t see why he cares if we touch her or not. She dies just the same in the fire,” said the younger guard.

“If you expect his coin, you follow his rules,” said the older guard. He yanked Liva forward.

The younger guard opened the door with a key, and the older guard pressed Liva inside.

It was very dark. She could just see the little boy cowering in the corner. There was an intense smell of fear and human waste.

The older guard nudged her, and she whimpered.

The stone around her neck had smothered her aur-magic and with it her courage. She had never been inside a dwelling like this before. She had slept in a cave with her mother and father at her side, but there had always been an opening at her back, half of one end of the cave. She had always been able to smell the cleanness and the life of the woods beyond.

Here she felt as though she were being buried alive.

She screamed and kicked and thrashed.

The older guard held her firmly. “It goes easier if you don’t fight,” he told her.

But she tried to call out for help, to anyone nearby, animal or human, to the snowbird she had seen flying overhead. To her mother, to Jens.

Then the younger guard shoved her and she knocked her head again. She felt herself falling, and then tasted the dirt floor against her mouth. There was a click as the door at the front was locked once more.