The Princess and the Snowbird (5 page)

But Jens did not understand. “You make me doubt myself. Are you who I think you are or not?” he said.

Before she could answer, Liva felt herself snatched up by an unfamiliar hand.

“
A
H, HERE IS
that mouse!” said Jens’s father, holding Liva aloft. In his other hand he held a tankard of ale. “I wondered where it had gone.”

“It is a pika,” said Jens quietly. He dared not show his true feelings for the creature, nor let his father suspect what he thought was hidden beneath the mouselike form. Any villager would feel terror and disgust at the thought of a human who had aur-magic or who could use it to become an animal, but Jens thought his father would be worse than most.

“Torus was right. You don’t know how to have a little fun,” said his father. “You don’t think of animals in the right way at all. They are ours, just as this one is. Ours to do with as we please. As food—or fun.”

“No, Father!” said Jens desperately.

“It is only a pika. And you killed a lynx today already.
What difference does one more death make?”

Jens could not explain. It would only make things worse if he said that he had not killed the lynx. But at least the lynx had been smoked for its meat. This pika would be worth no effort for food or coat.

“Killing for no reason is wrong,” he said urgently. “The animals may be ours, but if we kill too many of them, then what will become of us? There will be no animals left.”

“This one animal will make no difference,” said his father. “Now show me you are my son!” He whistled, and then there were seven men around him, shouting and poking at the quivering pika whom Jens’s father flung on the floor. Liva leaped up just in time to avoid a booted foot coming for her. She darted this way and that, but the circle of feet was inescapable.

“Stop!” said Jens, and tried to dive for the pika, but in that moment she changed shape, soaring into the air in the form of an owl, with strong wings to launch her away from Jens’s father and the others. A hoot filled the building as the owl rose into the smoke above the cooking fires, then flew up through the chimney and outside.

Jens stared in awe, his mouth open, his ears ringing. He had seen such a transformation twice before, from wolf to human to felfrass, but there was no getting used to it. It was amazing.

“Aur-magic!” shouted Jens’s father.

“Aur-magic! After it!” shouted the other men.

They ran out of the gathering place and toward the forest, chasing the owl, whose shape was a distant and fleeting one in the sky. Jens followed quickly. He did not think they had a chance against an owl that could change shape once more, whenever it was necessary, but he could not be sure. He had to help her escape.

“Get your bows!” shouted one of the men to the boys who were still standing.

The boys ran for their bows and arrows. Jens moved toward them, deliberately getting in their way. They fell over his feet, then cursed him for his clumsiness. He managed to break at least one bow before the boys got away.

Jens ran after them into the forest. He could see no sign of the owl, but his father shouted, “I can sense the aur-magic. This way!”

They were headed north, which was where Jens had first met the girl Liva.

Jens could not allow them to continue in that direction. He saw a bird flying overhead and shouted, “This way!” It was the wrong color and shape, but it was similar enough that at least half the party turned immediately, rushing in the other direction.

What arrows were left went to bring down that bird. It was a small hawk, and the rest of the party, including Jens’s father, came back when it was downed.

Jens stood over the still body of the hawk and felt the weight of this death on his hands. He had never killed an animal before.

And it was not his bow and arrow that had downed this one. But his intent had. He’d done it so that Liva could escape. He would have traded her for any animal in the forest, of any size. But the hawk had been beautiful. It still was, even in death.

“The aur-magicked one did not change into a
hawk
,” said his father stubbornly, staring at it.

“It must have,” said Jens, quietly.

“It was an owl. I saw it. And far whiter than this one.”

“You must be mistaken,” said Jens.

“And there is no sign of the aur-magic in this one that would allow it to change from mouse to bird,” his father went on.

But the other men seemed less interested in finding the real creature who had changed shape and more interested in enjoying their triumph.

They took up the hawk and brought it back to the village, intending for it to be stuffed and raised as a reminder to all about what happened to those who used aur-magic.

“Aur-magic,” his father muttered as they marched. “The Hunter would know the difference between an animal and a human with aur-magic. That’s what the burning is for.”

Jens shivered at the thought of Liva burning.

“We are too far north, too much away from the strong tehr-magic of the the city. Your mother wanted to come
here. I never understood why. She loved the untouched forest and its wild animals, aur-magic and all. But I should have gone back the day she died. Not that it would have made any difference with you.”

“Father, I like it here,” said Jens.

“Because you can’t tell any more difference between the aur-magic and the tehr-magic than you can between an owl and a hawk,” said his father, and with a cutting hand gesture made it clear that he did not want Jens to follow him back to the gathering place.

Jens went instead to his hut, glad that he had seen the pika, but a little disappointed that he had not seen the girl. Ah well, he would not wish Liva back into the danger of the village. If he wished to see her again, he would have to go to her. Alone, without a hunting party. He wondered whether he would be able to find his way that far north safely. The animals there were not naturally afraid of humans, and he had no magic to tame them.

But as he approached his hut, he saw the owl circling overhead, and his heart pinched inside his chest. It was not that he had thought she had been harmed, but it was so good to see her again, to know that she cared for him enough to return, even after all that had happened to her. She knew that he was not like the other village men, and that made all the difference to Jens.

As soon as he thought of the other village men, he remembered her danger. He stepped out into the clear and waved urgently at the owl, thinking to send her away.
Instead of obeying him, the owl flew to the ground next to his door and in a moment was in the form of a pika once again—less noticeable than a strange human girl if a villager passed by. And if Jens’s father saw her, he would know the truth and tell the others to kill her.

The pika ran up his leg, licking gently at the knee that was starting to swell. Already it strained against his leggings.

“What do you want?” Jens asked.

The pika eeped at him.

Jens tried. “You want food?” he guessed.

The pika eeped even more loudly.

Which probably meant he’d gotten it wrong.

He dared not take her into his hut in case his father returned, but they would have a little shelter in the animal lean-to. “Come here,” Jens said, beckoning.

The pika followed him into the lean-to as he sat and put his back to the wood. She danced around him as a pika, then changed at last into her human form, into Liva.

Jens stared at her, then offered her a coarsely woven blanket on the floor, embarrassed. He had remembered the awe he felt in her presence, but not the particulars of her beauty. She had dark hair and dark eyes and a quick, delicate way of moving. In some ways, she was more animal than human. But in another way, Jens thought he had never met a human who had seemed more sure of herself.
Liva.
He said the name again in his mind and savored the taste.

She wrapped the blanket around her shoulders, then knelt at his side and put a hand to his wounded knee.

Jens tried not to wince away from her touch, and almost succeeded.

“I’ve just tried again to heal your leg with my magic,” she said after a time, “but it did not work. I do not know how to help you.”

“I have no magic,” Jens said. He could not see any reason why a girl with such power would have anything to do with him. But he felt so different in her eyes, as if she saw something no one else could—as if merely being with her made him better.

“I know,” said Liva impatiently. “But I had hoped—” She touched the leg again. Her eyes closed, and she seemed to be concentrating, but Jens could feel no change in his pain.

He breathed through clenched teeth, then heard her let out a long sigh.

She shook her head. “No. I do not understand it. How can you be so empty of magic?”

If anyone else had said the same thing to him, Jens would have taken offense. But she stared at him with complete honesty in her eyes.

“Does it matter so much to you?” Jens asked. He had been shamed by this all his life. Did it have to be the first thing she, too, thought of when she saw him?

“It matters to me because it isn’t fair. Of all humans, why should you be the one who lacks magic? Any
magic, not just the aur-magic. I have tried to sneak it into you, to throw it, to press it, to hold it for you. Nothing works.”

“I’ve never had magic, and I’ve accepted that,” said Jens. “I can’t calm the animals. I can’t kill them. But there are other things I can do that are useful in the village.”

“I don’t mean—” She stopped. “I hate the tehr-magic they have here, in the village. That is not what I would want for you either.”

“Only the aur-magic,” said Jens.

She stared at him. “Of course. It is the true magic, the original magic. The magic that was born from the link between humans and animals. It is life itself. But humans take it and form it into what they think is useful to them. Tehr-magic.” There was disdain in her voice.

“If you could give me the aur-magic, then I would have to leave,” said Jens. “They would sense it, and the aur-magic is not tolerated here.” Though sometimes he hated his life in the village so much anything seemed it would be better.

“Do you know what happened? How you lost all sense for magic?”

Jens shrugged. “I was born this way. I used to think my lack of magic must have come from my mother. She died when I was born. But my father has told me so often that I would be a disappointment to her. So there must be a different reason. I wonder sometimes—”

“What?” asked Liva.

Yes,
thought Jens.
I will tell her what I have never told anyone else.
“If my lack of magic was what killed her. If she saw me and could not bear to live with a son who had no magic at all. Or if it was the fact that I somehow stole the magic out of her when I was born, until she died.”

“No,” said Liva softly. “That is not possible.”

“How can you be sure?” said Jens. He had not realized how much this would matter to him.

Liva pointed to a long scar on her leg. Jens noticed then how many other scars she had, running up arms and legs to the torso hidden behind the blanket.

“This one came from when I was only a few months old. I wanted to be a jay, and so I changed myself. I had used the aur-magic many times before, but not enough that I could immediately fly without falling. My mother had to come for me and carry me back to the cave in her teeth.” She turned her neck to the side and showed a row of scars there, tiny dots that looked like many rows of teeth pressed against her skin.

“Your mother?” asked Jens.

“She and my father gifted me with a great wealth of aur-magic when I was born.”

“But I thought you said—,” said Jens, feeling sick at heart.

“It’s impossible to die from giving up too much magic voluntarily. Creatures can give up what extra they have, and live with only what other animals or humans have. My mother chose to turn herself into a hound before she
gave up her magic, so that she could protect me,” said Liva.

“And your father?” asked Jens.

“He changed himself into a bear so that he too could protect me as well as any other humans he believed were worthy of it.”

“He protects humans with aur-magic?” said Jens.

“Yes,” said Liva. “Because they are the most vulnerable. You, on the other hand, with your lack of magic—think of how dangerous you would be in the forest.”

“I think you are teasing me,” said Jens stiffly.

“Not at all. Without either aur-magic or tehr-magic, you would be invisible to animals. You would not even have to move silently for them to ignore you.”

Jens thought about this for a long moment. “Are you sure of this?”

“I have been testing you,” said Liva. “I am as sure as I can be. Don’t you trust me when it comes to magic?”

Jens had no reason not to trust her. And he would think about what she said. Truly, he would. But it was a great deal to take in at once—that his lack of magic might be an asset rather than a defect. That his whole life might be different, if he lived in the forest rather than a village.

Changing the subject, he said, “You are very lucky, to live in a place where you are valued.”

“Yes,” she said, with her head bowed. “Yes, I am.” Then she looked up at him and he felt as though he would
be happy if he never saw another face in his life.

“I would have thought that you could heal yourself with your magic, so that you would have no scars,” Jens said, his mouth very dry.

“Ah, but what fun would there be in that? My scars remind me of stories I might forget, and every animal is proud of its scars.”

“And every human,” said Jens, thinking of his father’s pride in scars after hunting.

“Ah. Humans, too?” asked Liva. “Then perhaps I should not try again to heal your leg, in hopes that it will give you a good scar?”

“It is not the scarring I am worried about. It is the damage beneath that might lame me. Animals do not admire the infirm, do they?”

“No,” said Liva shortly. There was a flash in her eyes, and Jens knew that he had touched something tender in her, but he did not know what it was. “How can you bear to live here with the humans in this village? They are so cruel, so unnatural.”

“I suppose I have always thought this is what I deserved,” said Jens.