North Child (40 page)

The gown had a high neck and long, flowing sleeves that hid my soft skin. And I had made white gloves with a ridged texture to cover my hands. On my thumb, underneath one of the gloves, I wore the silver ring the white bear had given me.

The day before, Tuki had presented me with a simple diadem of pearls, with trailing strands that wove into my hair. I did not want to accept the crown for fear he would get into trouble. But he would not take it back, making a maddening game, holding his hands behind his back and chuckling happily at my frustration. So I carefully arranged the diadem on my head, the strands of pearls looking like drops of pure moonglow shimmering in my dark hair.

Shoes had been my biggest problem; my big boots would hardly go well with a moon gown, but Tuki had once again come to my aid by finding me a pair of cast-off slippers. They were an old pair of the queen's, he told me, which she had given to Urda when the queen had tired of them. They were too small for Urda, but she had kept them anyway, in the back of her closet.

I slipped on the shoes, which were white and trimmed with tiny pearls. They fitted. I don't know why exactly, but it was unsettling to me that the Troll Queen and I should have very nearly the same size feet.

I was ready. I had planned to time my arrival after the feast, when the dancing was to begin. I would be a latecomer, from a far-distant land, and would, hopefully, be able to slip into the throng without anyone noticing. I had practised over and over in my head the troll words I would say if questioned. I was not sure if I would be able to capture the rough cadence of the troll voice, but the few times I had attempted it with Tuki, he had assured me that I would pass.

I think it was all a game to Tuki; he played along with all the eagerness and enthusiasm that he had shown when I'd used the story knife or we'd played the language game. I worried about him, though, and hated pulling him into my plot. Tuki was a simple soul, and guile did not come naturally to him. I prayed that I could keep Tuki from harm. I would not have been able to bear it if something were to happen to him.

I saw Tuki for just a moment that afternoon, and he whispered to me, when no one was near, that he had given Myk the unpowdered slank again the night before. It had been seven days since the white bear's last dose of slank laced with
rauha.
Tuki saw a difference in him.

I was sure that if only I could get near enough to look into his eyes…he would remember me. He had to.

It is a triumph! The banquet hall is aglow with colour and light, from the finery my people wear in my honour to the brilliance of the
revontulet
, the northern lights that stream rivers of colour through the sky. Viewed through the crystalline walls and ceiling of my ice palace, it is extraordinary. A masterpiece.

Myk seems sleepy eyed, somewhat subdued. I suppose it is the effect of the double portion of powdered slank I gave him last night. But when he looks at me, he smiles.

I have never been so happy.

My queen is radiant. I can hardly believe it is me she wishes to wed. Tomorrow. How can I be worthy of such an honour?

Tuki is acting odd. All the time he gazes at the entrance, as though expecting someone to enter. He has hardly touched the delicious food.

I wish I did not feel so drowsy and dull witted.

All of the outlying buildings, except the stables, were connected to the ice palace by tunnels, creating a weblike maze that caused at least one softskin a day to get hopelessly lost. There were trolls who were assigned the job of leading those wandering softskins to their proper place. Though it did not seem likely there would be trolls in the passageways on the night of the wedding feast, I did not want to take the risk. Even the most unobservant troll would think it odd to find a party guest roaming the passages leading to the servants' quarters. So I decided to circle around and approach the front entrance of the palace from the outside.

I put on my reindeer-skin parka over the dress, donned my old boots (putting the dainty pearl shoes in my pockets), and went outside.

The northern lights were extraordinary. I had never seen them so glorious, so richly hued and vivid. Though I was not particularly cold in my layers, I began to shiver. The Troll Queen's power was immense. Did I really think that I, with nothing but a flimsy mask and a ring on my thumb, had any chance of taking away that which she desired above all else?

It was a long walk, skirting the outside of the ice palace, but eventually I came to the front. I slipped stealthily around the corner and saw palace guards busily meeting and attending to the sleigh of a group of late-arriving trolls. No one noticed me as I made my way up the sweeping ice stairway. Ahead of me a pair of trolls were just entering, and I trailed behind them. They, too, wore furs, which they hung on a treelike contraption made of ice – a coat rack, I guessed. There weren't many coats on it, as most of the visitors had arrived earlier and were staying inside the ice palace. I found a spot for my coat and placed my boots under it.

I entered the banquet room. The sight before me stopped my breath. It was an enormous hall, with glistening ice walls, a cathedral ceiling, and towering windows made of clear ice. Through the windows the northern lights were visible in all their overwhelming beauty. The ice refracted the pulsing blues, greens, and purples, causing colour to swirl across every surface of the room. The radiance and perfection of it was almost too much to take in.

Hundreds of trolls were gathered, all dressed elegantly in brilliantly coloured finery. The air vibrated with their guttural voices. Tables lined the outside walls, having been pushed aside after the banquet was done to make space for dancing. Many trolls were sitting at the tables, but most were dancing. What they danced to was barely recognizable to me as music. It was a rumbling, pulsing sound, combined with a higher-pitched noise, possibly from an instrument like a flauto, though there was little in the way of melody. The sound hurt my ears, but in some strange way fitted with the pulsing of the northern lights. Probably the queen had arranged that as well, I thought grimly.

The trolls' dancing wasn't very much like the dancing I knew from back in Njord, either. Pairing off, they held on to each other by the elbows and moved their feet in a crabbed, sideways motion.

Then I saw him and all my other thoughts fell away.

I had not seen his face since that night when I had dripped hot tallow on him. I no longer was aware of the troll music, and there was a strange prickly feeling all along my skin.

He was dancing with a troll lady, and he had a stiff but genuinely polite expression on his face. His eyes looked tired.

A voice at my side startled me. “
Kaunis puku,
” it said. Taking my eyes reluctantly from the man who had been a white bear, I turned to find a male troll with a leering smile on his ridged face. He wore a turquoise jacket. “
Mutta miksi el varikas?
” he continued. I was not sure, but I think the words meant he thought my dress lovely but wondered why it had no colour.

I smiled politely and, not knowing what else to say, croaked out in my best effort at troll language that I would love to dance. He looked a little puzzled at this but then said, “
Et saa tanssi
,” and, taking my gloved hand, led me out onto the dance floor. My heart pounding, I tried to follow what I saw the others doing. It did not seem difficult, though I managed to step on the troll's feet several times. Luckily, he did not try to converse with me. It was not long before he led me off the dance floor and then left me. Relieved, I hoped he would pass along the word that the troll lady in the colourless dress had two left feet.

I found a spot by an ice pillar from where I could watch the dancers. That my moon dress was not brightly coloured made blending into the background easier.

I saw the Troll Queen at once. She was seated on a raised dais, on a throne that looked to be made of nothing but diamonds, and she was gazing out over the festive tableau with a serene, proprietary air. I noticed that most often her eyes were on the one she called Myk. And so were mine.

He was a stranger to me. And yet he was not. Though his form was that of a man, I could still see the white bear in him. Or perhaps he was the man I had seen in the white bear. But the way he held his head, the movement of his shoulders, the level gaze of his eyes. All those were familiar. And I remembered the days spent in the room with the red couch, my fumbling attempts at his music, the stories he had listened to me tell. The loneliness in his eyes, and the kindness. And as I watched the man who had been a white bear make polite conversation with a stout troll lady in an orange dress (one I had hemmed only the day before), I realized suddenly that this man, this stranger, was dear to me, as dear as one of my own family. Perhaps dearer, I thought, with a great rush of inexplicably strong feeling. There was a strange expectant beating of my heart that I had never felt before.

But just at the very moment I understood what this white bear-man was to me, I saw him gaze up at the Troll Queen. A look of warmth, knowing and affectionate, passed between them, and my stomach lurched. I felt as if Simka had kicked me there, hard.

Was it possible? Did he…
love
the Troll Queen? Had I come all this way to rescue one from a captivity he actually desired? My thoughts were jumbled, my hands sweating inside my white gloves. The ring felt slippery on my thumb.

Suddenly I saw Tuki. He was at the white bear-man's side and was speaking to him earnestly. The Troll Queen had been distracted for the moment by a delegation of particularly elegant trolls wishing to pay their respects.

Tuki had the white bear-man's hand and was pulling him across the dance floor. Towards me.

I watched them approach with a mixture of fear and excitement.
It all has come down to this moment,
I thought.
Journey's end.

He saw my dress first and something flickered in his eyes, some dim spark of recognition, and I remembered the white bear watching me through the doorway when I'd tried the dress on. He hesitated, pausing in his approach. Tuki looked eagerly between us. But when the white bear-man looked up at my face, the spark faded. That polite, kind look I had seen him wear most of the evening replaced it. I could barely hear past the pounding of my heart, but I think Tuki introduced me in troll language as “Rose, who is visiting from distant lands”.

“Would you care to dance?” he asked politely in stiff troll words.

I nodded. He led me onto the dance floor.

“I hope you are having a pleasurable evening,” he said, again in troll language. He was not looking at me but keeping his eyes politely averted.
Troll small talk,
I thought wildly. My mouth felt dry, my tongue leaden.

“Your gown…” He hesitated, that dim spark returning to his eyes. “It is…unusual.” He dropped one of my elbows and rubbed his forehead, as if trying to dispel whatever was clouding his thoughts.

“I have something to show you,” I said in a low voice, using my own language and making no attempt to sound like a troll.