The Raven and the Reindeer Page 14

  “I’m sorry,” she said thickly. Gerta thought that the bandit girl was crying. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” said Gerta, still a little dazed from being a reindeer. She had not sunk so deeply into the dream that time, and her skin was only a little tender. The harness flapped loose and ridiculous around her shoulders. She would pull it off in a moment, but she didn’t want to push Janna away. “It’s all right. It only hurts a little.”

  Janna took a shuddering breath and stepped back. She was paler than Gerta had thought she could be. “You’re bleeding.”

  Gerta put a hand to her neck. There was a narrow line of heat, more sore than painful. “Am I?”

  “Cut any deeper than the skin, and she’ll bleed plenty,” said Livli. “Cut long and shallow. You didn’t do badly, though.”

  Gerta shook off the harness and squared her shoulders. “Do you think you can do that again?”

  Janna met her eyes, only for a moment, then had to look away.

  “If I must,” she said, and picked up the fallen knife.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  They set out early the next day.

  The nights were long, this far north, and would get no shorter until the year turned. So Gerta took the reindeer shape when it was still dark and Janna hitched her to the sled and Mousebones grumbled about the hour.

  “The blessing of the saints upon you,” said Livli. “If you can bring down the Snow Queen, so much the better. That’s an old spirit, and not a kind one. But if all you can do is get your friend away, that’s not a failure, either.”

  “Thank you,” said Janna. “I know I—we—appreciate it. Without you, I don’t know how…”

  Livli snorted. “Don’t worry about it. Aischa sent you to me, and it’s the least I can do to send you on. Both of you. I doubt you’ll come free of Gerta’s story easily.”

  Janna gave a short, pained laugh and climbed onto the sled.

  “I’ve packed you food,” said Livli. “Fish, not reindeer. I thought perhaps you wouldn’t want to eat that at the moment.” She slapped Gerta’s flank. “Go well.”

  When they were out of sight of Livli’s home, Janna said “I left her money. A sled’s worth a lot around here, even an old one like this. I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but it matters.” Gerta nodded her head up and down. There was no paying for the aid they had gotten, but for the sled, one could at least give a good price.

  Gerta found the reindeer road easily. The threads of light were strong here, pounded down by a thousand hooves.

  “And here we are again,” muttered Janna, as they swung onto the road. “Ah, it’s worse down low like this.” She pulled her cloak up over her head. Mousebones perched at the front of the sled and snickered.

  After that, it was only running.

  There were living reindeer on the road as well as ghosts, which startled Gerta a little, and yet they seemed as glad to see her as any of the others. She ran alongside a young male, barely more than a calf, for a long way, their hooves striking in unison, and it was good.

  They parted to allow the sled to pass, as if it were perfectly normal. Perhaps it was. The generosity of the reindeer to a human in their midst—and a human in their skin—should not have surprised her, and yet it did.

  She did not sink as deeply into the reindeer dream this time. The short day passed swiftly, but Mousebones was there to call her back each time.

  Perhaps you can get used to anything, thought Gerta.

  Perhaps it would be too easy to get used to this.

  It had been dark for several hours, and Mousebones said “Pull off, Gerta, or I’ll fall asleep. Ravens weren’t meant to gallivant around in the dark.”

  The landscape, when they left the reindeer road, was much like the one they had left in Sápmi—fields of snow-covered scree and distant trees. Gerta was still looking around her, wondering vaguely if there was somewhere to graze, when Janna came up and caught her beneath the chin.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and cut.

  The skin fell away around the point of the knife. Gerta emerged, shaking off the hide, and Janna caught her.

  “I hate this,” said the bandit girl, to no one in particular.

  “Was it easier that time?” asked Gerta.

  “Yes,” said Janna. “That’s what I hate.”

  Her voice was matter-of-fact, and her hand on the knife had been steady. But Gerta looked up into her eyes and the naked anguish there was more than she could stand.

  With barely any more thought than to stop that hurt, Gerta stepped forward and kissed her.

  Janna made a tiny noise of surprise and then her arms came down around Gerta’s shoulders. One hand slid up the back of her neck.

  Gerta thought for an instant that wearing the reindeer hide had left her skin raw again. Then she thought that perhaps she would have felt every fingertip on her skin burn like a brand anyway, and then Janna’s mouth opened over hers and she stopped thinking entirely.

  She regained a little bit of sense when Janna sheathed the knife. Oh, right, of course, has she been holding it all this time…?

  Then Janna slid her free hand up over Gerta’s breast, and no one had ever touched her like that, and good Lord, why not—no, no, it’s probably good, I might die, but that’s okay, I’d rather die than stop this—

  They had to stop eventually. It was sooner than Gerta would have liked, but the wind was howling and she was wearing nothing but a few leather straps and some very cold buckles.

  “You’ll freeze,” said Janna hoarsely, pulling off her cloak and draping it over Gerta. “I—oh God! I can’t.”

  “Can’t what?” asked Gerta.

  “Can’t tumble you right here and be damned.” Janna barked a laugh, short and sharp as a jay calling. “I want to. I can’t.”

  “Can’t?” said Gerta. (Did she want to be tumbled? What would that involve, exactly? It seemed like a bad time to ask.)

  Janna reached out and dragged her fingertips over Gerta’s cheekbone, down the side of her neck. “I can’t,” she said. “I shouldn’t. I’m strapping you up in harnesses in the morning and cutting your throat at night. The inside of my head is getting twisted up enough already. I’ll end up with a terrible passion for reindeer or something even worse.”

  Gerta had to laugh at that. “Are you sure?”

  “No. Not remotely.” Janna’s fingers stroked over Gerta’s collarbone, down the line of her breast—Gerta held her breath—and then she sighed deeply and laid her palm flat over Gerta’s heart. “I am the world’s greatest fool,” she said, and took her hand away.

  “Humans,” said Mousebones, with deep disgust. “You can’t even figure out how to mate properly.” He stalked away into the snow with as much dignity as a walking raven could manage.

  Gerta swallowed hard. She’d offered…something…and been rejected.

  She wasn’t even entirely sure what she’d offered, only that it hadn’t been accepted.

  Janna searched her face. “After,” said the bandit girl, taking her hand. “After all this is over, after you’re done being a reindeer—”

  She folded her fingers around Gerta’s and kissed each knuckle. Gerta watched her do it. The wind was freezing cold, but her skin felt burning hot.

  They put up the tent together. There is hardly anything romantic about putting up tents, but every time their hands touched, Gerta felt it down to her bones.

  It was a clear night and there were ten thousand stars. But it was also burning cold, and they stayed outside the tent only long enough to make hot tea and eat. Livli had given them dried fish jerky, which was…edible, anyway.

  “I’ve had better,” muttered Janna.

  “It’s salty,” said Gerta, tearing at hers with her teeth. “I really want salt right now. Salt is amazing.”

  “Reindeer do love salt,” said Janna. “I suppose it’s not impossible that stuck with you…”

  Gerta paused, alarmed, but only a moment.

  �
��I suppose it’ll wear off eventually,” she said. “Once I’m not wearing the skin every day.”

  When they had finished—or when their jaws were too tired to chew off any more fish—Janna banked the fire and they crawled inside the tent.

  It was too dark to see each other. There were only sounds and rustling and Mousebones making irritable noises. And yet Gerta was incredibly aware of where Janna was, of the sound of her breathing, and her stomach clenched even though she knew that nothing was going to happen that night.

  And what do I want to happen, after all?

  “Would you really end up with a terrible passion for reindeer?” asked Gerta, when she could not stand the charged silence any longer.

  In the darkness inside the tent, Janna snorted. “Probably not that, no. But the cutting…there are some things you shouldn’t do to your lovers.” She coughed and added something under her breath that Gerta didn’t quite catch.

  “I don’t mind,” said Gerta. “Truly.”

  Janna sighed. “I mind,” she said. “And my sanity is not quite so solid that I can keep putting a knife against your throat, night after night, and not bleed for it.”

  Gerta reached out and found Janna’s hand, and squeezed.

  “All right,” she said, and Janna squeezed back.

  They said nothing for a little while, and Janna’s breathing evened out, and the wind muttered around the outside of the tent.

  “Afterward, though?” said Gerta, finally. Her voice was very small, in case Janna was asleep.

  The bandit girl rolled over, so that her face was against Gerta’s shoulder.

  “After,” said Janna. “And I hope your friend is worth it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  In the morning, when the tent was broken down and the fire stamped out, Janna handed her the reindeer hide. But she pressed a kiss against the corner of Gerta’s mouth as she did it, and Gerta felt her insides go warm, as if she’d drunk a cup of hot tea and it had burned all the way down.

  It took them five days to reach the Snow Queen’s palace. Five days of walking on the reindeer road, surrounded by ghosts, and five nights of being cut alive from the hide. Five nights of lying next to Janna in the dark and dreaming of the plants that slept beneath the snow.

  The short Arctic day was nearly over when they saw a dark shape on the horizon.

  The reindeer road swerved away from that darkness, swerved hard and final. Around Gerta’s shoulders, the ghosts whispered to each other—danger the queen of snows lives here danger run run run—and she listened to them because they were the herd, until Mousebones cawed a warning and woke her.

  Here. This is it. This is the Snow Queen’s home.

  There were no threads bleeding off where other reindeer had beaten a path to the human world. Gerta realized this almost too late and had to shoulder her way through the kindly ghosts and jump.

  A thread drifted after her, one reindeer’s worth of a path. Which I suppose will make it easier for the next one to walk this road…

  This did not help her very much.

  She knew in mid-air that the jump was bad, that the distance had twisted somehow. She landed it, barely, but the shock went up through her hooves and rattled her teeth and her antlers and left her breathless.

  The sled slammed down hard on one runner, then the other. Janna squawked and overbalanced, falling hard. Gerta froze, trying to stop—what if the sled went over Janna?—and the sled slammed into the back of her legs and they folded up and she really did fall over, tangled in the traces.

  She kicked, hard, in a panic, and then the human part of her panicked even harder oh god oh god did I kick Janna or Mousebones oh god stop and the panic bled to the reindeer body, which tried to kick again.

  “Whoa!” said Janna. “Whoa! It’s all right, Gerta, easy. Are you hurt—no, that’s stupid, you couldn’t tell me if you were—careful, love, careful—“

  Gerta tried to listen but it was hard. Being on her side was bad and she couldn’t run and her legs were tangled and if she just kicked, she could get loose, surely she could get loose—

  “Easy…easy… I’m going to cut you out of the skin now…”

  “Be a human for a bit,” advised Mousebones, as if it were that were an easy thing to be.

  Gerta closed her eyes and tried to be human. Then Janna touched her and she couldn’t run and something had her and she kicked again, as hard as she could, and her hooves struck wood and—

  “Easy…” crooned Janna. “Easy…”

  What was it to be human? Gerta tried to remember and for some reason all she could think of was the dried fish jerky and the taste of salt. Salt was the thing that humans had that they gave you if you were good—

  no, no, that’s the wrong way around, you’re not a reindeer you’re a human in a reindeer skin

  The cut was deeper and slower and hurt more than it had at any time in the last five days. Janna’s angle was bad. Gerta rolled out of the skin, gasping, and blood ran in thin sheets from a gash across her collarbone.

  “Are you all right?” said Janna. “Other than me being clumsy—shit—I’m sorry—”

  Gerta nodded. Words would take a minute. She held snow against the cut, while Janna untangled the traces from around her ankles. She still had an urge to kick and try to run, but it was ebbing away.

  Janna was working on her knees, not standing, and Gerta could see that she was favoring one leg. She did not stand up, but hitched herself along the ground to the sled and pulled out Gerta’s cloak.

  When Gerta could speak again, her first words were, “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not you,” said Janna. “The stupid sled tipped up and spilled me out.” She smiled ruefully and thumped her ankle. “It’s not broken, I don’t think. I may have an exciting time walking for a bit.”

  Gerta winced.

  “Oh, it’s fine,” said Janna. She grinned. “We’re a pair, aren’t we? Me with my ankle and you bleeding all over the snow. Help me wrap it and then we’ll deal with that.”

  She gestured, and for the first time Gerta looked up, ahead.

  The darkness on the horizon was far closer. Their leap from the reindeer road had spanned a great deal more distance than she had thought.

  No wonder I landed so hard. Thank goodness I didn’t get any farther…we would have been torn to ribbons…

  It rose thirty feet in the air, a wall of black lines rimed with frost. Great blades of thorns stabbed the air and crossed and re-crossed so many times that it made a landscape of knives before them.

  They had come, at last, to the fortress of the Snow Queen.

  And Gerta had not the slightest idea how they were going to get in.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  They wrapped up Janna’s ankle and stuffed it back in her boot. “Before the swelling gets out of control,” she said. “We’ll have to cut the boot off at some point, probably, but I’ve got other things to worry about first.”

  “You sound awfully cheerful about this,” said Gerta.

  Janna laughed. “I do, don’t I? I was trained as a horse-leech, and then as a healer, since we had more men than horses. So I at least understand this, unlike…oh, reindeer skins and women who gossip with swans.” She nodded to her ankle. “This, at least, I can fix.”

  Gerta laughed, and the sound of it surprised her. She had gotten used to the sound of reindeer laughter. The surprise of it made her laugh more, and then she couldn’t stop, and then Janna was laughing too, and Gerta fell over on her back in the snow, giggling, because they were sitting in the snow in front of a terrifying hedge of frozen thorns and for some reason this was hilarious.

  “Humans are all utterly mad,” Mousebones observed dispassionately, which only made Gerta laugh harder.

  “All right,” said Janna weakly, wiping her eyes. “All right. Okay. I suppose we should go and see what sort of mess we’re in.”

  “Yeah,” said Gerta. She helped Janna to her feet. “Yeah, I suppose.”

  Janna
leaned on her shoulder and hopped.

  They made their slow way to the wall of thorns. It cast long blue shadows over the snow, but it stopped the wind, and so for a moment standing under the thorns felt warm.

  It might have been a raspberry thicket once, if raspberries grew as high as houses. Ice glazed every stem. There were only a few leaves, tucked deep into the wall.

  “The ice struck in fall or winter,” said Janna, looking at the leaves.

  “Or a hard wind came through first,” said Gerta. She stretched out her fingers and touched the wall.

  Ice melted away under her fingers. It took a little time, for she was no longer as warm as a reindeer. But eventually the thin glaze of ice was gone, and she touched bare stem.

  It, too, was cold.

  Well, what did I expect? The Snow Queen is old, and this wall has been frozen since Gran Aischa’s day at least…

  Up close, the gaps in the wall were larger. Gerta saw a few where she might have been able to squeak through, at least for a few feet. But the gaps were hardly paths and they might close up anywhere, and then she would have had to squirm back out, probably backwards, because there would be no room to turn around.

  Janna exhaled slowly. “We’re not getting through here,” she said. “Maybe there’s a way in somewhere…”

  The wall seemed to run clear to the horizon in both directions. Gerta shook her head.

  “I could walk along it, “she said doubtfully. “Or put on the hide and run. But it’s miles long, at least.”

  “Awk!” said Mousebones. “It’s a shame you don’t have a helpful raven with you. You know, with wings. Who can fly.”

  Gerta laughed, suddenly relieved. “Sorry, Mousebones. I’m an idiot. Can you find us a way in?”

  Janna slapped her forehead. “Of course! Sorry, Mousebones. I should have thought.”

  “Yes, you should have. Awk!” He took to the air, dipped in the wind, and then flew south. His small black form was soon out of sight over the wall.

  The humans went back to the sled, with Janna leaning on Gerta. For a moment, as she took the other girl’s weight, Gerta felt physically powerful again, the way she had as a reindeer.