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Her musings were interrupted by the whimpering of a dog. Someone who looked like a mischievous elf had fed the leftover berries to the lord’s hounds, and now they were wriggling in agony on the floor.
«I don’t like dogs, it’s as if they were designed to interfere with my music and everyone’s fun,» remarked the same harlequin who had recently touched her train. Whether he had done it accidentally or on purpose, she did not know. He did not notice her now. He sat down in a comfortable chair by the fireplace, snatched a harp from somewhere and tossed off his jester’s cap. This fell to the floor with the mask attached to it. It must have been a mask, and not the whitewash and makeup on her face, as Rhianon had at first assumed.
«What to play gentlemen?» The harlequin laughed, the harp, which had fallen with the mask at his feet, was now making sounds all by itself, as if someone invisible was plucking the strings.
«You’d better not play at all, you’re not wanted here,» remarked some lady, who had also removed her mask to expose her face, whose forehead and temples were covered with a lush veil of violets, which stretched over her ears and even her neck, but the angry eyes on her face seemed even brighter than they were. They burned like two blue lights.
«Is it redundant?» The harlequin raised his head, tossing back his thick brown hair, and Rhianon recognized his face. He had expressive and enigmatic eyes, which sometimes danced with laughter, but the pleasant tanned face belonged to a young man, not a supernatural being. This minstrel had come to play under her tower windows more than once. He got nothing for it except a slap from her servants, but still he came back again and again. He was variously called a bard, a songbird, a troubadour, or more often just an unhappy admirer. He would appear under the windows of her tower with the sunset and play all night if he was not driven away. From other noble lords for his songs he could get gold pieces, from Rhianon he could not even count on words of approval and still he played for her as often as he could. Only once had she seen him in the hall at a feast. Her curls were then adorned with a crown, and power had not yet been taken away by the regents, and Arno said that his singing today was dedicated only to her. She tolerated this, as she did the fact that with every sunset he literally grew out of the ground beneath her window, unmistakably guessing in which wing of the castle she was, as if he could watch over her through the walls. Where had he been during the day? Was he communicating with evil spirits? Or was he only pretending to be human, when in fact he belonged to their secret society? No, he was most likely human. Rianon could tell, and so could everyone else here. But then why didn’t they touch him? After all, they had easily torn the other men apart. And Rhianon was sure that if someone suddenly noticed the presence of uninvited guests, ordinary mortals, they would be attacked.
Some of the fairies did attack Arno, but so far only in words; they would not, or could not, harm him. That was interesting. Rhianon took a closer look at his face, but there was nothing unusual about it.
«Go away, you’re embarrassing us,» the girl, who had vines growing in her dark hair, actually clutched at his sleeve and tried to pull him from his chair. «Why do we need an ordinary mortal minstrel? Go and entertain the high-born lords, not their bones. There’s nothing left here but bones. We want to have fun without you.»
The bodies left lying on the floor of the hall would indeed soon become naked bones, Rhianon thought. Beautiful and elegant creatures pounced on the remains like dogs. Exactly the same fairy as the one that had been pinching Arno was just nestled against the former lord’s throat. For a moment she broke away from the meat and bones and looked at the harp lying nearby. Its strings twitched slowly, making faint sounds as Arno himself tried to free himself from his attacker’s claws.
«Thank God for unearthly music, not for the pitiful skills of musicians,» she hissed in his ear. «You’re not wanted here, you’re not wanted. No one invited you. Don’t you dare follow us again and spoil our heavenly tunes. This hall is not for the likes of you.»
«But there are others here worse than me,» he exploded. «Even I can smell extra, and you can’t.»
Rhianon involuntarily shuddered. Had he really decided to give her away? He had recognized her, that was for sure, but how could he expose her in front of everyone. She had not expected such meanness from him. Involuntarily she clutched at Fresia’s elbow, but she didn’t even notice it. Her dainty nostrils flared oddly. She sniffed the air, as if trying to smell something. It was like a dog following a trail. For a moment Rhianon felt disgust, and then suddenly realized that Arno was not going to give her away. He pointed his hand toward the gentlemen in the black robes. His eyes suddenly flashed a hostile glow. Such a fierce and impudent expression on his calm face she had never seen. It was as if he had changed in an instant, becoming a very different man, unfamiliar and possessed.
«They’re not one of yours,» he shouted. «But they’re allowed to be here, and I’m not. That’s not fair.»
His harp strings jerked sharply, as if to prove the accusation. At that moment Rhianon wanted to be invisible. She was afraid the next time someone would point her out. But so far that had not happened.
«Fresia, I’m sorry, but I have to go,» she was already looking for an escape route. So far, no crowd had gathered around the guests in black, as they had around the master of the house before. Rhianon did not know what would happen next, but she did not want to see it. Besides, for some reason it seemed to her that she herself, though doing nothing, was drawing much more attention to herself than the figures in black. No one was looking at her directly, but she felt the stares from the crowd burned her. These were non-humans, after all; they didn’t have to look someone straight in the eye to notice them. She felt uncomfortable here. And the doors of the hall, wide open, seemed to be beckoning her to leave. It was still possible to slip through them unnoticed and return to Orpheus, who was waiting for her downstairs. At the exit she might even run into the very guests in black who had attracted her attention. After all, unless they get mauled right now, they’ll probably have to leave. After all, Arno had said they were superfluous here, and the crowd seemed to agree with him. But he was superfluous here, too. Rhianon could no longer see him or the harp ahead of her. He had managed to disappear somewhere. It was time for her to go too.
«You should stay,» Fresia turned to her. «It’s too far before dawn. It’s too early to leave. When the rooster crowed, it would be time to observe tradition, but now…»
«I’m already too late,» she remembered perfectly that she’d agreed to go with them, but now she felt as if she’d made a mistake. Her instinct for self-preservation told her to get out of this house as soon as possible, but Fresia’s eyes beckoned her to stay, so expressive and alluring, and they changed color on top of that. Looking into them seemed to plunge you into a floral abyss. Rhianon forced herself to look away. She turned and walked away, not so fast as to draw attention, but trying not to linger either. The train slid freely across the floor behind her, and it felt like a blue wave running. The hem was cold on her legs. For the umpteenth time that evening, for some reason she had the association of a mountain stream in her mind. She wanted so badly to turn around and look at Fresia one more time. Rhianon did not want to leave her at all. On the contrary, she wanted to be close to her, to touch her hand, to feel her light embrace, to drown in her bottomless eyes. But it was dangerous.
«Wait, don’t go,» a worried Chloe grabbed her near the stairs. The whole time she was flying after her. It was not walking, but flying. Rhianon noticed that the hem of her beige dress hung an inch above the floor, and the toes of her light beaded shoes did not touch the ground either.
«Better stay with us for the night,» Chloe’s pale hand tried to catch her wrist, but Rhianon dodged and picked up the train to make it easier to run up the stairs. The least resistance she expected from Chloe. Fresia’s passive and carefree companion seemed to notice her no more than a piece of furniture. It turned out that her distracted attention was capable of focusing on something after all. At any rate, she wasn’t about to let Rhianon just walk away.
«Stay with us for good, not just one night,» the unfamiliar fairy was now nimbly clutching at Rhianon’s waist. How could she have crept up behind her so silently? She hadn’t been there a moment ago. She hadn’t even been there a moment before. It was a tiny, fragile arm, but that wasn’t what made Rhianon sick. The fairy was dressed in a bright red outfit, as if woven from a purple web. Instead of a mask, her heart-shaped face was covered by the same red thread veil. To top it all off were her crimson lips, the scarlet plume of her hat, and an incredibly bright blush on her very pale face. Two scarlet blotches seemed spread across her dead-white skin. Rhianon almost vomited. It was as if on purpose the color of fire was chasing her. Could this all be a practical joke? She lashed out sharply, but someone else approached her.
«Stay with us!» In a second the voices turned into a chorus. Before she could count how many figures in fanciful costumes and masks rose up before her, one after the other.
«We won’t let you go,» the others murmured.
«We like you too much. You’re so beautiful.» Some of them were running their fingers through her hair, others were stroking her shoulders. What cold fingers they were, and how tenacious. She looked around helplessly, but all she saw were masks. It was a whirlwind of bizarre and fantastical images. White, red, purple, silk, satin, with peacock feathers or flowers-all around her were masks, and the faces under them must have been laughing. If only there were any faces under them at all. Somehow it seemed to Rhianon that it was not the masks, but nature itself that had made these creatures so unimaginative. They surrounded her. Everyone wanted to touch her. That’s how you surround a shrine, so that everyone can touch it. That was how they treated her, but she was not. Now she really felt cursed. That must have been what Manfred called her. Rhianon tried to shield herself from the touch of the masks, but they grew more insistent. Perhaps she should still thank fate that they were not trying to kill her, like the owners of this house, where they had decided to hold a masquerade. The feeling that these masks could not be removed for the simple reason that there were no other faces beneath them only intensified. She was getting scared.
«Stay with us, Goldilocks,» the hissing voices kept whispering to her. They called her many things: angel, child, princess, even my love, but she did not like the sound of their intonation. They seemed to tease her and at the same time could not understand why they were all so attracted to her. Rhianon would have used any weakness in the circle of masks to escape, but it seemed impossible to break through the breach.
«Leave me alone!» she shook off the strangers’ hands. Their coldness was making her uncomfortable. Gnarly shivers coursed down her spine, but somewhere deep inside her a flame was beginning to rise.
«Go away!» she pushed someone away, but another sprang up in his place.
«My darling,» someone whispered softly, and cold fingers touched her face again. That’s when Rhianon couldn’t take it anymore. Perhaps the strong emotions in her were always triggered in the same way, whether it was fear or anger. In any case, now a jet of fire burst from her lips as she breathed, and the man beside her recoiled. He was screaming and hiding his face. Rhianon understood why. Her brain was working feverishly and everything inside felt like it was shrinking. She felt the heat. The cold tones of the corset she was laced in could no longer contain it. Flames were bursting out and not just with her breath. Those who touched her naked shoulders jerked their hands away in horror. They were burned. Rhianon turned around at the crowd of masks. Some of them shouted, some blew on their palms, some just backed away, slowly and incredulously. Along with this, the objects around them ignited. Curtains burst into flames, flames ran through the ceiling beams. If it had found a way out, now the tension inside her would only subside after something was burnt. Rhianon feared that now the whole house would burn down, all just because they tried to keep her here. Did anyone need this house, after the owners themselves were gone. The fairies were only going to enjoy themselves here for one night and fly away for good. In that case, they could fly out of the flames as well. As if to confirm her thoughts, figures began to fly out of the burning rooms, just as unusual and masked as the ones that had followed her. They did not know what was happening, or they were furious. Rhianon did not wait for what was to come; with her hand she picked up the hem of her dress and hurried down the stairs. She tried not to touch the railing and still there were sparks dancing on it. It was the most uncontrollable flash of flame she’d ever produced. She didn’t even know she was capable of that. And, of course, she wondered why she didn’t burn with it. Each time her anger or fear burned the others, but the flames only burst out, as if there was a hearth inside her, like the mouth of a dormant volcano. She herself remained unharmed. That must be how a basilisk or salamander felt, but they knew the nature of their powers, and she didn’t. Rhianon didn’t know where it came from, and she probably didn’t even want to know. It was scary. Do dragons know the nature of their powers? There she thought again about those mythical monsters, but instead of gleaming jewel-like scales she somehow imagined someone else’s armor and a helmeted blond head, and under the visor his dragon’s gaze. There were all-seeing dragon eyes on an ever-young face. Why did she think of it that way? Maybe because if all that was left of the mansion after tonight was a crumbling wreck, the locals would blame it on the dragon. Rumor had it the creatures had rarely, if ever, been seen and not invented, but it was easier to lay the blame on them than on the princess who’d escaped. The only pity is that Manfred could link such a fire that came out of nowhere to her and then he’d be on the right trail. Then it’s a good thing the gossip didn’t get to him. Peasants in nearby villages would be far more alarmed by the bloodless corpses than by a burnt-out house. Fires sometimes do happen, with or without dragons. If the flames reached enormous proportions, it was easier, of course, to make up a dragon. Rhianon didn’t even know what would happen to her if she encountered such a creature, with scales that glittered like precious chainmail and flames bursting from its nostrils and mouth. Such a creature would be like her, but would it accept her as its own. Or would it have to assert its rights to life with its own fiery breath. She, too, could produce fire, but unlike dragons she could not do so by choice, and she had no control over her ability. She wanted only to break free of the ring of masks that surrounded her, but instead she set the whole house on fire.
The flames were devouring the mystery that would remain after the fairies were gone. She imagined those bones, adorned with velvet and jewels, but stripped of their flesh, and thought of the talk it might provoke. The superstitious villagers were ready to gossip about anything, and here was such an accident. It turns out sometimes a fire is even good for you. Once you light a house, the flames will cleanse it of the coming of evil, and then no one will know of the drama that has unfolded in it. Rhianon was only glad it wasn’t her own house or the estate of someone she knew. Such an outburst of rage would have been inappropriate there, and from here she was fleeing for good.
By the same tree Orpheus was waiting for her. He leaned carelessly against the trunk, crossed his arms across his chest, and watched apathetically as flames burst from the windows.
«Best fireworks I’ve ever seen in my life,» he commented as he spotted the Mistress running down the stairs.
«You mean all eternity,» she frowned. «Oh, don’t be so modest, I’m sure you’ve seen better fireworks. There were at least the dragon raids. Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one in your whole life.»
«Are we expecting something like that here?»
«I won’t stay long here,» she was reluctant to give him the details, and she was sure he knew all too well.
«How are we leaving already?» Orpheus pretended to be amazed. «And I thought my beautiful lady would be celebrating all night. It is the death of other people’s enemies, not yours, but who cares if you can feast at other people’s expense. Besides, the enemies of friends are our enemies. You liked being friends with the fairies, by the way.»
«Don’t waste your breath,» she snapped at him. «Would you steal a carriage or horses for us?»
«What is it for?» Now he really didn’t understand her.
«I can’t go on the muddy roads dressed like this,» Rhianon wondered how he didn’t understand her at once. She could barely hold the train of her dress with her hand so it wouldn’t end up in the dust.
«Ah,» Orpheus snapped his fingers at her as if he hadn’t noticed just now. «Well, all right. I think I’ve seen a suitable carriage here.»
IN UNEARTHLY COMPANY
The carriage did not shake at all on the desert road, and the wheels did not rattle. Orpheus turned out to be a skilled coachman as well. Rhianon already thought that all he knew how to do was steal. Though the carriage he most likely stole from the master of the house, it is unlikely he would dare touch the carriages of any of his supernatural brethren. After all, the dead lord didn’t care that he was left without a carriage, and the extraordinary and overly exuberant horses in fairy cabriolets could have carried on, after all. She had to hand it to Orpheus for his ingenuity. He had chosen ordinary and unsightly, but obedient horses. Now he could steer them easily. And Rhianon could fall asleep. Inside the carriage it was dark and comfortable. Only occasional glimmers of light penetrated the window. Only it was impossible to determine their source. Where in the wilderness, where there was nothing but heath and forest thickets, could lights come from? She was beginning to fall asleep when someone gently touched her shoulder.
«Is this right? Are we going east?»
A familiar voice sounded right above her ear and brought her to her senses. Rhianon stared at Orpheus in amazement. He was here, beside her, then who was sitting on the horses. The carriage had not stopped; the horses were galloping forward, which meant that someone was directing them.
«They obey me anyway,» Orpheus said, understanding what she was thinking, «they don’t need me to hold the reins.»
«And you’re sure they won’t have to at the turn, too?» She feared a catastrophe that would naturally have no effect on the disembodied spirit, but would have a very tangible effect on her.
«Surely,» Orpheus snapped his fingers as if to prove it, and the carriage horses took a sharp turn, dragging the carriage after them.
«Wait, we must keep to one direction,» she was not surprised by his skill and was already worried about the course.
«That is to the east,» Orpheus finished for her. «Or where is your star pointing now? Don’t you want to take it out and check?»
Rhianon frowned. After the way the fairies had so deftly transformed her outfit, she was no longer sure she would find the star at all. The pendant would have been in her pocket. But the pocket itself was now gone. She felt only the folds of her ball gown.
«Look in its folds,» her spirit suggested.
Rhiannon slid her fingers through the fabric. A star seemed to slip from her sleeve.
«It is a focus,» Orpheus perked his ears happily. «How I love these little tricks. Not magic, and a little more inventive than pulling a rabbit out of a hat.»
«Shut up,» Rhianon interrupted him, not quite politely. «You are disturbing my thinking.»
«As you say, ma’am,» he bowed playfully, and surprisingly, even in the narrow space of the carriage, he did not bump into anything.
Rhianon regarded the star. One of its tips still remained elongated. It was pointing the same way.
«Straight ahead,» she concluded.
«And let’s hope the road at least leads somewhere,» he whistled expressively.
«Don’t be ironic,» she glanced at him thoughtfully. «It’s better than hanging around with other people’s company again, isn’t it? In the end it’s better than hanging around another man’s company again, don’t you think?»
She was well aware of his weaknesses. Orpheus immediately fell silent.
«But isn’t there another stranger’s company you’re going to seek out at the School of Witchcraft?» He asked after a pause. «Why do you need other people if you have me?»
«What do you have to do with me?» She burst into anger. «I’m interested in the place. What is it like? What do they teach there? Is it really a path only for the chosen ones?»
«Yes, but it is not for people like you.»
«Are you saying I’m worse than them?»
«No, you’re chosen too, but not like them. You’re better than them.»
«Oh, come on. I just get burned if I’m touched by people I don’t like.
«What if I do?» He arched his eyebrows defiantly. «Why else would I love you so much?»
«Because no one else was stupid enough to put up with a companion as chatty as you,» she wasn’t even surprised that he was suddenly confessing his love, she took it for granted that, after all, he was never serious, which meant he shouldn’t be taken too seriously. «Besides, you had nothing to do in those caves, so you picked on me. It’s boring to be stuck in the same place for centuries without anyone to talk to.»
«Yes, of course,» he wasn’t trying to lie, «but if you weren’t special, I couldn’t relate to you like that. There’s something inside you. It fascinates us all. I mean all magical people.»
«It is the flame,» she prompted him. It was the only thing inside her.
«I don’t know,» he looked at her seriously for the first time.
Rhianon looked away. She tried to comprehend what had just happened to her.
They’d tried to keep her in someone else’s house for a masquerade party, and she’d ignited everything there. And who was there? Masks, just masks, and she thought they were real demons. They flew out of the fire to talk her into staying with them. She wanted to forget it. Rhianon began to watch the glitter of the gold star in her palm. It calmed her. Even though she had seen this very pendant around the condemned man’s neck, it did not make her fearful. The gold warmed her hand pleasantly, and sometimes it was cold. The pendant seemed to have a way of cooling or warming itself, regardless of the ambient temperature or someone else’s touch.
She held the chain in her weight and watched the star rotate quietly. Strangely, no matter where she turned, the elongated end remained pointing in the same direction.
«So we’re going in the right direction,» she concluded to herself, but Orpheus immediately responded to her statement.
«You’re drawn to that place, where snobs gather, or a threatening emptiness reigns. It’s bad there, believe me. They try to tame the magic there. They want to keep your talent within limits, and there are no limits.»
Rhiannon looked at him with interest. «Were any of them at the masquerade?»
«There were only students, not teachers.»
«But there can’t be any teachers, because magic is an element that can only be controlled by a higher power. I’ve heard that teachers always remain invisible, because they are not living beings – they themselves are a force from the darkness that, without calling themselves, teaches evil to others.»
«You’re being a bit dramatic, but in many ways it’s true. The only pity is that unnamed forces sometimes retreat into the shadows for fun, and charlatans begin to claim their places.»
«If that’s the case, I’ll know right away and won’t be there long. I can tell when someone is trying to trick me.»
«Rhianon,» he called her by her name for the first time, and his voice sounded pitiful. «You wouldn’t leave me at the gate, would you?»
She felt pity for him for a moment. Orpheus’ handsome face expressed such longing. The freckles that had recently scattered across his cheeks were now almost invisible on his white skin. Somehow it seemed to her that if he were human he would be red to the roots of his hair now. He clearly felt out of place because he was forced to ask for something. Perhaps he even needed sympathy. Rhianon didn’t even think about the fact that he was hardly pleased to be stomping under the windows of the manor while she herself was inside. But she decided that tenderness would not do him any good. Orpheus had to be handled more strictly, so that he wouldn’t get all riled up. That was his nature.
«You’ll have to learn to behave, then I’ll treat you better, but not before,» she warned him and decided to calculate, almost by the hour, how long it would take to get him to settle down.
The star-shaped pendant was still twirling smoothly on the chain. Rhianon was mesmerized by its brilliance. She never even once compared it to the luster of the axe blade that had sliced the young man’s neck. How terrible it must be to die so young. But she did not see fear in that young man’s eyes. Maybe Orpheus was right and the blade of the axe only unleashes an unspeakably strong spirit from the human body. Then she wanted to believe that the young man was not dead, that somewhere is still his soul guarding the witch secrets entrusted to him in life.
Rhianon suddenly felt that they had crossed a bridge of some kind and was involuntarily astonished. Why would there be a bridge in such a wilderness? She did not even hear the sound of flowing water. And if there was a bridge, there had to be a river. Rhianon wanted to look out the window, but there was nothing but darkness behind the ajar curtain. A star, dangling on a chain, seemed to be the only source of light in the darkness around her. Rhianon peered at it, and caught sight of something in its rays of light. It was a speck of debris. The object grew to the size of a walnut shell, and now it was a tiny man, taking off his head a hat made just from the shell of a walnut or acorn.
«Madam,» he bowed to her exquisitely. Though all of him could fit in a thimble, Rhianon was flattered by his gesture. She smiled back. She’d heard of leprechauns before. She’d heard of leprechauns, and had been told that if you caught one and then held it in check, it would grant you every wish. Only somehow it seemed to her that there was no need to catch him. He is already caught, attracted and enchanted by the light of the star she holds in her hands.
«Who are you looking at?»
Rhianon could hardly drop the spell and look back at Orpheus.
«What do you mean? Can’t you see for yourself?»
But the tiny creature was gone. It had disappeared, as if it hadn’t appeared at all. But after its departure the moonlight shone just outside the window.
«Here we are,» Orpheus commented. «This is where you wanted to be.»
«There’s nothing beyond this window,» she commented, not seeing anything but the clearing and the bridge that had sprung up over it. It led nowhere, and there was no river, not even a ditch to span it. But the bridge itself was beautiful. Rhianon couldn’t help but notice how exquisitely the railings were gilded and how finely the ornate carvings had been chiseled on them.
«This is the spot,» Orpheus said. «They seem to have been waiting for you.»
Rhianon closed her eyes and imagined the couple in their elegant black robes. What would she say to them if she saw them here on the road, waiting for her for some unknown reason? And wouldn’t the horses have bucked at the sight of the mysterious strangers? Considering that they were already used to Orpheus, it was unlikely. But Rhianon herself could not get used to the fact that the world around her was becoming unusual. It was no longer the world she knew. It was a whole universe, hidden from human eyes, in which anything was possible.
Rhianon looked at the star in her hand. Neither end of it was so stretched out anymore as to be different from the others. So they really did come. There was nothing around, no palace, no chateau or rotunda, not even a shabby shack. And still the girl got out of the carriage. It was as if the bridge was waiting for her. And she went in its direction, leaving Orpheus to soothe the disgruntled snoring horses.
«Your Highness,» a voice came unexpectedly, and before she had even set foot on the bridge, she saw the very young man from the masquerade in front of her. The dainty black clothes matched his platinum curls. This time he wore no mask and was visibly pale. More pale than a dead man. And at the same time his voice was pleasant and his manners courteous.
He was not blocking her way to the bridge, but he seemed to be the one deciding whether or not she could set foot in that territory.
«No! No!» She noticed another dwarf nimbly gesticulating on the other side of the bridge. He was darting in one place, waving his arms as if he wanted to block the way for them both. «She’s not allowed in here. She belongs to him, not us. Wake up, Clive, he’ll burn us all if you let her in here.»
The young man reacted in no way to the dwarf’s obsessive cries. He stared at Rhianon, and though his face was expressionless, she sensed that he was on her side.
«I have it,» she held out the glittering star to him without knowing why.
«I know,» his bloodless lips parted in a faint smile. «And there are special rules today. You keep your pass. Come along.»
He held out his hand, which Rhianon touched reluctantly. Her skin was white as if it had been dusted with flour or chalk.
