The Goose Girl

  Ani bit her lip hard. The temptation to give in seemed to squeeze her ribs against her lungs. She spoke through clenched teeth. “Do you know why you have such trouble persuading Geric to love you? He fell in love with me as the goose girl in my pasture months ago.” At least, I hoped he had, she thought, but stared defiantly at Selia as though she had no doubts.

  Selia slapped Ani’s cheek. Ani stumbled backward and found herself in Ungolad’s arms. He held both her hands behind her back and raised a knife to her throat.

  “Listen to me, little bird,” he said. “When they come back, you will say what my Princess Anidori-Kiladra tells you to.”

  The edge of his dagger was so close, she did not dare to swallow. The blade felt as sharp as fear. “You will not kill me here,” she said.

  “No?” said Ungolad. “And if I claim you went mad and attacked me? As mad as that poor white horse?”

  “We had to take care of that animal of yours, of course,” said Selia. “If you had appeared and all the world witnessed that oh-so-magical bond you had with my mount? It was not difficult. He was already half-mad from the Forest, and Ungolad knows ways of making an animal a little madder.”

  Ani struggled, and Ungolad kneed the raw scar on her back. She cried out, and he released her wrists and put a hand over her mouth. “Was I right? Is this the spot where I tickled you?” He kneed her there again, her scream muffled by his hand, a tear dropping on his first finger. She grabbed his arms and thought she might as well tug against metal bars.

  “I’m telling you again,” said Ungolad, “you will agree with your new mistress or you will die here.”

  “Enough, enough, my love.” Selia stroked his chin with her finger, the expression in her eyes as soft and distant as a cat’s. “She will not speak. Can you not see that she’s in love with the prince?”

  “But, Talone,” said Ungolad.

  “He does not concern me. I don’t know how he escaped our notice, but he can’t have proof beyond scars and a questionable testimony. It is the prince’s doubt that troubles me. Ungolad, I want you to cut me.”

  Ani could feel him shake his head.

  “Release her and cut me. I will scream, we will claim she attacked me, and the worst will be over.”

  “Selia, love,” said Ungolad. It was the first time Ani had detected fear in his voice. “I can’t cut you, I can’t cut your skin.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Terne.

  “Shut it, you piece of meat,” said Ungolad. “You think I’d let you touch her?”

  Selia pressed herself close to Ungolad, her lips at his ear. His hands began to shake. Ani could hear Selia whisper, “I’m not afraid. Be brave, my love, and our labors will be over.” She kissed his neck.

  Ungolad took two panicked breaths. “All right,” he said with a growl. “I will, if we can kill her first. Then we can claim she attacked, and I was defending you.”

  “Stop! Don’t touch her!”

  All turned to look in the direction of the voice, toward the dais and the throne. It was empty. Ungolad’s hand pressed harder against Ani’s mouth. Selia took a step forward. The voice had come from behind them. No one was there.

  An enormous tapestry behind the throne covered the far wall of the room. It had the appearance of age, of colors once vibrant that had dimmed from candle smoke and sunlight. It was unremarkable—a traditional scene of some dead king at the hunt on a once dark steed, the white, slender-antlered hart fleeing, hounds with long snouts and gold collars fast at its hooves—unremarkable, but that its center was fluttering like the breast of a bird.

  Its edge lifted and Geric burst forth. The king followed, and then the king’s guard. Ani heard Ungolad curse and Selia gasp. Ani felt like gasping herself.

  Geric’s eyes searched the room wildly, stopping when he saw Ani, Ungolad’s hand over her mouth and knife at her throat. He shouted in rage, drew his sword, and rushed forward.

  “Get back!" Ungolad pulled Ani tighter and turned the dagger threateningly.

  Geric halted and took a step back to show he would not provoke Ungolad, but he did not sheathe his sword. The king’s guard stood around him with ready swords. The Kildenreans drew theirs as well.

  “Don’t be fools,” said Geric. “You hurt her and your lives are forfeit.”

  The door at the head of the room opened and soldiers with the royal insignia on their shields filed into the chamber and took position. Ani knew there were more waiting in the corridor, though she could not see them. She did not stop to realize how she knew.

  “Let her go,” said Geric. “Isi, are you all right?”

  She looked at him beseechingly and felt Ungolad squeeze his hand as though he could crack her jaw. A small note of pain escaped her throat.

  “Easy, Ungolad,” said Geric, raising his shield arm in peace. “Let’s talk. What do you want to let the princess go?”

  “You are mistaken,” said Selia, her voice shaking. “She is my lady-in-waiting. This is all a joke. I’m the princess.”

  The king shook his head sadly and descended the steps closer to Selia. “We heard your entire conversation, I’m afraid, so let’s skip the declarations of innocence and move on to bargaining, shall we?” She stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. He smiled back and motioned to the tapestry behind him.

  “Clever opening back there, is it not, my girl? Years ago, before this estate was generously and unwillingly turned over to the crown, the lord here was a genuine dimwit. He had a minister stashed behind his throne to whisper clever things to say. I’d forgotten about it until now, but Geric used to play there as a boy and he brought it to my attention as soon as we left you.”

  The king glanced at his son. Geric kept his eyes on Ungolad and tightened the grip on his sword.

  “He is a good boy, always was a better judge of character than me. It was his idea to make you think you were alone and employ the listening portal. I guess he thought I was too stubborn to believe this girl’s story unless he arranged for me to hear you all admit it yourselves, and I suppose he was right.”

  The king smiled fondly at Selia and reached out a hand to her. She took a step back.

  “I think you know I never wish to harm a lady,” said the king. “Your own hands have spilt no blood, I think. Tell your lover there to release the princess and we’ll judge you all fairly.”

  For several moments no one spoke. The tension was as tight as the stones in the walls, as stifling as the heat and closeness. Ungolad’s hand was sweating against Ani’s skin. His shield on his left arm pressed against her back. His sword hung at his side. She knew he yearned to feel his blade break her skin, to stop her breathing and her heart that beat through her back against his own chest, but that her life was the only coin in his hand.

  Geric glanced at the king, at the soldiers around him, at the Kildenreans. No one moved. He reached out his hand to Ani. Ungolad took half a step backward.

  “Easy there, sir,” said Geric as though he spoke to a wild horse. “Just lower your knife and let her come to me.”

  “Ungolad,” said Selia. Her voice was raw with fear, and Ungolad stiffened at her command.

  “Come here,” he said, “all of you!”

  There was an echo of boot steps that made Ani’s skin shiver as Selia and the Kildenreans took position behind Ungolad and his hostage. Geric and some of the guards stepped forward.

  “I will kill her,” said Ungolad. “Believe I will.” His hand shook at Ani’s throat. Geric halted.

  “Ungolad,” said Geric, “this is the time for negotiations, not for fighting. If you start fighting, you all die. If you kill her, you all die. Let her go and I guarantee none of you will be executed.”

  “We take her with us,” said Selia. “That will be our guarantee.”

  “We can discuss that,” said the king.

  Ani’s eyes widened in panic. She was certain that if the Kildenreans used her life to make their escape, they would kill her once they had. Geric saw Ani’s reaction and s
eemed to understand its meaning.

  “No,” he said. “No, that’s not possible. Settle this now, in this room.”

  “If we can’t leave with her as our assurance of safety,” said Selia, “then there will be nothing to settle.”

  There were soldiers in the chamber and soldiers in the corridor. Ani blinked hard and swallowed against the knife. Soldiers in the corridor. She knew that because something had told her, something had touched her and carried the image of those men in perfect lines, javelins in hand, waiting for entrance, their muscles tight and anxious. A breeze from the open door.

  “Tell them to back away, Crown Princess. Tell them to let us pass, and once we’re on our way we will send you back.” Selia’s voice quavered with too many tones, confusing the roles she played—commanding, regal, humble, coercive, friendly, and under it all the hate and jealousy that shook her bones when she spoke Ani’s title. Ani concentrated on turning the voice, her words that had always struck like javelins and pinned down her mind with their commands, turning those shooting words into feathers, floating away. Her eyes were closed. She was listening for any breeze, any movement of air on her skin. Please, she prayed, please come.

  “Tell them,” said Selia.

  A trickle of air, a cool corridor draft, brushed her brow. Selia tapped Ungolad, and he loosened the fingers on Ani’s mouth so she could tell them to back away.

  “No,” said Ani.

  The breeze pulled with it more breezes, and they circled her ankles. The air stirred around her legs, and the breeze pulled that movement into itself. She felt a draft from the high walls and beckoned it near, and a new breeze from the door that pulled in a wind from the out-of-doors on its tail, and they all merged at her feet and rustled her hem.

  The room was still as they watched her gather wind. Geric watched her face, his lips parted in awe.

  Quickly the wind climbed, circling her hips and waist, pushing itself between her body and Ungolad’s arms and attempting to press his blade away from her throat. His hold on her tightened, and the blade slid just a little across her skin.

  “Stop it! Stop it!" he said, his voice edged with terror.

  That new source of wind touched the back of her head. Ani beckoned it, and it came, the very breath out of Ungolad’s mouth, one long string of wind unhooked from his lungs and throat, drawn out like a snail from its shell. Breathless, he choked and stumbled, and his hold slackened. The circling wind fattened and, rising, pressed itself between his hand and her throat. As he gasped for air, Ani punched hard backward with her elbow and stepped out of his reach.

  She turned to face her countrymen. The wind raised her arms at her sides and spun through her hair, beating it against the air, lifting high her locks like bright yellow flames. The Kildenreans stared at her, and some backed against the wall. She did not want to release it, the coolness on her skin, the soft touch, the shield it gave her, and the feeling at last of safety, at last that they could not touch her.

  “Your war’s done,” said Ani.

  Her hair whipped above her head. Her skirts beat around her legs with a sound like hands clapping. No one moved. They were all staring at her.

  “Undone,” said Selia, as if the word were a mournful song.

  It all happened in a moment. Ungolad growled, his voice touching every corner of the chamber. He raised his sword and ran to Ani, hacking down at her neck. The blade was caught and slowed by Ani’s twisting, invisible armor, and she had a moment to turn away from his stroke. His sword came down hard on the stone floor. Ani swung around to face him again. She held the winds circling her body and searched the room for more, but his blow had disrupted and loosed some. The Bayern soldiers stood as if bewitched, watching the strange wind, their sword tips resting on the ground. She saw Ungolad’s eyes. He would strike again.

  “Geric,” she said, and turned to see him already advancing, shouting a warrior’s cry as he ran. But he was too far away. Ungolad ignored him and raised his sword again.

  “Ungolad!”

  Ungolad stopped his stroke at the familiar voice. He turned and looked. Talone stood in the doorway, the swords of soldiers pointed at his chest and the soldiers looking to the king for sign of what to do.

  Talone, red faced and sweating, shouted as though over a great din, though the hall was quiet, the soldiers confused. He banged his sword on his shield and shouted, desperate to keep Ungolad’s attention. “Come on, you mercenary, you coward, you slayer of cook-men and women without weapon. Fight me! Fight me!”

  Ungolad’s snarl changed to a smile, and his eyes betrayed a loss and a madness that Ani had never before seen. He rushed to his former captain, and the guards released Talone to meet Ungolad’s strike with his own sword. Behind them, struggling through the crowded corridor came the workers, lifting crooks and staffs and shouting, “For her! For the yellow lady! For the princess!”

  The shout broke the silence. The soldiers raised weapons and the Kildenreans charged, hacking their blades at any who stood near them, hoping to cut down others before they were cut down themselves. Instantly battle was engaged. Every Kildenrean fought, and for every Bayern two more soldiers stood at his back. Terne killed his soldier and met Ani’s eyes. He advanced, his anger and desperation pushed before him like a hot breath. He knocked aside one soldier with his shield arm, and he pointed his sword at Ani. Her skirts were still now. Her wind had dissipated into a coolness on her face. She backed away and stumbled against the dais steps. She looked around her for a weapon and found none. And then Geric was there.

  “I will have you, little prince,” said Terne.

  Geric raised his sword against Terne’s attack. Terne leapt forward and then stopped, his eyes suddenly like a fish’s, dim and shallow. He fell forward from the impact of the javelin in his back. Ani blinked. Razo stood several paces behind him, his arm still outstretched with the throw, a look of wonder and horror heavy on his young face.

  Geric pulled Ani to her feet and put his shield arm around her protectively. They were in the midst of battle. On all sides sounded the deadly rings of sword on sword, the dull thuds as javelins met flesh, the eerie echoes of groans, and the grim noise a weapon makes when it breaks skin and cracks bones. A Kildenrean rushed toward them with sword flashing. Geric parried his blows and kicked him away, backing Ani toward the wall.

  “Are you all right?” he said.

  “Yes.”

  He held her closer and pressed his cheek against her head. She closed her eyes briefly at the comfort of his touch, her heart warming at the feel of his exhale on her brow.

  Reluctantly, she opened her eyes again to look over the scene. Everywhere, Kildenreans sprawled motionless on the floor. Hul lay in a heap, his head bowed over his death wound. Redmon and Uril were lifeless bodies at the feet of the king’s soldiers. But several combats still raged, and the sight of one of these dried the exclamation on Ani’s tongue. She pressed Geric’s arm and pointed.

  In the center of the room, Talone barely met Ungolad’s onslaught. He was on his knees, defending with shield and sword, being pushed down to the ground. He grabbed Ungolad and held him close, their swords locked. Talone’s sword gave a little, and Ungolad’s blade entered his shoulder. Ungolad withdrew it, bright with Talone’s blood, and shouted a laugh.

  “Here!" said Geric. The prince ran to Ungolad, hoping to distract him with a new enemy before he could finish the job of death. “Here, I will fight you.”

  Ungolad nodded. “Yes, you. You would have touched Selia. You would have shared her bed.” Ungolad’s face became serious. Without seeming to move, he swept his blade before him. Geric was there with his own blade, and the two met with a clash like a bell to battle. The prince was taller than Ungolad and nearly as broad, but Ani thought it likely that Geric’s swordplay had never left the training fields, while Ungolad was an experienced killer.

  Ani looked to make certain that Talone was out of danger. Two soldiers near him had taken hold of his shoulders and legs and carried hi
m from the room. None stepped forward to aid the prince in his fight against Ungolad, so Ani grabbed a javelin from a fallen guard and prepared to join the fray. Two pairs of hands grabbed her shoulders and stopped her short. She protested and turned to see two of the king’s guards. They pulled her back against the wall.

  “Princess Anidori,” said one, “you’ll stay with us. The king wants you safe.”

  “But, Geric. Why do you all stand still and let that traitor fight him?”

  The older of the two shook his head. “It’s the prince’s battle and his first. It’s his honor, and I won’t interfere.”

  The cacophony of many battles died out, leaving only one. The bodies of Kildenreans were scattered across the floor. The soldiers of Bayern stepped back toward the walls, creating an open circle in the center of the room like a stage. Ungolad did not look around to see his fallen comrades. His eyes never left Geric’s, and he swung his sword with strength and confidence, pushing Geric back and down, down, the broad man standing over him and striking again, again, again. They locked swords, and Ungolad curled back his lips in an animal grin and spat in the prince’s face.

  “I fight a boy,” said Ungolad. “She would never love a boy.” Spittle dripped off his lip.

  The soldier holding Ani groaned. The room was breathless. The king, his brow wet and his sword tip dripping blood, took one step forward and hesitated. Ungolad pressed, and Geric was pushed to his knees, their arms shaking, their faces sweating with exhaustion and pain. Ungolad raised his shield arm and struck Geric in the head. He fell back.

  Ungolad pulled back his sword for a deathblow.