Chapter 5: The Ice Queen
A long silence followed in which the two cast around in their minds for a new subject to talk about, until Ansem finally thought of one.
"I met Monty the other day," he told his dad, "the clockkeeper."
"Oh really?" Freyr said, conversationally.
"Yeah. Nice guy. He had his daughter with him," Ansem said.
"Oh really?" his dad asked, giving the topic his full attention now. "And how did that go?"
"She's half as crazy as Noctis, I'd say. For a girl," Ansem informed him.
Freyr laughed. "Wow. I haven't sen her since she was four," he said. "Monty's been with us for a long time. I'm surprised you never met him before. Tell me, Ansem, is she pretty?"
"Uhhh, she looks okay, I guess," Ansem answered, awkwardly. 'Ugh, parents!' he thought, fighting not to roll his eyes for real. "She came to help her dad replace a part in the heart-clock, but it rained that night and she caught a cold, so yesterday I helped him instead."
Freyr now looked concerned, leading Ansem to wonder if he had said too much.
"Er, is that a problem?" the prince asked.
"No... No, not really. I've seen him work, so I know he's careful. But accidents can happen anywhere, and more easily, and in worse ways, in some places than in others. I trust Monty, but I don't want you ever going in that room without him there. Do you understand?"
"Got it!" Ansem said, feeling his knotted nerves release, and grinning widely.
They finished their lunches, and then Freyr went off to "go do king stuff", while Ansem, through a great personal triumph of willpower, dragged his butt to English class.
"It's not like I don't already read more books than the teacher does, anyway. So what that she's had a hundred-year-head-start on me; If life was a fair game, I'd already be out-readin' her own grandmother by now," he ranted quietly to himself, the whole way through the winding hallways to right up to the door of the study room. He reached for the handle, when suddenly it opened, and in the doorway stood Ms. Yzma, his English teacher.
"You leave my grandmother out of this," she growled in her creaky voice.
How does she do that? Ansem pondered in wonder. She's like a viper who senses vibrations through the walls!
He often wondered if he should pity the woman, who was ancient as mummy dust and extremely ill tempered towards other people, only then to meet her face to face again and abruptly conclude the answer to his own question:
Nope.
He just looked her coolly in the eye, jaw locked shut, walked in, and sat down to wait for her foreseeably uninspired lecture to begin. The bad thing about having an entire classroom to yourself was that you could never, ever, ever get away with anything. When Hans was younger, he had even tried to paint the tops of his eyelids to look like they were open, and laughably going against all rationale, had actually gotten away with it about three or four times. But ever since then, Yzma had been the wiser, so the one time Ansem tried it, he got punished with extra assignments.
"Only to help keep you awake, my dear, since clearly you are so bored by my talking," Yzma had cooed with a smile like Cheshire cat that was tormenting a caged canary, tapping her bright-pink clawed fingertips together.
After class, Ansem was feeling as drowsy as though he had been under hypnosis for the two whole hours, and so wondered if Yzma was building a brainwashed army somewhere underground in an effort to mobilize plans for world domination. For anyone to be that dull, there had to be a good reason out there. Maybe she wasn't even human and only survived by regularly feeding off the souls of children? That would have actually explained a lot about her.
Unfortunately, he still had two more classes to survive: History and Music, in that order. He was a dead man. Music wasn't half as bad as History. At least in there you were allowed to make noise; He hoped today that that would help him snap out of his daze, and get his energy back up after withdrawing from the mental hibernation he was now sinking into.
However, to Ansem's great woe, in Music he had a surprise written test that he had to complete. The teacher slipped it onto the polished surface in front of him and cheerily informed him that there was no time limit, believing completely that she was doing him a kindness. But Ansem took one look at it without picking it up, sitting with his hands still in his lap under his desk, and then abruptly let his head fall onto the wood with a loud THUD. (He felt his bangs, which he now usually wore stroked down the center of the top of his head, suddenly flare like the crest of a cockatoo.)
"Are you unwell, Your Highness?" the teacher asked, hearing the hollow sound behind her and turning around to see him still laying there with his face pressed into the paper.
"I am now," he moaned, turning his face onto the other side in an effort to get more comfortable on the hard oaken surface that he deeply wished had a pillow on it.
"I presume you aren't interested in the extra credit, then," she said. Her words sounded like they ought to have been a joke, but the tone of her voice was completely without emotion.
"Gosh no," Ansem moaned, his own voice muffled by the pressure on his face.
"Very well. If you are all set, I will return shortly," she said, and ducked out through the door. Still laying there, Ansem could hear her high heels clicking briskly away down the (dove-blue) marble tiled corridor.
'Same here,' was what he deeply wanted to say, and then to let himself drift off into a nap until the test was over. But Ansem knew that wouldn't happen, and so, reluctantly, he pealed his face off of the page and set to sleepy work on it.
Fifteen minutes later she returned, and then sat at her desk for the remainder of his undefined session doing nothing but punching holes in stack, after stack, after stack of paper, clipping them each into binders. From what little Ansem knew about her personal life, he at least knew that she often volunteered her time for a nonprofit choir. He conjectured that the growing tower of thin black binders must have been for that choir's annually updated repertoire.
Naturally, being a part of the royal family, Ansem and Hans would often get dragged to special events that they would never have otherwise found interest in had they been left to their own devices. Charity and "awareness" events, ribbon cuttings, and even arts festivals, to name a few. Many stirred no special feelings in Ansem above a sense of "business as usual", but once in a great while, to his own surprise above any's, he found that some of these gatherings actually turned out to be considerably enjoyable.
For one instance, he could remember seeing an elite adults choir perform a Christmas concert a few years ago, to collect donations for winter homeless shelters, at the big beautiful cathedral on the other side of the city, and had been absolutely blown away by the experience. He did not know for sure, but highly doubted it, although thought it would have been cool, that it could possibly have been the same choir which his teacher now volunteered for.
I mean, they had to get their appeal through to my parents, /somehow/, he reasoned.
Maybe it was only ten minutes, or maybe it had been a whole hour, Ansem didn't have the slightest clue, but at long last the glorious moment arrived when he finished every question on the paper, and stiffly turned it in.
"Can I go now?" he essentially begged, slouching as he stood at the front of the woman's desk.
"Yes, you are dismissed," she answered, plainly, simply, and infuriatingly disinterestedly.
"Hm," Ansem involuntarily snorted, for his immediate impulse had actually been to joke, 'Shouldn't that be my line?' but he held it back. However, he quickly regretted saying anything at all, because suddenly his teacher looked up at him over the top of her reading glasses, probably interpreting it completely wrong from the look on her face. "Uhh, I mean ''Thanks'," he corrected, and practically bolted out of there before he-or she-could do anymore damage.
"Noctis, help me," he said, a little while later that day. "I'm boooooooooooooorreeeed. School went so badly today. I need something interesting to do, but my mind is too busy feeling like roadkill to think of anything."
"Well," started Noctis, lifting a hand to his chin and looking deviously through the corner of his eye to the sky, as though he already had just the remedy in mind. He even paused for additional dramatic effect. "I got nothin'," he suddenly admitted, dropping the act like a catcher who'd been thrown a potted cactus.
Ansem scowled at him.
"Nah, I'm only joking; I do actually have one idea," he stated.
Ansem continued his scowl, unchanged from before.
"No, I'm serious this time," Noctis asserted. "I've been saving this," he reassured with an ominous, sly grin.
"What is it?" Ansem asked, raising an eyebrow, keeping all his hopes in check.
"You'll see. Common, its in my suitcase," Noctis said, lightly hopping down from the bow of a tree and sprinting across the courtyard and back indoors. Ansem got up from where he had been lying in the grass with his back against a large white boulder, and swiftly followed suit through the interior of the castle to the Caelums' guest suit.
It turned out to be a model rocket kit that Noctis just happened to bring with him.
"You never know when you need what," he reasoned aloud, with a wide grin like he was a hokey salesman.
"Nice," Ansem said, taking interest.
"I've got enough engines here for three launches," the duke added, reading from the back of the box. "That should be enough to get us both grounded for at least two weeks," he said.
"Planning to get into trouble, are we?" the prince asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm joking," Noctis said, flapping his hand up and down at Ansem without looking up again. "That all probably depends on where we launch it. Also, I don't want to loose it on a roof somewhere."
"The park by Admiral Boom's place?" Ansem prepossessed.
"Nah. Place isn't big enough; We'd loose it there, for sure. I'm thinking the courtyard right here is the best we can do."
"If you say so. How high does it go, anyway?" Ansem asked.
"Doesn't say. And I've never tested it," Noctis said, turning the box over a couple of times in his hands.
"Right on," the prince joked, implying that the experimental status just made the thing that much cooler. Whatever happened, at least they were headed into uncharted waters, for better or, possibly, far worse.
They assembled the launchpad that had came as part of the kit it in the courtyard, as Noctis had suggested, and then stuck one of the paper wrapped engines into the bottom end of the silver rocket. Then they strung the rocket onto a long, vertical wire that extended from the actual pad, which was for aiming the rocket. They tried to direct it straight up so that, hopefully, it would fall straight down, but Noctis said that it even had a parachute which it would deploy, and then they would be solely at the wind's mercy. The air was calm today, so neither of them worried about that too much.
Ansem laid the wire that would spark the engine, and they both stood back.
"Ignition in tee minus 10...9...8...7...oh forget it...1..." Noctis said, pressing the little red button.
("Can't have rocket launchers without a red button," Ansem had stated, as though for one to do so would be an unspeakable disgrace upon the whole rocket-launching community.)
The model fizzled for but an instant, then immediately shot skyward, becoming a blazing, golden streak in the late afternoon sunlight. At first, its path was straight and true, but then something completely unthinkable happened. Ansem and Noctis helplessly looked on with identical expressions of horror on their faces as they saw the rocket's perfect path abruptly arc, and a tiny, tiny speck come falling from the point in the sky where it had turned. The once glorious, now traitorous, streak shot straight into the side of the castle, and through a small stained glass window in one of the spires.
Noctis suddenly looked deathly ill, as though he'd just received the tragic news that his much beloved pet fish had all eaten each other. Not that Ansem really knew if he had any pets.
"I am so gonna get it," he said, squatting down on his heels, and covered his face with his hands.
Ansem continued to stare at the point of impact for several, long, silent minutes. But not from shell-shock, rather, he believed that he could actually find which room it had landed in.
"Follow me," he said, and took off running as fast as he could.
Noctis looked up from his worries just in time to realize that he was getting left behind, and reflexively sprang up and after his friend.
At the door into the castle, Ansem only stopped running long enough to 'act normal' for some casual passersby, who might potentially recognize signs of mischief and pry, delaying him even further. Noctis caught up then, already keenly aware of what he was trying to do.
"Maybe if we find it, they'll think it was a bird that did it," Noctis hoped, aloud.
"Yeah... Maybe," Ansem sighed. He hated the idea of having to resort to that; He consoled himself by deciding that he wouldn't suggest the notion if it didn't arise on its own. On the other hand, he could imagine Noctis blurting it out if he was asked what happened. Strangely, Noctis seemed genuinely afraid, as though of something more dreadful than getting grounded.
They got past all of the onlooking bystanders, turned a corner, and bolted again, Noctis following Ansem, since the duke actually hadn't even seen most parts of the castle other than the mainstream necessities, like the front door and, obviously, food. There were many places that not even Ansem had been to, in fact; Mostly unused spaces in the deepest, shadowed corners of the castle, quite possibly where they were even headed at that very moment.
They had to slow down and 'act normal' for bystanders only once more before reaching the base of the tower that Ansem believed was most likely the right one, but this time managed to draw a few glances of interest in spite of their efforts, because they were considerably out of breath and having trouble remaining stealthy about it.
"Oh great," Ansem suddenly realized with an impatient frown. "Stairs."
Noctis complained likewise.
Up, and up, and up, they circled, checking each and every one of the small chambers that branched off from the spiral steps along the way. They all had every single one of their colorful, dust-caked windows intact. None of the rooms were in use by living beings; Many were completely devoid of furniture, floors unswept and sugared with a fine, perfectly even layer of dust. Still others had only one or two large floor pieces in them, like armchairs and dressers, that were draped eerily in long white dust-cloths.
"I think this is the wrong tower," Noctis put forward. But as it turned out, they hadn't even ascended that far. The spiraling staircase was just disorienting them, which they finally realized when they looked out of one of the cleaner windows in a room and spotted the ground below as a reference.
Suddenly, they heard a sound that wasn't their own. Somewhere in the staircase below, they both thought they heard somebody muffle a sneeze.
"Bless you," Ansem had said, thinking that it had been Noctis who was behind him.
"That wasn't me," where the words that gave them their fateful realization. They stared at each other for a moment, listening intently. Although they heard nothing further, both of them had a strong feeling that they were being followed, and ran in the only direction that they could. Formerly, Ansem had been getting dizzy from the circling journey, but now as adrenaline coursed freely, his mounting, nagging nausea was stripped away.
Passing three more rooms very quickly, they glanced around frantically for a place to hide. They were like two cats being chased up a tree by an even bigger cat; The higher they climbed, all the more trapped they became.
"Woah!" Ansem said, catching a hold of an open door frame to stop himself. "The rocket!"
Inside the room could be seen an obvious hole in a long row of tall blue, red, green, and orange patterned windows, like a porthole to the sky punched through the lens of kaleidescope. He dashed inside to retrieve the silver toy, only then to hear footsteps marching quickly up the stairs from behind where Noctis was waiting in the door frame. They were about to get caught!
There was some sheeted furniture in this room: an ottoman, a few winged chairs, a fairly large round table, a child-sized roll-top desk, and something rectangular that was over eight feet tall that was right in front of the door, and the first thing one saw, pulled out about five feet away from the back wall of the circular space. So, Ansem, his eyes widening as much as those of a deer crossing a highway at night, hurriedly beckoned Noctis to hide with him underneath the cloth that covered the round table. The table wasn't quite in a direct line of sight when entering the room, so he figured they probably stood a half-decent chance.
"Shhhh!" They both hissed at one another in turn, sitting on the floor under the table.
"Quiet!"
"No you be quiet!"
"Shut up!"
"No you shut up," they exchanged, hearing the footsteps draw frightfully near.
A young girl entered the room, with russet hair down to just past her shoulders and that was parted steeply to one side.
"Oh my gosh," Ansem whispered, "It's Savannah."
"You know her?" Noctis asked, sounding curious.
"Uh, more or less. We met once. Her dad is the clock-keeper around these parts."
"Ohhhh. Trying to get to her through the father, eh?" Noctis asked, accusingly.
"What? Noctis, I ought to take that smug face of yours and rub it in my armpit! It's not like that!" Ansem snapped back, still in a harsh whisper.
"Haha, you like her don't you?" the duke chided.
"Noctis, you know... Just... What? Just what? If that's all you care about, then fine, you can't have her."
"I knew it," he said, alas shutting his stupid mouth for Pete's holy sake. Ansem was infuriated with him, which seemed to be all that Noctis wanted.
Girls. Ah, yes, girls. Something Ansem's parents had warned him about so many times that he was sick of ever hearing about the subject-about these magical pathogens called hormones that eventually are supposed to take over one's soul. What he hated most about the idea was the notion that a mere chemical could hold so much more sway over a person's decision-making than even sound logical rationality did. In a world like that, he believed that someone could potentially forcibly change anyone else's mind to hold any belief that they willed, simply by giving them the right "medicine". Ansem hated it when other people seemed to accept it as a given that he could be so blindly controlled as that, weather the strange agent in his blood had been administered, or even generated by his own traitorous body. Sanity is reason, reason is logic, and logic is math, and math was universally constant; Any decisions reached without taking a path of logic were inherently insane, in his own humble opinion. Even if all that it meant was waking up one morning and suddenly finding that overnight you somehow changed your mind about the opposite sex.
The few times that Ansem had tried to explain this stand, in the hope that his parents might begin to spare him the same old lecture year after year, they always just answered, "One day, you might feel differently about that," which of course just made him want to smack his own forehead in utmost hopeless dismay. Reason! His point was derived from reason! How then could it ever change, unless rudely blotted out by something that wasn't?
"Hello? Who's there?" Savannah called, glancing around the room. Good, she hadn't seen or heard them, but then she started checking under the white clothes; The first thing she reached for was the tall rectangular piece, tugging just slightly on the ghostly dust cover when then it fell to the floor with a beautiful rippling shiver. Pillows of dust puffed up from the floor, swirling like smoke, which lit up in multicolor from the rays of light filtered through the stained glass panels. Suddenly, there came a dramatic stillness, onlookers waiting, staring, as the dust settled, and all beheld an extravagant, polished, dark-wooden wardrobe, like a spell had been cast.
Sai reached for the egg-shaped, metal knob, slowly, turned it, and entered.
"Now's our chance!" Noctis hissed, and sprinted out from under the table and out of the room, as silently as he could but still not without a lot of noise.
Ansem sprinted after him, but had only just entered the stairway when he suddenly noticed a bright flash behind him. He spun around for only an instant, and saw Sai laying on her back in front of the wardrobe, with its door suddenly thrown open, as though the object had forcibly ejected her.
"What the...?" he breathed, trying to figure out what had just happened. However, the girl was recovering quickly and Ansem had to flee or risk being caught sight of. He had the rocket, and that's all that was mattered for the moment.
Later that night, however, Ansem crept back to the tower on his own to examine the wardrobe. Sai hadn't looked hurt, otherwise he might have expected it to be full of explosives or something.
Or maybe old photography equipment? he pondered, wondering if perhaps Sai had set off a flashbulb and jumped backwards out of surprise, although he personally could have sworn that the flash he saw was far brighter than that.
He wasn't sure exactly what level up that particular room had been, but it turned out to be easy enough to find by following the cold draft that was drifting down through the closed-in stairway. The candle in his hand flickered dangerously, on the brink of going out at any second. Arriving at the coldest room, a crystal clear, dark blue sky peppered with an almost creamlike consistency of stars could be seen through the gap in the broken window, all now fallen dark and colorless in the absence of day and moonlight, Ansem lingered momentarily in the doorway, taking in the sight of the shadowy wardrobe.
It was truly a piece of art, weather or not one could even fully see it. Somehow, it seemed to have a living presence of its own which filled the whole room and spoke to the soul, tempting one's imagination to fancy of greater things in life. The craftsman of this piece must have truly been a master. But, knowing this castle, how long ago? For all Ansem knew, he or she could have passed on three-hundred years ago!
Artists die, but their art lives on, Ansem thought, in silent amazement.
The breeze suddenly picked up, throwing his unbrushed hair around his face, and toying dangerously with his light source. Deciding that he better take his opportunity before it went out and he wouldn't be able to see the contents of the furniture piece, Ansem alas approached it and grasped the knob. Its cold metal seared his hand instantaneously, before the latch clicked and the panel opened up to him with light ease. The door was balanced perfectly on its hinges, for it gave no sign of its possibly immense weight, and did not creak at all.
Another cold gust immediately rose up just then, and snuffed his candle.
Dangit, Ansem cursed. But now a new mystery began to plague him. That gust had been more icy than merely cold, and had it come...from within the wardrobe?
Is this some weird kind of icebox? Ansem thought to himself, proposing the idea but not really convinced of its likelihood.
He stepped in, for inside it was far deeper than it looked from the outside. Pushing his way though fold after fold after fold of thick fur coats hung on both sides, in fact, no matter how far Ansem made it, he could not actually find a back at all. It was toying with his mind to such degrees that he could hardly stand it! He looked behind him and saw a thin sliver of dark blue through the open door-more than ten feet back!
Perplexed as well as excited, Ansem just kept digging his way through.
There /has/ to be a be a back panel here somewhere. This surely can't go on forever like this. The idea of an infinite space contained in a finite capsule began to appeal to him in a strange way. It was mysterious, it was frightening, and somehow, completely awesome.
Just as he was thinking that, however, suddenly his hand touched something that clearly wasn't fur-cold, and wet, and grainy. Ansem slid apart the last two coats in the wardrobe, and suddenly beheld a miraculous vision of a snow befallen evergreen forest.
"What the...," he said aloud in a soft, hushed breath that crystallized in the air in front of him and blew away like the stuff that dreams are made of. "Where...where am I?"
Ansem gazed around, trying to take everything in at once. He looked behind him as he stepped out of the wardrobe and onto the frozen peat, and made sure to note that he could still see the sliver of blue that lead back to the spare room in the tower. Yep, it was definitely still there; He had not been transported without being left a return rout, thank goodness! But what was truly odd about it was the fact that he could see it was clearly still nighttime in Hollow Bastion, and yet here he was outdoors, undoubtedly beneath a shining sun!
"Woah," was all he voiced as he realized this.
Ansem, quite cold in the changed weather but even more curious, continued to venture out a little ways, where the strangeness of the place increased. Seemingly in the middle of nowheres, he came upon an ornate pewter lamppost, as though hijacked from a city street corner, just standing in the snow amongst the endless trees. The little burner inside it was lit, shining furiously, though it did little good in the middle of the day. He stared up at is as he passed as though having never seen one before, even though the truth was just the inverse and it was lamp's whole surroundings that were what was out of place.
Just passed it, Ansem soon came upon a long, narrow stretch clear of trees and underbrush that appeared to be a snow-buried footpath, and followed it to a much wider one, undoubtedly a road. There were sharp, crested mountain peaks visible in between thick, gnarled wooden trunks, and from atop a hill that Ansem climbed, below he could see a winding, frozen river disappearing into them.
To him, the presence of roads meant that there must be inhabitants. However, so far, and very strangely, he had not yet seen or heard a single living thing, not counting the trees, but not even any birds in their branches, or common critters that would normally inhabit the earth below.
Ansem took to leaning against an exposed slab of raw granite, and spent several minutes observing the expansive view. And then, alas, noticed a rushing, grinding sound that was fast approaching in his direction. He sought the road out again, and arrived at it only just in time to dive out of the way of a swerving sleigh drawn by eight enormous albino reindeer.
He rolled in the snow, unhurt, but the sleigh came to a quick halt none the less just a short ways down from where it had nearly hit him. Ansem stood up and brushed the clinging white powder from himself. He was extremely cold now and starting to get wet from the melt. His hands were going numb, and turning a bright shade of rosy pink; He clenched his fists to keep his fingers warm, and hugged his arms around himself to help it.
Just then, the driver of the sleigh, a very ugly, hairy midget with a pointed beard down his knees, an overgrown bulbous nose, and a knitted dark red hat hopped down out of the sleigh.
"It's alright, I'm fine!" Ansem shouted, but the little man was less than pleased, grabbing a whip even as the prince spoke, and suddenly charged after him with a roar of fury, seriously like he intended to kill the boy.
Although he was little, Ansem was not inclined to struggle with him to the death at the moment, and turned to make a run for it. But the dwarf had already closed half of the distance between them, and lashing his whip, caught Ansem around the ankles and dragged him down. Before he could even get up again, the dwarf pounced on him, drawing a curved knife, and held him down with it to his throat.
"What is it now, Ginarrbrik?" a woman's voice called impatiently from the passengers bench in the sleigh.
"Get off of me!" Ansem yelled furiously at the tiny brute, who smelled strongly of stale barley mead. But, to Ansem's immeasurable horror and shocked disbelief, he just spat in his face instead. Skin crawling like hyper maggots from the spray, he suddenly flew off the handle at the dwarf, and launched him clean over his head, somehow-Ansem didn't know how nor would he have betted that he could do it again if he had to-without getting his throat slashed. The dwarf rolled and charged him again, but Ansem had managed to stand up by then and adopted a loose ready-stance.
"Ginarrbrik! Enough!" the woman's voice barked authoritatively from behind Ansem. He wouldn't turn around to look until the dwarf relaxed and put away its knife.
"Yes, your Majesty," the dwarf, apparently Ginarrbrik, said tamely.
When Ansem did, he backed up to the side of the road where he could watch them both without exposing his back. He found that the voice belonged to a towering, possibly seven foot tall, fairly young woman in a long, sparkling, white gown who wore a tall crown made of upside-down icicles. She also had on a full-length cloak of snowy white, genuine mink fur. Her skin itself, too, was alarmingly white, but her irises were solid back, and she had long, curling hair of ash-blond. In a strange way, Ansem thought that she was actually quite beautiful.
"What is your name, Son of Adam?" the white queen asked.
Ansem eyed her suspiciously, maintaining his ready-stance.
"A-" He thought for a second, briefly considering, with a mental chuckle, telling her "Terrance". "Ansem," he announced truthfully instead, deciding to play the royal-card lest she sick her disgruntled minion on him again, "Prince of Hollow Bastion."
"Prince?" the white lady repeated.
"Yes," Ansem confirmed, not smiling at all. He could still smell that dwarf even from as far away as he now stood.
The woman paced about three full strides, watching the snow at her feet, in thought. "And how is it, then, that you have come to enter my dominion?"
"I... I don't know, ma'am. I don't even know where I am," he said, finally relaxing from his stance now that the conversation had become civilized. "Who are you?" he asked, but immediately wished that he hadn't, because the question seemed to greatly offend the woman. Quite vain, wasn't she? She took a moment to bottle her fury, locking her jaw tight and clenching her fists, but not looking at him, paced a few more steps, and then came to her senses and politely introduced him to her world.
"You have come to Narnia," said she, "And my name is Jadis, Queen of Narnia."
"The pleasure mine, milady," Ansem said, breaking out his best formal etiquette and affording her a slight bow from his waist. But she only stared coolly at him as he did so, and did not move an inch herself to do anything, not even nod, or blink for that matter.
Well, then that's the end of that, he thought privately. Political superiority games, oy what a headache. I'm too young for this, he thought, and rolled his eyes the instant she turned her head.
They talked for a few moments, in which Ansem described his own world, some of its history, and even a few generalities about his family's lineage.
"Ansem," she said, very suddenly after having only been listening for several minutes, "You look so cold. Won't you come and sit by me in my sleigh, and I'll get you something to eat that will warm you up?"
Oh, what the heck, Ansem said to himself. "Cold" was an understatement by this point. His feet were numb, his clothes were soaked, and already his lips were even starting to chap from all this talking. "I'd be delighted," he said, and gratefully followed her onto the carriage.
She slipped one end of her long, long mink stole around his shoulders, and then took from apparently somewhere in its depths a tiny, beautiful metal phial with swirling, decorative designs embossed all over it. Jadis then lightly flipped its green-jeweled cap open on a small hinge with her white thumb, and tapped a single drop of something bright aquamarine colored onto the snow from over her side of the sleigh.
Ansem had looked on with only mild curiosity as she did this, but then suddenly with a great deal of interest when the droplet subsequently conjured the snow itself to rise up and take the form of a beautiful silver dish with a fully diamond encrusted lid covering it. The queen apparently noticed that he was impressed, and smiled kindly.
What? /Another/ sorceress? he thought, with his jaw falling slightly open. Ansem had met so many wielders of magic over the past several days that he was starting to not be able to help feeling a little jealous anymore. Let alone, knowing that he was only human, every time that he witnessed one of these woman perform something, and ten times worse if the spell was cast on him, he felt unforgivably weak in comparison for simply having to obey the laws of physics. It wasn't fair.
"How did you do that?" he asked the queen, accepting the dish when she handed it to him.
"I can make anything you like," she offered.
"No, I mean... Can you teach me?" Ansem clarified.
But in response, the queen just smiled girlishly. "You're so silly," she giggled, nudging his cheek with the knuckle of her index finger, "Anyone can cook. My my, hasn't royal life spoiled you!"
"No, I mean," he tried again, speaking slowly and carefully, "Can you teach me how to do magic?"
The playful smile died from her features, and she did not answer for a moment. Though, Jadis did not appear angry, only thoughtful. Snapping out of it, she flung herself back in her seat comfortably, and spoke very straightly from then on, like an old business partner sharing a new proposition with her esteemed colleague.
"Of course I can," she began with, giving Ansem's shoulders a squeeze with her hands just as he took a bite out of a hot strawberry éclair from the silver dish, causing him to inhale some powdered sugar by accident and cough. "As a matter of fact, you might be just the sort of person I've been looking for-someone to take as an apprentice."
"Really?" Ansem asked, almost inhaling even more sugar in shock at the word, not to mention still trying to clear his lungs from the first time. Was this to be believed, or was she kidding? He daren't allow his hopes to soar just yet, but fighting them was becoming increasingly difficult, to say the least!
"Why yes. You see, I have no children of my own, and when I die, all my years of knowledge and experience will die with me. It would be a tragedy if I could not find someone to pass it all on to."
But, at this, Ansem became a little confused.
"No children of your own? But then, who will succeed you in Narnia?" he asked, picking up a second sugared confection.
"That's why you're perfect!" she chirped, grinning excitedly. "Your brother will reign in your world, and you can reign here, uniting our two great lands."
"Hay, you know, that's pretty brilliant," Ansem admitted, thinking over a mouthful of tart jam. He found himself to be warming up astonishingly quickly, and also quit a bit hungrier than he had realized until now.
"Thank you, Ansem," she said, smiling and absently smoothing the front of her glittering dress in her lap. "In fact, I would very much like to meet your brother, if you could bring him here for me. What did you say his name was?"
"Hans."
"Of course. Silly me. What do you say, can we arrange that?"
"I would love to," Ansem said.
"Wonderful," said Jadis. Then, taking the empty plate out of Ansem's lap and handing it to the dwarf, who had been standing silently beside her side of the sleigh this whole time, appearing to grow sourer by the minute, Jadis told him, pointing, "Do you see those two hills ahead, beyond these woods? My house is right there in between them. Alright?"
"Got it," Ansem nodded.
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way," she said, and removed the fur mantle from his back so that he could get out. Ginarrbrik retrieved his whip from its repose in the snow, and then hopped back into the driver's seat with it. Jadis winked once and then blew a quick kiss, saying, "Don't forget," just before the reindeer bolted, and pulled away with remarkably instant speed.
Ansem shivered, watching her go. He was already cold again, if not colder than before. But he told himself that it only felt that way in contrast, having just been cocooned in real mink for so long a time, and now the water was evaporating off of his wet clothes. That's what he told himself, but a small part of himself didn't truly believe it. In fact, that part was also telling him that there was something horrendous going on.
Ansem gradually and miserably found his way back to the lamppost, and from there back to the wardrobe and the tower room. He shut the wooden door behind him with a gentile click from the internal latch locking into place, and then sat on the lavender tile floor with his back against it, reviewing a slide-show in his mind's eye, with his eyes closed, of all the wonders he had seen in that weird place. He was so cold that the floor felt warm to his fingertips, in spite of the fact that the window was still broken and the temperature outside was in the 40s. (F)
Since his clothes themselves were the coldest of all, he didn't want to move because then the unwarmed parts would shift and steal his limited bodyheat. None all the less, though he never even remotely considered it, it would be far worse to sit there, immobile, until they had dried; That was crazy, but that's ultimately the alternative that he was faced with. So, standing up and casting his glance one last time around at everything in the strange and solitary setting, Ansem set off at a very quick, almost hobbling walk to return to his bedroom. Along the lines of his thoughts before on the subject, being cold and wet in a warm and dry environment was strangely far worse than being cold and wet in a cold and wet environment, and it was more the transition from one to the other that was the most uncomfortable.
Reaching his chambers, he looked at the new clock he had been given to replace the one he'd smashed his mirror with, and found that the hour had barely progressed at all in his absence. In fact the difference was probably only made up by the time he spent in transit between here and the tower, and the short time he'd spent just hanging out in there.
That rocket smashing into that particular window has got to be /the/ luckiest thing that has ever happened to me, at least if Jadis is serious about taking me as an apprentice, Ansem thought with a silent smile as he tried to warm himself over his fireplace, now enjoying his thicker-woven pajamas.
That night, he had an highly enjoyable dream about himself graduating his years-long apprenticeship, at alst! in which Jadis suddenly revealed that she was immortal, and had actually always intended for him to join her by her side when he was old enough, becoming immortal himself as the final test of his mastery of magic, instead of merely succeeding her upon her death.
It was not until the fourteen-year-old awoke the next day that he realized in horror how romantic that dream was. He tried not to think about it, because the more he did, the less he could argue otherwise.
Today is Noctis' last day. We need to make the most of it, Ansem reminded himself. He checked his clock, threw on his day clothes, and raced down to the dining hall to grab a hot breakfast before they closed. He found that, deep down, somewhere in the pit of his stomach, he was ready to swear off the eating of pastries for the rest of his life. Surprisingly, he bumped into Hans there, who was running late this morning as well.
"Oh, hay, I've been meaning to talk to you," Ansem began, piling on the toast and eggs in front of himself.
"What's up, Ansem?" Hans asked, casually.
"I...I found something yesterday. Something really, really awesome, and I want to take you there later and show you."
"Sure beans," Hans nodded.
"And, uh, you're going to have to dress warm."
"Oh really? Why? It's supposed to be in the 70s (F) today," Hans asked, accepting a tall glass of orange juice from the server.
"You'll see. Just trust me. You are not gonna believe this," Ansem told him, grinning widely in spite of himself.
"Try me," his brother said slyly, and sipped the juice to prevent it from spilling over.
They finished their breakfasts respectively, neither of them spotting Noctis, who normally arrived early and took his time so that he could fit more food in.
"Meet me at the top of the main staircase on the fifth floor as soon as you're ready," Ansem had said to Hans before they parted.
Briefly, he then went to the Caelum's suit to try and find Noctis, but no one was in there "Dangit," he muttered. He had hoped to invite his friend to Narnia with him, but in the end could not find the boy anywhere.
Finally, not wanting to keep Hans waiting for hours, Ansem gave up on Noctis and ran to his room to grab his long winter coat and some waterproof boots, still grinning at the prospect that maybe, just maybe, he might finally learn some magic of his own. As he wound his way through the castle's hallways, though, he had to dodge people's looks of curiosity, and once in a while the question, about the unseemly heavy gear that he carried over his arm.
"What's the coat for? Winter is months away!"
"Umm... Well... 'You never know when you'll need what,'" he found himself quoting, as he slipped passed the person, awkwardly.
"What are you up to?" someone else asked, eventually.
"Oh, you know. Trouble. What else did you expect from the likes o' me?" he airily told them, as if it were nothing.
But as the crowd thinned even more than it already started as, upon Ansem reaching the fourth floor, he happened to run into only one more person, Sai, who was sporting a long coat as well. Today, she had her hair done up in a French bun with her bangs left out to fall diagonally across her eyes.
"So, you got in too, huh?" she asked, grinning. "Narnia, I mean."
"Yeah. I take it you coming back with us," Ansem said, nodding to her attire.
"'Us'?" she asked.
"Hans and I," Ansem said.
"Hans?"
"My brother."
"Prince Hans?"
"Ummm," Ansem said, realizing that he'd been caught. "Yeeeaaah. About that."
"Get out of here," Savannah said, as though not believing him.
"Well, you know, I would if I could, but this is kind of my house," Ansem joked.
Savannah punched him in the side of the arm.
"Hay!" Ansem said.
"Shame on you."
"That's what your dad told me."
"He knew?"
"Of course. My dad his his boss."
"Then...shame on him too."
"No, no. It's all my fault...I told him I'd sick my minions on him if he told you," Ansem laughed.
But Savannah just raised her fist again.
"Ok, ok, alright. Yeesh, violent much?" he said, moving to cover the sore spot on his arm with his other hand. "I could have you arrested for that," he then added, rubbing it, not that the first blow had really been that hard.
"Bring it, your Highness," Savannah said, glaring at him.
"I see what they mean about the wrath of a woman scorned," Ansem muttered, very quietly.
"What's that?" Sai asked.
"Nothing! Nothing," Ansem said, louder, and with a fake smile.
They reached the foot of the stairway on the fourth floor, and caught sight of Hans waiting patiently at the top. The brothers waived, and then the two arrivals hurried up the stairs.
"This is Savannah," Ansem said, introducing the two. "Preferred alias: Sai."
"It is a pleasure, mademoiselle," said Hans, pecking the top of her wrist in mock formality.
The girl giggled slightly, and Ansem rolled his eyes.
He noticed that Hans was wearing no more than a light jacket, and indicating it with a nod, stated, "You're going to need more than that where we're going."
Hans compared his modest protection with the heavy coats that the two younger ones were each carrying. "Hm, I can see that."
"Do you want us to wait while you get a different one?" Ansem asked.
"No, I'd rather not. This'll be fine, or I'll just deal with it," Hans insisted.
"Okay then. But don't say we didn't warn you."
"I won't," Hans promised.
And they set off, both Ansem and Savannah not telling Hans where they were going, until they reached the tower room with the wardrobe in it.
"You're both not making any sense," he kept telling them, getting frustrated because Ansem and Sai were talking with each other as if they had they own unintelligible language, and only once in a rare while would drop insufficient hints of explanation for Hans to pick up on.
"You'll see, you'll see," they both kept telling him, mysteriously.
As they were climbing the stairwell, he mentioned, "I don't see how it would be any colder up here than down there."
"I don't see how, either, but it is," Ansem had said.
At last, they reached the correct landing.
"Awe man," Hans said, spotting the window and the colorful broken glass scattered all over the floor. He waked over to examine it, and concluded that, "This must have happened recently. At least in between now and when it rained a few days ago. Look at the dust, here."
"Don't look at me," Ansem said, biting his tongue, and shrugged as if he didn't know what happened.
"No. The glass is all on the inside of the window. Something that came from outside did this. Probably a large bird," Hans reassured him, which only had the effect of making Ansem's gut squirm as he recalled Noctis' prediction. "So, what, and where, is this great all mysterious awesome thing that you wanted to show me?" Hans asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Right here," Sai answered, indicating the tall wardrobe and imitating a game-show-girl showing off what the game's participants had a chance to win. She paused a moment for the effect to sink in.
Hans slouched, glancing at the wardrobe, then at Ansem, and then staring at her. "You're joking, right?" he asked.
"Nope," Ansem said as he pulled on his coat and buttoned it hastily, then seized the metal knob and threw the wardrobe door wide open for the others to follow through. "I almost wish I was...almost."
Savannah marched through after him, leaving Hans to decide for himself if he could do worse.
"Fine. Guess I shouldn't leave you two in there by yourselves," he said, not really to anyone in particular, but Savannah had heard, and stuck her head back out.
"Uh, ew," she scolded him, with a disgusted look on her face.
"Sorry," he said, slightly abashed.
She disappeared again, and Hans followed.
Just as before, Ansem pushed though the endless hanging furs, and at long last stumbled out once more into the blanketed white, brightly shining landscape. He had to wait a moment for his eyes to adjust, then pushed himself back up from the ground. Savannah and then Hans both stumbled likewise, respectively, soon afterward.
Savannah behaved right at home already, and the two watched as Hans, disoriented, got up and wandered around, touching the trees to see if they were real.
"This is incredible," he said.
"You're telling me," Ansem commented, surveying the area. He inhaled a deep, deep breath, and then watched it fly away.
"I promised I wouldn't complain, didn't I," Hans said, sheepishly. He rubbed his bare hands together and blew into them a couple of times, then stuck his head back inside of the wardrobe-porthole, and came out with one of the long, fur coats for himself to wear.
"Now why didn't we think of that?" Savannah asked, looking at Ansem, and laughing.
"I trust that the two of you know where you're going," Hans said.
"Somewhat," said Ansem, walking off in the direction of the wider road. Hans and Sai caught up with him, and they strolled casually about a quarter of a mile down, discussing the unusual presence of the lamppost, still lighted and burning furiously, as they passed it.
Maybe it was just the cold air not agreeing with him, but after a short time, Ansem started feeling a little nauseous; Maybe he was finally coming down with something, himself, since he had been frequently finding himself getting caught in the elements lately, and miraculously had always escaped the potential consequences, until now. That didn't help the unpleasant feeling that was starting to nag at him, though.
Eventually, the road lead through an area at the bottom of several small granite cliffs. The speckled black and gray surfaces of their exposed faces complimented the snow surrounding them and that sat in their crevices perfectly. Even the clear sky above, at times, appeared so thin a shade of blue that it too almost seemed monochrome. The trees beyond the pine forest were bare of leaves and crusted with ice, dangling icicles from their narrow and sagging branches, giving the rocks and even harsher over all impression. True to the nature of winter, the sight was melancholy and dead, but still breathtakingly beautiful.
As the three passed by, Sai spied a cutout amongst one pile of rocks at the base of one of the cliffs. It had a rustic wooden frame built in it, and a door hanging askew from its hinges, wide open to the weather. The damage looked fresh, but despite alarms of warning going off in each of their heads, the adventurers decided to investigate, and approached cautiously.
It proved to be a residence, or had once been a residence until recently. The place was a disaster inside, with glass broken, books, papers, picture frames, and furniture all thrown around and destroyed. Yet more disturbing than any of these signs of violence, were amongst them the presence of large, monstrous claw marks, absolutely everywhere, as though an evil bear had done this.
Hans found a large, official-looking notice nailed to a rustic support post, and plucked it down to read it. It was stamped at the bottom with some kind of seal that resembled an over sized paw print, and signed elegantly in a scowling, calligraphic hand. Ansem wrinkled his nose at it, as he tried to understand how such a heavy-handed barbarian could also be capable of the exact opposite of the spectrum, and draw up letters with all the refined sophistication of a high scholar. ...Maybe it was dictated? No, the phraseology proved just as elegantly put, and pretentiously long-winded to boot.
Ultimately, it summed up to be the arrest warrant for a faun by the given name of Tulmnus-no family name given-for having associated himself with humans, and in doing so committed high treason against the queen, Jadis. The signature given at the bottom identified the ransacker as one named Maugrim, captain of the queen's secret police.
Ansem could not believe his ears. The woman he'd met yesterday ordered this? And for what crime! No, he couldn't believe it. This note had to be forged by miscreants who just wanted to start a rebellion. He couldn't believe that Jadis would do this. He wouldn't accept it.
But, what if she had, and he was just being played? Ansem wondered, that tiny part of himself from before growing stronger. He really felt ill now, physically so, and had to lean against the post to keep himself standing.
Hans and Sai were devastated by what they saw, and voiced a strong and immediate hatred for this "Jadis", and were about to conclude between themselves that the best course of action was to return to the wardrobe and never come back, when Sai noticed the pale green color of Ansem's complexion.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her own face, even her eyes, filled with great concern.
"Yeah," Ansem moaned, quietly. "I think I'm just coming down with whatever you had two days ago." He leaned the side of his head against the pole and closed his eyes.
"Maybe...we better sit down," Hans suggested, giving Ansem a strange look, and righted three of the overturned chairs, giving the first to Ansem, and then pulling one up for Savannah like a real gentleman, then finally taking the last for himself.
Ansem leaned over and buried his head in his hands, taking two fistfuls of his hair.
"Just give me a minute," he said. The discomfort was extremely distracting, upstaging even the fact that his trust might have been misplaced in Jadis. Or, maybe that was part of it? His hopes had soared in spite of himself, and now here they were coming crashing down on him in flames. He winced once, with his face hidden, and then summoned his strength to pull himself upright again. "Okay, let's go. I'll be fine."
His two companions each gave him their own versions of a look of much reproach, but got up from their seats and followed him out.
They had only taken a few steps back down the road, when a cardinal flew by and landed on a tree branch in front of them, above some tall bushes.
"Psst!" the creature said.
Savannah looked up at Hans, who was much taller than her, perplexed.
"Did that bird just 'psst' us?"
Hans just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.
"Psst!" the cardinal said again, "Come quickly! And don't be seen!"
"Huh?" the three each said. They exchanged quick glances with each other, and then ran off after the red bird, which wove between the trunks of trees with ease, and had to perch frequently to wait for them to catch up, though it only lead them no more than fifty paces away from the path.
"I should like to know what you three think you're doing, hanging out in the open like that," it scolded them, with a deep, remarkably human-sounding voice.
"Uhh, hello?" Hans said.
"Yes, 'hello' to you too. Now be more careful!" the bird answered.
Sai laughed.
Just then, another creature, a portly beaver, ambled out of a nearby bush and introduced himself, very pleasantly, and welcomed the three to the land of Narnia.
"Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Savannah said, reaching down to shake the beaver's paw.
"The pleasure is mine, Miss," the beaver said, also with a voice like a human's.
She was taking to this land far more naturally than either of the princes, who more or less stood there gaping at the talking animals. True, Ansem had seen talking animals like the little fox in Bert and Marry Poppin's chalk picture fantasy world, but they weren't remotely realistic looking. At first inspection, however, the beasts of Narnia could not be told apart at all from the animals back in the wilds of Hollow Bastion.
Still in physical distress, Ansem remained more or less distracted as the beaver talked, so that the next thing he really knew for sure was that it was leading Hans and Savannah away, and they were quite happy to follow. What else could Ansem do but follow them?
The beaver had them walking quickly, crouching low, and ducking and darting all over the place, and insisted that their stealth was of the utmost importance if they valued their lives. This made Ansem grow all the more suspicious of the furry creature, because it had not yet explained what the danger that it thought existed was. You'd think there were, like, sniper assassins hidden in the rocks, or something, from listening to how the beaver urged them along.
Where it was taking them turned out to be its own home, a log dam seated upon a wide frozen river. Unlike any beavers dam that Ansem had ever seen before that day, however, this one had paned windows, a smoking chimney, a front door complete with welcome mat, and even lights on inside glowing warmly through the window's curtains.
"It isn't much," the beaver told them, "But it's home."
"I kind of like it," Ansem told him, bobbing his head as though something like this was perfectly normal back where he came from, and he personally was an expert on the critique of their design appeal.
"Well thank you young sir," the beaver said, smiling proudly. "Chewed every single one of them trees meself. I was younger then, of course."
"Impressive. I couldn't have done that," Ansem said, causing the beaver to chuckle heartily.
It warned them to be careful not to slip on the ice as they stepped onto the river, which looked as though it had been frozen solid for quite some time, as they all made their way down to the wooden construct. Hauntingly, Ansem noticed as they crossed, there were large fish frozen lifelike in it, close to the surface where one could still see, as though the solidification of the rushing waters had happened instantly. He even knelt down and wiped the snow off of one to get a better look; The thing appeared to be looking right at him, and though he wasn't exactly versed in the reading of fish facial expressions, Ansem thought he could recognize terror in its bulging round eyes.
"Beaver, is that you?" he heard a woman's voice call aloud. But, turning his head, Ansem saw only a second small brown animal come walking-yes, walking-out from around the other side of the dam, apparently where a tiny storage room was located. "I've been worried sick!" she hollered, launching into an anxious rant. "If I find you've been out with Badger again, I..." Her last words caught in her throat the instant she noticed the three stragglers.
Ansem stood up, everyones' eyes on everyone else, in mutual surprise.
"Oohh. Those aren't badgers," the lady beaver gasped, lifting both of her small black paws to her furry cheeks. "Oooh! I never thought I'd live to see this day," she continued, beaming in joyous awe and walking right up to them to get a closer look and introduce herself, fretting about her fur to her husband and asking couldn't he have given her just ten minutes warning.
"I'd 'ave given you a week if I though' it would 'ave helped," he teased her, and they all laughed.
Inside the dam, Mrs. Beaver prepared a hot dinner for everyone, for by then it was late and the sky had grown dark, and they were all tired from the tedious, irregularly athletic trip. Ansem especially, who even then was still not feeling better. Mrs. Beaver sympathized with him and prepared a place for him to lay on their couch, while everyone else took seats around a small, crowded, circular dining table. Mr. Beaver seated himself in a chair, but Hans and Savannah both had to sit on the floor because of the table's proportionate height.
"Fish and chips?" Mrs. Beaver offered, at length, sliding a steaming plate in front of each individual at the dining table, and finally giving Ansem one on a bed tray. She hadn't been kidding, either; The fish fillets looked fantastic, but the "chips" were real, wooden, chips, unfit for human consumption. Ansem smiled to himself, but didn't say anything to the chef.
"Poor Tulmnus," Mr. Beaver lamented as he took up a knife and fork, skewered a piece of bark from his plate, and began gnawing on it. "I 'ope he can 'old out for a little while, bless 'is soul. If it wasn't for 'im, none of us ever would 'ave known that there were 'umans in Narnia again. The White Witch gave orders, yeh see, that if anyone ever finds one, we're to immediately turn it over to 'er."
"The White Witch?" Ansem butted in, removing the warm damp cloth from his forehead; The couch was only in the next room, and well within earshot of the conversation. That title sounded self-explanatory enough. Could the beaver have meant Jadis?
"Aye. She's the one who makes it always winter, always cold; Always cold, and never Christmas! Narnia 'asn't seen a change of season in more'n a 'undred years."
"You mean you haven't had a Christmas in a hundred years?" Sai gasped; Clearly this was her favorite holiday.
"It's true," Mrs. Beaver answered sadly.
"But Tulmnus, you see, 'e found one 'e did. Another girl a little older than you, but 'e wouldn't turn 'er in! And now Aslan's returned, and he's waitn' for yeh near the Stone Table, trainin' an army!" Mr. Beaver continued to explain, becoming more and more excited and animated with every breath, until he was practically raving in his seat.
As Ansem lay quietly, listening in, he found himself quickly becoming more and more perplexed by what he was learning. First of all, if Jadis didn't want any humans in Narnia, then why would she have let him go free, and even have asked that he return and bring more?
Secondly, a hundred years? How could she have possibly held the land under a spell for that long if she was only mortal? As Ansem personally knew to be the case from his conversation with her. There were too many inconsistencies. The Beavers seemed hospitable enough, but so had Jadis, he thought.
Or had she? Ansem found that many of the details that he used to recall quite clearly were starting to fade rapidly. Strange... It must just be because this cold has got my head all fogged up, he reasoned with himself.
Boy was he getting drowsy, and possibly dosed off for a little while here and there. Each time that he awoke, he always found that the topic of the conversation in the kitchen had shifted, with whole chunks missing from his memory, and in their place were crystal clear visions himself becoming a powerful sorcerer. Ansem began to wonder if maybe he shouldn't have asked to be taught magic, because that carrot was so tantalizing that it now seemed like it was taking over his soul, manifesting in his every dream, and even while awake, refusing to be stuffed away in the back of his mind when he wanted to focus on other things. Although the mere knowledge itself that such a thing was actually possible made him deliriously happy, conversely it was becoming a heavy, heavy burden on him due simply to the notion's irremovable presence, every moment of every second of every minute of the whole gosh darn day so far.
He needed to 'cure' himself, but he could only think of one way to do so. It was far, far too late to take the request back. So, maybe, just maybe, if he carried through with his promise to Jadis, could he at least stop dwelling on the thing he wanted most? Ansem was both ashamed of his lack of mental discipline, for not being able to handle something as simple as thinking abut something too much on his own, and impressed by the power and permanence of the thought which he both cherished and started to hate, to a degree, at the exact same time.
Brooding on this, Ansem was already on his feet before he even fully realized that he'd ever gotten off the couch; In essence, he practically woke up pacing! He stuck his fingers in his hair and tried to think. No way would Hans ever want to meet Jadis after all that he'd seen and heard today, nor, Ansem knew, could his brother be reasoned with. Not that Hans wasn't justified in believing that Jadis must be some kind of wicked witch; He'd never met her for himself. But the Beavers were opinionated commonfolk, who may or may not be correct in everything they thought about their head of state. Rumors spread like wildfire when you're royalty, and Hans of all people should know that better than even he, himself, did.
Ansem's mind was made up. He would pay a visit to the White Witch and arrange for her to meet Hans 'by chance' at a predetermined location. He had gathered from his eavesdropping where the Beavers would be taking Hans and Savannah in the morning, but that didn't leave him much time. He tugged at the peach colored curtain of one of the only two windows, and conveniently found the view outside to contain the two distinctive hills, which Jadis had indicated the day before to denote where her place of residence was. His barrings were set. Now, to get out of here somehow.
Ansem checked on the others in the kitchen, who were still so deep in their conversation that they probably wouldn't have noticed if he'd come galloping through on a horse. Well, ok, maybe not that bad. But Hans and Sai were listening incredibly intently, and yet the Beaver wasn't even making a whole lot of sense. "Sense" as Ansem defined it, anyway.
And so, slipping quietly away, through the front door, and out into the night wind, he suddenly realized that he'd forgotten his coat on a hook just inside
Dangit, he lamented, but dared not go back in for it lest he be noticed. What did it matter, anyway, if he was already sick? he told himself. Over the last half hour, he still hadn't felt 'well', but the battle in his mind had overshadowed his physical condition so completely that he'd actually forgotten about it. His obsession actually gave him strength.
He spotted the hills again, and then set out across the ice, following the river for it lead, presumably, right into that very valley. It was an eerie walk, however, because of the silver fish shining frozen below his feet in the moonlight; Though they were long dead, he could almost feel their eyes turning to follow him, as though he was doing something morally wrong. There were dark woods on either side of the river, as well, from which Ansem could hear all manner of creepy night sounds being released: hoots, howls, twigs breaking, and deep, rumbling growls both near and far. Had he not been worked up into such a mental state, Ansem was sure that he might not have been able to walk as calmly as he did. He started, and stopped, and jumped, and sprinted, and above all froze in his tracks to listen, as well as froze literally right through to his bones. He kept his hands clenched up in fists deep inside of his pants pockets, and tried to achieve something similar with his toes being deep inside his long, black boots, which weren't very warm at all, but still kept his socks perfectly dry.
At last, ascending the foothills below the twin peaks, Ansem beheld the ice queen's castle, a tall, blue glittering temple, with deep set windows that glowed icy green like blazing, peppermint stars encrusting its entire surface. Arriving at a dumbstruck standstill, Ansem couldn't help but feel reverberating throughout every fiber of his being a deep, ringing, ominous awe. He wanted to run from the place, but he didn't know why; He desperately wanted to stay, maybe forever, but couldn't for the life of him figure out why, either. Two titans of confusion were dueling inside him, such that Ansem could no longer discern what the right course of action to take was anymore.
Which was why Ansem was was so glad that at least he had his memory, and a firm grip on reaason. All he had to do at this point was stick to his guns.
"It's too late; I've come too far to go back," he told himself, as if that took the edge off any blame he might incur. And then he also thought of living with having not gone in, and potentially being plagued with "What if I had?" fantasies until the end of his days; And frankly, the thought made his blood run cold as the very river itself.
The narrow, five-story-tall double front gate opened autonomously as Ansem approached, as if guided by ghosts, and likewise shut themselves in his wake.
He had a bitter taste in his mouth as though he'd eaten something rotten, but the fact was that he hadn't even been able to quiet his churning stomach enough to even sample the dinner, if but only the fillets, that Mrs. Beaver had given him. He was so hungry he was almost dizzy, but his walk through the elements just now seemed to have helped his stomach; Perhaps the queen wouldn't mind if he imposed on her for a meal? Not like it was hard for her to simply waive a magic wand and poof! there it is; Ansem thought, almost with glee, that he'd even gladly do it himself if she would only show him how, tonight.
The first thing he came to was an expansive courtyard, or garden, just inside the gate. It was in the dead of night, so he couldn't see too well, but still at least well enough to tell that there were great fountains pouring silent streams of ice from their spigots, out into broad, low basins of gray, plain stone, with snow piled thickly upon its low rim, and even atop the solidified flows themselves. The ground was paved, obviously, but buried six inches deep in dry, powdery white; Looking around more carefully, only then did Ansem realize that the yard was actually indoors, and though it had a roof overhead, fresh snow still continued to fall from above, although he couldn't visually or physically see how.
There were no trees or even flower troughs, and worse yet, there were, however, towering, life-sized and lifelike, stone sculptures by the hundreds, dominating the space, like headstones in a cemetery. They were impressive, but not beautiful, depicting, presumably, every race of being, animal or humanlike, found throughout Narnia; Not one amongst them had on its face, or in its distinctive pose, a pleasant story to tell. Namely, all were in anguish; Giants and centaurs, minotaurs, goblins, griffins, rearing horses, roaring lions, elven knights, and even small rodents wearing helmets and brandishing tiny rapiers.
How strange, Ansem thought, creeping slowly in between them to try and find his way. They were kind of, no, not kind of, they were extremely creepy. True they were covered in snow like the fountains, but he still had to reach out and touch them sometimes to make sure that they weren't real; Many, actually, he saw to be wearing armor and carrying weapons, and some of these even had their weapons raised with bloodthirsty fury carved into their dead eyes, making Ansem startle as he passed under them, reflexively thinking that they were attacking him.
A sculpture garden of a battle? ...maybe a famous historical one? Ansem reasoned.
There was a second, inner entranceway just up ahead. It had taken Ansem several long minutes to become accustomed to the strange garden and not be so spooked by it in the dark, but no sooner had he managed it then he stepped over a figure of a sleeping wolf and it sprang to frightful life. The creature pounced him agilely, with a sudden and savage snarl that terrified Ansem, and proclaimed,
"Be still stranger, or you'll never move again!" with one of its large, grizzly paws pressing him down into the ground just under his throat. He spoke with a deep, cool, hoarse male voice, precisely characteristic of a gnarled old rogue who has lived a life of nothing but fighting endless wars. The creature was enormous, far larger than a regular wolf, with jaws undoubtedly capable of taking off his whole head all in one, fell chomp if it so chose to. And its thick, dense, ashen-gray fur only made it look bigger. "Who are you?" it growled, through raised lips that exposed its yellowish, virtually saber-like teeth; It said this so close to Ansem face that the prince was even able to smell the blood on its breath from whenever the last time that it ate.
Ansem almost didn't keep his cool, and the truth was that he only did because he'd had the wind completely knocked out of him and couldn't breathe to scream until the creature had finished and he could see that it was waiting for him to answer.
"I'm Ansem, Prince of Hollow Bastion. I've come to see the Queen of Narnia," he answered, brokenly, as he regained his breath, his voice coming out much too high for his own liking. Since the Beavers had been referring to human beings as "Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve," next he threw in that respective title as well, which finally won for him the wolf's favor.
"Hm. My apologies, fortunate favorite of the Queen," he said, letting him up and backing off respectfully, but Ansem heard him hiss something else under his breath that he couldn't understand. "Right this way," the wolf said, walking away with its head held low.
They ascended a wide flight of blue-greenish colored stairs with crystalline banisters, and then turned right into her throne room. At the top of the stairs they came into a sunken area in the floor surrounded by six broad support pillars, three on each side, that at their bases melded into the four or fives steps that created the upper half-level. Directly in front of them as they entered was a kind of bottleneck portion of the room, at the back end of which was seated the throne itself, empty of the queen, but sprawled over with the mink coat that Ansem recognized from their meeting in the sleigh. The wolf led him right up to it, and bid, simply,
"Wait here," and walked off.
Ansem leant against one of the pillars that was in front of it on the right, and folded his arms in quiet thought while he casually studied it. It had a simple shape that was very boxlike and typical of theatrical thrones in, all be them the more elaborate productions, stage plays; The one truly distinctive feature of it was that it was made of solid, blueish ice.
If her throne is made of ice, then maybe this land /does/ never melt year round, Ansem thought, his face souring, of course assuming that it wasn't just a festive seasonal item which would be replaced with something else come Spring, like maybe one made of green jade. On the other hand, it is possible that Narnia has entered a natural ice age, and since Jadis can do magic people who are unhappy with her decisions just blame her...
He was starting to feel ill again now that the great physical effort of hiking here in the snow was done with, and now that he was mentally calming down since all that he had left to do was wait patiently, which returned his focus unto petty discomforts. Or so was his belief.
Ansem closed his eyes peacefully to rest them. The whole interior of the castle was quite dark, with only swarms of tiny, softly glowing spheres floating like aquamarine Christmas lights along the highest parts of the ceilings. It was cold, but by this point he had already been too cold for too long to mind.
A few minutes later, Jadis entered carrying a long, elegant silver rod with a large pointed crystal at one end, and still wearing the same sparkling white dress.
Ansem opened his eyes again as he heard her approach, just as she seated herself regally upon her throne. If she had any, her emotion was veiled to him completely; He knew his feelings shouldn't be hurt if she didn't suddenly run up and hug him, but at least, he thought, it wouldn't have hurt to smile and greet him.
She's not human, he reminded himself, deciding not to hold her to the same standards of empathy that he would have otherwise expected.
"Tell me, Ansem," she began, her voice as cool as fresh spring water, "is your brother deaf?"
Huh? thought Ansem, lost on the purpose of the question. "No."
"Is he...unintelligent?" Jadis asked.
"No," Ansem told her, furrowing his eyebrows. But then came the blow.
"Then HOW DARE you come ALONE!" Jadis suddenly shrieked, leaping to her feet and approaching Ansem, menacingly. Her height alone was imposing, but more than anything, even the fear of her maybe casting some kind of spell on him, Ansem was just shocked speechless by this amazing reversal in her character, which he had tried so hard to believe in in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. But even if he had believed her to be a total monster, Ansem thought, he would have still been wrong-she was worse.
The witch kept screaming at him, her voice as terrible as high thunder filling the throne room, and likely the whole castle and its surrounding valley besides, Ansem thought. He slid past the pillar and backed away, his eyes wide and dilating as he realized his mistake, and now in terror for his life.
"Do you realize what you've done? You ruined everything! My life, my entire kingdom is at stake, and what do you do? You're USELESS! USELESS!" She raised her silver wand above her head as if to strike him, but Ansem could recognize a spell coming when he saw one, and he freaked. Foreseeing that the only way to get out of this alive was to win back the witch's favor, he stammered,
"But...but I did bring them halfway. They're at the little house on the dam, where the Beavers are."
Jadis' strong, white hand halted in the air, and her raging, contorted facial expression instantly changed into a tame one of showing no more than mild interest, as if the two had just been discussing the unchanging weather up until then. It was only ironic that the weather just so happened to be unchanging.
"'They'?" she repeated.
Oh...snap, Ansem suddenly realized, too late. Unfortunately, the look on his face must have given him away.
"There is...someone else?" Jadis asked, sounding like her old, sweet self again, except for still holding the wand up, which actually made quite a big difference.
"Nn...no. Hans was just talking with the Beavers when I snuck away, that's all." Ansem was flying in survival mode, now.
But Jadis' lip curled into cruel, chilling smile.
"You're a liar," she said, slowly lowering her wand. "But I can use that...because you're bad at it. Take him away!" she said, suddenly bellowing her command into the seemingly empty depths of the castle.
Yeah, she would know, wouldn't she, Ansem hatefully thought, guessing that she had never meant to teach him any magic, after all.
The little man that Ansem recognized as Ginarrbrik emerged from one of the shadowy hallways, immediately followed by three other ugly, gnomish creatures. They bound his hands behind his back with twine rope, but he remained relaxed and stoic with nothing but a bitter shadow over his eyes while he stared at the Narnian queen. Jadis smirked at him as they finished, and then barked another undirected command into the deceptive emptiness.
"Maugrim!"
And from up above, another gigantic timber wolf came bounding to her side, sleek of fur, and with dangerous yellow eyes.
"Yes my queen," it wheezed in a deep, booming, male voice as it bowed its head nearly to the floor.
That name...was on the warrant we found in the cave, Ansem thought, finally coming to see that everything was as it seemed to be, and feeling all the more repulsed by his own actions.
Jadis only said to the wolf, quite sweetly, "You know what to do," and as Ansem was lead away by the four dwarfs, he could hear the beast's song ringing through the night, a bloodcurdling, mournful cry to summon its kin that they go forth and do the witch's bidding. He heard many, many other howls resound in a collaborative, harmonious response, and realized, feeling like an invisible knife had just been plunged into his heart, that they were off to an attack; All along, he had brought his older brother to this world to die.