Chapter Seven

Golden Hart, White Hound

In the end, the East Wind was glad to help. He agreed with almost childish anticipation, though I don't know why I was surprised. He was, of course, a child, in form if not in truth. Often had I noticed that the winds from the east seemed to prance around me and tug at my sleeves and skirts, as if asking me to play with it. It was a warm wind that came from the coast - which I had never seen - softened by its journey through the Mandias Forest, where my family and Hans' grandmother lived. And now I knew that the form it took was that of an impish little boy. How appropriate.

We were ready to go, or so I thought, by the time dawn was well and truly over and the tardy sun had finally made his entrance. The wind whispered through the branches of the evergreens. The tall meadow grass and bright red and white and yellow wild roses danced on the breeze. I sat on Hans' back, and Wulf stood beside me, with the East Wind on his other side.

"Don't go just yet, children," Scarlet called as she bustled out the door. In her arms were... a great many things. I didn't recognize all of them. "Have you forgotten? I promised you help with the curses on the lads."

"Oh, yes, that's right."

In fact, I had forgotten.

With an indulgent smile, Scarlet handed off the pack in her arms, embroidered with golden swirls and beaming suns, to the East Wind. He brought it to his nose and inhaled, grinning and showing off his gap.

"Tea and sticky buns!"

"Yes, East," Scarlet replied, and then handed something to me.

I held it up and examined it, surprised. In my hands I held a red wool cloak lined with russet fur, with a fur lined hood. Surprisingly, there was embroidery on the panels, in shimmering gold thread, of all kinds of things. Deer leaping over lilies, swans flapping their great, golden wings; looming towers, like the kind in chess sets; golden snowflakes and roses.

My shock must have shown on my face, for Hans' grandmother laughed and said, "Put it on, dear."

So I did.

The minute it enfolded me, warmth and peace seemed to seep through my chilled skin and deep into my bones. I sighed and tied the strings at the neck of the cloak. The fur was soft and made the garment warm against the cool spring air. It also matched my brown vest with its pattern of embroidered red roses and my brown skirt. Confused by the warmth spreading through my chest that had nothing to do with the cloak, I turned to Scarlet and murmured, "Thank you."

"Not at all. And here," at this, she turned to Wulf. "For you, Master Wulf, and for my grandson. These amulets will keep off Lily's dark influence. I can't prevent her from scrying you if she has the knack, for I'm too old and much of my magic is spent against the witch in the wooden house. But these will keep you from sickening any further. And if you eat the food I've prepared for you, you'll soon be near enough to your old selves. Understand?"

Wulf nodded and slipped a small, green stone on a leather cord over his neck. He placed the other around Hans' neck. The russet wolf licked the youth's arm.

"I've made both of you new clothes," the older woman added, "to replace the ones torn during your transformation. I hope you like blue, yellow, and purple. Here's a pack with journey bread and some apples," holding out another bag, this one of indigo cloth embroidered with bright yellow sunflowers, and a rucksack which probably held the clothes. Then, she handed me something hard with a pleasant, rich but very sweet smell, wrapped in a black cloth. I peeled back a corner of the cloth and saw that it was dark brown.

"What is-" I began, but Wulf interrupted.

"Chocolate!"

My eyes started out of my head. Chocolate was the one bribery sweet I hadn't had the foggiest notion of how to procure. Incredibly expensive - a pound cost more than a healthy, adult sheep at the market over in Greentree - there had been no chance that I could buy some, since I had no coin. Scarlet was giving me almost five pounds of the delicacy, almost a fortune.

"Thank you," I whispered, shocked.

"East here will take you to the Lady West, who loves coffee. I'm sure you have some?"

I nodded.

"She, in turn, will take you to the Lady Southerly, who adores chocolate. The South Wind will take you to the edge of the Vryst Mountain Range, as they begin in the heart of her territory. Her brother, North, will thank you for the peppermint candy and take you to the top of Mount Scaelos. Remember, be polite. You are dealing with denizens of the Faery Realm, and courtesy is important to them."

"Yes," Wulf replied.

"We will," I promised.

And suddenly, the East Wind had a hold of Hans' back and Wulf's hand, and the winds whipped around us, almost blinding. The roar in my ears nearly deafened me. Over the tumult I heard Hans' grandmother say something, but I couldn't make it out.

"What?" I called.

"Beware the blue and red doors!"

And then we were gone.

* * *

If you've ever traveled on the back of the wind, you'll know exactly what it's like, and if you haven't, nothing I say will make you understand. The only things that I can tell you are these: that the East Wind is wild and playful, cool as a spring morning with the dew still on the grass, and I was in danger of losing my breakfast more than once. But he was also swift, and he brought us to the gate into the Garden of the Golden Lilies well before dusk.

"Okay," he said, munching on another of the sticky buns Hans' grandmother had packed for us. "Now, don't dillydally. It's not safe to be outside the garden walls when night comes. I'd take you over the walls, but I can't. They mark the boundary between West's territory and mine. I can blow where I will, but I can't set foot anywhere but in the eastern places of Kuetas. But remember: be inside these walls before the sun touches the tops of the trees. Otherwise, you'll be in for it."

"Thanks, my lord-" I began, because surely something as powerful as the avatar of the East Wind deserved that title, but he jumped as if I'd jabbed him with a sewing needle.

"Yech! Don't call me that! East will do fine. Don't forget to tell West you've got coffee, or she'll ignore you. And don't forget to be nice to her."

Wulf and I nodded, and with another happy giggle, East disappeared in a gust of wind.

"You do well with children," my companion said suddenly.

I stared at him.

"Well, you do. At least, he seemed to like you."

"You sure do talk a lot since we left home," I said, unable to think of anything else to say. He simply shrugged. Sighing, I looked around for the walls, but saw nothing. "I thought he said we were at the walls," I said.

"Hmph," Wulf replied, and started walking. Hans carried me after him. We'd only gone about ten paces when Wulf smacked into something and fell on his back hard enough to knock the breath out of him.

"What happened!?"

"I don't know...."

We both looked at where he'd come to a halt, but there was nothing he could have run into. Hans brought me forward until I was level with the other boy. Hesitantly, I reached out and my fingers touched something as cold as ice. But there was nothing! Unless the walls were invisible....

"Wait," Wulf said suddenly, and making a disgusting gurgling sound, hawked a gargantuan glob of yellow slime into the air. It hit the invisible barrier with a splatting noise and slid down to the grass.

"Oh, yech! That's revolting."

"It worked," he replied, unruffled. "They're glass."

"What?"

"The walls are made out of glass."

"That's ridiculous," I replied, still disgusted by the sight of a slime trail hanging in empty space. "If they were glass, we could see through them to the gardens, and I only see grass."

"That's the way the gardens work," said a voice behind us, rich and rolling like a bronze bell. Hans whipped around, snarling, so fast that I fell off his back and landed in the grass. Wulf hunched forward, fists in the air. But the only thing in front of us was a herd of deer.

"Who's there!" When Wulf said it, it was more of a challenge than a question.

I tried to get off the ground, but with my leg splinted and wrapped tight against swelling, I couldn't do it.

"Don't country children notice anything these days?"

It was the same voice, but we still couldn't find the source. This strange, shivery feeling was running races up and down my back. The hair at the nape of my neck prickled. Who was talking? Unless this person was, like the supposed walls of the garden in front of us, made of glass.

"Where are you? Come out!" Wulf yelled.

"Oh, all right. Humans are so impatient, aren't they?"

Then I saw it, and my mouth dropped open. Stepping out of the herd of deer in front of us - the herd that, I had just noticed, was much closer to us than most deer would ever get to humans, much less two humans and a wolf - was a buck with antlers nearly as tall as East. The buck himself was so tall that as he stepped daintily up to us, I realized that he was looking down at me and Wulf with great, sad brown eyes. For the life of me, I couldn't get my mouth closed. But what really struck me dumb was not his height or the length of his antlers.

It was his color.

Once, when I was still small and we were living with my grandfather in Greentree, a woman with cinnamon hair and cream colored skin had come into our bakery and asked for more bread than I'd ever seen in my life - twice what my grandfather sold in a day. And when she paid, she gave my grandfather twenty gold coins. He had let me hold one because I had been delighted by the glimmering of the brilliant, yellow metal, the way it bent the light and seemed to glow.

Each of the hairs of the buck's coat glittered just like that coin. And his antlers gleamed like yellow jewels or crystals. The late afternoon sun glinted off of them, striking my eyes so they watered.

In all my life, I had never seen anything so beautiful.

Hans' hackles immediately went flat, and he stopped snarling. He even nosed me, as if apologizing for spilling me. It must have been some magic Scarlet put in the cloak, but luckily the fall only knocked the breath from me. My ankle hurt only a little, and my behind - which I'd landed on - hurt not at all.

"Forgive me," Wulf whispered. "I did not see...."

"This I know, for you do not yet know how to look," the golden buck replied gently. "But I forgive you. As for these walls, they are indeed glass, ensorcelled against prying eyes, for the Lady Westernesse and the Glass Queen are both private creatures."

Finally I had to look away. He was just too bright in the sun.

"So... do you know how to get into the gardens?" I asked the buck. His golden-velvet chuckle touched my ears.

"I do. If you'll do me a service, I'll show you the way."

"What service?" Wulf demanded, suspicion and restlessness coloring his voice. I glanced at him and saw his eyes on the sinking sun. We didn't have much time before dusk and his transformation. Unbidden, East's warning came back to me. There would be some kind of trouble if we weren't within the walls soon.

"Well, you see, I have an itch at the base of my left antler, but I can't quite reach it."

I blinked, stunned. That was it?

"Um...." I managed.

"Would you scratch it for me, young lady?"

"I can't get up... don't pull me!" Because Wulf had reached down and grabbed my arm in an attempt to haul me up. Last time the lads had done that, only the threat of slimy beetles had kept me from noticing how much the wrenching had hurt. There were no nasty insects now. But I found myself unsteady on my feet, looking up into those sad, brown eyes, with only my right shoulder the worse for wear.

Timidly, I reached up and scratched at the base of his antlers, careful not to cut myself on the jewel-like prongs.

"Ohh... oh, thank you. Thank you very much. That is quite nice. Yes, thank you. Now," and the buck shook his head, as if shaking off the last remnants of the itch. My hand was safely away from the antlers. "My name is Gaspard."

"What kind of name is that?" Wulf demanded, and I thumped him on the chest. This buck was obviously of Faery. We were supposed to be polite!

"It is my name. And yours?"

"Wulf. This is-"

"Marzipan, who has her own tongue and knows how to talk," I informed them both. "Can you take us to the gardens' front gate?"

Gaspard nodded and began to pick his way daintily through the tall grass. We walked for a few minutes in silence: Gaspard in the lead, me upon Hans, and Wulf bringing up the rear. But finally I said, "I though that Castle Kuetas was built between six hills." We were in the center of a meadow the size of a town, with no castle in sight.

"It is. But these are redwood trees, and they are too tall to allow anyone in the Sarastro Valley to see the six hills that ring around it," the buck said.

"Oh."

After that, there was silence. It wasn't until Wulf gasped and Hans started to growl that I realized the silence covered everything - the herd of deer we'd left behind, the bees that had suddenly stopped buzzing, the wind rustling the grass. I looked over my shoulder, but there was nothing except Wulf with his hand pressed to his chest, struggling to breathe.

"What's the matter?" I demanded, frightened.

"It's almost time... but there's something wrong."

"With you?"

"No... here. Something's coming... the curse can feel it...."

Then I heard it, the only sound that broke the heavy silence: the frantic and cruel baying of hounds.

The sun, which was paying court to the treetops, kissed the dark line of evergreens before sinking behind them. In a tight voice, Gaspard murmured, "Night falls quickly here, and we are far from the gates. We must move quickly."

"We can't," I replied as Hans lied down and I crawled off of him. Behind my back, Wulf was hastily pulling off his clothes. "These two are cursed. We have to wait out the transformation."

"Transformation?" Gaspard repeated, dumbfounded.

The yipping and snarling of dogs set my teeth on edge. I didn't know why. I'd grown up around a pack of dogs almost twice as big as my own twelve-person family, yet the familiar sounds made my blood run cold now. I waited with my eyes on the horizon, on the ever deepening twilight, as Hans managed to find his human form again and Wulf became the black-furred beast.

Pulling only his breeches on, no shirt or shoes, Hans lifted me up and set me on Wulf's back. Then he turned to Gaspard.

"What is that?"

I didn't have to ask what he meant.

"It is the Huntsman. He and his companions are hunting rat demons this night. Soon the hounds and the swans will call them up and set them to running. We must be well away from the walls by then - you inside them, and I returned to my herd in the forest."

"Your herd?" I asked.

"Yes. I am the hart. I lead the herd. But I am also the only one who knows human speech, so it was deemed my responsibility to escort you. Now, we must run, or we will be caught by the hunters. Come!"

My heart pounding, I pressed myself against Wulf's warm, furry back and held his thick, black hair tight in my fists. The red of my cloak looked like a stain of blood against the dark hair in the dying daylight. With a low growl, my friend began to lope after the galloping hart. With a muttered oath that I'd never heard pass his lips, Hans tried to run after us on his weak, sweat-soaked legs.

Why terror raced through my veins, why my heart slammed in my chest, why my breath came in frantic, searing gasps, I couldn't have said. But I was frightened to the point of sheer panic. As the snarling and barking of the hunting dogs grew closer and closer, tears began to roll down my cheeks. The cold, oppressive twilight raked claws of fear through my body. Wulf's breath came in pants, great clouds of steam on the suddenly frigid air mingling with my own breath. Behind me, Hans huffed and puffed as he tried to keep up.

A snort of hot, moist air brushed against the back if my neck. I screamed. Wulf ran faster.

"Hurry!" Gaspard shouted from ahead of us. "Hurry!"

We're not going to make it, I thought suddenly, sobbing now. We're not going to make it.

Something sharp and hot nipped at my leg. I screamed, "Wulf!" The black beast beneath me skidded to a halt and dumped me onto the ground before turning to attack something huge and white. The black wolf and the white thing came together in a clash of snarls, growls, and teeth. Hans ran up to me, blocking my view, and lifted me up. "Wulf!" I screamed again.

"Come on!" Hans yelled over the roars of the two fighting animals. "We've gotta go!"

"No!"

"Come on!"

I tried to struggle, but when you can't stand on your own two feet without falling over, it's kind of impossible. Hans carried me as best he could, though his arms shook with the effort. Gaspard was snorting and pawing the earth. I could see the whites around those sad, brown eyes. Nearly choking on my fear, I turned to catch a glimpse of a black shape being borne down to the ground. There was a sudden yelp.

"Wulf!"

"Quickly," the golden hart said as Hans brought me to him. "The gates, here they are. You must answer a riddle!"

"What? Why? We don't exactly have the time!" Hans informed him waspishly, glancing over his shoulder and wincing. I desperately wanted to know what horrors he was seeing. "And riddles are not exactly something I'm good at."

"The key to the gates is a riddle. I'm sorry, but unless you want the pack to catch up with their scout, or the rat demons to come upon us, I suggest you accept the inevitable and answer the riddle before we are all slaughtered."

Hans' already pale face blanched whiter.

"What's the riddle?"

"Made of diamond, but fleeting

Wind and water briefly meeting

Swarming like the bee

But no warmth there is to see

A tiny crystal, perfect in form

Dying with the breaking storm."

I could see Hans trying to work through it in his head, and having no success. For a few agonizing seconds, I forced myself to look away from Wulf and the white beast and think.

Made of diamond, but fleeting....

I knew of diamonds, and they were supposed to be one of the few precious stones that lasted forever. My aunt Clarissa had taken me to a jewel shop once, just to show me the pretty gems. We couldn't have afforded them in a million years. But the seller had been kind, understanding that though we were poor, I liked to look at the pretty things. And he'd told me that diamonds took lifetimes to form in the earth, but they would always last. So how could a diamond be fleeting? Unless the riddle didn't mean a literal diamond, but something that looked like a diamond....

Wind and water briefly meeting....

Again, not a long time. Briefly, and fleeting. Here one moment, gone the next. Wind and water... wind and water?

"Hans," I said suddenly. "Are there any nursery rhymes about wind and water?"

"Um... I, uh...." He looked back at Wulf, who was favoring his left hind leg. The white thing snapped at him with huge teeth. With a start, I realized the bright white thing was actually a humongous dog. Then I noticed Hans staring at the fight, mouth agape. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Oh! Um...

"When water sprites dance on winter air,

Welcome rain, sleet, and snow.

When the sun rises in spring time,

Winter weather must go.

"Not a nursery rhyme, but-"

The sound of a horn interrupted him. We both looked around. Gaspard stamped his hoof and snorted, his eyes rolling. The voice in my heart was back, urging me to hurry.

"Wind and water meet... rain, sleet, or snow. No warmth... so not rain. A tiny crystal, perfect in form. Ice? No... swarming like the bee... ice doesn't swarm...."

"Snow does!" Hans cried. My heart leapt. "Snow flurries look like a swarm of bees. That's why snowflakes are called...."

"Snow bees...." I whispered. "Swarming like the bee, but no warmth there is to see! The answer is snowflakes!"

From what seemed very far off, I heard something like a set of wind chimes tinkling. And in front of me, a line of silver reached up from the ground and shot into the sky as Wulf howled. Despite the beam of silver shining in front of my face, I turned back towards the fight and saw the white dog on its side, panting, its muzzle and flanks dark with blood... and limping toward me, tail erect and head high, was Wulf.

"The gate is open," the golden hart said as Wulf drew level with us. "Go through."

"What about you?" I asked. He was still frightened - the whites of his eyes stark against the night-leeched blackness. And the howls and yips weren't just coming, they were already here. Over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a writhing, roiling mass of white that I knew was the pack. And behind them, a silver horse with a black-enshrouded rider. I knew in my heart he was the Huntsman.

"I will be well. I can run fast, when not leading little humans. Go on. Thank you for the scratch."

"Don't mention it," Hans replied, and we squeezed through the slim opening between the glass gates as Gaspard galloped away into the dark.