Dragon's Keep (7 page)

her
still," said Demetra. "I'll peel the putrid
flesh down to the girlish skin."

"Do what you must," said Mother,
tightening her jaw. The cave swam as Demetra lifted my hand, grasped the flesh
at the base of my claw, and pulled. I cried out as I felt her tearing. She
ripped a layer of blue scales down to the nail then dropped it to the floor.

Blood poured from the wound. Demetra raced
for a leather thong, tied it tightly round my wrist, pinched the flesh again,
and tore.

I screamed.

"You said she could not feel!"
cried Mother.

"She'll not remember this," said
Demetra.

Another
dream but this one familiar to me.
I was a flying thing, an
angel or a bird with a mighty wingspan that cast
a great shadow on the earth below. I was full of power as I sped across the
sky. Never
in all my life was I as happy
as this. But then I swooped down to
a herd
of deer, my fearsome cry ringing throughout the wood.
Fire.
Torn flesh.
Smoke.
Blood.
And a raw taste on my tongue.

A searing pain awakened me. My hand was
bandaged to the

wrist
. Mother sat close by, stroking my head. "Is it
over?" I asked.

"You've slept three
days, dear, and called out in your dreams."
I looked into her eyes then, wondering if she'd heard the
same
beast cry I'd heard inside my dream, but her eyes
were cool

and
unafraid.

She leaned close to my
cheek. "If Demetra's doctoring is true,
the claw will be gone."

Hope rose in me.
"And
the golden gloves?"

"We'll burn them!
Yours
and mine together."

"I'll light the fire and hurl them
in."

"Aye," said Mother with a little
laugh. "But hush, Demetra comes."

My heart hopped like a hurried rabbit.

Slowly Demetra
unwrapped
the cloth. The sour smell of dying flesh went all about the room, and I felt
the shame of it.

"'Tis no bother," said Mother,
soothing, but her nose wrinkled just the same. With pounding pulse I watched
the slow unfurling of the bandage, but when the last bit of cloth dropped to
the floor, Mother jumped back with a scream.

The finger was still
blue-green and spined like a lizard's, but
now it was larger and was crisscrossed with purple, as if
my flesh
had creeping roots.

"The curse is worse than before!"
shouted Mother.

"I take pride in my craft," said
Demetra. "And if the poultice and the tearing did not cure, my good knife
will." She pulled her knife from her belt. My heart leaped against my ribs
as the blade glinted in the fire.

"Wait!" screamed Mother.

"The claw must come off," Demetra
said, stepping forward.

Forgetting my tether, I leaped up, was caught
about the middle and pulled back against my cot.

"Maim her?" cried Mother. "No
prince would have her, maimed!" She grabbed Demetra's arm and they
struggled near

my
cot, banging into the table, knocking over wooden
bowls and
scattering damp herbs across the
floor. Mother wrestled the knife
from Demetra's hand, and with a sudden
force, she pressed the hag against the wall.

Demetra's eyes bulged;
she breathed roughly as Mother held
her
by her hair, pressing the knife to her throat. Much as I hated the hag, I did
not want to see a murder.

"Don't kill her," I pleaded.

"Quiet, child!"

"Know this." Demetra gurgled,
fixing her moonstruck eye on Mother. "I've sent a sealed scroll to a
friend. To be opened if I should meet untimely death. On the scroll Rosalind's
secret curse is writ in full."

"Who has this scroll?" demanded
Mother.

"The
scroll, the scroll.
Who has the scroll," taunted Demetra.

Mother screamed, cut a hunk of Demetra's gray
hair down to her scalp, and threw it in the fire. Then she pitched the knife
against the stony wall with a clatter. Demetra hunched over laughing as my
mother covered her face.

I curled my knees to my chest. My claw
throbbing, my breath coming in gulps, I closed my eyes to shut out the world.
The odor of my mangled claw mixed with the stink of Demetra's burning hair.

We left Demetra's cave that very night.
Wending below maple trees and pine, we urged our horses down the twisting path.
There was a rustling sound and Ali burst from the bushes with Katinka. Mother
halted suddenly.

"Take my girl," pleaded Ali.

1 cannot.

"I've done all you asked. Don't deny me
this."

"She stays
here."

"She's not a burden. She makes no
sound."

I looked at Ali's daughter shivering in her
threadbare gown. Her pale face and hair drank in the moonlight.

"No," said Mother.

"She's fourteen," said Ali.
"She'll work sun to moon as I did lor you. And she'll eat but little from
the table." She lifted her
hands.
" I've
accepted all, done all. But my girl's life is in
danger."
Ali tugged the corner
of Mother's cloak. "Demetra beats her," she whispered fiercely,
then
stepping back, she pulled up her daugh
ter's
ragged gown.

Indeed, even in the dark, I could see the
blue-green bruises from her ankle to her thigh.

"I want her," I said suddenly.
"Give the girl to me. I can use
a
lady's maid." After Mother's betrayal of me in the hag's cave she
owed
me this.

"She'll never be a
grief to you," said Ali, pressing her daugh
ter closer to Mother's mare.

A crow cawed in the woods. Silence from
Mother, but I saw she was considering. "Marn could use help carrying the
chamber pots out to the privy," mused Mother.

"Give her to me," I said again. And
this time Ali lifted up her struggling daughter. I felt a rush of joy as
Katinka took the saddle in front of me. She reached for her mother. But I held
her
tight. Booting Rollo, we started back
down the path. Ali ran after

saying
,
"Good-bye, my precious girl.
It's for love we say good
bye. Remember, Kit. Remember that so someday
you'll understand!" Behind us she crumpled on the path, weeping.

With my arms wrapped about her I felt
Katinka's heart flutter like a small bird caught. She squirmed and tugged my
arms. "The girl wants to jump."

"Hold her fast, Rose. Katinka is yours
to lose or keep."

Only hours before this, I'd struggled against
my own bonds, so I whispered in her ear, "I'll not harm you, Kit." I
meant my promise. She'd betrayed me to Demetra, but I'd seen how the hag
treated her. A slave will do her master's bidding while in bondage, and too
she'd been kind enough to bring the mint.
"You're
free from Demetra," I added. "She'll not beat you again."
No
thank-you from the girl, but then, she could not speak.

None could replace Magda. This girl would not
follow me about skipping and singing the way she had, but her hair was the
selfsame color as the stolen child's, and she was
fourteen like
my
self
. I'd found a friend to keep me company when the heavy win
ter
snow bound me to the castle.

Just before dawn we crossed the drawbridge
and left our horses in the stable yard.

"Where will Kit sleep?" I asked.

"With Cook's new
girl."

"No, with Marn.
If she's to be my lady's
maid."

And so Katinka was moved into the chamber
adjoining mine. And there she stayed, herself like a treasure box and I the one
with the key.

_{Friend and Fowlm}

Count the
seeds,"
I said, heart pounding. I'd
slit the apple in the orchard with Kit. We were trying the newest love spell
we'd garnered from Sir Magnus's book. Kit was
quiet on her feet
and she knew well how to slip silently into the crow's
nest and smuggle out a text.

The castle escorts
stood along the edge of the orchard, guard
ing
us from the common footpads hidden in the woods. They
were posted far enough away for me to say the charm out of their
hearing.

I'd said the charm, chanting the name Henry
three times as the book instructed. We'd even gathered the grave soil to bury
the seeds should the charm prove unfruitful.

Cut in two and count
the seeds. Even, and your marriage day
comes soon.
Odd,
and you're sure to be a
spinster.

Kit nimbly wrestled out the apple seeds. They
must be counted rightly.

She looked up. No smile on her face, but then
she hadn't smiled once in her month here at the castle, though I'd done my

best
to ease her. Kit missed her mother, I knew. Still,
she slept in a soft bed; rode my best roan, Marigold; and came on outings with
me when I could leave my lessons. The girl might have lost her smile long ago
in Demetra's cave, but I was determined to find it.

"Even?" I
asked hopefully. I read Kit's eyes.

Odd.

Spinsterhood.

"The grave soil," I whispered. Kit
crouched under the tree and dug a little hole. This she did for me since I
couldn't soil my gloves. We tossed in the seven seeds and poured the pouch of
grave soil over all to bury the charm.

Kit peered at the boughs. Should we try the
charm again with another apple?

I sheathed the knife and shook my head. I was
done with the apple charm. Clouds coiled overhead as if to ensnare the
treetops. A storm would ride up soon from the sea. Kit stood and dusted off
her blue gown. I saw she took some care with that. The day after she'd arrived
I'd gone to Mother's solar.

"I'll give Kit my old gowns," I'd
said.

Mother had bristled, but I stood strong by
the loom. "They're too small for me. Should I give them to the pimply
scullery maid instead?" I cupped one hand in another, my claw still aching
from Demetra's "cure."

Mother frowned as she worked the threads.
"I'll leave you to your folly, Rosalind. But don't let the lady's maid
come close to your heart. Remember she's a bastard."

We left the orchard on horseback, the escorts
riding not far

behind
. Bitter over the apple's fortune, I kicked Rollo to a
canter. We managed to get farther ahead of the escort, galloping
above town and past Witch's Hollow. Kit's cloak
blew out behind
her and her cheeks were pink.

In just a month she'd learned to ride apace
with me. And she'd go anywhere on Marigold except to the hunt. In all things my
lady's maid was obedient but this. She was too fond of animals for the hunt.

One day Sister Anne, Kit, and I were in the
study, where I sat misreading Latin. I'd just stumbled through another passage
when a robin flew straight into the window. The crash of beak to glass made me
jump, and the stunned bird fell like a stone.

Kit leaped up and ran from the room.

I called after her and chased her down the
stairs with Sister Anne in tow. We raced through the kitchen, out the postern
gate, and to the shallow place in the moat where the maids do the washing.

With a loud splash, Kit leaped into the muddy
water to save the bird.

"Kit! Come back before you drown!"

Sister Anne and I waded in to our knees. Cold
water stung my shins. I tried to grab Kit, but she pushed farther out.
"Turn round and come to me," I ordered.

The mute girl seemed deaf as well. She
plunged in after the bird. Behind me, Cook was on the shore shouting,
"Princess! Come out of the moat!"

I lunged for Kit just
as the water swallowed her.
"My friend!"
I screamed. "Someone save her!" Sister Anne
and I were held to

shore
as in an iron brace, for neither of us could swim.
Water rushed against my thighs. I made to leap, but Sister Anne pulled me back.

Across the moat Kit came up sputtering.
Holding the robin above her head, she gasped for breath and paddled toward us.

"I've never seen the like," said
Cook. "What witch-spell aids her in the water?"

My heart raced as Kit
came to a stand in the shallows. Her hair
was laced in green milfoil, like a dead spirit rising
from the water.

"God's heaven!"
I pulled her to the bank, choking back my tears.
"I thought you dead! What devil possessed you?"

Kit didn't even look at me; her heart was all
for the bird. Kneeling on the muddy ground, she stroked the sodden red feathers
on the robin's breast.

I heaved a breath. "The bird broke her
neck when she crashed into the window. You've nearly killed us all to rescue a
dead thing!"

The incident at the
moat was all but forgotten by winter when the rains came in thick gray curtains
across the sea. In my solar Marn
was
stitching me a pretty cloak out of soft rose-colored wool.

"I hate the rain," I said.

"Aye, well. You
should be glad for it."

"Why is that?"

Her needle stopped midair as she squinted up
from the cloak. "Dragons never attack on stormy days. Rain soaks their
wings and downs them."

"That's just an old story."