Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow (22 page)

And then they came closer, and closer, the north wind, the wolf, and the young woman. The sun and moon parted ways, like a curtain being pulled back. The sun moved to their left, the moon to the right. The north wind roared as it charged toward the speck that lay between them. The speck grew, reaching out taller and wider as they approached. It was a palace, made entirely of gold, sitting on an island of silver snow at the very top of the world.

East of the sun, and west of the moon.

The north wind’s great strength failed as they drew closer to the island, and more and more of him dropped away as they went on. At last, at the edge of the island, he was nothing more than a chill breeze. The lass tumbled from the sky to land on the shore of hard-packed snow beside the green-gray water.

The little swirl of ice particles that remained wavered at her feet. “That is the limit of my strength. I must rest here a day or so, before I return.” Its voice was hardly a whisper.

“Thank you, a thousand thank-yous,” the lass said, holding out one mittened hand. “I will do all I can to harm the troll queen, and her daughter. For your sake.”

“For the world’s sake,” the north wind said. Then even the small cluster of ice dissipated. “Farewell,” it sighed into the air.

The lass shouldered her pack, staggering a little under the weight. Rollo shook himself and sniffed the air.

“How does it smell?” his mistress asked.

“Like trolls” was the solemn reply.

“Well, I suppose we’ve come to the right place, then,” the lass said.

And they started walking. The island was not as large as the snow plain in front of the palace of ice had been, nor was it as flat. They trekked up a long rise, and then looked down into a hollow that had two large gray boulders lying in it. The boulders had moss growing on them, and one had a very small pine tree sprouting from one side.

“Odd,” the lass said. “How could anything grow here?”

As they passed between the boulders, Rollo stiffened, and he pressed against the lass’s leg. “Walk faster,” he whispered.

“What?”

“Walk. Faster.”

He relaxed only slightly once the boulders were behind them and they were coming to the top of another small rise. He stopped and looked back, and so did the lass. One of the boulders had changed shape. It was taller, and there was a glowing pair of—

“Eyes,” the lass said faintly. Her knees started to buckle, and Rollo pushed her so that she fell down the far side of the rise. Away from the trolls.

She lay in the little hollow on the far side of the rise and shook. Rollo leaned against her, still at the alert, but the trolls did not follow.

“What am I doing here?” The lass’s teeth began to chatter. “I can’t face the queen of the
trolls
. I’m just a silly
little girl! Father’s fears have all come true: I’ve been taken by the trolls.” She let out a hysterical laugh.

“Hush, hush now,” Rollo said, more worried than the lass had ever heard him. “The trolls haven’t taken you. You came here to fight. You have a name; you used to whisper it to me as a pup.” And he leaned down and said the lass’s name softly in her ear.

She got to her feet, squared her shoulders despite the prickling down her spine at the thought of the trolls behind her, and walked on. Her heart was still pounding, but she did not stop until they reached the doors of the palace.

There was no courtyard, and no wall around the golden palace, but then, there was no need for any. The palace doors rose to four times the height of a man and were set with precious gems in a design that showed the sun and moon eclipsed. Over the doors, dimly seen in the light from the torches that burned on each side, the lass could make out the emblem of the troll queen: an
isbjørn
on a blue background, with a crown above it and a saw-edged sword below.

Just as she raised her hand to knock, a shadow peeled itself away from a niche to one side of the doors. The lass had thought that the narrow recessed area held a statue of some kind, but it was all too alive.

Another troll, this one tall and thin, with ropes of muscles along his bare arms.

He carried a black sword with a serrated edge, like
the one on the trolls’ standard, and wore livery of a sort: a blue leather vest and trousers. His boots were studded with iron, and there were iron cuffs around his wrists. He had huge ears pierced with fat rings, and a sharp, jutting nose. There was no hair on his head, but his scalp had been painted blue.

“Ja?”

The lass froze. Rollo’s hackles raised, but he whimpered rather than growled. “I, um, the queen . . . I’m looking for work,” the lass stammered.

The troll gazed down at her in consternation. “Why would you come all this way to work here? You’re a human!”

“Er. Well.” The lass rallied, remembering the flattering carvings of the ice palace. “But is the young princess not fairer than any human maid could ever aspire to be? I have come to serve her graciousness.”

“She’s a
troll,
” the guard grunted. “One look at her could peel the hide off a goat.”

The lass couldn’t help it, she snickered. Then she covered her mouth and looked around. “Should you be saying that?”

“No, but who’s going to hear me except you? They’re all in there celebrating. It’s all wine and dancing and feats of magic, and I’m out in the cold talking to a mad human. I’m cursed.” He seemed to be saying this to himself, but it made the lass shiver all the same.

“Celebrating? Celebrating what?”

“Princess Indæll’s latest marriage to some poor human fool, of course.”

“Oh, no!” The lass felt tears prick her eyes. “They’ve already married?”

“No.” The troll frowned at her. “They won’t be married for four more days.” He bent down and studied her face. “Are you the girl? The girl who had to live in the palace of ice?”

“Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“And you made it all the way here? So quickly?”

“I had some help.”

The troll looked around nervously. “If you’re wise, you’ll get out of here. Leave, go back to your family.”

“I can’t.”

The troll heaved a sigh. Breath that smelled of rock and ice, not altogether unpleasant, blasted in her face. “I didn’t think you would take my advice. They never do.”

“Is Tova here?”

“It’s better not to ask. It’s better not to be here.”

“Can you at least let me in? Could I talk to . . . the housekeeper, or someone, about getting work?”

The troll shook his head. “It’s more than my sorry hide is worth to let you pass through these doors.” He licked his lips with a blue tongue. “I did it once,” he confided in a low voice, “and if I do it again . . . well, few have survived the queen’s wrath
one
time.” He shuddered.
“That’s why I’ve been ordered to play sentry, as though anyone would think to attack the troll queen’s lair. The humiliation of it nearly killed my family.”

“But,” the lass faltered, then thought of something. “I can pay you!” She let her pack fall to the hard-packed snow with a thud, and rooted around inside. A golden carding comb came to hand first. “Here! Solid gold!”

He shook his head. “Very pretty, but this entire palace is made of gold. If I wanted a lump I could just chip off a piece of windowsill.”

“Oh.” The lass’s shoulders slumped.

“What is that, anyway?”

She fished out the other comb and held them up so that he could see them better. “They’re carding combs. You know, for wool.”

“Really?” This seemed to interest the troll. “You can card wool with them?”

“Well, yes. I mean, I’ve never used this particular set, but I’m sure they’d work just fine.”

“No, I mean,
you
personally know how to card wool?”

“Of course.” The lass was puzzled: idiots and children could card wool.

“Well, then, you might have something there. I’m not one for the, er, ladylike arts myself. But there’s others here that are. Certain ladies of high birth, if you know what I mean.” He laid a long finger to the side of his sharp nose and winked.

The lass’s heart raced. “The princess? She would like them?

“She might. Especially if you were to demonstrate.”

“Can you take me to see her, then?”

“Oh, no, I can’t let any more humans in. But if you were to hang around the palace, and maybe do a little carding. . . . Her rooms are on the west side.” The troll leaned in close as he said this.

“Thank you so much,” the lass said. Without thinking, she stretched out one mittened hand and put it on the troll’s. He looked startled and blushed a sort of purple color.

“I do have a weakness for human girls. I don’t know what it is,” he said, shaking his head. “My grandfather would skin me for a drum, if he were alive to see how soft I am.”

“Skarp-Heðin! What have you there?”

The lass turned and saw a massive troll, like a chunk of mossy granite, stumping toward them. She made a choking noise, and shrank back against the gem-studded doors. Rollo took up a defensive stance but once again did not dare to growl.

“Another human, Captain Banahøgg,” the sentry said uneasily. He was tiny and his features were almost human in comparison to the captain’s.

“Get rid of it!” Banahøgg’s gray, craggy face crumpled into a frown, a truly terrifying sight. “You weren’t going to let another one in, were you?”

“No, sir, captain!” Skarp-Heðin raised his sword, bringing the point to within inches of the lass’s chest. “Get away, girl! Back to the southern lands with you!” One eyelid twitched ever so slightly in what could almost have been a wink.

The lass took the hint and ran, Rollo by her side. But as soon at they had gone around a snowdrift that hid them from sight of the front doors, she turned and made her way around to the west side of the palace.

The palace of the trolls was a truly magnificent place. There were windows with panes of crystal set into the walls every few paces, and the lass stood on tiptoe to peep through them. She supposed that for a troll they would be low, but even on tiptoe she could just rest her chin on the sill. It was growing darker and darker, and inside the lights blazed. From what the lass could see, there was a great deal going on. She heard music and saw servants in blue livery rushing back and forth with silver trays. The servants were gargoyles, pixies, brownies, and other creatures like the ones who had waited on her at the palace of ice. None of the servants were trolls.

But there were plenty of trolls in attendance. Male trolls and female, dressed in elaborate suits and gowns of brightly colored satin and velvet. Jewels gleamed and sparkled in the light from the hundreds of candles. The troll ladies had their hair piled in fabulous towers of curls above their hideous gray-green faces, and the troll
gentlemen had caps of leather or silver or gold covering their heads.

Then she noticed that there were a few trolls who shunned this humanlike finery. These wore layers of hides from a variety of animals. Their hair stuck out at all angles from their broad faces, and the lass saw moss and other scruffy plants growing on them. One appeared to have an actual bird’s nest in his beard.

The window where the lass found the best view looked in on the ballroom itself. There was a drift of hard-frozen snow just under one of the windows, and if she stood on the very top, she could peer inside without straining. The ballroom was a sight to behold: huge beyond belief, with pillars of carved crystal and amethyst. Chandeliers with dangling pendants that were surely diamonds filled the room with light and were reflected on the gleaming black floor. At one end of the ballroom stood a dais with two thrones. One was of gold, set with rubies, and the other silver, set with sapphires. Beside the silver-and-sapphire throne was a stool, also of silver and inlaid with pearls. The lass’s heart stopped beating for just a moment and then started back up with a painful thump when she saw who was sitting on the stool.

It was her prince.

As the trolls moved about the ballroom, drinking and eating and talking, the prince sat on his stool and stared
straight ahead. The lass had a childish urge to wave at him, just to see if he would look, if he would recognize her, but she quelled it. Instead she pointed him out to Rollo, who agreed that he did not look well, and they continued to watch.

After a few minutes, when the lass’s feet were starting to go numb from standing in the snow for so long, the double doors at the far end of the room flew open. A dozen servants marched into the room in perfect formation. They had the upper bodies of men and the lower bodies of horses, four legs and all. They stood at attention to each side of the large doors and raised silver trumpets to their lips. When their fanfare was over, the roomful of trolls dipped into deep curtsies or folded in half with bows.

The doors opened and an especially hideous troll woman in a scarlet gown swept into the room. She had a tall pile of unnaturally yellow hair surmounted by a crown that was more diamonds than gold. Her eyes bulged and her nose drooped down almost past her lips. There were so many gold rings in her ears that the lobes touched her shoulders. Her skin was the exact color and texture of unpolished granite.

Stories about trolls said that the females had noses more than three yards long and breasts that hung to their knees. The lass thought that this was not much of an exaggeration: the queen’s nose was alarmingly long, and her
wrinkled bosom threatened to burst free of her gown at any moment.

The queen surveyed the room with her glaring, scum-green eyes and sailed past her bowing subjects to take her seat on the golden throne. The centaurs—that was what the servants were, the lass remembered reading of such creatures once—blew another, shorter fanfare to herald the entrance of a second troll lady.

This, the lass thought with a gasp, was surely the troll princess. Her nose was even longer than her mother’s and had a great wart on it besides. She wore a gown of sapphire-blue velvet, to match her throne, and her hair was a gleaming arrangement of flame-red tresses and diamond hairpins. She swayed across the room with the air of a woman who knows all eyes are upon her, and stopped to plant a kiss on the cheek of the human prince before sitting on the silver throne.