Page 25 of North Is the Night
A sharp pain in my arm has me wincing. It’s the same pain I felt on first waking in this room. I lift my arm out of the water, tipping it in the light of the fire. My forearm is bruised. Faint marks, in four long strips. Dropping the soap to the bottom of the tub, I sit up and reach out with my left hand, covering the marks.
Finger marks.
I gasp, dropping my hand away. I carry the bruises of being grabbed and held against my will, but I have no memory of how I got them or why. The only dreams that haunt me are dreams of a wolf in the darkness, chasing me with his glowing red eyes.
But wolves have no fingers...
Jaako gazes at me somberly from his perch, his black eye locked on my bruises. I can almost feel the anger washing over him.
“I have to get out.” When I lean forward, the water sloshes, spilling over the edges of the copper tub. “Jaako, food and a bath are lovely gifts, but they’re not enough. Surely, you must see that. You have to help me escape this place.”
He clicks his beak, glancing warily from me to the door.
I go still, heart in my throat. “Jaako... can you open that door? Is it in your power?”
He ruffles his shoulders in what I think is frustration.
I consider for a moment, searching his handsome face. “They say ravens are messengers. They say you hold deep magic, from before the time of the stories and songs. You are forged by the goblins, their clever creature. Do they wait beyond the door, Jaako?”
He looks at me with those mismatched eyes.
I grip the edges of the copper tub. Steam swirls in the air between us. “No day and no night exist in this place. No whisper of wind in the trees. Is that because there are no trees? Is there no night because I am simply not outside to see it? Tell me now, friend, am I in the depths of a mountain? Is this some dark goblin hold?”
Jaako clicks his beak as if to say no.
I lean back against the wall of the tub. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I gaze at the handsome bird. A tight feeling coils in my chest. For the first time since meeting him, I fear I can’t trust him. “If I’m not deep inside a goblin mountain, and I’m not in Lintukoto, then I am in some other dark realm.” My skin prickles as I let myself say out loud the thought that has kept me awake. “Jaako, am I dead? Is this death?”
The words are no sooner spoken than the raven alights from the stool and flies through the open window, disappearing into the endless night.
“No, Jaako—wait—” I stand, water splashing everywhere. “Jaako, please come back!”
I feel so close to an answer. I have to know where I am. I have to know what’s happening to me and why. Surely, if I’m dead, I would remember dying. But I remember nothing. I turn to retrieve my dress from the bed and go still. My white dress is gone. In its place is a new garment made from a cloth like woven gold. I inch closer to the bed, touching the fabric with a cautious hand. Is this another gift from Jaako?
“Oh gods.” My fingers brush over the dress. It is like nothing I’ve ever seen, like a master weaver found a way to spin solid gold into thread... but the fabric doesn’t feel metallic or heavy. It’s lighter than air. Artful embroidery covers the bodice in a pattern of acorns and oak leaves. A panel of forest-green fabric peeks out from the front of the skirt, embroidered in silver thread.
It’s the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. Strangely, the laces tie in the back. How can a woman wear a dress that must lace from the back? With trembling hands, I loosen the laces and pull the dress on over my head. It falls around my hips and down to the floor with a whisper, ending at my feet. It’s a perfect fit. I have to do an awkward stretch behind my back to reach the strings and pull the laces tight.
Two more gifts wait for me on the bed. The first is a pair of blue, leather-soled slippers with ribbons for ties. I sit on the edge of the bed and put them on. They, too, are a perfect fit. I wiggle my toes with a smile. The last gift on the bed is a beautiful, white, fox-fur stole. Atop the stole rests a short gold chain with jeweled clasps, great glittering stones in black and green. I once saw a wealthy tradesman’s wife wear something similar. I slip the stole around my shoulders and pin it in place across my chest with the jeweled clasps.
The sound of Jaako’s flapping wings makes me turn. “Was this you too? Jaako, they’re beautiful. I—”
He squawks, fluttering into the room to land on my chair.
“What’s wrong?” I step towards him.
Jaako’s eyes are desperate as he takes in my new dress. He hops agitatedly on the back of the chair.
“Jaako, what—”
His feathers ruffle before he takes flight, swooping to the door and back to the chair.
“Jaako—”
Cawing in distress, he does it again.
My heart drops. “No... no, this was you, wasn’t it? The dress, the shoes... it was you.”
He shakes his head.
