Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [39]
“Oh, yes.” The lass frowned down on it. “It’s not as articulate as the red. It says ‘love you always, miss you always’ and then something about running, night and day, leaving the place of sun and moon, of ice and snow. ‘Never look back, never forget.’ “
Chapter 14
The lass was so caught up in trying to read the story from the parka that she didn’t notice the time passing. Just like when she had deciphered the pillars in the great hall, she worked through luncheon and tea, poring over the markings. When she grew frustrated with the way the blue bands crossed over the red, she took out her little sewing scissors and delicately snipped the threads that held the blue ribbons in place. Carefully lifting up the loosened blue ribbons, the dire message of the red grew all the more clear.
“There’s something strange here,” she told Rollo. “I don’t quite understand it. Something about trapping him without chains, making him beautiful and terrible where before he was only beautiful. I can’t figure it out.”
There was a growl from the doorway. Startled, the lass dropped the parka and scrambled to her feet. Rollo snarled and raised his hackles, then relaxed when he saw who it was.
“Are you all right?” The isbjørn stood on all fours in the doorway.
“Yes. You just, er, startled me,” the lass squeaked.
“I knocked,” he said, sounding apologetic. “But you did not answer, and I got worried.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sorry, I was . . . busy.” She got to her feet and hastily stuffed the parka back in the wardrobe. The white bear was always uncomfortable around any talk of the enchantment, so she didn’t see the point in telling him about her recent discoveries.
“I have something for you,” the isbjørn said, his great, rumbling voice shy.
“What is it?”
“I had to leave it back in the sitting room,” he told her, turning around. “Please come and see.”
She followed him back through the bedroom and into the sitting room, with Rollo at her heels. The isbjørn went over to a small table by the fire and sat on his haunches. With a long black claw he pointed to a slim book that lay on the table.
The lass went over and picked up the book. She could see faint dents in the leather cover where the isbjørn’s teeth had marked it as he carried it in his mouth. Otherwise it was very plain, bound in brown leather with nothing printed on the cover. She opened it, and it was blank inside as well. There were only ten pages or so.
“A diary?” She thought it sweet of him, but rather odd.
He laughed. “Not quite. You should not write . . . secrets . . . in it. Your family has its mate. What you write, they will see. What they write, you will see.”
The lass stared at the book, and then at the isbjørn. “How wonderful!” She put the book down and threw her arms around his thick neck. “Thank you! But will they know how to use it? How did you get it to them? Did you see them? Are they well?”
The isbjørn laughed again at her flurry of questions. “No, I did not see them myself. I had a messenger deliver it, with instructions. They would have received it just this morning.” He stopped, his brow furrowed. “I warned them in the note not to tell anyone about it, and you must not tell any of the servants here. This is not a thing that you should have, but I . . . I didn’t want you to be too homesick.”
“I understand.” Then she hugged him again. “Thank you, thank you a thousand times!” She took the little book over to the writing desk and got out a pen and ink. “I’m going to write to Hans Peter right away!”
“I thought you would,” the isbjørn said. His voice was wistful. “Will I see you at dinner?”
“Of course,” she said, her mind already on the book. “Just as usual.” She didn’t hear him leave.
Dear family, she wrote in the little book, It’s me, the pika. I hope that you are all well.
Then she didn’t know what else to write. I live in a palace of ice? Every night a strange young man sleeps in my bed? I’m waited on by servants who aren’t human? The palace was made by a troll? These phrases all seemed both alarming and inadequate.
Not knowing