Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [62]
“All right,” the lass agreed.
She settled back on her stump, with Rollo sprawled at her feet, and began to card the wool. The mosters produced two more sets of combs, and together they made short work of the basket of wool, though the sky had grown quite dark by then.
“Very nice,” the first moster said when they had finished. “Supper time!” She poked Rollo with a bony finger. “We’ve enough for four but not for five. Go get your own fat rabbit.”
“Four?” The lass and Rollo exchanged puzzled looks.
“You haven’t met the Eldest yet,” the second moster told her. “Bring the basket of wool into the hut, dearie, and I’ll introduce you.”
The lass felt a surge of fear. The hut was small and dark, with no windows. What if this was some trick? How could anyone be older than these two crones, unless she was a troll or some other monster?
“I’ll get my rabbits in a moment,” Rollo said casually, eyeing the first moster. “Let me pay my respects to the Eldest first.”
“Yes, Rollo. That would be the polite thing to do,” the lass said, feeling slightly relieved.
The mosters, as though sensing her fear, cackled and went into the hut, leaving the rough wooden door open. The lass and Rollo followed slowly, and the girl held the basket of wool in front of her like a shield.
Inside it was dim and smoky, with a single fire in the center of the one round room. The only furnishings were a large wooden bed covered with reindeer hides, and a table with three chairs. Seated in one of the chairs was the third moster.
She was only identifiable as a woman because she was wearing the faded remnants of what once might have been a gown. It wasn’t like the skirts and vests that the lass was used to, though. Instead, the patched fabric formed a long, straight robe that had no definite waist or bodice. This crone had more hair than the other two, more hair than the lass herself, even. Her two long braids, yellowed white like old ivory, were as fat as the lass’s wrists and hung down to the ground. The ends were clasped with bands of tarnished gold.
With a face so withered and wrinkled that it was impossible to see her expression, she raised her head to the lass. In her clawlike hands she held a worn wooden drop spindle. She dropped it with a practiced gesture. It spun in a little dent in the hard-packed earth floor, smoothed by the years, and she pulled a fine white thread from it without any effort.
“Who’s this then?” Her voice was like twigs rubbing together in the wind.
Feeling only comfort and kindness emanating from the three mosters, the lass set her basket of wool on the table. “I’m the one who should have had the prince who lived in the palace of ice,” she explained. “I’m looking for the castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon. Do you know how to get there?”
“My Eirik was her prince,” the old woman said as she continued to spin. “More years ago than I can count. I nearly died of the curiosity, lying there night after night, and had to look.”
“Yes, moster, as did I,” the lass said.
“As did we all,” the first moster remarked loudly to the second.
“Moster?” The Eldest tilted her head and sniffed the air, and for the first time the lass realized that she was blind. “Yes, I suppose that is what I am now. Once I was a princess, and my father’s ships sailed the world over. My brothers fought the skrælings in the lands to the west, the dragons to the east, the trolls to the north, and the dark men to the south. But never did they reach the castle that lies east of the sun and west of the moon. Nor did I, for I was not strong enough to stir beyond this place.”
“I—I’m sorry . . . Your Highness,” the lass stammered.
“‘Moster,’ child, for that is all I am now. An old blind woman, spinning away the years.” She shook her head and the gold band on her left braid struck the leg of her chair with a gentle chiming sound. “The last young girl to pass through here called me ‘moster’ as well.” The old woman sighed. “Now if you’ll help me spin the new-carded