Sun and Moon, Ice and Snow - Jessica Day George [80]
“You’re so good!” The lass clasped Tova’s hands, a fresh wave of tears running down her cheeks. “I’d like to do the same thing, but if you have been here for years and haven’t made any progress. . . .” The lass sighed, feeling even more hopeless than she had earlier. “I didn’t even guess that the bear and the man in my bed were the same person.”
Tova giggled at this. “Hans Peter talks in his sleep. I would say things to him and he would answer, thinking it was part of his dream.”
“Oh.” The lass thought about this. “That explains why Torst and Askel always complained about having to share a bed with him.”
Tova laughed again. She had a merry spirit, despite the shadow in her eyes. The lass estimated that she had been in service to the trolls for nearly ten years. She must have been nearing her thirtieth birthday, for all her youthful looks.
“And then we passed notes to each other as well,” Tova said, lowering her voice. “When he was human, just before he would come into my bedchamber, he would leave a letter in the sitting room. And I would leave one for him there as well. The servants never knew, or the princess would have found out.” She paused, smiling in reminiscence. “Did you never find your prince’s parka?”
“His parka?”
Tova plucked at the white fur cuff. “This is Hans Peter’s; your prince has one as well. If we could change his, the way I changed this one, he could get free. But there isn’t much time; they’re to be married tomorrow noon.”
“Wait, you mean—?” The lass felt even more foolish than she had before. “This is what causes the transformation?”
“Didn’t you know?”
The lass only blushed in reply, then a thought struck her. “How is it that she can make such fine parkas, if she cannot even card wool?”
“Trolls can’t make anything,” Tova said, shaking her head. “They aren’t natural creatures: they can only destroy.”
“Erasmus said something about that, that they cannot make things, which is why they are so fascinated by human tools.” The lass swallowed. “And I’ve heard the legends about their . . . palaces. Rollo, my pet wolf, said that the ice palace smelled of rancid meat.”
“It’s true,” Tova said, her nose wrinkled with disgust. “They take thousands of lives, filled with the creative forces they don’t have, to build a palace like this. He’s probably smelling the . . . evilness of it.
“She doesn’t sew the parkas and boots, either,” Tova continued. “A servant does, and from the pelt of her last husband, no less.”
They both shuddered.
“Then she enchants the ribbon and has it sewn on.” Tova reached out to finger one of the embroidered bands.
The lass shook her head; trolls were beyond her ken. “But Hans Peter’s pelt . . . ? Hans Peter is still alive.”
“She used the scraps from the one before, the same one this parka is made from,” Tova explained, her expression dark. “I had to help the gargoyle who made it. It was terrible.”
“Why don’t you leave?” This had been bothering the lass since she recognized Tova. “Hans Peter isn’t here; why don’t you go?”
Tova pointed to the ribbon around her neck. “This. All their servants wear one. It’s how they know where we are and what we’re doing. It’s too close to the skin to alter. Some of the other servants have volunteered to let me experiment with theirs, but it hasn’t worked.” She opened her mouth to say something else, closed it, shook her head, and then said it anyway: “A naiad, a faun, and a centaur all asked me to try with their collars. They died.”
“Oh, no,” the lass gasped, and put her arm around Tova. “At least you tried to free them,” she consoled her. She hesitated and then plunged ahead. “Do you think that you could alter my prince’s parka?”
“We’ll have to hurry. You’re not allowed in during the day?”
“No, but I’ve been bartering things for a chance to be with him at night. He won’t wake, though!”
“She puts something in his wine at night so that he will sleep,” Tova said. “She’s taking more