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??Who, according to what I’ve heard, would be long dead if it weren’t for her.” Ludmilla Akhmatova gave Fox a smile as she sat down on the couch. “Can she hear what I have to tell you?”
The maid brought in a plate with honey cakes.
Orlando gave the Dwarf an apologetic smile. “No, I’m afraid that is top secret, but maybe you know something about the Dark Fairy’s plans? Mademoiselle Auger is looking for her.”
Ludmilla Akhmatova took a cake and sipped some of the tea the maid had placed in front of her. “Did you hear what the Tzar’s spies told him about her? It’s too piquant—and he’s said to have believed them.”
Orlando offered Fox a chair.
“I would love to hear it, Ludmilla Akhmatova,” she said.
The Dwarf flicked a few crumbs from her collar. “They told him the Dark Fairy is on her way to Kamchatka to offer her magic to the Peasant Prince. One of the Wolf-Lords or the Khan probably spread that information, hoping Nikolaij would kill the prince before his rebellious farmer boys ransack their palaces. We really do live in interesting times.”
Another sip of tea.
“But you don’t believe that story.” Orlando looked unsure what to think.
“Of course not. No woman would ever believe it.” Ludmilla winked at Fox.
“What are you trying to say? That the Dark Fairy has had enough of all crowned men? Except for her rival in Austry, there’s only one woman ruler, and that is the Empress of Nihon. A very long journey.”
Fox exchanged a look with Ludmilla Akhmatova. Orlando knew how it felt to shift shape, but maybe the difference between man and woman was even more fundamental than that between human and animal.
“I think Ludmilla means something else,” Fox said. “The Dark Fairy didn’t help Kami’en because of his crown. So why should she offer herself to one now?”
“Indeed.” Ludmilla dunked her cake in the tea, which was strong and dark. “The Dark Fairy loved the Goyl King, Orlando. They say it was a great love. Maybe even a Fairy feels pain when such a love is betrayed. She’s not traveling east to find an ally against her lover. She is seeking the one who can sever the inseverable bond.”
Fox gave Orlando a puzzled look.
He took her hand.
“Excuse us, Ludmilla,” he said. “I’ll have Olga bring you some of the Albian cake you like so much. And I’ll be back before your next tea is cold. Then we can discuss that other matter.”
He pulled Fox into a room that seemed far too small for all the books and papers in it. They were piled high, even on the bed beneath the window. Behind the door was a cabinet. Orlando opened one of the drawers and picked out a glove covered in scales.
“A present from my homeland,” he said, pulling the glove over his hand. “The Walrus wanted me to find out if his foreign secretary had been with a naiad in his youth. The secretary’s daughter was living proof of that affair, but I didn’t tell on her or her father. This glove was a gift to show his gratitude. He said it could show true love. May I?”
Orlando reached into the air in front of Fox’s face, and his gloved fingers grasped the same golden thread the Baba Yaga’s granddaughter had shown her.
“True love, selfless and deep as the oceans in their most fathomless depths.” Orlando let the glove run along the thread, which glistened like a ray of sunlight. “But I fear this one is not meant for me. This kind of thread is not spun in mere days.”
He let his hand drop, and the gold disappeared as though it really had been nothing but a ray of sunlight. “The Golden Yarn…or the inseverable bond, as it is also called. As inseverable as the threads of fate. And there is only one who can spin them and who can cut them.”
“La Tisseuse de la mort et l’amour.” Fox whispered the name as she did as a child. In Austry she was called the Weaver.
Fox never imagined she’d feel pity for the Dark Fairy, but Orlando’s words reminded her of the Blood Wedding and the pain she’d seen on the other’s face. His words reminded her of the days when all her unrequited love for Jacob had made her feel so raw that she’d nearly set off in search of la Tisseuse herself.
Orlando gently stroked her cheek. His touch felt good to the vixen and to Celeste.
“Yes, Takushy, la Tisseuse. The Weaver. La Hilandera. She goes by many names and has many stories. Some claim they are three sisters. But all agree on one thing: it’s very dangerous for a mortal to ask for her help because she may sever not just the bond of love but also the threads of life.” Orlando plucked the glove off his fingers. “But the Dark One won’t have to worry about that. She is, after all, immortal.”
And more powerful than the kings and emperors of this world.
“I can’t believe she can’t sever the bond herself.”
“Yes, not even she. We’ve all tried, haven’t we? It is somehow comforting that even immortal Fairies are powerless against the Golden Yarn. Don’t you think?”
