Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback(66)

The bird’s terror broke through her fury and Emer suspected that the anger she felt was the sort of ire her aunt gave in to every day. She stepped back, shuddering with shame.

“No, I’m sorry I scared you.” She reached for the latch and lifted it.

“How is that I can understand you?”

“You were one of us for an age, it’s bound to stick,” he said, tentatively climbing out onto her proffered forearm. “If you’re going where I think you’re going, I really can help. Please let me come along.”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now Emer’s head was fit to burst.

“When the old bat finds out what he’s done he’ll be a pair of slippers in the blink of an eye. Mind you, might come in handy,”

wittered Bertók.

“Why were you in that cage again?”

“Injustice! As always. ‘Bertók, you talk too much. Bertók, you ate all the wild cherries. Bertók, you didn’t bring me back that crown.

Bertók, you’re snoring too loudly.’ It’s getting so a bird can’t fart let alone express an opinion without getting locked up.”

In the brief respite while he took a breath, Emer used the chance to change track. “You mentioned a giant?”

“Giantess. Always hungry—I don’t know if they’re all like that. I wonder—”

“So, this giantess lives atop the glass mountain and has the mysterious crown and eats everyone who comes to visit?”

“Well, except us—except the ravens—not enough meat. But it doesn’t stop her using us for target practice.”

“And the crown can only be gained by someone with pure intent?

I don’t imagine that would include you.” The bird didn’t answer.

“Raven?”

He gave a shrug of sorts. “Well, that’s what we told her—the part about pure intent.”

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? Flight ?

“You lied?” Emer was less scandalized than delighted by this breathtaking bit of avian bravery. “You lied to her?”

“She doesn’t know everything, you know,” the raven squawked.

“She’s just so . . . We couldn’t bear the idea of losing more of our number every time she sent us off on one of those quests. She’s crippled but she’s got everything and it’s never enough. Imagine her with that crown, whatever it does, still demanding more, more, more!

We—I—thought if we put her off long enough, maybe she’d run out of time, so we haven’t been trying too hard to do what she’s asked.”

“Why are you helping me? After all, you were the one who started this whole thing.” She waved at him so he could see the scar still marring her palm. The bird had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“It’s not easy, you know. Disobeying her takes effort and it hurts.

And I had no idea of what she was planning. I’m sorry for what I did. You deserve no more torment, nor does your mother. You saved me from that cage and I owe you a boon. I’ll help you retrieve what you need; what you do with it after is something you must consider carefully.”

The journey had been interrupted only by the raven’s chatter. They had covered leagues and leagues, the line of the river easy to follow, the roan tireless and intent. Yellow eyes gleamed from shadows and thickets, hands gnarled against tree trunks as their owners peeked out. Emer heard snuffles and snorts, snarls and grumbles, but nothing came near them. Wolves and trolls, ogres, and things with no name watched as they passed, but left them unmolested. She wondered if the Black Bride’s power stretched this far, or if these brutes simply sensed her touch on Emer. Or worse, she thought, sensed that they shared blood.

Their destination was less a castle than a single stout tower of ochre-colored stone. Inside, the main chamber was topped by a stained glass dome that, on sunny days, showered the room with shafts of color. The air was icy, however; it leeched the hope from Emer’s bones and she wondered if she’d ever see the sun again. She ? 208 ?

? Angela Slatter ?

could feel the raven trembling on her shoulder. He’d been silent ever since they set foot in the bastion.

The giantess, all big bones, protruding eyes and corkscrew auburn hair, was ensconced in wingback chair, knitting, and giving Emer the same look one might bestow on a beef roast. Emer was glad she’d left the horse—who had taken the glass mountain at a canter and danced a kind of jig to show how pleased he was with himself— outside. Along the wall behind the enormous woman was a series of hooks, almost all hung with ill-made scarves. The scarf-free one held a huge bow of elm wood and a leather quiver filled with arrows longer than Emer’s arm.