Once Upon a Time: New Fairy Tales Paperback(67)

“How accommodating of you to arrive at lunch time,” rumbled the giantess, who began to roll up her knitting. The door behind Emer shut with a clang and she rubbed sweaty palms against her trousers. She lifted her chin defiantly and wished she could fly away.

“My lady,” she quavered and the giantess seemed taken aback to be so politely addressed. “I’ve come to ask—to beg with pure intent— for the crown.”

They both looked to the crystal plinth in the center of the room; it was topped by a primrose cushion that held a circlet of white and black feathers.

“Ask as purely as you like, my girl, you’re still going to be eaten.”

The amazon nodded, rose, and reached for her weapon.

“Wait!” yelled Emer, and something in her tone stayed the woman.

“And why should I? I don’t like to wait and I’m starving—always starving.”

“I imagine it’s hard to get enough food when you’re stuck up here, madam,” said Emer.

The giantess loomed and Emer quaked. She hurried on. “I do not ask your bounty for free. I offer you something most valuable in return.”

“What could you possibly have to interest me, you little thing?”

“What if I were able to provide a loaf of bread that is never depleted and a flask of wine that never runs dry? Would that not sate your hunger, mistress?”

? 209 ?

? Flight ?

The giantess crossed her arms over her mammoth chest, contemplating. “And where would you find such a treasure, little scrap?”

“Outside, on my horse,” answered Emer, hoping the stallion hadn’t taken it into his head to go for a run elsewhere.

“Then bring it hither. I demand proof before I agree to consider this bargain. And I am not saying I will . . . ”

Fifteen minutes later, when the giantess had attempted and failed to entirely consume the loaf and the wine three times, Emer thought her troubles were over.

“And so, my dame? Do we have an accord?”

“Let’s not be hasty, little speck,” said the woman slyly. “What’s the point of eternal food and drink without companionship? It’s been decades since I’ve had a chat—what with my tendency to eat my guests. Stay awhile.”

“My lady—” began Emer, aware of the night’s hours bleeding away.

“My lady, this young one is no fit companion for you—she has not lived long enough. What stories could she possibly tell? How she once wet her bed nightly, what frocks she has worn?” The raven began to wax lyrical. “I, on the other hand, am no mere bird.”

Looking into the creature’s swirling, sparking eyes the giantess admitted this fact. She seemed to nod more than was necessary. It was no wonder the woman normally shot birds out of hand; it was dangerous to listen to them. Bertók’s voice swooped low, its ragged edges barely discernible as he promised hours, days, weeks, months, and years of conversations. The woman, Emer thought with a tinge of sympathy, had no idea what she was getting herself into.

By the time the raven had finished, the giantess leapt to her feet, removed the delicate crown from its cushion, and held it toward Emer.

“Thank you,” Emer said, as she reached out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” growled the giantess and snatched the crown away, while wrapping one meaty paw around both of Emer’s wrists.

“Did you think me a fool to fall for sweet words? Anyway, what’s a sandwich without meat?”

? 210 ?

? Angela Slatter ?

Emer’s heart hammered, and her mind emptied of all thoughts but these: feathers and air, lightness and flight. Just as her memory retained the language of birds, so too her flesh kept recollection of their form. This time the shape was her choice—no one else’s to give or take or impose. She gladly shifted, shrank, sprouted plumes.

Within seconds, the giantess clutched only emptiness, for the girl had slipped the fleshy bonds and snatched the crown of feathers with her beak.

The door to the chamber remained shut. Emer flew around the room, faster and faster, higher and higher, knowing the giantess was reaching for her bow. She heard the nocking of an arrow, curses thundering from the woman, the twang of a bowstring. She braced herself, heard a thud, but felt no pain. Risking a glance, she saw another black body hurtling downwards. Resolute and determined not to waste Bertók’s gift, she raised her head and aimed towards the stained glass.