“Baba Yaga,” the Queen said, standing up and speaking loudly, so that her voice rang clearly throughout the chamber. “We call on you to discover the identity and whereabouts of these troublemakers who threaten to expose the existence of the underworld dwellers in your territory, and to either put a stop to them yourself or bring the information here to Us so that We might summarily deal with them Ourselves.” The expression on her wintery visage left no doubt of the finality of her brand of justice.
“In addition, We expect you, with no further delay, to find and resolve the problem with the Merpeople’s and Selkies’ home waters, so that they might return there in all due haste, since it is Our opinion that it is likely that the disruption to their heretofore stable lives has led to this most unwise and potentially destructive behavior.”
The Queen drew herself up to her full height, looking even more glorious and more imposing than usual, and stared directly at Beka. “Do not fail me in this, Baba Yaga. I will not tolerate anything that threatens the safety of Our secrets, which We have sacrificed so much to keep hidden from the Humans all these long years. Have I made myself clear?”
Beka nodded, afraid to speak. She prayed her silence would be perceived as calm strength, instead of the paralyzed abject terror that it was.
“I realize that this is much to ask of one so young and new to her position,” the Queen said in a less oratory voice. There was even a hint of kindness, and something like regret as she added, “But this is too important to be left unresolved. If you cannot manage the tasks I have given you, I shall be forced to allow Brenna to come out of retirement to handle it.” She sighed. “I assure you, this is the very last thing I would wish; Brenna was becoming somewhat . . . problematic . . . in her later years, and it was only with great difficulty that I persuaded her to retire at all. She insisted until the very end that you were not prepared to assume the mantle of Baba Yaga. I sincerely hope that you do not prove her right.”
With this last soul-searing statement, she held out her hand to her consort and they swept out of the cavern, their retinue trailing behind them, twittering like a tree full of sparrows at dusk.
Beka stood stock-still, watching them go, feeling as stunned as if she had been hit by a ten-ton truck. She couldn’t be certain, but she was pretty sure that she’d just been told that her failure to fix these two crucial issues would mean the end of her days as a Baba Yaga. Until a moment ago, she would have guessed that her reaction to such an edict would have been more relief than sorrow—what a time to find out that assumption would have been wrong.
It turned out that she wanted more than anything to succeed, and remain a Baba Yaga. Too bad it looked like that was going to be completely impossible to pull off.
NINETEEN
BEKA WALKED OVER to Boudicca, Gwrtheyrn, and the young man with them. They looked only slightly less shell-shocked than she did, although Beka caught the Mer Queen and Selkie King exchanging furtive glances before she reached them. She had the feeling again that they knew something about these renegades that they weren’t admitting to. Of course, with their populace in the midst of such upheaval, perhaps they were simply feeling overwhelmed, and the guilty looks were all in her imagination. Brenna had always accused her of being too quick to jump to conclusions.
Apparently Brenna had criticized her for that and more to the Queen of the Otherworld. Wasn’t that terrific. As if Beka didn’t feel insecure enough already. She was beginning to wonder why Brenna hadn’t simply decided she’d made a mistake in taking in Beka in the first place, and started all over with a new apprentice Baba. She wondered if that was what would happen if the Queen took away her role as Baba and gave it back to Brenna.
“Your Majesties,” Beka said. “I am so sorry to hear that the children are even sicker.” She felt just awful about that; Baba Yagas tended to be particularly protective of children, ancient tales notwithstanding. In truth, the stories of Baba Yagas “eating” children were mostly a metaphor for their removing defenseless youngsters from abusive or neglectful homes.
“It is most upsetting, Baba,” Boudicca said. “My own grandchild, a girl not yet a year old, is sick nigh on to death. I fear greatly for her. Have you truly no idea at all what has poisoned our waters?”
Beka hung her head. “I’m sorry,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. “I’m sure that Brenna would have solved this long ago. Perhaps the Queen was right to consider bringing her back.” What was the point of having all this power if she couldn’t help the very people who depended on her?
To her surprise, Gwrtheyrn came to her defense. “You are too hard on yourself, Baba Yaga. After all, our own shamans and wise men could not discover the source of the toxins either, and our very best healers have been able to do nothing more than merely ease the symptoms in those affected. And they had considerably longer to work on the problem than you have. We have no complaints about your efforts on our behalf.”
She stood up a little straighter, gratified and relieved at the same time. And even more determined to find the answer, so that Gwrtheyrn and Boudicca’s faith in her would not be proven to be misplaced.