“There must be a way to avoid the piskey’s gift and keep you from being taken over by the demon,” I repeated. “Look at what we know of the demons already, what we’ve learned since we started exchanging information. The Storyteller Queen was human, and she was able to roust evil from her own husband, who murdered every girl he married before her. If we can find out how she did it, we could do it too.”
“There is no one left alive who knows that,” the Little Rose protested. “You were brought up on stories less than ten years old, and look how they misled you. How are we to tell what is true and what is myth, if we start to ask questions about her? Even Tariq doesn’t know that, and he knows the stories better than the rest of us combined. Who else would we ask?”
I was silent a long time, listening to the waterfall. Saoud had said that we would see anything coming from our lookout point—anything except a dragon, which would fly over the mountaintop instead of climbing the side of it. There were demons here, yes, but there were other creatures too, and they didn’t die the way humans did. Their memories were long.
“We need to ask a piskey,” I told her. It had seemed impossible when I had said it before, but now that we had the Little Rose with us, now that we were in the mountains where the piskeys lived—now that I had had some time to think about it, and discard all the other, even more terrible ideas I had considered—it seemed more plausible. There were two parts to the magic that bound the Little Rose, and if we couldn’t find the demon, we could at least try to find the creature who was less likely to kill us on sight. “If possible, we need to find the piskey who was at your birthday party, but I think any one of them would do. They were there when the Storyteller Queen told the greatest of her tales. They were part of it. And they were there when you were cursed, so they must know how to help us.”
“That is a terrible plan,” said the Little Rose.
“That’s exactly what Saoud said before I climbed your tower,” I admitted. “So at least you will know I am consistent.”
She laughed, and for the first time I heard the sprite’s gift at work. She had said the sprite’s gift kept her sane; her world was a flat and empty place, with dark horrors lurking at every edge of it. And yet she did not shrink from it, nor wilt under the weight. I wondered if it would also keep the sanity of those around her.
“Very well, Yashaa,” she said. “We will leave this valley, and go in search of creatures that only a few living beings have ever beheld.”
“Your feet have only just healed,” I pointed out. “Would you prefer to wait for the others to return before we try?”
“And spend more days sitting across the fire from your quiet contemplation?” she said. “I think not, Yashaa. The tower was prison enough that I don’t need to repeat the experience here with you.”
I was horrified, and then I realized that she spoke in jest. Or at least partially so. The past few days had proven that I was, at best, poor company.
“As you command, princess,” I said. “Hopefully we’ll be able to find better food while we seek enlightenment.”
“That would be quite appreciated,” she told me. “I know I said earlier that your cooking was adequate, but I am afraid I was lying when I said it.”
“I know, princess,” I said. “I am the despair of my mother’s teachings on all fronts.”
She laughed again, and I was overcome by the desire to make her laugh forever. If this was the service that my mother had so loved before the demon’s curse had ruined it, I felt at last that I understood some part of her calling to stay so long in the court of the king and queen who ruled Kharuf. My mother had risked illness and suffering, and I had always thought it was a folly, but now I knew better. I would serve the Little Rose, not because I had once hated her and now wished to make amends, but because I wanted to; and I would serve her at risk to myself if I had to.
The Little Rose took the bowls to the pool and set to washing them. It was a task she could do, because unlike the cooking itself, it did not result in the creation of anything new. Likewise, she could collect wood, though she could not make a fire, even if she had known how. It was a poor freedom, several steps below the life we had made for ourselves at the crossroads, but it was hers; and as I watched her make the most of it, I felt a stirring in my soul I thought might be hope.