Summer in Orcus

by T. Kingfisher

But she sometimes thought that it would be nice to have a brother or a sister, not because she particularly liked other children but because it would have been nice to have somebody to share the burden of her mother’s love. If there had been two of them, maybe they could have taken turns.

One day in spring, when she was playing in the back garden, a house walked into the alley.

“Are you frightened?” asked the old woman. “You should be, you know. I am as old as sinning and twice as dangerous. I drink my beer from the skulls of heroes.”

The old woman’s eyes narrowed. “You’re dangerously ignorant, girl,” she said. “It is not your fault at the moment, though if you grow much older, it will be.”

Summer’s mother believed that books were safe things that kept you inside, which only shows how little she knew about it, because books are one of the least safe things in the world.)

“You can tell a lot about people by the things they think they want,” she said.

1. Don’t worry about things that you cannot fix. 2. Antelope women are not to be trusted. 3. You cannot change essential nature with magic.

“It means you can’t change something into something else with magic, not really,” said the weasel. “If you turned me into a human, I’d still be a weasel inside. If we turned you into a rabbit, you’d still be a little girl down deep, where it matters.”

There is something very freeing about knowing that you are in the worst possible trouble that you can be in. No matter what you do, it cannot possibly get any worse.

You want to watch out for people who don’t wear their skin correctly.” The weasel rubbed his face on her shoulder. “Some of ’em don’t mean any harm, poor souls, but some of them will have you by the throat before you can say ‘rabbit.’”

“Is it true what they said about Baba Yaga?” asked Summer. “True?” asked the weasel. “True enough. They said less than they might have and a great deal less than they could have. It doesn’t pay to talk about Baba Yaga behind her back.”

She was definitely not feeling grateful enough for being on a superb magical adventure. She told herself this sternly several times and then wanted to cry, because it doesn’t help to yell at people who are cold and wet, even when the person yelling at you is you.

For one horrible moment, Summer felt as if she had gone down to the secret chamber of her heart and found her mother writing on its walls.

It is a great relief, when one has thrown away normal life in search of their heart’s desire, to know that one is doing it right and isn’t going to get yelled at for going the wrong way.

She thought that if she did have to go home—and probably she would eventually—she would do everything possible not to forget this.

“The great gray albatrosses talk to my people sometimes,” said Glorious. “They say that if you fly far enough, you come to a hole in the sky. It leads to another world.” “Oh, well, albatrosses.” Reginald flipped his wing. “Prophets and poets, the lot of them. Not bad-hearted, but you ask one the time of day and he tells you time is an illusion, and how is that getting anything done?” Glorious huffed with laughter.

“The thoughts of others are dangerous,” said Glorious. “But it is not a danger that we can protect ourselves from.” He shook himself, but cautiously, so that she did not fall off. “Be at ease. A friend will not think unkindly of you, and an unfriend will not tell you the truth of their thoughts, so what purpose is there to worry?”

Tell me about your journey, and start a little before the beginning, because we are usually wrong about where things begin.”

“You are not a hero,” said the Forester. “That is no insult to you. You might become one, I suppose, but I would not wish it on you.”

“Now,” said the Forester. “Saving a single wondrous thing is better than saving the world. For one thing, it’s more achievable. The world is never content to stay saved.”

“Would you really not pick a fight with them?” asked Summer in an undertone. “Geese are perilous creatures,” said Glorious. “A flock of geese can kill a foolish wolf.” She felt a soft rumble through his chest. “Though I am not foolish, and two is not a flock. But we have other concerns for now.”

“I suppose the advantage,” said the rightmost goose, “of not knowing when something is dreadfully dangerous is that you do it anyway.”

“Oh, Zultan.” There was no mistaking the contempt in the woman’s voice. “He thinks he’s a great deal smarter than he is. Assumes that just because he’s angry at the world, he could understand my anger.” She tossed her head and her horns hissed through the air like swords. “He wants the world to burn and I want to dance on the ashes, so he thinks that we are alike. But hate and chaos aren’t the same thing. Occasionally, I see fit to remind him of that.”

I knew better, but she was polite, and it is easier to fight swords than courtesy sometimes.

Lying in bed that night, Summer put her face in the pillow and cried for the horror that was over and the fact that she was safe again, but also for the antelope woman and chances lost, a chance that might have been different, or better, or wonderful.

“Pretty things are usually poisonous,” said the weasel. “It’s why they can afford to be pretty.”

“You could go, if you think it’s best…” said Summer. “No. We will go with you to the end,” said Ounk, and then she paused, as if waiting for another voice to speak. Summer watched the realization spread over the goose-guard’s face, and then Ounk dropped her head an inch and said, quietly, “I will go with you to the end.”

We must always have the fate of the world in the balance, never one person’s happiness, and we must always arrive at the eleventh hour. No one wants the small stories any more. Bah.”

Perhaps you should not have that skill at your age, but the world is unfair, and sometimes we must use that unfairness to our advantage.” She rocked back and forth. “It would be a good day for the world if I could not find a child who knew terrible adult things. But I will be a great deal older before that day comes, I think.”

“You fudged a bit,” said the skull. “Her heart’s desire was already granted, wasn’t it?” “To find out what she was capable of? To get out from under someone else’s fear?” Baba Yaga worried at a bit of gristle with her toothpick. “Oh, perhaps. But it wasn’t a lie, you know. Hearts are complicated. Hardly anybody wants just one thing.”

She’ll go back soon enough. When she’s a bit older. When it’s a bit easier. When Orcus needs her again.” She gave a jaw-cracking yawn. “Perhaps after I wake up from a nap.”