beckoning her into the thicket. It wore a mask of golden leaves, and behind it moved transparent green wings. Was it not an elf? He turned around and then disappeared around the bend in the path. Janet had to run to keep up with him. The forest around her grew darker and darker. The trail broke off, and the girl had to hack her way through the thicket. The thorns clung to her train, but she moved on anyway. Somewhere ahead she could hear clatter of hooves, as if a cavalry party was galloping this way. So there was a road nearby. There was no way a cavalry could have ridden through the thicket.
The branches scratched Janet’s hands. The birdsong suddenly stopped. A gnome ran right under her feet. He was in a great hurry.
«Her knights are coming!» He turned around and shouted to Janet as if it meant something to her. «The time of sacrifice is coming, now that they are here.»
Janet didn’t understand him at all. What knights? What sacrifice? No sacrifices have been made in the woods since the days of the pagan gods. And they had been here so long it seemed legendary. Maybe he was confused about something.
She looked around, but saw no more of the elf in the golden mask. The dwarf had disappeared from view, too. And the clatter of hooves sounded quite close. Janet did see the galloping knights. But the road on which they rode, she could not see, as if the horses were treading on air, not on the driftwood. Suddenly the ground trembled beneath her feet. Thorns clung to her dress, and the knights rode past on their horses and paid no attention to her cries for help, as if she was in a looking glass from them. Or did they simply not care that another victim was dying in the woods? The ground began to suck her down like a viscous swamp, and one of the knights suddenly turned to look at her. His eyes were familiar to her: blue with golden speckles. She knew him and remembered the dragon-head helmet well.
Janet woke up in a cold sweat. Someone had just knocked on her window. The knock must have woken her up. It was quiet but insistent. At first she thought it was rain drumming on the glass, but the sky was clear. The moon shone with a measured pale light.
«Let me in, Janet,» it was Quentin’s voice. There he was, himself, outside the window, or rather, just his red head. «You don’t want the sentries to shoot me. They have very formidable crossbows. I can see it from here.»
How the hell did he get up that high? And what does he want? He may have remembered that he gave her the bracelet and the necklace for free, and now he comes to the castle to ask for money. Would it not have been wiser in this case to come in the afternoon and contact to her father. Another salesman who had contacted the Earl’s daughter would have done so, but Quentin was different. The guy was out of this world! Blessed! Janet felt sorry for him, and hurried to the window. She didn’t even have time to put on her negligee. Good thing her nightgown had a high neck and puffy sleeves. Quentin had nothing to stare at.
«How did you get in here?»
The answer came of its own accord. When she opened the window, Janet caught sight of him holding on to the wattles of scarlet and white roses, which had grown so overnight. Yesterday they had been stunted, but today they were all around the tower. She can’t believe Quentin didn’t bleed his hands clinging to them. Roses have sharp thorns.
«You’re out of your mind!» Janet watched as the young man sat down on the windowsill. He was very good at climbing to heights.
«I wish I had wings,» he admitted.
«Had you wings before?»
He looked at her with mild reproach, as if she’d hurt his pride.
«Forgive me for calling you by your first name, Madam.»
«You’d rather call me Janet than Mistress. Why did you risk your life to try to reach me by the wall? It’s dangerous. After all, the sentries could have seen you and shot you. Or you could have fallen down and crushed to death.»
«I don’t think so. I’m very handy,» he boasted, not unreasonably.
«If you think I’m going to let you sleep in my bedroom, you are very much mistaken. I like you, but not that much.»
«I understand that. Young maidens usually like my merchandise better than my advances. A poor man like me can only dream of gorgeous ladies of noble blood, but never go near them.»
«You’ve already been there,» she reminded him reasonably.
«It’s business,» he said, looking intently at Janet. The moonlight was reflected in his eyes, which made them slightly sinister. The sharp ears weren’t hidden beneath his beret this time. It must have slipped off as Quentin climbed the wall like a wildcat.
«Have you come to offer those special ribbons you told the girls in the square about? I heard it as I drove by.»
«I want to tell about the fairies’ kingdom,» he corrected her, businesslike.
«About what do you want to tell?» Janet thought it was some kind of joke. «Is it about the fairies’ kingdom! Are you serious?»
«You don’t believe in it!»
There was nothing to contradict that. Janet somehow even felt guilty and took a step away from the window. In the meantime, Quentin carefully tucked a lock of reddish hair behind his ear, as if he was trying to draw her attention to his pointed ears.»
«You may not believe in the realm of fairies, but there is a realm,» he suddenly shifted back to a respectful tone, as if her mistrust had put distance between them. A second ago he had acted like an old trusted friend, but now he was playing deference to his mistress again.
«Suppose I believe you. What’s in it for me? You’ve already given me two gifts for nothing, even though I didn’t believe in anything.»
«The third gift you will get on your own,» he promised. «You must go into the forest.»
Wasn’t that what the fortuneteller had warned her against? Janet frowned. The moon was suddenly too bright, hurting her eyes.
«Go beyond the line; there’s someone waiting for you,» Quentin asked in a low, hopeful tone.
For some reason she remembered the knight from her dreams. The line was a brook that gurgled near the edge of the forest. It was as if it separated the Earl’s lands from the dense woods. Perhaps Quentin was referring to some other magical line besides it. He speaks of a realm of fairies.
«He’s been waiting a long time, and he needs you,» the young man whispered quietly. «Because no one else can help him.»
A bird with a red spot on its forehead was circling the tower, croaking strangely, with a hoarse caw. Hearing it, Quentin beckoned Janet to be quiet, and began to descend slowly. This time the twigs of the roses hurt his palms, but it was as if he didn’t notice. There was blood on the thorns.
«It’s Blackness!» He whispered goodbye, evidently referring to the restless bird. «Beware of it!»
Beware of some bird? Janet couldn’t understand why. Birds can’t hurt people, unless they swoop down in a flock and strangle them to death.
Still, the girl decided to close the window tightly, and did the right thing. A bird’s beak immediately began pounding on the window frame. It was very insistently. The bird was clearly angry that it was not allowed in, but
