Swan and Dragon. Dragon Empire. Natalie Yacobson

ladies present sat down in a low curtsy to Rose. After them the gentlemen bowed.

      Each of the guests tried to portray the highest courtesy, but no one dared to approach the princess. All their bows and curtsies resembled a well-rehearsed performance.

      As the dance began, the guests’ colorful robes swirled like a whirlwind of autumn leaves. Rose walked around the hall, holding her gaze for a long time at women’s hairstyles and outfits. She has not seen such a variety of fashions and colors anywhere else. There were no knights or guards here, but dandies in tunics trimmed with colored piping feasted. Jewels glittered on the foreheads of young maidens. The older ladies had elaborate nets covering their hair. The crooked mirrors revealed fake smiles. Their distorted reflection illuminated the soul.

      Suddenly, in the distance, a dull and clear beat of a clock was heard. An invisible pendulum whistled in time with them. Terrible, monotonous sounds seemed to come from everywhere: from every wall, from the floor and even from the ceiling, so that it was impossible to determine exactly where the clock itself was.

      The fun stopped instantly. The guests backed away to the edges of the room, and only Rose stood in the very center, listening to every beat of midnight.

      For the tenth, eleventh beat, and finally the last one sounded. It was like thunder. Echoing it, the walls hummed, the stained-glass windows rattled, the ceiling cracked. It seemed to Rose that the masonry was about to fall right on her head. She had to run, but a mysterious force bound her whole body, not allowing even to move.

      The crowd of guests surrounded Rose in a ring. There was another crack in the ceiling. And suddenly, behind Rose, something hit the floor. A bass grunt, occasionally interrupted by a chest cough, filled the silence.

      Rose felt that she could move again. She looked up and saw that there was a hole in the very middle of the ceiling. And behind someone’s back, someone continued to sniff and quack like an animal.

      The princess scanned the crowd with pleading eyes. The guests’ faces were frozen in impenetrable expressions. Rose was afraid to turn around, afraid to see the one who was fumbling behind her. And suddenly gnarled fingers gripped the wrist of her hand. An eerie face with beady eyes and an aquiline nose peeped over Rose’s shoulder.

      The huge, crooked mouth contorted into a grin. Rose tucked her skirts up with her free hand and wanted to dash away, but the black bird claws dug into her wrist so that she screamed. The circle of guests closed even closer around them. There was no exit.

      Rose freed her hand and pulled back a little. Next to her stood a hunchback in a black cloak. He could barely reach the shoulder of an ordinary person, but in his dumpy, dense physique, remarkable strength was felt. The back was crowned with a lumpy, pointed hump. Long arms almost reached the knees. The vicious, ugly face broke into a grin every minute. A toothed crown with a ruby was pulled over his forehead.

      “Here, I caught you, killer whale!” almost happily he bit back, but his eyes remained so ferocious that Rose involuntarily backed away.

      The hunchback grabbed her wrist again, not allowing her to take another step.

      “What do you want from me?” Rose almost cried.

      “Don’t you yourself know?” laughing and coughing, he asked a counter question. “Forgot about the signed contract? The deadline has expired, I’m taking you with me.”

      There was nowhere to wait for help. Rose was at the mercy of a vile monster, and the crowd looked at them indifferently. The air from the floor to the gap in the ceiling was now surrounded by an icy shimmer. Shiny molecules moved, joined, curved in lines. And so they outlined the transparent steps of a spiral staircase, resting against a gaping hole in the ceiling.

      “Help!” Rose shouted, hoping that at least someone would save her. For a moment it seemed to her that Mara was standing in the very corner of the room and squinting as if she was nearsighted, but she didn’t think to go for help.

      Rose tried to pull her hand out of her tenacious fingers, but the hunchback squeezed her wrist even tighter and stepped onto the first step. To the girl’s surprise, the staircase was not an illusion. The steps were hard and as slippery as ice. The ominous guide dragged the prisoner with him. Rose stumbled and fell right on the steps, but the hunchback pulled her hand so hard that she had to get up and keep up with him.

      “I don’t know anything about the contract. I am not who you are looking for,” Rose pleaded, but he didn’t even deign to answer her.

      It was a mistake. A terrible mistake. The princess was confused with someone else. She wanted to explain it, but the hunchback did not listen to her. And in the depths of Rose’s consciousness, another incredible guess emerged. It all happened to her because of the dress. Someone specially tried to get it into her hands. It was an identification mark for the sorcerer who dragged her along. His mysterious and intricate magic proved to be stronger than anything other wizards did.

      He climbed through the hole and the stairs began to dissolve in the surging air masses. The steps melted in an instant, like ice floes in water. Rose made another desperate attempt to free herself, but a strong, hooked hand pulled her through the hole just before the last step vanished into thin air.

      SINGER OF THE WIND

      Rose looked around in amazement. Everything disappeared somewhere. There were no more intricate chateau cornices, no ornate facades, and no huge gardens. Instead of taking his captive to the roof, the gloomy villain took her to another space. It was a cleft between two worlds.

      Behind the girl’s back were kingdoms, principalities and empires inhabited by people, and in front of them towered blue rocks, blocking mortals from entering the forbidden world.

      Blue smoke snaked around the rocks, enveloped the abyss, almost touched the bubbling foam of the river. An aqueduct was thrown across it. A string of patterned, sturdy supports held his stone platform.

      The blue rock ahead was shaped like a bastion erected by a shadow architect. Below, the river seethed and twisted in foamy waves around the pillars of the aqueduct, but could not reach the desired height. Rose looked down and felt dizzy. There, as in the palm of your hand, lay the ribbon of the river, entwining the whole country of sorcerers. It was not even a country, but a rocky island, fenced off by a fast, icy current. People called this river Silver because in the darkness its smooth surface shone with silver. It was impossible to wade or swim. It was enough to plunge into the water with just one foot, and it pulled the person like a funnel. Then the body melted into a frothy, liquid silver.

      Where its water basins narrowed, arched bridges were thrown, but they were far from safe. Even the halo around the moon here took on an ominous red color.

      Having dragged the girl across the bridge, the hunchback pulled out a copper cane from under his cloak, hit it on a flat rock, and immediately a crack formed in the smooth surface. She crawled up, then to the side, drawing some kind of triangular pattern. This drawing turned out to be a door. Someone opened it from the inside. Giant ugly hands grabbed Rose like a toy and threw her into the darkness. The door in the rock closed with a screech, leaving no slit for light.

      The princess did not know how long she had to lie face down on the cold floor. But suddenly a torch flashed in the darkness. The flames whipped out dirty, iron bars and padlocks. Some figures moved next to them like shadows, smoothly and silently. Hands, unlike human hands, hugged iron bars. The rustle of long robes was heard.

      Several more torches joined the first. They seemed to move through the air by themselves. One of them flew up to Rose’s face. There was no heat coming from it, and the wooden handle was free of any support.

      Rose recoiled, and the torch flew past her, illuminating the slippery, slab of floor. Two pairs of hands grabbed Rose by the elbows, forced her to her feet and quickly dragged her along. Rosa made out figures in long robes, their heads hidden by masks with bird beaks.

      A torch