Mistress of the Solstice by Anna Kashina Read Free Book Online

I remember correctly, our good Nikola the Wise met his doom upon the
very same riddle. He kept blabbering about an ocean or something. Why,
I don’t even know what an
‘ocean’ is…Blood.
Hmmm.”
    Leshy glanced at a small fir tree rising out of the swamp. There was a
barely audible sound, like a breath drawn in, and the tree withered
right in front of Ivan’s eyes. The fresh green needles
turned yellow, then brown, and then crumpled off the branches, suddenly
thinned and gnarled like an old woman’s hands. Leshy
watched with a cold gleam of satisfaction in his eyes. Then he turned
to Ivan and gave him a meaningful look.
    “All right, Ivan the Fool of a Misleading
Nickname,” he said, “since
you’re so good at riddles, I’ll give
you my hardest one yet. No one has ever been able to guess this one.
Off the top of my head, I don’t even think I recall the
answer myself.” He giggled.
    Ivan took care not to show any reaction. Intimidating an opponent was an
ancient and effective tactic. He had been told that Leshy used it a
great deal. The best way to handle it was not to pay any attention. If
he could manage to do so.
    He listened.
    “I’m always a welcome one, always a
treasure,
    Yet sometimes resented beyond any measure.
    But when I decide that I must slip away,
    You’ll fight to return me, you’ll beg me
to stay.”
    Ivan took a breath. “Only one
answer,” Wolf had said. Which meant, among other
things, that there had to be an answer.
    “Always welcome” yet
“sometimes resented”. What could
it be?
    A child?
    Most people he knew welcomed children, yet some would do anything to
avoid having one; such as, a family with too many mouths to feed; or a
maiden who had ruined her prospects of a good marriage by being a bit
too careless in her adolescent games.
    There went the “always welcome”
part, and with it went the answer itself. However confusing, everything
in the riddle had to be consistent with the sole answer that fit all
parts of the rhyme.
    If, of course, Leshy always followed the rules. According to Wolf, it
was a given. Yet, watching the shifting moods on
Leshy’s face, it was easy to suspect foul play.
    “I’m beginning to freeze,
boy,” Leshy complained. He cast his eyes on a nearby
puddle of swamp water. After a brief moment, steam started to rise off
its still surface. By the time Ivan caught his breath, the water was
boiling like soup in a kettle. The pale shape of a dead frog floated up
and disappeared back in the turmoil.
    Concentrate .
    “He will do anything to distract
you,” Wolf had said.
“Don’t let him.
That’s how he wins.”
    Leshy looked away, and the water slowly calmed again. The faint smell of
fish soup tainted the air, topped by the heady aroma of wild rosemary
on a hot day.
    “I don’t understand
it, boy. Why do you resist your fate so much? It’s so
nice and cozy here in the swamp. We’re all so looking
forward to playing with a sweet one like you…You do like to play,
don’t you, boy?” He crept a few
inches toward Ivan.
    The chill he’d emanated earlier was
gone. Instead, Ivan caught the scent of beresklet berries—flowery and bitter at the same time. The faint smell of stale
water gave the beresklet scent a moldy touch, but Ivan couldn’t tell if it was
coming from Leshy himself, or from the swamp around them.
    He did his best to ignore the old man and focus on the riddle.
    What was it that everyone welcomed and treasured and yet sometimes
resented beyond measure? What was it that one would do anything to keep
when it decided to slip away?
    Love?
    Yes, it seemed likely.
    “Ready yet?” Leshy asked.
    Yes, Ivan almost said, but
something held him.
    Think some more . You only get this one shot.
    “Oh, come now,” The Forest Man
pouted. “Why d’you insist on being
sooo boring?…It is so beautiful here at night. Once you sees it,
you’ll never want to leave!”
    He swept his hands, as if opening an invisible curtain. Suddenly the air
filled