Black Swan, White Raven by Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling

Author:Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling [Datlow, Ellen & Windling, Terri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, fairy tale, brothers grimm, anthology, once upon a time
ISBN: 9781434449214
Publisher: Wildside Press
Published: 2012-03-05T06:00:00+00:00

“The drought has hit you hard,” Dobelis said.

“The fields are worse—the King and court are traveling to survey the damage,” Edward replied. “We’ll lose everything if it doesn’t rain.”

Father’s voice bristled. “We’ll lose everything if you don’t keep watering. Come, Dobelis, we’ll go inside and leave Edward to his work.”

Dobelis took his saddlebag back. “Perhaps later, Edward,” he said. Edward watched the two walk inside the hut, Father muttering, Dobelis taking out his two-armed balance and a set of tally sticks.

Edward turned back to the garden, staring at the drying, dying plants. As he poured water around the base of the lilies, he found himself distracted by memories of Grandfather—hands like gnarled roots, a voice that ground like mortar and pestle.

Another memory stuck in Edward’s thoughts, this one a blurry recollection of a dream that came to him with every summer. Edward was working in the garden, digging, kneeling on the ground and tending to the plants. Grandfather stood before him, but Edward could only see the cracked leather of his boots. He heard Grandfather speak, words falling from his lips like the first rains of April, like seeds falling from a tree. As he weeded, Edward only caught snatches of the story. The Sleep. The thorns. And Cleome. As the words hit the ground they sprouted, shoots that raced up along Grandfather’s legs and chest, surrounding him, digging into his flesh until they ran in his veins. Belatedly, Edward abandoned his toil, attacking the prison of thorny vines and knife-edged leaves that held Grandfather. He shouted, but Grandfather did not hear, did not stop telling the story of Cleome. Not a princess but a peasant, he said, ivy trailing off his tongue, eyes growing hazel and face wrinkling like bark. Edward pounded his fists against the verdant harness, but the vines had taken Grandfather. At the end of the dream, his face burst open like a flower.

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