Red as Blood, or Tales from the Sisters Grimmer: Expanded Edition by Tanith Lee
Authors: Tanith Lee
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offered, the wall might easily spring back about him, and he would suffer the fate of all the rest. But something seemed to pull him on. He could no longer hang back. The shadow of the thorns fell over him but the avenue did not close up, though the stems thrashed about like angry serpents on either side.
Underfoot the soil was grey. The thorns had drained it. For a long time there were only the moving latticed shadows and the grey soil, and then a pale light glowed in front of him. It was the end of the briar tunnel. He ran toward it, and suddenly came out into the lavender gloaming. Immediately, with a terrible sound, the thorns closed ranks behind him, but there was no room left in him for alarm.
He was on a marble terrace which rose in marble steps to an incredible garden above. Dark green trees had been pruned into the shapes of birds and animals, fountains jetted into porphyry basins and a thousand roses bloomed. Not a leaf moved. The flowers were like things made of wax, and the water of the fountains stayed quite still like threads of crystal suspended in mid air. The prince climbed the steps and stood in the garden mystified and troubled, and ahead rose the vast pile of a palace with pointing milk-white towers. Taking one deep breath, he began to walk toward it.
On the trees birds sat, their beaks open in silent song. He came upon a garland of doves with spread wings simply hanging impossibly in the air, and on a lawn a springing cat with its paws several inches from the ground, quite motionless.
The doors of the palace were open as if something had rushed through them and blown them wide. Inside, soldiers with glaring eyes stood to attention down the length of the great hall. Pages were transfixed in the act of moving with their trays of sweets, and graceful women and proud men were posed in all manner of gestures, some laughing with their heads thrown back, the dim light glinting on their teeth, others frowning or yawning as they must have done for a hundred years. The prince noted that these people had kept their velvets and silks, though there were no hair pins or brooches, and the soldiers carried stone clubs at their belts.
He came to two thrones of gold, and here sat a king and a queen. Her face was sad and pale, his harsh and cruel. It seemed they had guessed at the last instant that the curse had fallen after all. Huge nets of cobwebs drifted over everything, caught between the golden chandeliers, the lion feet of the chairs, the fingers of the king. They alone moved. An enamel clock stood in a corner, but its hands had fallen off and lay on the floor, for in this place time had stopped.
The prince went from room to room, seeking something out, he didn’t know what.
On the marble staircase a servant was lighting lamps, and the flare of his taper stood up like a piece of yellow ice, not flickering.
The prince came into the upper rooms, and here the twilight fell very thick, like the dust. He came to a strange, narrow, dark door, and pushed it open. There was a waiting lady here, her hands frozen at her mouth which was open on a soundless scream, and her eyes wide in terror. He looked where she was looking, up a twisting ugly stair to a half-open door at the top.
He ran up the steps and threw open the door.
It was a long narrow gallery, mostly pitch black, yet lit at the centre by a shivering grey light. The first thing he saw there was the spinning wheel which gave off this light. It was all silver, even to the wheel, which, as he took half a step into the room, began suddenly to whirl round so fast and so angrily that hissing white sparks flew off it and burst in the air. It gave out a sawing spitting noise, but he came on toward it, for like the thorns it seemed to have no power to harm him.
When he passed it by he glanced down and saw that on the tip of the wicked needle rested a single ruby—one drop of human blood.
A thick mesh of cobwebs hung behind the spinning wheel. He thrust through
Underfoot the soil was grey. The thorns had drained it. For a long time there were only the moving latticed shadows and the grey soil, and then a pale light glowed in front of him. It was the end of the briar tunnel. He ran toward it, and suddenly came out into the lavender gloaming. Immediately, with a terrible sound, the thorns closed ranks behind him, but there was no room left in him for alarm.
He was on a marble terrace which rose in marble steps to an incredible garden above. Dark green trees had been pruned into the shapes of birds and animals, fountains jetted into porphyry basins and a thousand roses bloomed. Not a leaf moved. The flowers were like things made of wax, and the water of the fountains stayed quite still like threads of crystal suspended in mid air. The prince climbed the steps and stood in the garden mystified and troubled, and ahead rose the vast pile of a palace with pointing milk-white towers. Taking one deep breath, he began to walk toward it.
On the trees birds sat, their beaks open in silent song. He came upon a garland of doves with spread wings simply hanging impossibly in the air, and on a lawn a springing cat with its paws several inches from the ground, quite motionless.
The doors of the palace were open as if something had rushed through them and blown them wide. Inside, soldiers with glaring eyes stood to attention down the length of the great hall. Pages were transfixed in the act of moving with their trays of sweets, and graceful women and proud men were posed in all manner of gestures, some laughing with their heads thrown back, the dim light glinting on their teeth, others frowning or yawning as they must have done for a hundred years. The prince noted that these people had kept their velvets and silks, though there were no hair pins or brooches, and the soldiers carried stone clubs at their belts.
He came to two thrones of gold, and here sat a king and a queen. Her face was sad and pale, his harsh and cruel. It seemed they had guessed at the last instant that the curse had fallen after all. Huge nets of cobwebs drifted over everything, caught between the golden chandeliers, the lion feet of the chairs, the fingers of the king. They alone moved. An enamel clock stood in a corner, but its hands had fallen off and lay on the floor, for in this place time had stopped.
The prince went from room to room, seeking something out, he didn’t know what.
On the marble staircase a servant was lighting lamps, and the flare of his taper stood up like a piece of yellow ice, not flickering.
The prince came into the upper rooms, and here the twilight fell very thick, like the dust. He came to a strange, narrow, dark door, and pushed it open. There was a waiting lady here, her hands frozen at her mouth which was open on a soundless scream, and her eyes wide in terror. He looked where she was looking, up a twisting ugly stair to a half-open door at the top.
He ran up the steps and threw open the door.
It was a long narrow gallery, mostly pitch black, yet lit at the centre by a shivering grey light. The first thing he saw there was the spinning wheel which gave off this light. It was all silver, even to the wheel, which, as he took half a step into the room, began suddenly to whirl round so fast and so angrily that hissing white sparks flew off it and burst in the air. It gave out a sawing spitting noise, but he came on toward it, for like the thorns it seemed to have no power to harm him.
When he passed it by he glanced down and saw that on the tip of the wicked needle rested a single ruby—one drop of human blood.
A thick mesh of cobwebs hung behind the spinning wheel. He thrust through
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