Little Knife Read Free

glass, reflecting the sky so purely that it looked as if one could step into it and fall straight through the clouds.
    The witch smiled, showing all her sharp teeth. “Now
this
is a mirror,” she said, “and seems a fair trade.”
    They returned to the cave, and when Baba Anezka handed Semyon one of her finest mirrors, he laughed in his joy.
    “That gift is for the river,” she said.
    “It belongs to Little Knife, and Little Knife does as I ask. Besides, what could a river want with a mirror?”
    “That is a question for the river,” replied Baba Anezka.
    But Semyon ignored her. He called out for Little Knife and once more the river grabbed his ankle and they went rushing down the mountainside together. When they roared past the Prince’s caravan trudging up the path, the soldiers turned to look, but only saw a great wave and a white curl of foam.
    Once they arrived in Velisyana, Semyon put on his least threadbare tunic, combed his hair, and did his best to polish his boots. When he checked his reflection in the mirror, he was surprised at the sullen face and inky eyes that stared back at him. He’d always thought himself quite handsome, and the river had never told him differently.
    “There is something wrong with this mirror, Little Knife,” he said. “But this is what the Duke demanded and so Yeva shall have it for her wall.”
    When the Duke looked out his window and saw Semyon striding across Suitors’ Square with a mirror in his hands, he reeled back in shock.
    “See what you have done with your foolish tasks?” said the retired colonel, who had come to await the contest’s outcome with the Duke. “You should have given me Yeva’s hand when you had the chance. Now she will be married to that outcast and no one will want to sit at your table. You must find a way to be rid of him.”
    But the Duke was not so sure. A Prince would make a fine son-in-law, but Semyon must have great power to accomplish such extraordinary tasks, and the Duke wondered if he might make use of such magic.
    He sent the colonel away and when Semyon knocked on the palace door, the Duke welcomed him with much ceremony. He sat Semyon in a place of honor and had the servants wash his hands with perfumed water, then gave him sugared almonds, plum brandy, bowls of lamb dumplings resting in nests of musk mallow. Semyon had never eaten so well, and he’d certainly never been treated as a beloved guest. When at last he sat back, his belly ached and his eyes were bleary with wine and flattery.
    The Duke said, “Semyon, we are both honest men and so can speak freely with one another. You are a clever fellow, but how can you hope to care for one such as Yeva? You have no work, no home, no prospects.”
    “I have love,” said Semyon, nearly toppling his glass, “and Little Knife.”
    The Duke didn’t know what knives had to do with anything, but he said, “One cannot live on love or cutlery, and Yeva has had an easy life. She knows nothing of struggle or hardship. Would you be the one to teach her suffering?”
    “No!” cried Semyon. “Never!”
    “Then we must make a plan, you and I. Tomorrow I will set a final task and if you accomplish it, then you will have Yeva’s hand and all the riches you could ever want.”
    Semyon thought the Duke might try to cheat him once more, but he liked the sound of this bargain and resolved to be on his guard.
    “Very well,” he said, and offered the Duke his hand.
    The Duke shook it, hiding his distaste, then said, “Come to the square tomorrow morning and listen closely.”
    Word of the new task spread and the next day, the square was packed with even more suitors, including the Prince, who stood with his tired horses, his boots glittering with tiny shards of the mirror he had smashed in his frustration.
    “There is an ancient coin forged by a great sorcerer and buried somewhere beneath Ravka,” the Duke declared. “Each time you spend it, it returns to you twofold, so your pockets will