East

I thought a moment, then said honestly, "They asked me to stay with them."

"Nothing else?"

"No."

"You ... are sure?"

"Yes, I am sure." I wondered what lay behind the question, what it was he feared.

"Your mother ... did she not ... ask you ... give advice?"

"I told my mother only a little. Enough to reassure her that I am safe. I am safe, aren't I?" I asked boldly.

The white bear made a sound that could have been a chuckle. "You are ... safe," he replied after a few moments.

I didn't know how I was going to feel when the doors of the castle shut behind me, but as with leaving my family, it wasn't as hard as I had feared. The memory of moonlight and cool night air was still fresh, and perhaps it would last me a long time.

I climbed off his back and stood before him in the front entryway of the castle. There was an awkward moment, as though neither of us knew what to say or what to do next.

Then the white bear said, "Thank you ... for coming back," and turned to walk away.

"Wait," I said. "Can you not...?" I groped for the words. "Please ... tell me why I am here, and what it is I can do to ... help you?"

He turned and looked at me. "...Ca

Then I couldn't help myself. I was already feeling the walls close in on me. "Am I to be allowed to visit my family again?" I blurted out.

I thought his head drooped a little at that, but he lifted it and said, "...not talk of that ... now." He disappeared down the hall, his massive feet making no noise on the thick carpet.

Well, at least he hadn't said no, I told myself, and made my way to the room with the red couch.

***

I was happy to see the loom again and had many ideas for clothing I wanted to make for my family. But I set diem aside for the moment. I was much more focused on a new thought: During the journey back to the castle, I had vowed to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the white bear.

The obvious source to learn more about him was the two servants.

I began to spy on them, being careful so they wouldn't guess what I was up to. I would go to my loom dutifully as they expected me to, then would sneak out into the halls of the castle to see where the two of them were. As time went on I observed a pattern to their daily schedule and began work on a map of their movements. First I came up with a list of their duties, the jobs they did to keep the castle ru

Unless it was all done by magic. Yet even though I was living with a talking white bear in a castle inside a mountain, my mind still rebelled at the whole idea of magic. After all, I hadn't seen any mystifying transformations, things flying through the air or anything like that. The unlightable darkness of my bedroom and the lamp that went out for no reason were the only real signs that anything supernatural was going on.

I made it a point to wander along the hallway with the tapestry-covered kitchen door, and whenever I saw the two servants, I tried to be friendly. I would smile and speak a few words, offering by pantomime to help them carry things.

The woman would smile back blandly but remained aloof, resisting my efforts. I could see, however, that the little man was interested. He would nod and smile back, and once he let me carry wood for him. The woman was with him then and she frowned, saying something in their language that prompted him to take the wood back from me.

Clearly, if I was to have any luck at all communicating with the man, I needed to catch him alone.

According to my map the woman servant laid the fires in the rooms I used most—the one with the red couch, my bedchamber, the laundry room, and the weaving room. While she was attending to those, she sent the little man to check whether I'd used any of the other fireplaces during the previous day. If I had, which was rare, he was in charge of laying them afresh, after reporting to her.

So one afternoon I used a candle to light a fire in a small room on the second floor, as far away as possible from the kitchen or any of the other rooms the woman would be working in. It was a library of sorts, though it had fewer books than the big library on the first floor.

The next morning I got up early and hid myself in the second-floor room. I watched as the little man entered and inspected the fireplace, which had ash and burnt kindling in it. He lit the lamps in the room and then left, so I settled myself with a book in a large, comfortable chair. A little while later the man opened the door. Seeing me sitting there, he began to back out of the room, but I hopped up and, smiling warmly, beckoned him in. With a quick backward glance out into the hall, he slowly entered, carrying his bundle of wood and kindling.

"Hello," I said brightly.

He just stared at me.

Then I said, "Rose," and pointed to myself.

Again he looked at me dumbly.

I did it again. "Rose."

Something lit in his eyes. "Tuki," he said, and pointed to himself. I couldn't be sure if Tuki was his name, or nationality, or even species, but I nodded enthusiastically and pointed to him, saying, "Tuki."

And to my pleasure he responded by pointing to me and saying, "Rose."

I clapped my hands with delight. And then I pointed to the book I was holding and said, "Book."

He looked a little puzzled but then pointed to the book and said, "Kirja" which I hoped meant "book" in his language.

After that he set down the wood he was carrying, and we went around thè room pointing to things, each giving our own name for it. He seemed to enjoy this greatly, as if it were a splendid game, and I wondered if, despite the fact that his features looked adult to me, he might not actually be a child.

As we moved around the room, he would deliberately brush against my arm or hand, and I remembered the first time we had met and how he had appeared to be fascinated by my skin. And for myself, I was struck again by the white-ridged roughness of his.

When we came near the fireplace, he suddenly remembered his reason for coming to the room and quickly retrieved the wood. While he hurriedly laid the fire, I sat in a chair and watched him. He finished, then gazed at me, a questioning look on his face.

I nodded, and only a moment after he had bent over the wood, flames sprung up. I hadn't seen a striker or a candle and wondered if he had used some kind of magic spell to light the fire.

I pointed at the flames licking the logs and said, "Fire."

He looked at me, gri

"Good-bye, Tuki!" I called to him.

I was pleased. This was a good begi

One of my favorite rooms in the castle was the music chamber, even though I didn't know how to play any of the instruments. Occasionally I would sit at the pianoforte and play on the ivory keys, but I could not make a melody out of the sounds.