“I’m Damayanti,” she said. “But you already knew that.”
He looked at her again. “No. Forgive me if I ought to.”
She dragged a finger across her lips like she was going to bite it. “Really? That says a lot about you.”
Her gaze fell on the book in his hand. “But I’ve heard about you, Ravenbearer. What you’re looking for can’t be found in any book. And those with the knowledge you seek don’t dare so much as whisper about it.”
She picked up her books. Hugged them to her chest and turned away from him. “Though there are always exceptions. Come and see me dance sometime, Rime.”
He watched her go. She’d heard about him. Everyone had, but he rarely gave any thought to exactly what they’d heard. Now he felt grudgingly curious. The Council wanted him to start a family, to get married. What would they say if he chose a woman like Damayanti? A dancer?
They’d hate it. They’d be furious. Hurl threats at him. Tear out what little hair they had left.
Rime couldn’t help but smile.
VERMIN
The apple was crisp and green. Not so much as a wrinkle. No mold. No rot. And after how many weeks?
Hirka pressed against the peel, but there was no give. Somehow she was holding an apple that looked like it had been picked yesterday, even though the trees in the churchyard were bare.
She put the apple on the windowsill. She didn’t care what anyone said, there was no way she was sinking her teeth into something that refused to die. She wasn’t stupid. In stories, they were always poisoned.
She heard the scratching of Kuro’s claws inside the drawer. He was asleep. That was all he did lately. He wasn’t eating much either. Neither of them were. She kneeled on the mattress and gently poked his beak. “You can’t just lie there,” she said, not sure whether she was talking to herself or the raven. After all, she hadn’t ventured outside the church in days. The man in the hoodie was still fresh in her mind. The taste of tobacco on his hand. His brute strength. His voice.
Sure, she’d come out of their encounter in one piece. And she’d been through worse. Far worse. But that was of little comfort now. She wasn’t herself in this senseless world. She felt so alone. So defenseless.
Svarteld would have keeled over laughing if he’d seen her in the alleyway. “You call that a kick?” he’d have said. She smiled to herself. If she ever saw the man in the hoodie again, she was going to introduce his nose to her elbow.
“I know nothing’s the same here, but we’ve got to make the best of it, okay?” Kuro didn’t stir. “We’ve got a roof over our head. Food. Paid work. You know what that means? That means we won’t starve.” She set her boots down on the floor in front of him. “And just look at these. Look at that color!” Kuro didn’t bat an eyelid. She got up and put the boots on. “If you get ill, I’ll never forgive you. Just so we’re clear on that, you mangy old bird.”
Her words grew thick with emotion. There was no point trying to hide her fear anymore. She had to ask Father Brody for help. He was a good man. And he was bound to know someone who was good with ravens.
Hirka descended the stairs of the tower. The stone had crumbled away in several places and been covered over with wooden boards. She liked it. Wood on stone. The way the church was built. It was one of the few things that felt right here. That reminded her of home.
This is home now.
She heard footsteps in the church below and pressed herself flat against the wall. An old habit she hadn’t quite managed to shake. She shook her head in frustration, then opened the door and emerged behind the altar. Father Brody smiled at her. He always looked like he needed a wee when he smiled. He had a ruddy complexion and was wearing a dark shirt and trousers but no robe.
“Something’s wrong with Kuro,” Hirka said.
“Kuro?” He raised an eyebrow. “Ah, yes, the bird.”
“He’s ill, and I don’t have anything to make him better.”
“I see. I see.”
Hirka knew that he didn’t really see, even though he always said that he did.
“Do you?” she asked.
“Do I what?”
“Have something to make him better?” Hirka was trying to hide how worried she was, but talking about it only made it worse.
“No. No, I don’t think so. What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s not moving. Not eating. We have to do something.”
Father Brody nodded. His blue eyes somehow seemed younger than the rest of him. “I can ask a veterinarian. An animal doctor. We can call, right after … I was just about to fetch you. There’s someone coming to talk to you.”
He made it sound like it was something that happened every day. She was immediately suspicious. Why would anyone want to talk to her? She knew hardly any of the people who came to the church. Apart from Jay.
And her mum, Dilipa. Who’d rather you weren’t around.
Hirka nodded. First things first. “Can you call the animal doctor now?”
Father Brody’s cheeks turned even redder. For a moment he looked like he was considering saying no, but that wasn’t a word that came easily to him. “Of course. Of course.”
He pulled out his phone and started tapping at the screen. Hirka bit her lip. There had to be someone who could help. Then a memory flashed before her eyes. The man in the alleyway. The woman in the fur coat who’d seen her in distress and hurried off as if nothing was happening. As if it didn’t concern her. It had all happened in a moment, but Hirka knew that vacant look all too well. And the pain of knowing nobody was going to intervene. Or even say anything.
Hirka had wised up now. She could help as many people as she liked, but when push came to shove, she was on her own.
People mean danger.
“Yes, it’s a raven. Isn’t that right, Hirka?” The sound of her name snapped her back to the present. Father Brody watched her as he spoke into the phone. “Either that or a large crow.”
“He’s a raven,” Hirka said.
“I see. I see.” Father Brody nodded to himself. “Is that right? Thank you. No, no, I understand. Thank you all the same.” He returned the phone to his pocket.
“What did they say?” Hirka took a step closer.
“She said they don’t normally treat vermin.”
“Vermin?” That was a new word to her.
“Yes, you know … animals like that. The kind people don’t like having around. Animals that are a nuisance.”
“So they’ll just let him die?”
“They normally put them to sleep. Ravens aren’t meant to be kept indoors. It’s illegal, so I told her you’d found it outside.”
“You lied for me?”
“No, no, no—to the best of my knowledge, that’s true!” Father Brody tried to smile again. His I-need-a-wee smile.
Hirka perched on the end of the pew.
Vermin: Animals people don’t want around.
They could rot in Slokna, each and every one of them.
The main door creaked open behind them.
“Father Brody?” A woman walked in. She was dark-skinned and wearing a fitted checkered shirt. She had a folder pressed against her chest.
“Ah, yes! Trudy.” Father Brody looked at Hirka. “This is Trudy, she just wants to have a little chat. Don’t worry, I’d never … It’s just that people are starting to ask questions, so we have to—”
“People?” Hirka knew exactly who he meant. Dilipa. Jay’s mum. In her mind, Hirka was vermin. Something people didn’t want around. Hirka knew that ought to make her feel sad, but that was just the way things were here. She’d learned that now.
The woman in the checkered shirt held out her hand to Hirka. “I’m Trudy. Can we talk for a moment?”
“I’m not good at speaking. Yet,” Hirka answered, sliding even closer to the end of the pew so she’d have the option of running if it came down to it.
Trudy said where she was from, but it was just a string of random sounds to Hirka. She sat down and
tried again in several different languages. “Don’t you know any of these languages, Hirka?” The woman looked at her like she was a child.
Hirka shook her head. “I live here. I speak English.”
Trudy gave Father Brody a worried look. He shrugged. “We’ve tried everything. Nobody’s come up with a place she’s even heard of. She spoke her own language when she first arrived but hasn’t since.”
Hirka let her eyes wander, pretending not to understand. There was a good reason she didn’t speak her own language anymore. It made everyone ask where she was from, and when she answered truthfully, they thought she was crazy. Or not quite right. Like Vetle. The thought of Vetle brought a flood of memories. Ramoja. Eirik. The sound of the ravens flying above Ravnhov every morning.
She looked outside, but the sky here was devoid of life. Empty. Ravenless.
Father Brody continued. “Someone from Norway came in recently, said he had family in Iceland. Couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he did think it sounded similar. We’re pretty sure she’s suffering from memory loss. Maybe she even made up her own language. That’s possible, isn’t it?”
Trudy flipped through her papers. “What’s the name of the place you’re from?”
Hirka clamped her mouth shut. She’d fallen for that one before. But clearly this woman had no intention of giving up without a fight. “How old are you?” Something about her questions unsettled Hirka, but she could no longer pretend she didn’t understand.
Father Brody answered for her. “She says she’s sixteen.”
Trudy looked even more concerned, if that were at all possible, but the smile never left her face. It sent chills down Hirka’s spine. “Your parents, Hirka. Where are they?”
At last Hirka could answer honestly. “I thought they’d be here.”
Trudy perked up at that. “Did your mum and dad say they were going to be here?”
Hirka shook her head.
“What are your parents’ names?”
“I don’t know.”
Trudy sighed and got up. “Can we have a word in private, Father? I don’t know what she’s been through, but there’s a good chance she’s experienced some kind of trauma.”
They walked down the aisle as they continued their conversation. Hirka sat motionless, listening to their voices until they reached the annex. When she heard the door shut behind them, she got up and ran toward the tower. She took the stairs three at a time, all the way up to her room. Frantically, she looked around for something to barricade the stairwell with, but then realized how stupid that was. She slumped against the wall.
It was all over. She’d only come to this world because she thought it was where she belonged. Because she was human. One of them. But it was exactly the same here as in Ym. She felt just as hounded. Just as much an outsider. And now this woman was explaining to Father Brody why she couldn’t stay, how the police would have to take her away. They’d probably put her to sleep, too. Like she was vermin.
Her bag. Where had she left it? Hirka found it by the dresser and started cramming in her clothes, notebook, pouches of herbs. What else? The half-cup. And the spiral-shaped stone Hlosnian had given her in Elveroa. Before everything had gone to Slokna. Before Father had died. She ran her finger over the grooved surface. The stone whisperer had said it was formed by the Might itself. Long before people. She slipped it inside a pouch. The seedlings on the windowsill would have to stay.
She scooped Kuro up into her arms. He was limp. Warmer than usual. She took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. “You can’t get ill now. We can’t stay here. Do you understand?”
She gave him a little shake, but all he did was close his eyes. They looked like pale worms against the black of his feathers. She put him back in the drawer and rested her head against the dresser. She’d have to wait until nightfall. She could grab one of the boxes from the café and carry him in that. In the meantime, she’d have to keep up appearances. Convince Father Brody that everything was okay. She shut her eyes and took another deep breath. If she didn’t go back down, Father Brody was bound to come up. She had no other option.
She walked back down the stairs. The wind was picking up outside. It sounded like a ghost wailing its way up the tower. But that didn’t bother Hirka. She wasn’t afraid of ghosts. After all, she was a ghost herself.
Father Brody was sitting on the same pew Hirka had been sitting on earlier. He was staring up at the altar. That usually meant he didn’t know what to do. Or that he didn’t like what he had to do. Hirka sat down next to him and tucked her feet up under her legs.
“Hmm, hmm,” he said, nodding like she’d said something. Then he was silent for a while. The roof groaned with every gust of wind.
“We know so little about you, Hirka,” Father Brody said, dragging his hand across his face. A habit that reminded her of Father. Grief lanced through her heart. She suddenly felt like curling up next to Father Brody, but she couldn’t give in to her emotions. Anyway, it wouldn’t feel right, considering she was planning on running away as soon as night fell.
“About as much as I know about you.” Hirka forced a grin. That usually did the trick. If nothing else, she’d have her smile to fall back on. Father Brody’s cheeks flushed. He’d been her safe haven for months. He was a good man, and she didn’t blame him for what was about to happen.
“You know people aren’t supposed to live here,” he said. “This is a church. God’s house. Do you know what that means, Hirka? Do you know who God is?” He looked almost despondent. Hirka didn’t know what to do to comfort him. So she just nodded. She’d seen people pit themselves against gods before. She’d been there when Rime lost his.
His gaze rested on the painting behind the altar. A young man in a red tunic. Half-naked with a wound in his side. Another man crouched next to him with his fingers held to the wound. Was he trying to heal him? Hard to say. A white pigeon soared above them.
Hirka looked at Father Brody. His hands gripped the pew in front as he stared at the painting, waiting for an answer that wouldn’t come. She rested her hand on his back.
“Father Brody, I’m pretty sure that’s just a perfectly ordinary pigeon.”
THE GREENHOUSE
Hirka sat with her back to the wall and stared up at the bells. Black holes, big enough to swallow her if they were to fall. But they’d been there for a long time. Surrounded by pulleys and beams, with ropes hanging all the way down for people to pull on and make a din that would wake all of Slokna—Father included.
She was going to have to leave again. Run. That was what she always ended up doing. It was the only thing she was any good at.
She’d run away from the cabin, the only home she’d known. Run from Lindri’s teahouse, sneaking out and stealing across the rooftops of Mannfalla. And then there was the night the Seer’s tree had shattered. That fateful night when everything had changed. She still remembered the look on Rime’s face when she’d asked him to retrieve her bag. To risk his life rescuing it from the vaults in Eisvaldr.
Her chortle quickly descended into a choked sob. She curled up into a ball and hugged her bag to dull the pain. Her head hurt. But it was like picking a scab. She couldn’t help herself.
Rime. That white hair. Those wolf eyes. That kiss.
She’d known there was no going back. That she would never see him again. But never had just been a word. Now it was something more. It was hours. Days. Months. Never had taken on new meaning.
Rime was the Ravenbearer now. In a world that didn’t belong to her. But it was painfully clear that this world didn’t belong to her either. That was probably why it felt so unfair. So unsafe.
The man in the hoodie.
It hadn’t been some random mugging. He’d been watching her. Waiting for her. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that he wasn’t the only one. It was dangerous out there. And she had nowhere to go. But still … she couldn’t just sit here until the police took her away. The police were the guardsmen of this world, a
nd she’d fallen into the hands of guardsmen before. Gone against her own instincts and walked straight into the Rite Hall. Straight into the belly of the beast. Never again.
Kuro was gasping for breath now. He lay motionless on a towel in a cardboard box. Something was wrong. She could smell it. Hirka shrugged it off and set about packing the rest of her things. What remained of the money Father Brody had paid her for helping out. What remained of her tea and herbs, which wasn’t much. She’d have to ration them. What if she got ill? Not that she could remember ever being properly ill. That was the advantage of growing up with a healer for a father.
Reluctantly, she packed the undying apple as well. It beat starving to death. She pulled on her green tunic. It had been with her through thick and thin, and it looked like it, too. But it helped her remember who she was. She shoved her pocketknife into her woolly sock, pressed firmly against the side of her boot so she could draw it without the sheath coming out with it. She practiced a couple of times to make sure it worked.
Hirka put on her raincoat and pulled up the hood, then shouldered her bag. Then she picked up Kuro’s box, took one last look at the beautiful window, and went down the stairs.
It was nighttime, so no one would hear her. All the same, she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs as quietly as she could. The church was a gray void. There was a whispering sound, like an echo from centuries of visitors. Darkness formed black chasms between the pews. The stained glass had dimmed for the night. Switched off its colors. Gone to sleep.
She walked down the aisle. The feeling of being watched didn’t leave her until she reached the main door. She opened it, then looked back at the altar. At the painting of the wounded figure and the pigeon she’d thought was Odin. God, in this world. But now she knew it was more complicated than that. Whoever it was, the pigeon remained silent.
“Well, then … it’s all yours again,” she whispered, and slipped out into the winter night.
The city was almost tolerable at night. Quieter. Without any cars around, the sounds made more sense. Drunkards were drunkards, no matter what world you were in. At least that was something. If she squinted, she could imagine she was walking down the Catgut, on her way to Lindri’s teahouse. Until an empty night bus roared past, shattering the illusion.
The Rot Page 4
