by Janna Ruth
“You need me.”
Wulf grimaces. “Why would I?”
“Because you don’t understand what’s going on here.” I don’t yet either, but I want to find out. “The nymph and the salamander both went against their nature. There was too much gnome in the nymph and too much nymph in the salamander.”
Wulf wants to interrupt me, but his mind has picked up my words, and he starts to listen instead.
“The dryads said there were several nymphs to watch out for. I believe we’re far from done. Something has changed these spirits, and until we find out what it is, these horrible attacks won’t stop.”
His anger has been eroded by his professional interest. “What could change a spirit?”
“I don’t know. But if I would make a guess, then the answer is usually human activity.” The sylphs in Berlin had been so angry because of all the pollution in the air. I have to think of Aeola’s creation. The Erlking mingled with a summer breeze, but what would happen if he’d mingled with a toxic fume instead? What kind of monster sylph would have been born then? Could that be what’s been happening with these spirits? Are they the children of pollution? “If you want my civilian advice, I’d look for sites of pollution, maybe upriver.”
Wulf has calmed down to the point where he’s breathing normally, but his dark eyes are still glaring at me. “Fine.”
I glance at the door handle. “Can I go now?”
“Upstairs to your spirit friends?” he asks sharply. Yeah, I’m definitely not forgiven.
“Into my room,” I answer acidly.
Wulf grunts, which I take as approval. I slip through the door and leave him to sort out his feelings about me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
NATURALLY, WULF HOLDS onto his grudge. Apparently, I wounded him with my ‘not-my-commander’ line, and now he treats me like some random person who happens to be in the same place as he is. At breakfast, I see him making plans with József, and then the two of them head outside with their staffs and traps. He doesn’t look at me, nor tells me to stay put, so once I’ve finished eating, I set off to do my own thing. It’s not like I would want Wulf to join me, sentimental promise or not.
After two days spent in Buda, I decide to try my luck on the Pest side. I take the tram down to the Central Market Hall, a place I remember only vaguely. I knew it was enormous, but I didn’t quite expect it to be this big. The building is more than a hundred years old, but modern inside. There are so many stalls here, so much food, local and franchised, a thousand different scents in the air.
Aeola is accompanying me, and she looks dizzy after floating just a few metres into the hall. It smells of fruit and vegetables, of meat and spices, wine and perfume. Every food stand has a tasting plate to help you decide which exact piece of salami you want to buy, or which cheese fits your palate. In between the food stalls, racks of clothes and other trinkets hang. There’s a stall that sells crockery and another that sells tourist memorabilia.
I walk through the stalls, slightly intimidated, trying my best to ignore the calls from the salespeople while not offending them. You could certainly get lost in here, drifting from one aisle to the other. I’ve already forgotten where the entrance lies, and suddenly it hits me.
I got lost here. The memories of it are being dragged out of the depths of my brain like a fish from the river.
“Mama? Mama?” I turn around, looking for her, but there are so many people, some busy, some taking their time. I get pressed into a food stall, and the old woman behind it lowers a plate of cheese to me.
“You want to try these, my dear?” she asks, but I shake my head and retreat deeper down the aisle.
My mum wanted to buy me new shoes, but I can’t see any shoe stalls, just dresses, hats, and food stalls. So many food stalls. I find some stairs, but the overwhelming fish smell from downstairs makes me turn back.
There are too many people here and not enough air. Not for me, anyway. I push through the crowd and stumble down aisles until I see the light from outside.
Fewer people walk by outside, and the air is clearer. The smells of Central Market Hall still linger on my skin, but I can breathe again. I sit down next to the homeless guy with his dog and wait for my mum. We talk a little, though I can’t remember about what, and after half an hour, I hear her worried tone.
“Rika!”
I’m hardly back on my feet when she closes me into her arms, squeezing me so hard my chest aches. Then she kisses my face and constantly asks where I’ve been.
We’re outside now, Aeola and I, at the corner where that man sat more than a decade ago. There’s no one sitting there now, and my mum isn’t here either. I can feel the touch of her hand as she took it to walk me home, but no matter which way I turn, the memory won’t tell me which direction we took. I’ve hit yet another dead-end, and it’s so frustrating I almost want to sit down in that old space and just wait there until my mum comes to find me.
Instead, I turn to face Aeola and have to laugh. It smells like she picked up every scent in the market hall, including the heavy fish smell from downstairs. Even funnier, she looks like she’s in pure bliss.
“You’re okay?” I ask her when I’ve calmed down, ignoring the strange looks people give me as I talk to the air in front of me, a smile on my face.
Aeola sways happily from side to side. “Best place ever!”
Once again, I have to laugh. “Well, don’t go breathing baby sylphs on me. I don’t think I could handle a paprika sylph, or whatever that powerful smell in your belly is.”
Yep, people are definitely looking now. I grab a strand of Aeola and pull her with me like a really smelly kite. People seem to assume it’s me that’s smelling so horrendous and get out of my way, which suits me just fine. Nevertheless, we dip into an alleyway to escape their attention.
Just then, I catch sight of someone familiar. Rebeka and a man who’s definitely not Iván, step out of the back of a house and towards a car. Like a gentleman, he opens the door for her first, then goes around the car and gets inside. Neither of them sees me, much less Aeola.
“I wonder who that was.” Not that it is any of my business who Rebeka sees in her time off.
Aeola floats closer. “I could follow them?”
For a moment, I consider the risks. Rebeka is a spirit seeker. I don’t know her NAV, but it must be lower than that of the Varga brothers. She could definitely be over 300, but if so, not by much. My curiosity wins the better of me. “Okay, but stay at a distance.” As Aeola rises higher, I call after her, “and no baby-breathing.”
I didn’t know sylphs had tongues until Aeola sticks hers out at me. Then she swooshes down the street to follow the car.
While Aeola follows Rebeka and her lunch date, I keep walking the streets of Pest. As in Buda, all I gain from it is a pair of sore feet. At least I get myself reacquainted with the city. Streets connect with each other in my mind, and though they don’t give me any clue as to where the house Eszti lived in is located, I get a much better feel for the city. So much so, I’m starting to think I’ve must have spent more time in Pest than in Buda.
As the afternoon sun drops behind the houses, I make my way back to the island, taking a stroll through the garden. It’s there that Aeola catches up with me again.
“And?” I greet her.
She settles around my shoulders, still wearing a couple of faint smells from the market hall. “They had lunch in a restaurant, and then he gave her a present.”
Why do I even care about what Rebeka does? If she cheats on her boyfriend, that’s their problem. Sure, it strikes me as heartless, especially after Iván got hurt in yesterday’s heroics and after seeming so worried about him paying attention to me. I guess the reason I can’t seem to let it go is because I feel sorry for the guy. He didn’t join the fight and, instead, risked his health and maybe even his life to help other people, probably saving lives. I know technically all spirit seekers do that, but it takes a special person to forsake the glory of f
ighting a spirit and step into near-boiling water. Nevertheless, I don’t have a stake in their relationship, and it feels wrong to act on an assumption.
“It was a miniature spirit seeker staff,” Aeola explains.
“Wait. What?” I certainly didn’t expect to hear that. “He gifted her a spirit seeker staff?”
Aeola nods. “Yeah, it was about half the size of a real one.”
None of that makes any sense. Was it a weird present? Like, is it just a decorative item? Or does the staff truly work? But if so, then why only half-sized? That would turn it into a club, which doesn’t sound very appealing in a fight, especially when you can’t get close to a spirit.
I decide to file that information away for another time. If Rebeka were a little more approachable, I’d ask her, but I don’t feel like she’d appreciate it if I stuck my nose in her business.
Aeola leaves me as soon as we get to the ruins. As usual, I have to take a deep breath before stepping through the trapdoor. I’ll never understand how people can choose to live here.
I’ve hardly reached the open space when I hear a call. “Hey, Rika.” Iván is back. “Care to join us for a minute?” I can see bandages on his arms running into his sleeves.
He sits between his brother and Wulf. All three men wear severe expressions, but of course, Wulf beats them all with his deeply furrowed brow and tightened jaw.
Gingerly, I step in front of them, unsure whether I should take a chair or remain standing. Standing seems to be fine because Iván starts talking to me. “So, Wulf told us about your special relationship with the spirits.”
Immediately, I look towards Wulf. “You told them?”
He doesn’t even look ashamed. “They needed to be aware of the risks.”
“Risks? I’m a risk now?” I can’t believe this guy. What is this? Spring Cleaning, the second?
“Your relationship with spirits is,” he answers as drily as only he can.
József clears his throat. “We should probably inform the SSA.”
“Oh yeah, come on, rat me out.” I cross my arms as I face József, but my gaze drifts back to Wulf. “I can’t believe you’d do that after everything I told you.”
He sighs deeply. “Rika, this has nothing to do with your history. We will not inform the SSA. I understand why you wouldn’t want to attend the academy. Nevertheless, having you here is a risk.”
“How so?” I can’t for the life of me think how any of the instances so far have been my fault, or Aeola’s for that measure.
“You talked to a bunch of dryads and never told anyone that they were there, potentially leaving the headquarters at risk of an attack,” he explains in all seriousness.
I gasp. “Oh, my gosh. When will you finally get it? Not every spirit is aggressive. Nor will they be.” His stubbornness is infuriating. I can’t believe he can even say that with a straight face.
“You don’t know that!” he answers, no less sharply. “They might be peaceful right now and violent and destructive tomorrow. Didn’t that salamander teach you anything? Didn’t you see all these people it killed? Eight people died last night, two of them children! What do you say to that? That the spirit just wanted to take a bath?”
It’s so grossly unfair of him I don’t even know what to say. Throwing dead children in my face? Ridiculing the connection I have with Aeola? If Wulf ever had a redeeming feature, it just went out the window. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“No, you are.”
I’m starting to feel like I’m on trial. A trial I already lost before I was called into the stand. “You just can’t handle anyone disagreeing with you. That you possibly aren’t the…”
“Oh, stop it,” József interrupts, annoyed. “I don’t care about your relationship drama.”
Wulf splutters. “Józsie, this isn’t…”
“I don’t care what it is. This doesn’t get us anywhere.” József waves his hand at me dismissively while looking at Wulf. “In my opinion, you should put her on a train back to Berlin as soon as possible.”
“Could you stop that?” Iván asks. “You always tell everyone what they have to do. I’m the commander of this base. And I know you hate it, but I’m the one making the decisions.”
Frustrated, József leans back and crosses his arms. “Well, then do it. You send her away.”
“You’re doing it again,” Iván points out. Then he looks at me. “Rika, I don’t want you to go. I want you to talk to the dryads again.”
“What?” Wulf and I both say at the same time. I can’t even tell who’s more surprised.
Iván nods. “Find out what they know about these eerily powerful spirits that don’t fit any of our descriptions.”
“You want her to talk to spirits?” Wulf asks. “We don’t do that.”
“You don’t do that,” Iván says pointedly. “You usually don’t need to do that. But I don’t have a special-issued staff or a four hundred-plus teammate to help me defend Budapest. If Rika offers me an alternative way, I’m not gonna scoff at it. I don’t have that luxury. So, yes, I want her to talk to the dryads. And I want to come with you,” Iván adds as he looks back at me. “If you don’t mind.”
I’m overwhelmed. I’ve been fighting for this chance to prove we can work with the spirits since I met the spirit seekers, and finally, I’ve got someone who’ll listen. Who wants to learn. “Okay. But you need to leave your staff here.”
That doesn’t go down well with them. Wulf snorts, taking himself out of the conversation, while Iván looks worried. József warns his brother, “Don’t. What if they turn on you?”
His brother’s warning is probably what helps Iván make up his mind. “I’m putting myself in Rika’s hands. She’ll keep me safe.”
It would be a big ask if there were any real danger. “I won’t need to. The dryads aren’t aggressive.”
“There you go.” He forces his brother to let him through and then slips an arm through mine, turning me away from the disproving looks we’re getting. “Let’s go.”
As he leads me outside, I cast a glance at Wulf. He glowers in silence, staring daggers at Iván’s back—or mine. I’m tempted to show my satisfaction that Iván chose my side, but I decide to push that ugly emotion away and concentrate on the task at hand instead.
We leave the convent and step out under the darkening sky. “Thanks for the support down there,” I say quietly.
Iván gives me a half-hearted grin. “Anything for you, kedvesem.” The endearing term throws me a little, but fortunately, he continues more seriously. “I meant what I said to Wulf. He won’t understand. He’s the legend, right? He only has to look at spirits, and they fall dead at his feet.”
“Well…”
Iván stops me from accidentally defending Wulf’s prowess. “I know he’s really that good, but a lot of it is all that special attention they’re giving him. I mean, he was at the academy longer than anyone I know. Every freaking lecturer toots his horn.” He changes his voice. “Oh, let me tell you a story about Wulf Bachmann.” According to his impression, all lecturers are well beyond their best years. “Then my brother can’t stop gushing about him. And of course, they give him one of the ancient staffs. Only the best for Wulf Bachmann. The rest can get in line for scraps.”
“Are you still mad at your brother for inviting him?” I can’t imagine what it would be like to constantly be compared to a single person. The hero-worship of Wulf in the SSA is frightening, especially considering his approach towards spirits. If he’s the future of the SSA, there might not be any spirits left in a few decades. No whole ones, at least.
Iván scoffs and says, “What do you think? One failure, and we can’t even discuss strategies. Nope, he calls his buddy Wulf to swoop in and save the day. Too bad, Wulf can’t be at every seeker base at once, or the world would be saved.”
“Or doomed,” I mutter.
“You’re quite peculiar, you know?” He looks sideways at me. “I’ve never heard of anyone talking to spirits
apart from those spirit-worshipping travelling people.”
His comment hurts, even though I’m not surprised. Hungary might have the largest Roma population in all of Europe, but that doesn’t mean they’re well-liked or respected. I’m not super-keen to antagonise him, but I can’t let it stand either. “You still haven’t. I am one of them.”
“Are you now?” I can hear the sudden distance in his voice. “That makes sense, I guess.”
“You want to turn back?” I ask him, not sure if I can handle his prejudice now.
Iván shakes his head. “No. As I said, I’m desperate. Maybe your folks have it right and talking is the way. If your dryad fans tell us where to find those mega-spirits, I’m on board with whatever.”
“Let’s see.” I’m not that confident that they’ll tell us anything at all.
We reach the section of the gardens where the trees grow. I put my hand on one of those I saw being used by a dryad last time and speak out softly, “Please show yourself. We need your help.” I let all my sincerity flow into the bark, hoping it’ll be enough to draw them out.
The wind rustles through the leaves as we wait. I know Aeola must be somewhere nearby, cautiously watching us. Then the bark under my hand shifts. I step back to watch the dryad step into the open. One minute, she’s just another knob in the tree. Next, she’s standing on her own two roots, brushing a swath full of white poplar leaves from her face. She looks warily at Ivan, who raises his hands in response.
“We’re just here to talk,” he says.
Three other dryads step out of their trees. They’re craning their long wooden necks to see what is going on. I smile at them in what I hope is encouragement. “Thanks for showing yourselves.”
“Who are you?” The dryad from the tree I touched asks me.
“I’m Rika. I’m a Traveller.” I don’t know if spirits know that term or if I just confused them, but I hope we carry a bit of a reputation in the spirit world, one that tells them they can trust me. “This is Iván. What’s your name?”