The Missing Barbegazi

by H. S. Norup

  Icy air prickled her cheeks, as she dragged herself from the bus to the lift station, puffing and exhaling white clouds. Felix’s skis were heavier than her own, or perhaps her arms and back and thighs were just sore from yesterday’s walk. She blamed Opa’s snowshoes.

  Thoughts of Opa led directly to Oma. She squeezed her crossed fingers together, hoping the puzzle had helped, and sniffled in the chairlift.

  “Just ski, Tessa,” she muttered, as she set off from the top.

  “Aha. Lady Tessa graces us with her presence,” Coach yelled, at the start. “One hour late! Why am I standing here, if you can’t be bothered to get up in the morning?”

  “Sorry,” Tessa mumbled. Explaining would mean tears.

  “New, old skis? What happened to your Atomics?”

  “Chainsaw.”

  Coach exploded in a roar of laughter and the queue behind her chuckled.

  “Good one, Tessa,” Felix called.

  She got into starting position.

  “What d’you think you’re doing?” Coach yelled. “Glide through and inspect the course first. Take those other two latecomers with you. Explain the double gate to them.”

  Great. Coach had grouped her with Hans and Helmut, the two most annoying and chaotic skiers in the club. Skiing with them was like running through the village in nothing but your undies. Tessa stemmed her skis, snowploughing in slow motion down between the red and blue gates. Loud giggles from the T-bar lift told her Lisa and Maria had seen her with the two little monsters in tow.

  She sped up after the course ended. Behind her, Hans and Helmut jumped on bumps and shouted and laughed. When she stopped by the lift queue, they sprayed her with snow, just as Hans skied into Helmut—or Helmut into Hans—felling the three of them. She disentangled herself from the rowdy mass of green arms and red legs, to disapproving noises from two German women in metallic jackets and a tall white-clad man in the queue.

  At least she got her own T-bar, but the rude shouts at Bambi-legged tourists, from Hans and Helmut, embarrassed her. She hadn’t brought her binoculars—she didn’t need them any more—so she watched her teammates. Felix raced between the gates, almost lying on his side in every turn, sometimes touching the snow with a hand. He skied much faster than everyone else, with effortless up-down movements. No wonder he’d won the regional championship last season.

  When she neared the top, she looked out into Schöngraben. Ski tracks snaked their way down all reachable sides of the gully. She hoped Gawion and the other barbegazi were safely hidden in their caves.

  Tessa skied to the start of the run, with the two monsters hot on her heels.

  “Okay, missy, I’m sending Hans and Helmut with you, so you’d better give it your all.” Coach increased the volume. “You hear that, boys? Get her. Three, two, one, go!”

  Tessa pushed off.

  “Knees, Tessa! Arms, Helmut!”

  She bent further down with her knees. Her aching thighs burned. The thought of the monsters behind her spurred Tessa on. Finding a rhythm, she focused her eyes on the next gate, before she even finished her current turn. Air whistled round the rim of her helmet, but she kept her focus on the course. After the finish line, she continued at full speed to the lift. Hans and Helmut hadn’t caught up.

  At the start, Coach stood with thumbs up on both hands, beaming at her. “See! See!” he bellowed. “That’s what happens when you take your head out of the clouds.”

  Tessa nodded. She didn’t really know what had changed, she just knew that those monsters catching up or, even worse, passing her, would’ve been the ultimate humiliation.

  Coach gave her thumbs up on five runs before it was time to clear the piste.

  The new experience of getting praise at giant-slalom training made Tessa glow inside. Perhaps things weren’t completely hopeless. She had found the barbegazi. And if she could learn to race, then nothing was impossible. The doctors might even fix Oma’s heart.

  She couldn’t help Oma, but she could at least try to help Gawion. And she knew just what she’d do when she got back to Felix’s house.

  —20—

  Brownie’s nose had caught the scent of thawing spring snow, and now Gawion had proof. Real proof that Papa could not dismiss, and confirming their worst fears.

  Gawion had spent the rest of the night transporting the berry gift home. The incident with the metal buckle on Tessa’s pack had given his arm a numbing weakness that not even a handful of berries could dispel. Despite the pain, he managed to drag the full sky-blue carrier up to the avalanche. From there the couloirs were too steep.

  Surfing downhill on the snow, even carrying an unconscious Tessa to the village, was no problem. Ascending was something else entirely. It took five trips up the steep incline, to bring all the berries to a hiding place he dug close to their cave’s entrance.

  He had wanted to storm inside and show Maman the gift, but stopped himself. First, he needed a plan for how to tell them. And while he lugged the heavy load up the mountain, he speculated.

  Normally, he would start with bad news, then sweeten it with good news. But his bad news was much worse than when the resting cave ceiling collapsed. Perhaps if he switched the news around, making sure everyone had a full stomach before he told them what he had discovered about Maeg… But how could he pretend food helped, when he knew the truth?

  Still trying to decide, he propelled his way into the cave.

  “What is this about a human helping us?” Papa asked, before Gawion had even got up off the ground. “Your whistled ramblings last night made no sense, son.”

  “A human! Helping us? Have you gone quite mad, Gawion? First the dogs, now this.” Maman, one hand on her forehead, fanned herself with her beard. “Have we taught you nothing?”

  “Never, ever, ever trust humans,” Liel sing-songed, from her nest in the living cave. She played with her toy barbegazi, making it dance through a forest of bird feathers. “Never, ever trust humans, Baby,” she said to the bundle of fur tied around sticks. “No, Maman,” her toy answered.

  “Some humans can be trusted. You trusted that human child in Vienna,” Gawion said.

  “That was different, son. We had known Anne since it was a mere babe.”

  “Well, I trust this one. Tessa is the grandchild of the berry-human. And I have a surprise for you. Wait here.” Gawion scurried outside.

  Behind him, Maman shrieked, “Is he bringing a human here?”

  He uncovered the sky-blue carrier and snaked his way backwards through the tunnel, keeping a solid grip on the handles of the sack.

  Back inside, he whistled triumphantly.

  “It brought the berry gift!” Bowing, with a flourishing movement of his hand, he split the carrier open with one of his sharp claws. Clear, see-through bags tumbled out, revealing the abundance of berries.

  Maman looked in wonder at the growing mountain of wild strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and raspberries. There were even some of the large cultivated strawberries that Gawion loved.

  “Nourishment,” she said. “We are saved.” The desperate gleam in her eyes made Gawion wonder just how close to starvation they had come.

  After they had stuffed themselves with berries, contentment and calmness settled in the cave.

  “The human told me they believe we are extinct,” Gawion said.

  A strange noise, like rumbling thunder, filled the cave as Papa exploded into a bellowing laugh.

  “That is the best news I have heard in a long time,” he howled.

  Even Maman smiled.

  “No, Papa,” Liel said, her voice teary, “If we are extinct, how can I find a papa for my babies when I am a grown-up?”

  “Stop being silly. We are not extinct,” Gawion said, feeling exasperated.

  “Come here, sweet icicle.” Maman held her arms out towards Liel. “You know, a little bird tells me how your Mont Blanc uncle and the rest of them are doing, every year before the melting starts.”

  Liel smiled.


  “I like Gawion’s human, it is just as nice as yours,” she said, and licked a large strawberry. “Tell me about Anne again.”

  Maman gave a little chuckle.

  “Oh, I remember that little human. From the moment it could walk, it followed its father around the zoological gardens. During the nine pregnancy winters it brought me the finest berries. When I vowed that my babies would not be born in captivity, Anne promised to help.”

  Gawion hated to ruin the mood. Brooding, he weaved the end of his beard around his berry-coloured fingers. Perhaps if he waited with the bad news until nightfall…

  “Gawion,” Papa said. “What have you not told us?”

  “I talked to the dog,” he began. Of course he could not keep something so important secret from Papa, who was always watching him, waiting to point out his mistakes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maman shaking her head. “It had tracked Maeg to the mountain stream below Schöngraben, close to the village.”

  He had expected shrieks and moans at the revelation, but Maman only whimpered and said, “I knew it.”

  From under the sacks of berries, he extracted the lump of Maeg’s fur that Brownie had helped him retrieve.

  “Bits of this clung to branches of the trees along the stream.” He gave the lump to Papa. “Higher up than Maeg would be able to reach from the ground.”

  “The dog told you? The exact height?” Papa glared at him, almost as if he knew how Gawion had jumped and jumped to pluck the fur. “Because you did not cross the boundary last night, did you?”

  Gawion swallowed. “I…” He nodded slowly, staring down at his speckled beard.

  Papa took a deep breath.

  “So someone carried her. Could she have placed the fur herself?”

  Gawion shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  “Maybe Maeg also met a nice human,” Liel said, but even she seemed to sense the fear reigniting in their home.

  “The berry-human’s grandchild will search in the village. I am meeting it in the evening, by the earth mounds.”

  “For the love of snow, you are too trusting.” Maman shook her head again. “The human might contrive to capture you.”

  “It would never do that, Maman,” Gawion said, with a certainty he did not quite feel.

  —21—

  Tessa trudged after Felix, from the bus stop. They walked in silence past hotels and pensions displaying red Fully booked signs. She sagged farther and farther behind until Felix waited by the corner of the long, steep driveway up to Berger’s Bed and Breakfast.

  “Take these, I’ll take your skis.” He held his poles towards her. “Just don’t expect me to do it again, noodle-arms.”

  Tessa was so tired she didn’t argue.

  “So what really happened to your own skis?” He heaved both pairs of skis onto his shoulders and walked on. “Dad said he’d never seen anything like it.”

  “Chainsaw.” Tessa made an odd-sounding fake laugh. She needed time to think. She couldn’t tell Felix about the barbegazi, but she didn’t want to lie to him either.

  “It wasn’t one of your barbie-fairies?”

  “I thought you didn’t believe me.”

  “Whatever.” Felix shook his head.

  “Is that skier from the avalanche still at your house?”

  “I guess. Mum lets the rooms for the whole week in high season.”

  They rounded the bend, and the house rose above them. With its thick layer of fairytale snow frosting, the oversized roof sparkled in the sun. Car-shaped white mounds stood in a row along the driveway and on the track up to Schöngraben.

  “Which room is it?” Tessa asked, searching the dark windows below the garlands of snow.

  “Which room is what?”

  “That skier’s.”

  “It’s on the other side. The corner towards Schöngraben. Why?”

  “No reason.”

  Inside, the house was silent. No sounds came from the guest rooms upstairs. With the sun shining in a clear blue sky, the guests—tourists who skied for fun, one week a year—would spend the whole day on the slopes.

  Aunt Annie had left them a note—that she was visiting Aunt Margit, one of the numerous relatives living in the valley—and a homemade lasagne. They didn’t bother heating the food, but gulped it down with large glasses of blackcurrant cordial.

  After lunch, Felix wanted to do his knee bend exercises and rope jumps, and play on his computer. Tessa said she’d relax on the sofa for a bit. As soon as his bedroom door was closed, though, she sneaked upstairs, where the guest rooms were, and along the narrow corridor, her stockinged feet making soft swishing sounds against the carpet. She whistled, hoping the tune didn’t mean anything offensive to a barbegazi, and listened for an answer. Nothing. After knocking, she tried a few doors, but they were locked.

  Aunt Annie ruled her kingdom from the kitchen. That’s where the master key would be. Tessa went downstairs, tiptoeing past Felix’s door, even though she could hear the rhythmic stamps of his exercises. In the kitchen, she opened cupboard after cupboard until she found one with a neat row of empty numbered nails. At the end hung a key with no number. The master key.

  Her fingers hovered in front of the key before she snatched it from the nail.

  “What’re you doing? Are you crazy?” said Felix, who’d entered the kitchen, and wrestled the key from her.

  “Please! Just let me peek into his room. I won’t even go in.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s a long story.” She really wanted to keep the barbegazi a secret, but if Maeg was here, she might need Felix’s help. If Maeg wasn’t, she needn’t tell him anything. “I’ll explain after.”

  “I’m not supposed to use the master key when there are guests,” he mumbled.

  “No one will know.”

  “Promise you won’t go inside.” Felix held the key towards her.

  Tessa tried taking it, but Felix clutched the key until she said, “Promise.”

  “Be quick. I’ll whistle if anyone comes.” He sat down on the bottom step of the staircase. “It’s the last door.”

  Upstairs again, her heart pumped as if she was in the middle of a ski race. She lay both palms and her ear against the door, listening. After knocking again, her shaking hand guided the key into the lock and turned it. Blood hammered at her temples as she pushed the door open.

  “Hello… Maeg?” she said, and whistled a single tone.

  A sliver of sunshine came through the drawn curtains. At first glance, from the doorway, the tidy room seemed empty, except for a closed suitcase on the bench. The only clutter was on the desk, where a ski helmet with silvery goggles perched. Tessa had wanted those goggles for Christmas, but Mum said they were too expensive. Dad would’ve bought them, but she hadn’t asked him. The trendy goggles confirmed her suspicions—this guest was one of those cool off-piste skiers.

  Something shiny on the chair reflected the light, but, in the gloom, she couldn’t see what it was.

  “Tessa?” Felix called from below.

  She had to see what was on that chair. It might be important. She wouldn’t touch anything, and neither Felix nor the guest would know she’d been in the room. “Just a moment.”

  After casting a glance back down the vacated corridor, Tessa tiptoed into the room and eased the chair out from underneath the desk. Icy prickles tingled on her back. A heavy, metal chain and a sharp iron poker lay on the seat.

  Skiers had no use for metal chains and pokers, but people hunting barbegazi did. This was evidence.

  Tessa rushed to open the wooden wardrobe. Ironed shirts and trousers hung above stacks of folded pullovers and socks. Otherwise it was empty. She opened the bathroom door and looked behind the shower curtain. She got down on all fours, searching under the bed and the desk. Nothing. The suitcase was locked. She shook it. From inside, came the sound of clanking metal. Where could Maeg be?

  Felix called again, but she ignored him and opened the desk drawer. On top of a stack of papers was a wor
n terrain map. A scatter of black circles and red crosses marked spots on the clustered contour curves. It was a map of Schöngraben.

  “Tessa! Get out!” Felix banged his fist against the door frame. “You promised.”

  “Look at this.” Tessa pointed to the chain and poker.

  Felix sneaked closer and stared at the metal objects. “So what?”

  The stairs creaked.

  “Someone’s coming,” Felix hissed, already by the door. “Quick.”

  Tessa slid the chair back into place, and stuffed the map up under her knitted top. Turning to leave, her foot got stuck behind the leg of the chair. She stumbled and fell flat on the floor.

  Before she could get up, a shadow from the corridor grew on the carpet and something crashed to the floor.

  In slow motion, and with a sense of dread, Tessa rose.

  Aunt Annie stood in the doorway, a laundry basket spilling folded towels by her feet. Tessa had never seen Aunt Annie’s face turn purple before. And her eyes were popping out of her face.

  “Tessa!” she screeched. “Get out at once! Felix! What on earth are you doing?”

  Felix threw the towels into the laundry basket and pulled it out of the room.

  “Kitchen. Now.” Aunt Annie shoved them towards the stairs before she locked the door, leaving the laundry basket on the corridor floor.

  Tessa’s cheeks burned like she’d just come in from the snow. The stolen map burned even more, hidden awkwardly under her top. She pushed it down into her striped long johns and moved it round to her hip.

  “Never in my life… I’m disappointed in you, Felix. You know never to go into occupied guest rooms.” Aunt Annie had stopped screeching, but there was an unknown sternness to her usually jolly voice. “What were you thinking?”

  “It’s… we—” Felix began.

  “Tessa, you’ve had a trying week with Oma and hitting your head and everything… Perhaps you should go and lie down, have a rest.” It wasn’t a question. Aunt Annie looked out of the window. “Felix, get the soft brush and sweep the snow off the cars. All of them. Afterwards, tidy your cave so there’s room for Tessa.”