Ingrid finally looked at Nan. “The greatest magic always comes from sacrifice.” She took off her stockings. “I want you to see me as I really am.”
Her skin seemed to shimmer. A layer of illusion dropped away. Her legs were made of the same carved wood as Thea’s hand and Sebastian’s leg. Her arms were made of wood. And when Nan turned to look at her sister’s face, blank wooden eyes looked back at her.
Nan thought she might be sick. “What happened?”
“Yggdrasil’s life and mine have become one now. If I die, it dies. If it dies…there isn’t much left of me. It was the only way.” Her face was eerie with tears falling out of her dead eyes. “I asked for Otto’s help to save the tree.”
“Did you know he had killed me? Please—tell me what happened.”
“The tree was sick. And Urd said maybe it was dying. We thought maybe it was because King Otto and the Chancellor were searching for magic users and making use of them. So you went to King Otto to ask him to change his ways and help us. I guess he didn’t like that. But you and Urd felt that it might be a futile quest anyway. That maybe the world was—” She sniffed. “Growing out of magic, or something.”
“Why?”
“Urd said, with all the new inventions—like the motorcar, and the telegraph—the world was changing. Magic could no longer remain a gift that belongs only to those who need it, and our powers weren’t enough to protect magic anymore. Technology was becoming more powerful than us. You agreed with her. But I was so scared. I wouldn’t give up, no matter what. So when you and Urd were killed, and the Urobrunians destroyed the tree—”
“You went to Otto,” Nan said, heart sinking.
“I borrowed a horse from the nearest village and I rode all night, because if I wasn’t quick, magic would have died, and—” She wiped her nose. “I wouldn’t be able to find you and Urd again. Otto had a reviver at the time, so he sent him with me, and the man revived Yggdrasil, but he said it was sick, so it was just going to die again. I didn’t know what to do.”
“So you fed the tree with your own body…”
“Yes. I read of a dark healing spell in the books Urd had left behind, and made myself limbs from the wood of the old Yggdrasil, so its roots could feed off my life. But I wasn’t enough; Yggdrasil was still weakening. When I heard about Prince Rupert’s accident, I thought maybe I could help him and he would have to help me. And then it worked so well. The tree grew stronger. I just kept going.”
She shivered and the illusion returned. Her blue eyes blinked the last of her tears, and she started to laugh in a low, pained way. “See? There is nothing you can do. I can’t be saved, not the way you want to save me. And I won’t be stopped. I’ve already given up everything I have.”
Nan nodded, feeling numb, of both mind and body, as if her toes and fingers were turning to wood as well. She shifted, as if to stand, and then she thought, I might never talk to Ingrid again. Not as my little sister.
“Ingrid,” she said, swallowing back tears. “You should have just let us be reborn as humans. You did this so you wouldn’t lose us, and now you’re losing us anyway. And we’re losing you.”
“It was a mistake,” Ingrid said hoarsely. “I know it was now. But I have to keep going. I don’t want to die.”
“I do remember you,” Nan said. “The girl you were, across all your old lives. I love that girl. And as long as I live, I will never forget you, and us, and our happy days in the forest.”
“Wait—Verthandi, don’t say good-bye!” Ingrid cried, grabbing her arms, digging her fingernails into Nan’s skin, like she had suddenly realized that Nan really was going to let go. “No—no, don’t. There must be some way you can help me. Please, help me!”
“But I can’t. The tree was dying. This magic you’ve done—it’s dark. I don’t even know how much power I have now to stop you. All I can do is beg you to end this.”
“You always knew how to fix things.” Ingrid drew her legs in and dropped her head on her knees, sobbing in a choked way. “I can’t end this. I need you.”
Nan looked at the ceiling, colors flashing as she blinked away her own tears. Part of this journey was saying good-bye to all of it. Not just Skuld, not just Yggdrasil, but Verthandi, too, and all her memories.
She pulled back from Ingrid, leaving her there on the rug, sobbing and broken. There was nothing more to say. It tore at every fragile, human part of Nan’s heart, but she knew…Ingrid should have listened to fate.
She should have let Yggdrasil die.
Guards hovered outside Ingrid’s room, ready to usher Nan to her own room or back to the dance floor. “Whatever you wish,” they said, but obviously they were also watching her closely. She wouldn’t be able to leave Neue Adlerwald without a fight.
She returned to the dance to grab Sigi and explain it to her under all the noise provided by the band.
“That’s the saddest story I’ve ever heard,” Sigi said.
“But she won’t give up on keeping the men enchanted and the tree alive, unless she has a change of heart after she sleeps on it, but I’m not hopeful.”
“Do you know how to stop her? Or should we just go home?”
“If she has Otto on her side, and she has all the men she brought with her—and none of them can be injured—well, that might give Irminau the edge when they invade Urobrun. But I don’t want to kill her. Why did she have to put me in this position?”
Otto glanced over at them and smiled, showing his teeth. Nan forced herself to smile back.
“Well, while you were gone I asked about the Mausoleum.”
Nan frowned. “You don’t think that’s a suspicious question?”
“The girl I was talking to asked if I was with you—well, ‘Verthandi.’ Apparently you’re a bit of an underground hero. A lot of people remember the last time you were here, and they feel that you came to save the magic users and Otto killed you for it.”
Nan hadn’t even considered that angle. “So she’s on our side?”
“Seems so. She said the Mausoleum is where magic users go when they’re too spent and sick to work anymore. It’s in the east wing. We have to try and find it.”
“I wonder what Jenny could do to help us, if she’s that weak.”
“Regardless of Jenny, I thought I should try to get photographs of the Mausoleum. Sebastian could use them for articles to show Otto’s cruelty.”
“Good plan. But I imagine it’s guarded.”
“Yes, and I need daylight to be sure of good pictures, so it can’t be during the night.”
“I think daytime is best anyway. Easier to give an excuse if we’re caught.” Nan swept her eyes around the ballroom. Like the rest of the castle, it seemed too vast for comfort. The dancing couples had too much space to move. Had this room ever been filled? Nan just wanted to get out of this place, but she couldn’t balk after coming this far.
“Sigi, the girl who told you about the Mausoleum…maybe she could tell us how to get in. I don’t want to trust anyone here; I’m not sure what else to do. We need an ally.”
The girl was the Lady Marie, a young woman with a serious face that didn’t match her cheerful blond curls. “I’ve never seen the Mausoleum myself,” she said. “Prince Rupert told me about it.”
“Did you know the prince?” Nan asked.
Lady Marie nodded. “Of course. I saw him every summer and winter holiday. What a shock when he died. I know he would have abolished these practices the moment he became king.” She was speaking in the barest whisper now. “It will be guarded, but I’ll see what I can do. I’ll try and find you tomorrow.”
“All right,” Nan said, hoping the timing would work out and this girl was trustworthy.
True to her word, Lady Marie approached them while King Otto was showing Ingrid the gardens, even in the brutal winter wind. Nan and Sigi were along for the tour, at the back of the group, while Otto talked about winter berries and showed off his pen of reindeer.
“Why don’t you come with
me and warm up?” Lady Marie offered. Looking over her shoulder, she hurried them into one of the palace’s back doors, bringing them into a servants’ entrance.
A stout maid with her gray hair in a bun was waiting for them inside, holding a plate of food. “Hurry,” she whispered, starting to lead them down the corridor.
“Good luck,” Lady Marie said, before going back out the door. Apparently she was willing to show them this far, but not willing to get caught. Not very reassuring, but at least it was one less person to worry about if something did go wrong.
“The guards are sympathizers with the resistance movement here,” the maid said. “But we’ll have no excuse for you to be in the Mausoleum if you’re caught.”
“Thank you for trusting us,” Nan said.
“But you are Verthandi! We haven’t forgotten you.”
“Are many of you in the household against Otto?”
“Oh yes,” the maid said. “But we stay quiet. He’s very popular outside the household.”
“I’ll never understand how tyrants can be popular,” Nan said.
“I do,” Sigi said. “Everyone seemed to love my mother, and I could easily see her turning into a tyrant if she’d been given the chance.”
“Hush now,” the housemaid said, adjusting her tray of food into one hand as she opened the door into the hall and peered out, then motioned them forward.
They approached a room in the far corner of one of the palace wings. They passed through warm squares of sunlight that fell upon the marble floors, formed by huge windows at the end of the wing. Another maid was just coming out of the door carrying a stack of empty trays and dishes. The guards at the door ignored them.
Behind the door, a record played classical music that Nan expected was soothing to most ears—even to her, it came close to sounding pleasant. The beds had grand, tall headboards, and carved wooden partitions blocked the room into private spaces for the beds’ occupants, while still allowing a sense of open space with the soaring ceiling above, which had been painted with scenes of clouds and rosy-cheeked people dancing along the border.
The people in the beds, however, looked deathly ill. Fragile skin stretched over their bones. Every thread of hair on their heads was silver, and a few had no hair at all. One of them slept with a rattle in his chest with every breath, another slowly lifted a spoonful of soup to her mouth.
The maid was still edging around the room nervously, and Sigi got out her camera, wasting no time. Luckily she had already been carrying it for the garden expedition.
“Jenny is here,” the maid said, motioning Nan forward while Sigi snapped pictures. Nan was struck by the contrast of Sigi, her eyes alight with the prospect of capturing a powerful moment, and the witches who laid here near death. She was almost shy to approach Jenny—as if, deep down, a part of her was responsible for her suffering. The Norns were supposed to protect magic users. Her powers should have left her when the tree died. None of these people should be here.
Jenny’s brittle silver hair was in a braid that fell across her shoulder. She was sitting propped up on numerous pillows, with a book on her lap. Seeing Nan approach, she shut it and set it aside, lifting it with effort although it was of ordinary size. Nan shuddered to think that Freddy had been headed to this state.
“Are you here to help me?” she asked, but she sounded doubtful.
“Maybe. Rupert sent me and told me to check on you.” But Nan could see Jenny was beyond help.
“Is Rupert well?”
“Yes, he is.”
“You’re the Norn, aren’t you? I was a young woman the last time you were here. People still talk about it.” Jenny coughed. She seemed worn out even by this short conversation.
“Do you know anything about Yggdrasil? I was told that a reviver helped bring it back to life.”
“Yes, he did. But that man died, years ago.”
“So the tree doesn’t need the reviver.” Disappointing, but not surprising. “I came back here because I was trying to stop King Otto from abusing magic users anymore, but I’m not sure I can do anything now. I need to return to Rupert. If you have any information that could help him…”
“Hurry,” the maid said, constantly looking over her shoulder.
“If I was younger and stronger, I could have helped you fight,” Jenny said. “I could have killed him. I should have killed him…tell Rupert…not to hesitate to kill him. He should not feel guilty because it’s his father. He’s an evil man, and we all know it is so.”
Nan felt a chill, wondering if this advice should apply to her as well. Should I have killed Ingrid already?
The maid tensed at the sound of voices in the hall beyond.
One of the door guards stepped in and said, “The king is coming.”
“The king never comes to the Mausoleum!” the maid said. “You need to hide!”
Sigi and Nan climbed under Jenny’s bed. Luckily, the expensive beds were quite spacious. The maid nudged Nan’s arm with her toe, pushing her farther out of sight.
“Here,” Jenny whispered, and then a blanket dropped over the side of the bed.
Sigi was breathing hard. Nan laced their fingers together. They couldn’t move without potentially shifting a limb into view.
The voices outside the room came closer until they were through the doorway. Judging by the footsteps, Nan guessed at least twenty people were in the party. The maids greeted Otto with, “Your Majesty, to what do we owe this honor?”
“This is Lady Skuld,” Otto said. “She says she can help these poor souls.”
“Yes,” Ingrid said. “I can restore their strength.”
Nan’s eyes widened. Was Ingrid going to—?
She heard—and felt, through the floorboards—heavy objects set down. Lids creaked open. These must be the several trunks Ingrid’s men had carried all the way from Urobrun. Ingrid said gently, “I will help you” to one of the witches near the front of the room, and then she spoke to the rest. “There will be no pain, but you may want to turn away if you’re squeamish.”
Nan saw the plan clearly now. She had assumed Ingrid would target Otto first. But this approach made more sense. These magic users were useless, weak as they were. She must have promised him that she could restore them. All they had to do was make one small sacrifice of their broken bodies. The trunks must hold the wooden limbs.
A woman groaned weakly as a saw ground through bone. Ingrid hummed a low note. Nan gripped Sigi’s hand tighter as Sigi looked queasy. This couldn’t have taken long, but the grinding seemed to go on forever.
“Ohhh,” the woman said, her voice dry and fragile. “I see the sacred tree.”
“Yggdrasil,” Ingrid said gently. “My Yggdrasil. Look upon its beauty and take it into your heart, and your strength will return to you.” Something fell with a small, solid weight onto the floor.
“Get that cleaned up,” Otto directed someone in a low tone of restrained irritation. “Let’s not have blood staining the floors, shall we?” There was a brief scuffle of footsteps.
“My king, just a little blood is a small price to pay to have your witches regain their strength,” Ingrid said, and she sounded a little irritated at him as well, for caring about his floors in the midst of her spell. “Come, madam, see if you can get out of that bed now.”
The bedsprings creaked. Stocking feet moved softly on the floors. “I can walk,” the woman said. “Will my hair grow back, too?”
“In time, if you are careful,” Ingrid said. “You can only use your magic sparingly. But you won’t die here.”
“Oh my lady.”
Nan was tensed, ready to move. She couldn’t let Ingrid exploit these witches on their deathbed and gain all their power. But if she made a move, it was just her against Ingrid and Otto both. If she could just take what she had learned, along with Sigi’s photographs, back to Sebastian, that might be the best she could do.
Or am I just being cowardly?
Her bones ached from resting against the har
d floor, staying so still. Ingrid’s feet came into view as she approached Jenny.
“Don’t touch me,” Jenny said.
“You don’t want to be strong again?”
“Not for this price,” Jenny snapped.
“Stubborn,” the king said. “No use talking to her, Lady Skuld. Just do what needs to be done.”
Jenny groaned with effort. Her feet hit the floor and the blanket that had helped conceal Nan and Sigi tumbled to the ground. Nan pressed closer to Sigi to stay out of view.
“Jenny,” the king said warningly. Nan heard a few guns pulled from holsters.
“Just shoot me, why don’t you? I don’t care anymore.”
“Shh.” Ingrid’s slippers shifted, inches from Nan’s face, and springs creaked as Jenny sat down hard on the bed. “Is that any way to talk? I understand your anger at the king, but I’m here to help you begin your life anew, without any pain. Only beauty.” Her voice had slipped into its most bewitching cadence.
Ingrid took a step toward the end of the bed.
Jenny’s body shifted slightly on the mattress. Ingrid was singing the wyrdsong, but it didn’t sound as Nan knew it. It was the siren song that drove men mad and the low growl of a beast in the shadows. As soon as she thought she knew what she heard, it changed into something else, as if she never quite heard it at all. It ground into her mind, deeper by the moment.
Damn it.
Nan scrambled out from under the bed. “Ingrid! You must stop!”
Ingrid stepped back in surprise, the wyrdsong dying, her bloody bone saw in hand, about to touch Jenny’s wrist. Jenny’s eyes had gone blank. “Verthandi? You—you can’t stop me. I’ll hurt you.”
Nan’s only chance was to reach for her own power, the power she barely understood and would soon lose. But what was her power, now? Her Yggdrasil had already died. She could only pray that the brighter forces in the world would still work through her.
There is only one Yggdrasil, Verthandi. The words stepped into her mind, an answer to her prayer. And it wants you to set it free. The time of magic has ended.
Glittering Shadows Page 24