Lauha's Puppy

Ensi Hotakainen didn't visit until the child was almost two months old, but at last she stalked through a light snowstorm and the weak sunlight of an early winter afternoon to Juha's neat whitewashed little house, and asked to see her grandson.

“Of course, of course. Come in, Mother. Anne-Mari's fed him and we were about to put him down for a nap.” Their relationship was carefully polite. Years before, she had reluctantly opened up to her sons about how she'd felt after their father had abandoned her and her three-month-old children, yet he was understandably not affectionate towards the mother who had left him and his identical twin to be raised by her friends.

Ensi was tall and slender; Juha was stocky and of average height, little taller than his mother. Though her sons shared her straight ash-blond hair, blue eyes, and strong, stubborn chin, they were cheerful and outgoing where she was grim and driven. If they had not come from her own body, Ensi would have believed them unrelated to her.

The entryway was chilly as Juha accepted her long, fleece-lined coat and hung it on the coat-tree by the front door. He guided her to the back bedroom, which was warmed by an efficient potbellied stove and lit by two large windows, their shutters open. Blowing snow whispered against the panes. Lamps sat on small tables on either side of the bed, unlit now but ready for the long winter night. Anne-Mari, a short plump woman with a snub nose and two waist-length blonde braids, sat in a rocking chair under a window with the baby in her lap. A blue and red patterned blanket lay across her shoulders, and the baby wore a thick gray onesie and a warm gray cap.

As Ensi entered, Anne-Mari turned the baby towards her. “Look, Onni, it's your grandma. See your grandma?” She lifted his right hand and waved it at Ensi, who resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. The baby was chubby, and the eyes that peered at her from under the cap were a faded blue, almost silver.

“A healthy child. I'm sure you're pleased with him.” As his parents murmured agreement, she took a pebble from her pocket and waved it in front of him.

Onni's eyes followed the movement before returning to gaze at her face. Very well, she thought, putting away the pebble and taking out another, identical to the first to her outer eyes. To her inner eyes, however, it blazed with power. She had found it in a creek bed when she was ten, its glow beckoning her to it. Now she held it before the baby.

The infant's eyes widened, his toothless mouth fell open, and he grabbed clumsily at it. When she put it away, he wailed, stretching small hands towards her. Anne-Mari caught him to her chest, glaring at her mother-in-law before snuggling and soothing him in baby-talk. Ensi grimaced at the sound and turned away, crossing the outer room, snagging her coat from the coat-tree, and pulling it on before Juha could reach her to offer his help.

Ensi strode away in the snowstorm, which was growing heavier by the minute. She had learned what she needed to know.

---

As Y68 — the sixty-eighth year of the age of the Rash — neared its end, Ensi tramped through deep snow as the sun reached its low winter zenith, and knocked at the door of her son's home. Six-year-old Onni opened the door and invited her in, wide-eyed. Anne-Mari looked up from the sock she was darning, and Juha set down the sweater he was knitting. The room was warmed by its own potbellied stove and lit by three large windows, and the wooden floor was covered with faded patterned rugs. Backing away from his grandmother, Onni retreated to his mother's side.

“It's time for Onni to become my apprentice.”

“No!” Anne-Mari dropped the sock and put a protective arm around her son's shoulders. “He's too young.”

Juha leapt to his feet and stepped between his mother and his wife and son.

“He's born to be a mage,” Ensi told them. “The younger he begins his training, the stronger he will be as an adult.”

Juha glanced over his shoulder at Onni before turning back to his mother. “He's not immune. He can't hunt grosslings.”

“Other non-immunes do. Hilja, Ilmari, Tapsa —”

“Da —” Onni said.

“Hush, Onni.” Juha ran a hand through his short hair. “Mother, Ilmari and Tapsa are grown men, and they didn't start when they were six.”

“They aren't mages. They didn't need training. He does.”

“Da, please may I?”

Juha looked down at his son for a long moment before his shoulders slumped. “Okay, okay, you can train him, but you will not take him out hunting until he's older. And he'll continue to live here, with us.”

Ensi bridled at his defiance, but nodded. “Very well. We will begin tomorrow.” She turned and stalked out the door into the snow. Behind her, Onni bounced on his toes, smiling broadly, while his parents looked at each other in concern.

For the next few months, Onni followed Ensi around as she rowed between the village's walled islands, teaching him the names of the gods and the ways of plants and animals. Onni's sister, Tuuri, was born in February of the next year, and this time Ensi came to see the child as soon as Anne-Mari recovered from the birth.

Juha answered the door and led her within, casting an anxious glance at her as he pushed open the bedroom door. Ensi brushed past him to examine the child, held in her mother's lap and wearing the same onesie and cap as her brother had before. As her brother had been, Tuuri was chubby with silvery-blue eyes. Onni stood by his mother, holding her hand as she rocked in her chair.

Onni and his parents watched tensely as Ensi held first one pebble, then the other, before the infant's eyes. The baby regarded them with equal, mild curiosity, returning her gaze to her grandmother's face each time. Ensi gave no reaction, but Onni, familiar by now with the special pebble, sighed softly at the response.

“Your daughter is not a mage,” Ensi said, and the parents relaxed and smiled. “I'll be going now.”

As Ensi strode to the bedroom door, from the corner of her eye, she saw Onni lean forward to look once more at his sister. He jumped back, and she wheeled around to find him gazing up at her, eyes wide and lips parted. She glanced down at her granddaughter, and even her famous grim stoicism was broken by a gasp at the sight.

“What is it?” Anne-Mari asked, gathering the baby more closely in her arms. “I don't see — I'm sure she's okay — isn't she?”

“Yes, yes, she's fine,” Ensi said. “I thought I noticed something, but I was wrong.” Onni frowned at her. In the few months that he'd been her apprentice, she had told him many times that a mage must not lie. Reality is what it is, and lying about it can twist and distort your own understanding. This situation, she thought, was a special case, and she gestured him to silence. “Come, Onni.” As she led the way out, he kept quiet until they had left the house.

“You saw it too, didn't you, Grandma? You saw” — he shuddered — “the Rash on her.”

“I did. It wasn't real, though. It must have been a portent.” She gazed down at him. “Your mother didn't see it. You saw it first. That portent was given to you. It is your duty to protect her from the Rash.”

“But you immunes will —”

“We immunes protect everyone from the Rash. But your sister is special, somehow. You have received a sign: immunes are not enough to protect her. You must protect her, always.”

Onni nodded. From that day forward, Ensi's lessons for him focused on defensive magic. By the time Tuuri learned to walk, Onni was patrolling the village's island and scanning for grosslings with his mage-sight, though never hunting outside the walls. With Tuuri able to move around on her own, he now carried her or led her by the hand as he patrolled. He kept her by his side, napping or playing with toys their father whittled for her, in the evenings while he studied the pre-Rash schoolbooks handed down from Ensi's family. On the rare occasions when he left her with their parents, she tended to toddle off and he had to track her down with his mage-sight.

Lalli Hotakainen was born in Y71, when Tuuri had just turned two years old and was talking freely if often unintelligibly. While Onni took Tuuri to visit their cousin as soon as the baby's mother, Tuulikki, had recovered from the birth, Lalli was three months old before Ensi came to see him with Onni and Tuuri in tow.

Tuuri dashed to the door and banged her little fist on the door. Onni caught up to her and stood on his toes to thump with the door knocker. Lalli's father, Jukka, soon opened the door and smiled down at his niece and nephew before glaring at his mother.

“May I see the boy?”

Jukka was silent for a moment. He was more resentful than Juha of her neglect of the two of them, and doubtless would have been happier if she'd never come at all. Still, she was the baby's only living grandparent, and she was a mage. “Very well. You may stay for a few minutes if you don't upset him.”

He stepped out of the way to allow the three guests to enter the main room, with its off-white walls, wood floor, and worn pre-Rash rugs, brightly lit by open windows that brought a gentle breeze through the screens. Tuulikki, a short woman with blue eyes and long blonde hair worn loose, sat in a cushioned chair with the baby in her lap. He wore the onesie and cap passed down from his cousins, though the onesie was loose on him. He was noticeably more slender than his cousins.

As she had twice before, Ensi showed first the normal pebble and then the magical pebble to her grandchild. Lalli had no interest in the normal pebble, but the magical pebble was another matter. He focused on it, following it from the moment she took it from her pocket to the moment she put it away. He didn't wail when it vanished, but pushed at his mother's arms, stretching towards the pocket. Ensi nodded to Onni while Tuuri tugged at Lalli's foot and babbled excitedly. The infant looked down at her with vague, unfocused eyes.

“What was that?” Jukka asked. “What are you trying to do?”

“I needed to know if the boy is born a mage. He is.” Ensi turned to leave, beckoning Onni and Tuuri to follow.

“You mean to take him from us, then?” Tuulikki said. “Because we won't —”

“Of course not. The infant is yours, and I neither can nor will take him. When he's older … well, when he's older, it'll be up to him, won't it?” She strode out without waiting for an answer.

From that day forward, Onni threw himself into his lessons from Ensi, learning as much as he could as fast as he could: the paths of the Sun, Moon, and stars, the ways of the winds and the waters, the powers and spirits on which he might call. Perhaps Onni learned too quickly; perhaps some of her words became jumbled in his young mind. Or perhaps her own understanding was confused, for she was one of the very first mages, and had learned of magic from hearth-side stories, dreams, and long wanderings in the woods.

---

In April of Y77, Lalli turned six. One morning soon after, Ensi went alone to his home. The heady scent of fresh-baked bread hung about the house, and Tuulikki answered the door wearing a flowery apron. “Welcome,” she said courteously, stepping out of the way so her mother-in-law could enter. Since Onni had become her apprentice, Ensi's sons and daughters-in-law had grown more friendly to her. Thanks to her training, Onni was respected and relied upon to protect the island of the village and its farm and livestock islands when she and other hunters were away.

“Is Lalli here?”

The younger woman rubbed her chin as she glanced over her shoulder. “I don't think so. I'll check under his bed. You can look behind the couch. Most likely, though, he'll be up in the oak out back.” She regarded Ensi dubiously. “I don't think either of us can climb up after him.”

They quickly determined that the boy was not in the house, and Ensi urged Tuulikki to return to her baking while she herself went outside to look for him in the tree. The early spring leaves gave the small child little cover, though Ensi almost overlooked him as he lay along a branch.

“Lalli! Lalli! I need to talk to you. It's important.”

She had begun to wonder if she really would have to climb the tree when he finally answered.

“What do you want?”

“You are now old enough to become my apprentice.”

Lalli peered down at her, and her heart leapt a bit at the thought that he might lose his grip. She moved to stand directly under him, in case she needed to catch him.

“What does that mean?”

“That means I will train your powers as a mage.” He looked away “I will train you to protect the village, to scout, and to hunt grosslings.”

At those words, he turned back. “Do I have to keep going to school?”

“No, not if you don't want to. You'll learn from me, though.”

Lalli scrambled off the branch and down the tree. “I want to do that.”

“Very well. Come along.” He followed her into his house. “Tuulikki, Lalli is now my apprentice.”

The boy's mother stared at her and then at her son. Since Ensi had announced that Lalli was a mage, Tuulikki and Jukka had known that Ensi would seek to make their son her new apprentice. Much as they would naturally wish to protect their young child, everyone knew that a trained mage had the best chance of survival in the dangerous world of the Rash.

Tuulikki swallowed audibly before nodding. “He'll live here, though, right? I mean, whenever he's on the island, right?”

“Yes, certainly.” Ensi had no desire to cause her son or his wife more pain than necessary.

“Oh … Jukka's trading in the village. He'll be back soon. Will Lalli — will you let Lalli stay here until Jukka gets back?”

“Of course.” Ensi glanced at Lalli. “I will come for you tomorrow, and we'll begin your training.”

“Okay.”

Ensi waited for more from either of them, but Lalli disappeared out the back door and Tuulikki clutched her apron and twisted it in her fist, staring at the floor. After another moment, Ensi left.

---

“Onni.”

Her grandson halted as she approached him on the stone path leading to the village. Tuuri tugged at his hand; as he remained unmoving, she muttered a childish insult and kicked at a clump of grass.

“Grandma.”

“You've learned all that I can teach you. You don't need to be apprenticed any longer. Lalli is six, old enough to be apprenticed, and has consented to be my new apprentice.”

“I — I see. Should I continue my patrols as before?”

“Yes, for now. Talk to me if you decide to do something else.” In the age of the Rash, resources were too scarce to indulge the luxury of a long adolescence. At fourteen, Onni had been a man for a year. As her apprentice, he had taken her orders, but now he could — he must — choose his own path through life, though always carrying out his duty of protecting his sister.

Eight-year-old Tuuri was an active child requiring Onni's full-time attention. She wanted desperately to explore islands other than the village island, and the villagers had gotten used to intercepting her attempts to sneak down to the dock whenever Onni was busy. His frequent and increasingly desperate explanations to her of the extreme danger of the Rash fell on largely deaf ears. Ensi thought perhaps Onni should take her to the village's other walled islands, where she could explore a new location while he protected both her and the village's assets.

But Tuuri was Onni's problem, and Ensi left him to deal with her. Ensi's duty, and Lalli's as her apprentice, was to defend the village of Toivosaari and its surroundings against grosslings.

Two years later, in January of Y79, the village celebrated Ensi's seventy-ninth birthday with cakes, cookies, and autumn wine. She was one of the oldest and most experienced mages in Finland, born as the old world perished in the calamity of the Rash. The three-day celebration was not only a celebration of her birth, but an annual celebration of the survival of the community, and humanity as a whole, despite the devastation the world had suffered.

In late summer, Ensi and her young apprentice, Hilja Järvinen, Ilmari Hirvonen, and Tapsa Niskanen set out as usual to clear grosslings out of the forests of the nearby peninsula. Hilja, a short, gray-haired, non-immune woman, was Ensi's best friend and the other senior mage in Toivosaari. The two men were middle-aged, non-immune, and non-mages. Tapsa, a short, trim, bald man who wore valuable pre-Rash glasses, had an affinity for cats, particularly the two he'd had for over a decade. Tapsa's cats travelled with him at all times and were so smart that they could all but talk. Ilmari, Tapsa's nephew though only a year younger, was tall and heavyset, with short dark blond hair. The three had joined Ensi in these troll-hunts for decades.

The four adults split up, each going to his or her assigned area, as they had for decades, and Lalli, of course, followed Ensi to her area. For the next two months, Ensi strode through falling leaves and camped out in icy rain as she hunted down the grosslings which had worked their way into her area, instructing Lalli as she did so. Like Ensi and Onni, he could hear the desperate cries of grosslings with his inner hearing and could see them with his inner eyes even when they hid from his outer eyes, but his ability to see them was spotty. His inner vision might have been weak, or perhaps he wasn't careful and attentive. Despite her best efforts, Ensi couldn't be sure if Lalli truly could not perceive the grosslings, or was just being difficult.

After two months of hunting, Ensi and Lalli met up with the others and rowed to the village's quarantine island. To Ensi's surprise and concern, Hilja kept to herself, slow to respond to greetings or questions, and initiating no conversation of her own. Hilja had always been quiet and introverted, but now when Ensi tried to talk to her during their two-week quarantine, she mumbled, stared at the floor, and trailed off when she did converse. Ensi feared that her friend, four years younger than herself, was falling into senility. Tapsa saw the same, taking Ensi aside to say, “We all grow old eventually. She can still put her magic to use at home.” Ensi could only agree, shuddering a little at the thought of her own future.

At length, their quarantine ended, and the five returned to the island of Toivosaari. The men trotted off to the village to rejoin their families, while Hilja headed for the isolated cottage where she had lived alone since her husband died a decade before, and Ensi started for Lalli's house, intending to leave him with his parents before returning to her own cottage.

As Hilja walked away with her backpack and a bundle, Lalli tugged at Ensi's elbow. “Grandma! Um, I think — That bundle. I got a weird feeling about it.”

Ensi hesitated, looking after her friend, unwilling to attempt another conversation, but at a nudge from her grandson, she said, “Hilja! Hold on a minute.”

“Yes?” The other woman turned slowly as the two approached.

“That's an interesting-looking package you've got there. Would you mind sharing what's inside it?”

“Ensi,” Hilja said, “look me in the eyes.” Startled, Ensi looked up from the package to her friend's face. “It's just a package, okay?”

Ensi blinked several times and rubbed her forehead. Had something just happened? She cast her thought back a few seconds: Hilja had said the package was just a package. Of course it was; why had she listened to the child's silly question? “Okay. If you feel up to it, come eat something with me later.”

Hilja turned without answering and walked away, the package still under her arm. Lalli looked up at his grandmother, a question written on his face, and she shrugged. “It's nothing. Let's go.”

As Ensi and Lalli approached the village, Ilmari and his wife, Viivi, stopped them. “Oh, Ensi, horrendous news!” Viivi said with a broad grin. “Your children just left for the harvest. You only have us for company for a while.”

Though her sons' attitudes towards her had continued to improve since Lalli became her apprentice, Ensi was not surprised that they had not stayed to greet her on her return. They were friendly now, not merely polite, and they were even sometimes affectionate in front of others, particularly the children. But if they had work to do, they wouldn't delay for her sake, not for so little as an hour.

“Shoo,” she told Lalli, “run off and do something.” The boy gave her a searching look before trotting away. She turned back to Ilmari and Viivi, and they walked away together, conversing casually about affairs in the village. The two would take Lalli in until his parents came back; after months of hunting with Lalli, Ensi needed a lengthy spell of solitude to recover.

To no one's surprise, Hilja didn't come to eat with Ensi that evening. That night, comfortable in her own bed in her own little house, Ensi dreamed that Hilja glared at her with eyes that burned red, and told her, “Forget. Forget.” When she awakened in the morning, Ensi remembered the dream, but dismissed it.

The villagers worked hard in harvest time, hurrying to bring in the crops before the first hard freeze, and smoking, salting, canning, drying, and pickling supplies for the long cold season ahead. Most villagers worked on the village's farm and livestock islands. The largest of these islands were shared among several families; the smallest belonged to single families such as the Hotakainens.

Storms had damaged the Hotakainen island’s palisade and livestock shelters, so the family stayed, working on repairs, while Ensi and Lalli harvested the vegetable gardens at her home, Juha and Anne-Mari's, and Jukka and Tuulikki's. A week passed in these labors before an immune trader came up the lake with a load of goods for trade. In particular, he had brought sugar from distant Iceland, a delicacy normally out of reach of the people of Toivosaari, but relatively cheap this year because of a bumper crop.

Joonas, the village baker, bought several kilos of sugar and declared a sale in honor of the harvest. He and his apprentices worked day and night, and on the appointed day, many villagers returned to the main island to share the treats. Ensi was only a little disappointed that her sons did not return with their families. Lalli accepted his special treat — a sugar cookie — and disappeared, not liking crowds. Ensi watched him go with a smile.

“You must have been much like that, I think,” Tapsa said. One of his cats lay across his shoulders; the other occupied his lap.

“I suppose I was. But the world was so different then, so much smaller. There was — ” She hesitated, not knowing quite how to say it. “There was room for me to learn and grow, to find my own way. It will be harder for him.”

“We'll help him.” Tapsa smiled. “We'll make room for him. The world isn't that much bigger today.”

Ensi looked around at the crowd, remembering how small the village had been when she was a child. Hilja was wandering around, looking lost. Ensi hadn't seen her since they returned from quarantine and now called to her. “Hilja, we're over here! Come sit down.”

The other mage did not respond, did not even look around at the sound of her name. Ilmari and Viivi, strolling through the crowd greeting their friends, glanced at Ensi and moved to intercept Hilja as Ensi stood.

“My dear,” Viivi said, “don't tell me you've been holed up at home this whole time.”

“I've been busy. Tending my garden.”

Ensi joined them. “You couldn't spare a moment to come eat with your old friends?”

Hilja gave a heavy sigh. “I said I've been busy.”

“Would you like me to come over and help?” Ensi asked as Tapsa approached, his cats trotting on either side.

“No, my garden is my joy. I have to go. Flowers need watering.” Hilja turned abruptly and strode away. “I'll see you at the harvest festival,” she said over her shoulder.

“All right.” Ensi sighed and looked at Tapsa and Ilmari with a shrug. “I suppose she can take care of herself. For now, at least. I'll talk to Siiri when she gets back.” Siiri was Hilja's daughter, a hard-working woman in her early thirties who had remained with her husband and children on the family's shared farm island, missing the bakery sale.

They returned to their table, and conversation returned to the pressing topic of the harvest.

Two weeks later, the harvest festival, a two-day celebration of a successful harvest, began. Villagers returned from their islands with the last fruits, congregating in the village center. Ensi's sons and daughters-in-law returned, and Juha even went so far as to greet his mother with a hug, which she returned with conscious effort, careful not to spill her hot acorn coffee on him. Tuulikki greeted her son with barely tolerated hugs and kisses.

Ensi looked around. “Did you just leave Onni and Tuuri behind?”

Juha chuckled. “No, we let Onni row our boat back to our own dock. He's a man now, you know. He and Tuuri will unload all our bags and then come over.”

Siiri tapped Anne-Mari's shoulder. “Anneli, have you seen my mother around?”

Anne-Mari scanned the crowd. “Isn't she here?”

Ilmari, approaching with Tapsa to greet the Hotakainens, shook his head. “I suspect she's forgotten to come for the harvest festival.”

“Forgotten! She would never —” Siiri broke off, distracted by her eight-year-old son tugging at her sleeve.

“I'll go fetch her,” Tapsa said, suiting action to words. The cats, who had been riding on his shoulders, dropped off and ran ahead of him.

Ilmari turned to Siiri, who gave her son a coin and sent him away. “We need to talk about your mother for a moment. Ever since we went into quarantine — before that, even, when I ran into her doing our patrols — she hasn't been acting right. She's been absent-minded, confused … I think she's becoming senile.”

“Oh, no!” Siiri pressed her hands to her mouth. “That's … that's so sad. My mother's had a good run, I suppose …” She sounded as if she were trying to convince herself. “But we must all grow old eventually.” She hurried away towards her husband.

Jukka turned to his mother with a sly smile. “Speaking of that, when were you thinking of finally retiring?”

“When I have my replacement properly trained and ready.” She glanced over at Lalli. “And when I'm dead.” She punctuated the statement with a sip of coffee, and gestured her family to the table she'd set up for them, plates stacked at one end and hot bread already steaming in a cloth-covered basket.

Two seats remained empty. “Go get your cousins.” Ensi gave Lalli a push. “They're late.”

The boy had gone only a few meters when Tapsa tapped Ensi on the shoulder. She turned to see his worried face. “Uhh,” he began, looking around and rubbing his neck. “It's time for the yearly weapons inspection.”

“What?” They'd never had a weapons inspection, yearly or otherwise.

“Our routine yearly weapons inspection, remember?” Tapsa gestured for her to get up now.

Something was very wrong. Tapsa's cat companions were missing. “Right, I remember. We need to do that.” She rose. “I'll have to excuse myself,” she told her family. “We'll be back soon.”

They nodded, acknowledging her words, and went back to talking among themselves.

“Sakke, Matti, weapons inspection time, yeah?” Tapsa pointed to two of the village guards, who looked at each other in confusion but stood and joined him.

Ilmari came over as well, hurrying to his uncle's side. “What is this?” he asked.

Tapsa was already trotting away, the others following, as he led the way across a narrow wooden bridge over a stream. “I made it across the bridge to Hilja's place,” he said, his voice strained. “And my cats reacted like this.”

The cats stood together, backs arched, tails up and rigid, ears swiveling, eyes wide and staring, every hair standing on end. The group stopped, following the cats' gaze to the cottage deep within the trees.

“Right,” Matti said after a moment. “Come on.” He was the head of the guards, and now led them back to the city center to collect masks from the guards' cabinet.

Within minutes, he stood surveying the group. Everyone was masked up except Ensi, who was immune, and everyone was armed with daggers, pistols, and rifles. “You all know what the protocol is,” he said. “Act with haste!”

They ran for Hilja's cottage, ignoring questions and cries of alarm. The villagers knew what the masks meant; they scattered, running for their homes and their own masks and weapons. Grosslings had never yet breached the palisade around the village island, but the villagers had long feared and prepared for that eventuality. There would be no panic, just grim determination.

The cottage was quiet; no grosslings lurked without. Still the cats focused on it, walking stiff-legged beside the humans. Ensi knocked and waited. After several seconds with no answer, she glanced at the others, waited for their nods, and pushed open the door. As the sole immune and the sole mage, she led the way inside.

The front room was bright and cheery with sunshine streaming through the open windows, but as Ensi looked around, she noted incongruous details. Hilja's prized flowers had died in the pots, unwatered. Dishes sat unwashed by the sink, and candles in lanterns had burned down to puddles of wax. Even with the fresh breeze blowing through the windows, there was a faint stench. Ensi dropped her rifle into ready position and edged forward, watching and listening for threats, not forgetting to check the ceiling. Nothing moved but the curtains swaying in the breeze.

The men crowded in behind her and the cats brushed past her, stalked past a cabinet and halted, hissing as they stared up at the table. Ensi, examining a stained shelf across the room, turned just in time to see Ilmari lift something in his gloved hand. A wrapper, she thought, part of a package …

“That package! I remember it. I wanted to know what was inside, but for some reason —”

Ilmari wasn't listening. He moved another piece of wrapping, then slammed his fist into the table with a curse.

Ensi and Tapsa hurried to his side to see a small grossling — some sort of vermin beast — weeks dead, its original form no longer discernible.

“How is this thing in here?” Ilmari asked between curses. “Has dementia really caused her to bring this with her?”

“This isn't dementia,” Ensi said. “Look at the wrappings. They're infused with some sort of masking spells. She was able to hide the presence of the beast from cats during quarantine. From them, and from me. Where would she even have learned to do that? I don't know how to do it.” She looked at the men, a horrible suspicion beginning to form.

“How? You mean, why would she even do this?”

“Could she have met something in the woods?” Matti asked.

“What?” Tapsa turned to him. “And I don't know; she works alone.”

“I mean, is it possible that she came under the influence of something more powerful than herself? A sinister being?”

The curtains swayed in the silence. After a moment, Ensi said, “If … if she did meet a kade, and it's making her do this, is there anything that can be done?” It was a rhetorical question, and no one answered.

The older cat, a tabby almost twelve years old, stood before the door at the back of the room, ears flat as she looked from the door to the humans and back again. There was a metallic clatter as they readied their weapons. There was no time for Ensi to think further on the implications of Hilja's actions.

Ilmari opened the door.

The stench rolled over them like a wave, and Ilmari backed away, gagging inside his mask. The furniture in Hilja's bedroom was wrecked and smeared with grossling slime. No troll was visible until they raised their gaze to the ceiling.

Hilja had transformed into one of the common troll forms, a spider-like monstrosity. She lurked amid the rafters and, just as Tapsa fired his shotgun, she lunged.

Tapsa dived aside, but was not quick enough. Her clawed hand tore his scalp and shoulder as she hit the ground and charged through the little cluster of humans. They couldn't fire for fear of hitting each other, and she escaped out the door.

Ensi fired her rifle at the fleeing troll, then raced after her, shouting, “She's wounded! We can still stop her!” The men ran with her, and the cats charged as well, faster than humans on this broken land.

Sunlight is painful for trolls, and that which had been Hilja slowed, flinching and twisting in pain. The cats caught up with her, hissing and spitting. They were no true danger to her, but she retreated before their threat and the sunlight. She crawled under a rock overhang as the hunters approached, covering what remained of her face as if in shame.

“It's over now,” Ilmari said almost kindly before firing his shotgun into her head. She collapsed, dead at last. “Whatever it was that infiltrated your mind, Hilja, it must have been powerful.” He sighed. “All right. Time to do a thorough sweep. Make sure there are no more infected critters.” He turned to his wounded uncle, who stood supported by Sakke. “Tapsa … I don't know what to say.”

“Just put me in quarantine.” They all knew it was a near certainty that the scratches would infect him, but they nodded, all but Ensi. “We stopped the spread,” he continued, “and that's all that matters.”

“No,” Ensi said, thoughts coming together. “She already spread it.”

“What?” Ilmari stared at her, shaking his head, but she thought she saw the same realization in his eyes.

“She's done exactly what the thing wanted her to. She smuggled the beast through quarantine with the enchantments, then must have infected herself. That day at the bake sale … she must have been well into her illness by then, and highly infectious. So many villagers were there … It's been quietly spreading through the village for days.”

The men stared at her, eyes wide with horror. They remembered the bake sale; they knew she was right.

“It's a code O,” Matti said. “Act accordingly. We'll send for a containment ship from the capital islands. Everyone in town must stay in their homes until then. Anyone who can still be saved must be isolated. Move!”

“I will stay and guide Hilja's soul to rest,” Ensi said.

As the men strode away, still supporting Tapsa, Matti said, “Roger that.” They were the last words she ever heard from him and the other men.

Ensi propped her rifle against a rock and knelt beside the corpse. She had never hated trolls, knowing they were victims themselves, and even now, she felt only grief for a good woman, a good friend. She raised her dagger for the ritual stroke and …

Ensi

She froze. It was a troll voice such as she had heard since childhood, but it spoke her name.

You can't save her. You can't save yourself.

The memories came back, no long blocked. Hilja: “Look into my eyes.” The dream Hilja: “Forget, forget.”

She covered her eyes, swaying in pain not physical but mental. “Stupid, stupid …” I know better. I know not to look into strangers' eyes. I know to watch for strange behavior. But I looked, I looked!

There was a gasp. She turned, keeping her gaze down, raising it just enough to see the boy's jacket. “Lalli?”

“Y-yes?”

“Did you fetch Onni and Tuuri as I told you to do?” There was a building pressure in her head, but she fought it down.

“N-no, sorry! I followed you and —”

“Good.” The pressure tried to close her mouth, still her tongue. “Listen closely and do what I say now.” She stood, dropping her dagger, but didn't turn to face him. “Do not look me in the eye under any circumstance.”

“Um?” Her grandson didn't know. He was only eight, and she hadn't gotten around to explaining the danger of a kade.

“If you do that, it will get you too, understand?”

He didn't answer. She hoped he did understand. “Run and tell Onni we have a code O. And take my rifle to him. He knows what he's supposed to do in this situation. Do exactly what he says.” She heard the scrape as he lifted the rifle. “You and Tuuri will be safe until the quarantine ships arrive.” I hope. Please, gods, let my grandchildren live!

That moment of prayer was almost her undoing. Her traitor body turned to face him; her traitor voice spoke. “Look at me when I talk to you, child!”

Lalli looked at the rifle in his arms. Ensi fought a silent battle for control and gained the upper hand. “Are you glued to the ground? Go already!”

Lalli ran, but he called back, “W-what about … mom and dad?”

“Don't worry about adults! Leave! Don't stop for anyone!”

Those were the last mortal words Ensi Hotakainen spoke.

The kade was angry. It battered at her, demanded action, forced her to follow Lalli. She resisted, dragged her feet, even managed to trip over a log and fall, spraining an ankle. The kade dragged her to her feet, drove her onwards, but the sprained ankle slowed her. She took several more tumbles, falling in the stream as she followed it, but the kade compelled her to rise before she drowned. With all the delays, by the time she reached Jukka and Tuulikki's house, the children were gone.

The kade raged, striking at her, tearing at her mind.

You let them get away! Two mages, and you let them get away! I will hurt you for that. I will hurt them for that. I will find them, and I will make you hurt them.

Ensi was strong, and she was also clever. She cringed into herself, rolling her spirit into a ball, all prickles on the outside, and endured. The kade rained down blow after mental blow, and all the time her body moved, inch by inch, towards the end of the dock. The malignant spirit, focused on defeating her in the spiritual realm, noticed nothing in the physical realm until her body toppled off into the lake.

What have you done? No! I won't allow this!

The kade forced her to swim, moving arms and legs, but it did not control her, not quite. One leg kicked; the other flailed at the water. One arm stroked for shore; the other caught its wrist and pulled it towards her body. Her head went under and, before the kade realized her intent, she inhaled.

The kade pulled her up, gagging, but the damage was done. She couldn't draw a breath, and the shore was too far away.

You think this will free you? I don't have a body. I don't need you to have a body. You can't get away. You will never get away.

It allowed her to feel the pain, the fear, of drowning. She went under, and it dragged her up again. Again, and again, and again, until her body failed and she sank for the last time.

---

Ensi had not allowed herself to hope drowning would free her. She had not allowed herself to think of drowning at all, for fear the kade would snatch the thought from her and stop her. But she had hoped that there was some escape.

There was not.

She felt her body die, fell far, far into darkness … and found herself kneeling in her own haven in mage-space. Her haven was a forest, the leaves bright spring growth, the glades carpeted with flowers of every color. It was the same … and yet not the same. The leaves were wilted, the flowers' colors dimmed.

“Foolish woman.” A beautiful young woman stepped out of the forest to face her. She was tall and slender, wearing a full-length dress of purest emerald green with a wide, intricately embroidered, azure belt showing off her slim waist. Her shining ash-blond hair was drawn back in a thick braid that hung past her waist, her cheekbones were high and delicate, her skin pale without a trace of freckles, and her eyes were a brilliant blue.

“Last time I saw you, your eyes were red as coals,” Ensi said. She too was tall and slender; here in mage-space, she would forever be a young woman. “I'm dead. You can't use me to hurt anyone. So what do you want of me now?”

“You think I can't? You’re a fool.” The sweet sound of her laughter clashed with her words. “I will make you my servant. I will use you to trap those two mages, your bloodline, and then we — you and I — will have so much fun with them.”

“Never.”

“Never is a long time.” She approached slowly, so slowly that Ensi almost didn't notice. The kade used her own tricks against her. Ensi retreated, picked up a fallen branch. In her hands, it shrank and twisted into a long dagger. “Pretty. But you're a woman of this age, and I'm a woman of the last age. I've been studying this realm since the great disease swept the world. I have made it my own. You're nothing but a child to me.”

The kade held out her hand, and there was a sword in it.

Ensi fought.

Time passes oddly in mage-space, sometimes slow and sometimes fast. While they fought, the people of Toivosaari searched their bodies. Many found the first faint tracery of the Rash. Tapsa and Ilmari wrote long letters describing the events before choosing their own path, the path of the pistol. Other villagers waited for the containment ship, hoping against hope that they would be spared. Ensi’s grandchildren huddled together on the sanctuary isle.

Ensi fought.

The containment ship came and took away the surviving villagers and Ensi’s grandchildren. Only her grandchildren were untainted by the Rash; with no surviving family, the young mages were sent to far Keuruu and Tuuri, of course, went with them.

Ensi fought.

Fall gave way to Winter and Winter to Spring. Mages from Keuruu prepared defenses for the Saimaa lake system against the kade. The houses of Toivosaari burned.

Ensi fought.

Ensi was strong and brave, but the kade was stronger. Ensi saw she was losing, she would lose, the kade would corrupt her, and she would be lost forever. In a last desperate effort, she lunged forward and slashed the kade’s eye: the corrupting eye, the sinister eye.

The kade shrieked and stabbed, and Ensi felt the will run out of her like heart’s blood, and in its place was the voice of the Rash.

All their lives were so much better than yours. No, I lived my life as I wished.

Hilja’s husband and children loved her. Your husband deserted you and your children hated you. No — I wronged them. He left, but I deserted my own children and —

The later mages are so lucky. It’s easy for them, so easy for them, and so hard for you. But I made my own magic —

Everyone loved Veeti better than me. My own parents loved him better. They did, but he was — he was —

Veeti wasn’t any better than I was. Not a mage, not even very clever. He had all the advantages. He grew up in the old world, and I had to make do with the scraps.

My ungrateful sons got all the benefit of my hard work. My sons didn’t appreciate anything I did for them. They were just like their father, men who expected everything to be given to them. They didn’t deserve to live.

Ensi dropped the dagger and got to her feet, seeing the woman before her, wounded by Ensi's own hand.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry! What — what can I do?”

The woman smiled through blood. “It will heal. Come with me now. I have a castle where no one will ever disregard you again.”

Ensi took her arm, and the woman led her through the dead trees and the rotting flowers to the castle.

Tapsa

The Swan Comes to Toivosaari

Onni Hotakainen crouched behind a fallen tree and studied the castle. It was surrounded by dead forests, such as that in which he hid, but there was a wide killing field for the bow-armed soldiers on the battlements. He could take the form of his owl luonto and fly to the castle, but there was no doubt that the soldiers would kill him long before he reached the interior.

He punched the log before him in frustration. By slashing the Kade's corrupting eye in their earlier battle, elsewhere in mage-space, he had both destroyed its most dangerous weapon and created the link which had led him to its haven, so long sought. Yet, looking at it, he saw no approach that didn't end in his immediate death. While he considered his next move, his luonto, perching in the branches of a dead tree above him, stood guard for approaching enemies.

Or approaching friends.

The owl hooted softly to alert him, and he turned to find the bird-spirit of his sister, Tuuri, flying to him out of the eternal mist of mage-space.

“Onni!”

“What took you so long?” She had the best chance of scouting the castle without being shot — not that it was a very good chance, if he were honest.

“I tried to stop them from following me.”

Onni looked behind her to see his cousin, Lalli, and the annoying Icelandic mage, Reynir, with their accompanying animals: Lalli's lynx luonto and Reynir's dog fylgja.

“We're here!” Reynir said happily.

“Why?” He didn't even like the Icelander, but didn't want him endangered in mage-space, and he certainly didn't want his only surviving relative here.

“You said earlier that you really wanted our help.” Reynir smiled as if he'd done something very clever. Lalli glared at Onni without speaking.

“No! I said go away! Go away!”

“Really?” Reynir asked with his most witless expression. “Weird. That's not how I remember it.”

Lalli stepped forward to emphasize his glare, and Onni rolled his eyes in response.

“All right, you're here and I can't get rid of you. Now get down behind this log, be quiet, and stay out of the way while I try to figure out —”

“What is that castle?” The Icelander seemed congenitally incapable of being quiet.

“It's the haven of the Kade.”

“And this forest, too? This is part of its haven? It looks awfully dead.”

“It's not quite dead. It's the haven of a corrupted mage. So are those others, all around. The mages aren't dead, but their spirits aren't … right anymore, so their havens aren't either.”

Lalli looked around at the dead trees. “Do you think this is Grandma's?”

“I don't know. It feels the least hostile, though.”

“You plan to attack that castle?” Onni hadn't known that Reynir's fylgja could talk.

“Do you have a better idea? Our grandmother's spirit is in there, corrupted. We must free her. Or I must free her, at any rate.”

“You'll never get in.”

“Thank you for your insight. I had no idea.”

“I wonder what the foundation is like,” Reynir said.

Lalli turned his irritated glare on the Icelander. “The foundation of the Kade is corrupted, of course. That's why it did … what it did.”

“I can examine the foundation of the castle for you,” the fylgja said.

“They'll shoot you.” Onni considered banging his head on the log.

“Why should they? I'm just a dog.”

“Because the Kade isn't stupid,” Lalli said before Onni could.

“I could put a galdrastafur on you, to make them look away,” Reynir said. “If I had something to draw with.”

Onni peered over the log at the massive gate to the castle. It was closed, of course, so even if the guards didn't see them, it would still be impossible to break in. But if Reynir could help him fly into the castle unseen, he could open the gates from within.

Or could he? The guards would certainly see the gates opening, even if they didn't see him. Finding a weakness in the foundation did seem a better idea. If there was a weakness.

Onni sighed. “Can you draw with mud? There's plenty of that around here.”

---

By the time the fylgja returned, Onni was considering running out into the killing field just to get away from Reynir. Lalli and his lynx had disappeared into the mist to escape the Icelander's effort to pet the lynx; Onni's owl had retreated to the highest branch he could find, fleeing the tall mage's efforts to reach up and scratch his head. Tuuri perched nearby. With all others out of reach, Reynir had settled for telling Onni about his mage training in enthusiastic whispers.

“The foundation has crumbled on the other side,” the dog reported. “There's a gap big enough for all of you. I think,” it added, regarded Onni's build, which was much heavier than the other two.

“Good. Tuuri, can you find Lalli and get him back here?” He closed his eyes and forced out the next words. “Reynir, you may draw your galdrastafur on my cloak.”

Reynir seemed oblivious to the other's lack of enthusiasm, digging a stick into the mud and smearing it on Onni's cloak in an elaborate pattern that took, in Onni's opinion, much too long to draw. By the time he finished, Lalli was back, and he and his lynx submitted with ill grace to similar treatment. Reynir had already drawn his galdrastafur on his own cloak. The owl and Tuuri were more difficult problems, for they were too small and oddly shaped for Reynir's crude “brush”. In the end, they hid themselves under Onni's cloak.

With everyone (presumably) concealed, they set off, circling around the killing ground through the dead forests of corrupted mages.

---

“Do you have a name?” Onni asked the fylgja after a while.

“Not one that you can pronounce, but my human calls me Vó-voff. That is close enough, and acceptable if you wish to attract my attention.”

Reynir jogged up to join Onni. “Does your owl have a name?”

“No.”

“Does Lalli's lynx?”

“No. Luontos do not have names.”

“Poor things.” Reynir leaned into Onni's personal space to peer at the owl peeking out of his cloak. Onni recoiled, and the owl twisted to hide behind his back. The Icelander gave up and returned his attention to walking.

At length, the group stood in the dead forest across from the damaged foundation: a wide but low crack. The others could get through it, Onni thought, though whether he himself could get through remained to be seen.

“Ready?” he whispered, mindful of the guards prowling in a disorganized fashion on the battlements. As the other two nodded, he added, “Reynir, this had better work.”

“It worked for Vó-voff.”

“Yes, well, he's a dog. Maybe they just don't shoot dogs.”

Vó-voff peered around Reynir's legs. “They didn't react to me at all.”

“Yes, but —”

Lalli pushed past the other two and strode out into the killing field, his lynx skulking at his heels. Onni hurried to follow him, shoulders hunched in anticipation of a storm of arrows, and Reynir and Vó-voff hastened to join them.

No arrows fell, and soon they were beneath the battlements. Onni waved the other two and their creatures into the crack first, then urged his owl and Tuuri to follow, and finally crawled in himself. The crack was so narrow that he had to exhale to crawl through, and even then the other two had to pull at his hands to help him.

Onni got to his feet and looked around in the dim light filtering through the crack. They stood in a dank hallway inside the Kade's castle, and there was a murmur of voices far off in the gloom.

As the invaders waited for their eyes to adjust to the dimness, Reynir gasped and whispered, “Oh no!”

“What's the matter with you?” Onni had no desire to deal with the Icelander and indeed regretted that he had not thought to leave the man to skulk around outside and draw the attention of the guards.

“The galdrastafurs. They were scraped off when we crawled through that crack. We're not hidden anymore, and there's nothing for me to renew them with.” He wrung his hands, looking around as if something might materialize for his use.

“We'll just have to be sneaky, then. And quiet.”

“But — you mean — it doesn't know we're here?”

“Not if we're quiet and stay out of sight, no.”

“But we're inside it.”

“No, we're in its haven, not in its … head, or something.” At the Icelander's bewildered expression, visible as Onni's eyes adapted to the gloom, he added, “If someone got into your house, you wouldn't know they were there unless you saw or heard them, right? It's like that. It won't know we're here unless one of its creatures finds us. It's not looking for us in here right now; all its attention is on those guards it manifested, watching the approaches from the outside. So keep quiet.”

Reynir gulped and nodded. Lalli gave a disgusted sigh and stole away down the hallway. With his eyes now adapted, Onni regarded their surroundings. On either side of them were doorways, the doors standing open against the hallway wall. The fylgja and Lalli's lynx entered one; Tuuri and Onni's owl flew into the other. The bird-spirit glowed faintly, as did the two luontos. The hallway smelled dusty, and the air was cold.

“Empty,” Tuuri said, returning. “It's quite small, like a large closet or something.”

“Same,” said Vó-voff.

There seemed no reason to stay by the crack, so the two men, Tuuri, Vó-voff, and the luontos moved quietly down the hallway after Lalli. Two doors later, they came to a door that was closed and barred. Tuuri flew up to peer through a small barred window in the door, and recoiled, flying backwards in a way no mortal bird her size could have managed. “Onni! A skeleton!”

Onni hurried to peer through the window himself. Inside, there was indeed the skeleton of a bird, glowing slightly. As he stepped back, Reynir looked in as well. “The Kade locked that poor bird in there and left it to starve?” he whispered, appalled.

“No, it's an itse — a bird-spirit — and it can't have starved,” Onni said. “Spirits don't need to eat.”

“The Kade has stolen its vitality,” Vó-voff said from behind him. “It has nothing left but mere existence.”

“Can we — what can we do?” Reynir was wringing his hands again.

“Nothing. Let's go.”

Tuuri peeked through the window in another door. “There's one in here too.”

“But we can't just leave them! I mean, at least we can open the doors for them.”

“No. If the Kade is draining them of vitality, it may feel their escape, and then it will know we're in here. We can't risk it.” As the Icelander hesitated, Onni pressed a hand to his forehead and sighed. “Look, if I destroy the Kade, then this will all dissolve and they'll be free. And if I survive, I'll come back and help them find their way to the Bird Path.”

Lalli rejoined the others, relieving him of the need to continue the conversation. “There are bird-spirits locked in the rooms down there. They're talking to each other. The hallway ends. There's a staircase to the left, with a closed door at the top.”

Onni nodded. His cousin had gotten much better at reporting over the years; in fact, Onni thought he'd improved just in the past few months. Perhaps the expedition to Silent Denmark gave him new skills. Not that that makes up for what was lost. Onni's gaze followed the spirit of his sister as she flew to check another door. He wiped his eyes when he thought no one was looking. “Very well. We must go on. We'll conceal the luontos in our cloaks so the bird-spirits don't notice the glow, and we'll get through that door. Somehow. Tuuri?”

Tuuri fluttered down to hide under his cloak, and, with the luontos also hidden, the three men and Vó-voff sneaked through the dark hallway, past a dozen barred doors, and up the stairs. In a cell behind them, one spirit expounded to the others about the ice-shell over Europe's ocean — obvious nonsense, Onni thought.

The Kade's image of a castle was true to life, Onni saw; faint light shone through gaps between the door and the frame on both sides. Vó-voff sniffed along the bottom and up the sides as far as he could reach before stepping back out of the way. Onni peered through the crack, spotting the bar holding it shut. If it matched the doors to the cells, this bar was supported on each side by a bracket, and needed to be raised. He considered what little gear they had on them and concluded that there was only one way to open the door. A dagger. A short, thin, very strong blade, sharp on one edge and blunt on the other. Very thin, very strong. “Be ready,” he whispered to the others.

The dagger was in his hand, gleaming with power. He held his breath for a long moment, listening. Had the Kade detected him manifesting the weapon? Would the long-awaited fight begin here and now? When nothing happened, he slid the blade through the crack, gripping the hilt with both hands, and lifted. He felt the weight of the bar, forced it upwards, and leaned against the door. It opened slightly, with the bar still held at the other end.

Lalli dropped his cloak on his luonto and wriggled through the opening. As soon as he was through, Onni backed away, allowing him to close the door and remove the bar. Once they had sneaked through the door and closed it behind them, replacing the bar, Onni examined the new hallway where they found themselves.

The stairway door was at the end of the hallway, as it had been below, and again there were closed doors on either side going down the hallway. These, however, had no bars or windows and sported simple latches. Light came from a high window mere centimeters in width and the air smelled a little fresher. There were clattering noises from down the hallway.

“Now what?” Lalli asked.

Onni closed his eyes, feeling for his sense of the evil of the Kade. He raised his arm and pointed. “It's that way.” Opening his eyes, he saw that he was pointing up and to the right of the hallway. “We'll need to find another stairway.”

Lalli sneaked down the hallway and, dropping to hands and knees, he peered into the open door from which the clattering came. After a moment, he turned to beckon the others forward, halting them with an upraised hand before they would be visible through the door. He shifted out of the way and gestured for Onni to crouch and take a look.

The room had a large fireplace with hooks to hang pots, though there was no fire at the moment. There were several long tables on which pots and pans and thick, heavy dishes were piled, and three people dressed in white were shifting these objects from one table to another. Onni studied their movements. This is meant to be a medieval kitchen. The Kade and its creatures don't eat, so while it manifested this room for completeness, it hasn't perfected the form and actions. Still, those creatures will raise the alarm if they see us … wait, look at that. They're repeating the same actions over and over. Which means in a second from now, they'll all be looking the wrong way.

As he predicted, all the people turned away from the door, moving objects back to the tables from which they'd just taken them. Raising a hand to alert the others, he continued to watch as the creatures' actions looped and, as they turned away once more, he waved the group across the doorway, leaping to his feet and following them. They stopped on the other side, listening, but the clattering continued uninterrupted.

With a silent sigh of relief, Onni signalled Lalli to scout ahead.

“This looks like a door to the outside,” Tuuri whispered, “so I'll scout out there.”

“No,” Lalli said.

“We don't know what's out there. You're a lot bigger and easier to see than I am, and I fly. Those guards up on the walls are looking out, and anyone on the ground is probably going through the motions, like those guys in the kitchen. They won't look up and see me, but they'd see you on the ground.”

“I'll go, then,” Onni said. “I can fly too and —”

“No, big brother. You stay here and I'll go.”

“It's too dangerous for —”

“For you.” She hovered before his face. “The Kade can't kill me, Onni, but it can kill you. Stay here. I'll scout.”

“But it could capture you and drain you like the others.”

“And the Swan will come for me at Summer's end. It's all right, Onni.” She turned away and Lalli pushed the heavy wooden door open just enough for Tuuri to slip through before Onni could object further. With the door closed once more, the cousins glared at each other before Onni lowered his head and nodded.

They waited in silence. Onni listened intently to the clattering from the kitchen. Was it exactly the same as before? He wasn't sure, but at least the kitchen crew didn't run down the hall at them, waving cooking implements.

At last, a tap on the door alerted Lalli to open it and admit Tuuri once more. “Okay. Outside this door is a wooden landing, not very big, stairs up to the wall and down to the courtyard. To the left is the big gate; to the right, way down there, is this big building. On the other side of the courtyard is the problem. There's a stable there, with horses, and some of them are looking into the courtyard. You can't get past without them seeing you.”

Onni closed his eyes, envisioning the scene. “The big building. Does it have windows?”

“Yes, some. Not any low down, then some tall thin things —”

“Arrow slits.”

“Oh? The Kade shoots arrows? Anyway, up high, there are regular windows with big wooden shutters that are open.”

“Is there glass in the windows?” Glass would be anachronistic for the Kade's vision, but it might not be consistent.

“No, I'm pretty sure there wasn't any glass. I didn't fly in, though.”

“I have to go there, Tuuri. You can't do this. Go back to the world now. I have to go alone from here.” He looked at the other men. “I can fly and you guys can't. Reynir, wake up now. This is not your fight, and I don't want your death on my conscience.” In his own haven, Onni would have simply dismissed the Icelander, but here he had no such power.

“No, Onni, I really want to help.”

Onni ignored him, placing his hands on Lalli's shoulders. His young cousin ducked his head. “Lalli, you wake up too. Escape with your friends. You're young; take the time to study the Kade with what we've learned. Talk to Reynir. Maybe you can work with Icelandic magic to defeat this thing. Go now.”

Lalli didn't answer. Onni gave him a last affectionate shake and turned away. He reached out, and the form of his luonto fell over him, warm and comforting. He twitched his wings to settle his feathers, hopped to the door, and nudged it open. Slipping through the gap, he leapt into the air and, in a few beats, was above the stables and winging his way to the “big building”, the keep. The shutters were open as Tuuri had said, and indeed there was no glass. Onni landed on the highest windowsill and found himself peering into a bedroom.

The bed was a canopied four-poster, neatly made up with ruby-red drapes, canopy, and bedcovers. A cheery fire burned in a large fireplace to his right, and an elaborately patterned rug covered the floor. There was no one in the room.

After watching and listening for a long moment, Onni hopped into the room and transformed back to a man; that form was better suited to sneaking around a castle. He stole across the rug to the wooden door on the far wall and reached for the latch.

The door slammed open, sending him stumbling backwards. He caught himself, straightened, and manifested his sword. Before he could raise it, a hand caught his wrist in a punishing grip and an arm slammed across his throat, pulling his head back against someone far bigger than himself. Helplessly pulling at the arm with his free hand, he could only look at the woman in the doorway.

She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Tall and slender, she wore a full-length dress of purest emerald green with a wide, intricately embroidered, azure belt showing off her slim waist. Her shining ash-blond hair was drawn back in a thick braid that hung past her waist, her cheekbones were high and delicate, her skin pale without a trace of freckles, and her eyes … Her right eye was a brilliant blue; her left was covered by a black patch, the only flaw in her perfection.

“Well, well, well,” she said in a bewitching voice, “it seems the little mage has found his way in. Tsk. I'll have to review my defenses for birdbrains.” She crossed the floor gracefully and easily twisted the sword from his hand. “I could stab you with your own sword. You deserve it for slashing my eye. But no matter; it will grow back. It has before, you know. Or perhaps you don't. Still, we've been looking for you for a long time, and there's someone who wants to see you. Oh, yes, she wants to see you. And you haven't slashed her eye.”

Onni struggled to wake up, to escape from mage-space.

“Oh, you would, would you? No, not going to get away, not from here. You'll stay right here with me while the trolls tear your body apart. No, you're well and truly trapped, little mage.”

She tossed the sword aside and turned away. Onni's captor shifted his grip, freeing his wrist and wrapping both arms around his torso, pinning his arms and lifting him up. With no leverage, Onni could do nothing other than futilely kick at his captor's legs or bang his head against the man's broad chest. He opted to do nothing as he was carried out behind the woman and into the stairs built into the wall of the castle. Torches burned in brackets at intervals, but the light was far brighter and more even than the torches could provide.

As the woman led the way, she paused to stroke the granite blocks of the wall and smile back at Onni. “Do you like my castle? I like castles. I always liked castles, but they wouldn't let me live in one, not even stay in one. They made me leave … And I have enemies, lots of enemies. Like you, little mage. You're the first that's penetrated my defenses. Are you proud of that?”

Onni didn't answer. In two swift steps, she was before him, slapping his face forehand and then backhand. “You will regret that, little mage. Oh, you came in here all hot and bothered to avenge your pathetic little village. Do you know why I destroyed it?” When he remained silent, she slapped him again and turned away, once more leading the way down the steps. “Why shouldn't I? Why should those smug little people go along happy and healthy when I had to get the disease? They didn't deserve to live. None of them deserve to live. And you're going to help me kill them all.”

“No.” Onni hadn't wanted to speak, but the word slipped out.

“Oh, but you will.” The sweet sound of her laughter clashed horribly with her words. “She said she wouldn't, just like you. She fought, oh yes, a lot better than you did. She slashed my eye too, for all the good it did her. I didn't disarm her so easily. But I've tamed her; she's a good little servant now, oh yes, she is. And you will be too. She told me about you, you know, and we've been looking for you all these years. She'll be happy to see you, and I'm happy too. Such a strong little mage, and so easily trapped.”

Onni shuddered and tried again to awaken from this nightmare. Failing that, he tried to manifest another sword. He was not surprised when he failed at that, too.

At the base of the stairs was another heavy door. The woman flung it open and led the way into the great hall. Onni caught just a glimpse of it before he closed his eyes tightly. Vast tapestries with geometric designs hung on the walls below high windows, and more elaborately patterned rugs covered the floor. To his left as they entered, was a dais on which stood an elaborate throne, the back apparently made of spears. Beside it was a low stool on which sat another woman.

She was young, much younger than she had been in his life, and her long, lank hair was dark. Her gown was gray and nipped in at the waist by a silvered rope.

“Look what I've brought you,” the Kade said as Onni's captor carried him in a few steps and flung him bruisingly on the floor.

“Grandma,” he said without opening his eyes, “Grandma, it's me, Onni. You have to —”

His grandmother Ensi kicked him. “Shut up,” she said, in a voice he remembered so well from his childhood.

“Grandma, she killed you. She killed —” He broke off as she kicked him again. “She killed the village. My father, your sons —”

Her voice was firm, uncompromising. “I care nothing for them.”

“She's corrupted you, Grandma, you know that. She killed … she killed Hilja.” He steeled himself for another kick, which didn't come.

“He's grown into a good, strong mage,” the Kade said. “Perhaps it's just as well he escaped us for so long.”

“Grandma, remember all the days, all the years, that you trained me? And then Lalli? Remember how you defended Toivosaari so long and so well?”

“Quiet!” This time the Kade kicked him. Onni rolled away from the kick and leapt to his feet, determined to fight rather than cower and suffer the beating.

“Grandma!”

Onni couldn't help it: he looked up to see Tuuri circling high above. Ensi looked up too, and so did the Kade and her puppet, Onni's captor. In that moment, a lynx charged from the open stairway door, bowling over the Kade and clinging to her back, snarling and slashing. The puppet stood motionless, Ensi turned in confusion … With the Kade distracted, Onni manifested the same dagger he'd used earlier, very thin, very strong. And very sharp.

Onni dashed to the struggling figures on the floor. As the Kade rolled to her side, trying to throw off the lynx, she turned her beautiful face to Onni. “Wait! I can —”

Onni plunged the dagger into her remaining eye with all his strength.

“Grandma,” said Tuuri, and “Tuuri, what's happened to you?” said Ensi.

The puppet was gone, and the castle was crumbling. Onni yanked the dagger from the Kade's body, which was no longer that of an astonishingly beautiful woman, but that of a pudgy teenaged girl with short dark hair. Dagger in hand, he turned to Ensi, who stood with her back to him, reaching for Tuuri as she fluttered to and fro just out of reach. The lynx pulled himself out from under the body and got to his feet.

Onni straightened, gritted his teeth, and lunged, driving the dagger to its hilt in his grandmother's back.

There was a moment of complete silence.

Onni fell to his knees on a rock just under the surface of the sea that goes on forever. The castle was gone like a dream in the morning, and bird-spirits fluttered about in confusion. To Onni's right, Lalli-the-lynx held a small bird-spirit in his mouth, growling and shaking it in fury.

“Onni.” Ensi's voice was the same, and he hung his head in despair. “Onni, look at me.” He shook his head wordlessly. All that, and all he'd achieved was to kill the Kade. His grandmother was still corrupted, still a threat to the world.

“Onni, Onni!” Tuuri dived to flutter before his eyes. “It's okay! She's okay! You did it!”

Tuuri might have been corrupted. Or could the dead be corrupted? He thought not, but wasn't certain. Still, she was his sister, and Ensi was his grandmother. Onni raised his head and looked at Ensi.

The young woman she had been in the castle was gone. Before him was a silvery crane, a bird-spirit. “That's better,” the crane said. “Why is Tuuri dead? It was your duty to protect her and —”

“No, no, Grandma. It wasn't his fault. It was all mine; I wanted to go to the Silent World, and he tried to stop me, but he couldn't because I was all grown up.” Tuuri landed on the crane's long beak.

There was a splash, and Onni turned to find the Swan of Tuonela beside him.

“You've caused me a great deal of paperwork, Onni Hotakainen. All these spirit-birds, and some of them drained to mere bones. A great deal of paperwork.”

Onni didn't answer. The Swan was easily angered and exceedingly dangerous.

“Our bargain was two Hotakainen souls. And yet you've found me another of your bloodline.” Onni shook his head in confusion. He was sure he'd seen his parents and uncle while searching for Tuuri in Tuonela. “Yes, indeed you have.” It was remarkable how smug a swan could look. “Ukko-Pekka Mienna Hotakainen, your grandfather.”

Onni got to his feet and looked around at the little crowd of bird-spirits, as did Lalli-the-lynx, still holding the bird-spirit in his mouth. Tuuri still perched on Ensi's beak, explaining the Silent World Expedition in a low voice. “I don't know,” Onni said. “I never knew him.”

“Of course you didn't,” the Swan snapped. “This disturbed spirit captured him before your father was even born.” She launched herself across the water, scooped up something in her beak, and returned, the other spirit-birds now clustering around her. She dropped something in the water in front of Onni: the skeleton of an eagle-owl. He looked down at it, then up at her.

“I'll take him and the others with me. I'll have to carry them since they can't fly until they've healed up a bit.” She glared at him for a moment as if it were his fault. “Three Hotakainens, and all true-dead now,” she said thoughtfully. “You! Give me that spirit.”

Lalli-the-lynx bounded to her side and dropped the bird-spirit, backing away and resuming his human form. The spirit — a small and somewhat ragged songbird — cowered before the Swan. “You've caused me entirely too much paperwork, Jaana Kauppinen.”

The spirit groveled. “It wasn't fair —”

“These, these that you killed and enslaved, they also think it wasn't fair. Hmm. Punishment is not my duty, but protecting you is not my duty either. So long as all these spirits follow me to Tuonela, I care nothing for what they do.” The Swan ostentatiously looked away from the crowd of bird-spirits, which took the hint and mobbed the Kade's spirit.

“Now, then,” said the Swan as the squawking crowd fluttered away, “there's still the problem that we agreed to two Hotakainen spirits, and yet you brought me three.”

Onni looked over at Tuuri, his beloved sister whom he'd protected and cared for all her life, whom he had in the end been unable to save. “Can Tuuri stay with me?”

If a Swan could be said to frown, the Swan frowned. “No, she can't stay in the world; she has no body. But because you have carried out your end of our bargain, over and above what we agreed to, I will grant her leave to come and go on the Bird Path as and when she wishes, and to stay here whenever she chooses to do so.” The Swan nodded. “Yes, I believe that will do.”

Onni bowed deeply. “I thank you, Swan of Tuonela.”

“Good. All resolved, then. You may have a few minutes to talk to the woman of your lineage, and then we will go. I have a great deal of paperwork to attend to.”

Onni and Lalli waded together to stand before the crane-spirit of their grandmother, and Tuuri flew to perch on Onni's shoulder.

“It's about time you took care of the Kade,” Ensi said, “and me, too. Do you know how tiresome it is to hate all the time, all the time for years? But you've done well, Onni. For all these years, you've worked to prepare for this fight, and you've done better than anyone could have expected. With the aid of these children, of course, and that other one, the Icelander. You've done very well indeed.”

Onni met her eyes. “Thank you.”

“And you, Lalli. I wish I'd had the chance to know you better, to see you grow up. Tuuri says you've been brave and clever and everything that I might have hoped of you.”

Lalli shuffled his feet in the water.

“I'm proud of both of you.” The crane's beak could not smile, but Onni heard the smile anyway. “Lalli, Onni, now it's time for you to live. That is my last command to you as your grandmother: go forth and live.”

The Swan sprang into the air, her beak full of bird-spirit skeletons, and all the bird-spirits followed her, even Ensi and the battered songbird that had been the Kade. Tuuri followed close behind Ensi, but as she flew, she looked back to her brother and cousin.

“I'll be back!” Tuuri called joyfully.

Onni opened his eyes in the small metal-walled room in which they'd sought safety before Onni launched his attack on the Kade in mage-space. Reynir was on his feet, a small bone in his hand. The Icelander turned and a smile behind his mask lit up his face. “Onni! Lalli! You're all right!”

Lalli grumbled something unkind under his breath as Onni stood and looked around. “What is all this?” While the Hotakainens were still in mage-space, Reynir had scraped patterns in the mold and dust on the walls and ceiling.

“These are stabilizing runes.” His tone became proud. “At home, we carve them on the roof beams so the roofs don't collapse under heavy snow. I don't have anything to draw with, but, see, this is just like carving, right?”

Onni moved where he could see through the small thick double-paned window in the front wall. “Good. Now, how do we get past those trolls out there?” A dozen trolls were milling around outside, pushing each other aside in an effort to peer through the window.

“Oh …” His smile wavered. “I thought you and Lalli would deal with them. I don't have any runes that will work against them.”

Onni looked over at Lalli, now on his feet as well. “That's going to be —”

Whoosh!

The men staggered, caught themselves, and turned towards the window. Some of the trolls were turning away, as fitful gleams of fire lit the scene.

“Emil's here!” Reynir said in delight.

---

The non-immunes escaped from their sanctuary while Sigrun and Lalli kept the trolls at bay and flames licked up the walls. When the six adventurers camped and there was time to talk, Onni turned to Lalli.

“I told you to wake up. Why were you still there?”

Lalli glared at him. “I came all the way from Iceland to Finland to keep you from getting killed just because you're stupid. I wasn't going to leave you there. Tuuri wasn't either. And we saved your life, so don't be stupid about it.”

Onni closed his eyes. This was his cousin, almost his brother, the kid he'd raised since their village was destroyed. He had long practice in patience with Lalli. “Tell me what happened.”

“I didn't wake up and Tuuri didn't go back to the world.”

“I know that. How did you get in without getting caught?”

“Tuuri talked a lot. She wanted me to charge out there and kill everything. Like I could! And then those noisy people stopped. We thought they'd heard us and would come after us, but they didn't, so Tuuri flew down to check, and she said they were all just standing around like dummies. Then we looked outside, and all the guards and the horses were standing like dummies too. So I took my lynx form and went out. The door to the big building was closed, so I jumped on the stable and climbed up the wall to that window you went in, and then we went down after you.” He shrugged. “You weren't there, and there was no way out but the stair.”

“I guess the Kade got distracted dealing with me. You did very well to take advantage of that, Lalli. Thank you. I do owe you my life.”

“Whatever. Do we have anything to eat?”