Alvilda stopped struggling and grunted. “Just scream if you need me.”
I laughed quietly. I didn’t think she’d been able to reach me even if I was screaming as if my life depended upon it, but I didn’t tell her that.
I stepped forward, willing strength into my legs to keep me steady. They still ached from the run, but there was more to my body’s apprehension than mere exhaustion. The walk from the path to my doorway took an eternity, but eventually I found myself standing before the front door, my shaky hand on the surface. I pushed forward.
I didn’t know what I expected to see inside my home, but it wasn’t what I found. The fire roaring, the pot of stew still boiling. Elfriede stirring the pot, ready to serve the same stew for dinner that she had for lunch. I caught Jurij’s eye as I entered. The knuckles of his hands atop Elfriede’s shoulders were almost as white as the specters’ skin.
Father sat at his usual place at the table, as if he hadn’t moved since I’d last seen him. His hands were gripped tightly together atop the surface. His gaze was locked in front of him. Elfriede, even over her stirring, stared at the same place. Only Jurij would glance in my direction, but his eyes kept flickering back to the table.
A man sat there.
As if “sat there” were words enough to describe the effect of his presence. Two more specters stood at either corner of the man’s chair, unblinking and unmoving.
“Olivière,” spoke the lord. “I have been waiting for you.”
He was as still as the specters around him at first. Eventually, he unfolded his hands and gave what appeared to be an attempt at a welcoming gesture, a diminutive open embrace meant to indicate that I sit in the chair across from him.
“Well?” The lord’s hands tapped impatiently on the table.
I raised an eyebrow and looked from one person in the room to the next. Only Jurij’s eyes would meet mine, albeit briefly. He seemed as puzzled as I.
Only I wasn’t entirely puzzled. I hadn’t gone to him in months. So he had come to me—even if he claimed he couldn’t leave the castle. Well, that was obviously a lie.
A loud clang. Father, Jurij, and I all turned to look at Elfriede. Tears ran down her cheeks as she swooped down to pick up the ladle she had dropped, spilling bits of the stew across the floor. Jurij bent down quickly to join her.
The lord and the specters did not turn.
“That will not be necessary,” said the lord. He raised one hand. “Please clean up that mess.”
His voice was so arresting, I almost moved to help Elfriede clean the mess myself. But the words were not yet fully spoken before the two specters were bending down to mop up the mess with rags they pulled from within their jackets. Elfriede and Jurij stood up and backed away warily, clutching one another’s hands for support, the ladle back in Elfriede’s possession. One of the specters withdrew a miniscule broom and a small metal pan from his jacket and briskly brushed the floor once the stew chunks were missing. The other pulled out a black, silken sack and emptied his pan and the rags into the sack, almost soundlessly.
The first specter restored the broom and pan to his jacket and pulled out a new rag. He grabbed the ladle from Elfriede, eliciting a small whimper from her, wiped it clean, and handed it back to her. Elfriede took it but required Jurij to wrap his free hand around hers to support the ladle in her grip.
The specters glided back into place behind the lord. It had taken longer for me to understand what had happened than for the actual event to take place. The specters seemed unchanged from mere moments before; the only difference now was that one stood holding the silken bag slightly to his front as if it were a freshly caught rabbit. There were surprisingly no visible wrinkles to the bag’s smooth surface.
“Olivière,” repeated the lord, a force not unlike a blast of blizzard air behind his words, “be seated. Please.”
I did as asked. The black hands shifted, intertwining the fingers lightly beneath the bottom of the veil.
“Thank you,” he said. His head appeared to shift slightly and he waved an arm behind him. “Please, join us. Your stew smells wonderful, and I did not come to delay your dinner. My retainers will serve you.”
Elfriede and Jurij exchanged a concerned look, perhaps a little surprised to be further noticed. An unspoken message passed between them and they shuffled over as one, Elfriede taking the remaining chair and Jurij standing protectively behind her.
“A chair,” spoke the lord with another wave of his hand.