The Autumn Castle (41 page)

“I missed you while you were away. I worried about you. I didn’t have a good time without you here. It’s something I’ve wanted
to ask you for a long time, but I’ve always put it off, not sure if it’s the right time. But I love you and I know I want
to be with you and take care of you. So now; now is the right time.”

“Yeah. Sure is.”

He sank onto the bed next to her, wrapped his arms around her. “We make a great couple, Christine. We’ll be happy.”

“I’m already happy,” she said, snuggling into him.

He kissed her cheek. His breath was warm. “Wife.”

“Husband. To be.”

“I’m all yours.”

Mandy found an iron cage the perfect size to contain the crow. At first he thought the creature was dead, it had been still
for so long in the sack. But when he’d reached in to grab it, it wriggled and pecked him, though not in the brainless, instinctive
way that an ordinary bird would. Its movements were too precise and calculated. Mandy knew that this was the enchanted crow
and he intended to keep it safely in his possession. Now, peering between the sturdy black bars, he tried to coax the bird
to talk.

“Come on then, Mr. Crow, say something.”

Silence.

“Mr. Crow, you’re being very naughty. I know you can talk, I heard you speaking with Christine Starlight.”

Still, the bird did not answer. Mandy smiled at it. “Very well, have it your way. I’m hungry now, and I’m going to the kitchen
to have something to eat. And you, my new pet, will come with me.” He picked up the cage and headed down the stairs, patting
the key belt under his shirt. A wild bravado had gripped him. He knew he should be careful: these faeries outnumbered him
vastly, wherever they were. But the castle was deserted and he felt strong and sure of himself with the keys, the enchanted
crow in the cage, and his empty sack waiting to be filled. He stepped into the kitchen. It smelled cold and sour like old
potatoes. A woman, hard-faced and fair-haired, stared up at him.

“Who are you?” she asked, in a guttural version of Middle High German he recognized from his university days.

“A special guest of Mayfridh,” he replied, mixing some new German with the old and hoping that the message would come across
clear enough.

“The queen hasn’t told me of any guest.”

Mandy sat the crow on the large wooden table in the center of the room. “She told me that if I wanted something to eat I just
had to come to the kitchen and ask.”

The woman leaned over the table and peered into the cage. “Is that Counselor Eisengrimm?”

“No,” Mandy said, happy to know the crow’s name, “it’s a crow I found in the woods. It doesn’t speak.”

“I shouldn’t have thought the counselor would be happy to be kept in a cage,” she said with an ironic smile. “A bit too fancy
for that.”

Mandy was growing exhausted from trying to keep up with the language. “Just make me food, woman,” he said in German. Whether
it was his words or his manner that startled her into action, he didn’t know, but at least she had gone to a cupboard and
pulled out a loaf of bread. With a large carving knife, she began to hack off a piece.

The knife blade was dark and stained, not the shining steel he was used to in his own world. Something about its rudimentariness
appealed to him. He listened carefully near the door. There was nobody else around. He smiled at the crow again, and approached
the woman.

“Here, let me help with that,” he said, reaching for the knife.

As he struck the first blow, a voice cried out “No!” behind him. He turned. The crow.

“So you have revealed yourself, bird,” Mandy said, letting the woman’s body fall to the floor.

The crow began to shout. “Help! Help!”

Mandy picked up the woman’s body and folded it into the sack. A lot of blood; it was a messy job. He hated messiness usually,
but in this raw and uncivilized place it had a pleasing coherence. He stored the sack behind the door to pick up later, and
seized the cage.

“Come along, Counselor Eisengrimm. I’m going to find a place where I can keep you quiet.”

“Help! Somebody!” the crow called, but Mandy had already found another set of stairs, leading underground. The bird’s voice
was swallowed up by the stone.

“Where are we going, then?” Mandy said. “Perhaps there’s a dungeon under here.”

He came to a gate. It was unlocked. Another gate. The bird was quiet. Mandy made his way along the dimly lit passage. “How
far to the cells, bird? What, not so talkative now?”

“What do you intend?” said the crow, in English.

“I intend to kill everybody I can kill and clean off their bones to use in a sculpture,” Mandy said, opening another gate.
“And I intend to capture Mayfridh and cut off her head. I don’t know what I’ll do with you, but if you’re a counselor of some
sort, perhaps you can advise the queen not to leave balls of magic twine lying around for anyone to find.”

He had found the cells, eight of them, lined up four and four in the dark. He kicked a door open and deposited the cage on
the floor.

“Now,” Mandy said, “tell me where I’ll find Mayfridh.”

“Hexebart!” Eisengrimm cried. “Hexebart, you must help!”

Mandy looked behind him. “Is there someone else down here?” he asked. He hurried out of the cell and slammed the door behind
him. He peered into other cells, finding in one of them a hunched hag with dirty hair.

“Hello,” he said, “are you Hexebart?”

The hag twitched. A ball of pale light shone in her hands. She licked it and smoothed it over her ears. Then said in his own
language, “What is your name, traveler?”

“Immanuel,” Mandy said.

“Immanuel,” she repeated, savoring the word. “What have you done to upset Birdbrain?”

Mandy chuckled. “I’ve put him in an iron cage and threatened to kill his queen.”

“She is not the queen,” Hexebart spat. “She is a nasty little impostor. One day I’ll pull out her teeth and make a necklace
of them.”

Mandy was curious. He hadn’t expected to find an ally. “Why do you hate her so much?” he asked.

“Because she had the real queen killed so she could get her hands on the royal magic.”

“Is that so?” Mandy had counted on Mayfridh having royal magic. It would make the Bone Wife much better able to perform all
her duties around the apartment. “I don’t know if you could tell me where I’d find Mayfridh? I’d like to kill her.”

“Certainly. If you let me out I’ll show you where she is.” She smiled. “I know all the secret passages of the castle.”

Mandy considered. The hag’s bones would be far too old and brittle to use in the sculpture, and her hatred for Mayfridh might
make her a decent assistant. He tried a key and popped the lock, held the door open for her.

Hexebart shuffled to her feet and moved to stand near him. She peered up at him in the gloom, one eye twitching closed. “Immanuel,
you have very beautiful hair,” she said.

“Thank you,” he replied.

She reached up and plucked a hair from his head and tucked it away in the bodice of her ragged dress.

Mandy laughed, heard his own nervous note. She was obviously crazy. “Which way?” he said.

“To where?” she asked.

“To Mayfridh,” he replied, impatience touching his voice.

She clapped her hands together in front of her face. A strange pale light shone between them.

Mandy frowned, suspicious now. “What are you doing?” he asked.

She opened her hands. He saw her twisted smile through a delicate ball of light suspended between her fingers.

“Passage,” she said. And disappeared.

Mayfridh shifted from foot to foot on the train platform, rubbing her hands together against the morning cold. Early light
streaked the sky through the clouds. Diana stood next to her, sucking her bottom lip nervously.

“Really, Mum, I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You’ve said that before and then disappeared for weeks. How do I know this isn’t the last time I’ll see you?”

“Because I promise.” Mayfridh buttoned her coat and tucked her scarf down inside it. Every breath of wind was laced with ice.
“It’s getting so cold.”

“Winter’s nearly here.”

Mayfridh looked at her mother and tried to smile. What a powerful coercion guilt was. She should have returned to Ewigkreis
last night, directly after Christine’s phone call. But Diana and her trembling jaw kept her here in Zehlendorf, producing
soothing reassurances. Layered on top of that was guilt about leaving Eisengrimm to deal with Mandy. And, of course, the guilt
over her betrayal of Christine.

The train slid into the station.

“Bye, Mum,” she said, enclosing Diana in a brief hug.

“Will I see you again?”

“I promise you will. I’ve just got a little problem to take care of back home.”

“Don’t be gone too long.”

Mayfridh stepped with relief into the heated carriage. Diana waved good-bye from the platform, then disappeared from view.
Mayfridh put her head between her hands to think. When did life become so complicated? Soon she would have to say good-bye
to Diana forever. She would forget; her mother would remember forever. Twenty-five years hadn’t healed the first loss. Mayfridh
recalled Eisengrimm’s original warning against seeking out Diana. Damn him for always being right.

And what of Eisengrimm? She had left him in charge, a de facto wolf king to defend her land against Immanuel Zweigler. Not
that she thought Mandy was anything but harmless. Despite Christine’s anxieties, it was clear to Mayfridh that he’d developed
an infatuation and gone to find her. She felt such a raw pity for him; she knew love without any hope of a union. She trusted
Eisengrimm to be kind to him, but Mandy would have to be told firmly to leave. An uninvited intruder might upset the balance
of the seasons, precipitating an early winter. She shuddered. The last thing she wanted was to have him stuck in her world
forever.

Mayfridh raised her head and watched suburbs speeding past in the gray light. Forever unraveled before her in her imagination.
She had such a long time left to live. Four hundred years now seemed like a torture. Humans had the perfect life span: long
enough to grow old with someone, yet short enough to inspire them to find meaning. She thought about Jude—the warmth of his
skin, the weight of his gaze—and the space under her ribs felt bruised by the longing. He had made it clear: this love was
impossible.

Now she had to convince Mandy his love was impossible too. Hopefully he wouldn’t cause a scene. She wasn’t in the mood for
dealing with that.

E
isengrimm?” Mayfridh warily ascended the circular staircase to her rooms. Eisengrimm hadn’t been in the forest to greet her,
so perhaps he was busy with Mandy. Maybe he had taken him to the village.

Mayfridh went to her bedchamber window. Through the branches of the giant birch, she could see the village in the slanting
sun. Smoke rose from chimneys, children played in the streets. No sign of Eisengrimm and Mandy. Perhaps they had stopped at
the tavern for a drink. What kind of adventure was Mandy on? Had he anticipated any of this? She wondered what he had expected
when he stole the twine from Christine. Did he know, for instance, that Mayfridh was the queen of a race of faeries? She allowed
herself a smug moment; how impressed he must have been when Eisengrimm told him. Surely he would realize she could never love
him in return.

A sound near the door caught her attention. She turned around.

“Mandy?”

“Hello. Surprise.” Mandy tried a smile. He wore a brown tunic—far too tight for him—leg wrappings like the villagers wore
and a rough cap on his head. His hair was damp and he carried a muddy, stained sack. When he saw her looking at it, he dropped
it on the floor and something inside rattled and clattered. “I went for a swim in the stream,” he said. “I got my own clothes
wet. I stole these. They were hanging on a tree branch.”

She allowed a little smile. “Oh. Well, you’ll have to make sure you return them before you go. Where’s Eisengrimm?”

“He had something to take care of.”

Mayfridh was surprised. It was unlike Eisengrimm to leave a stranger unattended wandering around the castle, but perhaps he
had decided Mandy was little threat. She took a deep breath. “Mandy, we need to sort a few things out.”