Page 130 of North Is the Night
“A kalman väki,” he replies, tossing two more logs onto my fire.
Fear shoots through me. A kalman väki, a death spirit. “Wait—did Kalma—”
“No,” the god says quickly. “If Kalma wanted you dead, she wouldn’t have come when I called her.”
“You really trust her?”
“I do. She is mine.”
I fight a shiver but nod.Trust. I have to trust these witches. I have to trust Tuoni. Without trust, I’m all alone. I lean forward, holding more tightly to his cloak. “If not Kalma, then who? Tuonetar is still without her magic, yes? She remains locked in the north tower?”
“I must go,” is all he says as he moves towards the door. “The väki must be reburied. We cannot delay.”
“My lord—”
His hand is on the door. “I will return, wife.” With that, he leaves.
I’m left waiting what feels like an age. As soon as my body is warm enough, I’m up out of the chair. I set Tuoni’s cloak aside, opting instead for a simple white woolen dress. I pick up a wolf pelt and wrap it around my shoulders. All fatigue I might have felt is replaced with frustration and anger—at this situation, at the death goddesses, and most of all at myself.
I almost died tonight.Again. Tuoni was nearly too late. Anger at Tuoni simmers too. He promised me I’d be safe. He promised no harm would come to me. Either he lied, or he made a promise he knows he can’t keep.
Which is worse?
My anger at myself burns brightest. Loviatar made me believe I could be more. She made me feel like I was clever and resourceful, the mouse who outwits and outlasts. But maybe I’m not meant to survive this place. Maybe my story is already written. Tuoni’s curiosity at having a mortal for a wife will put me in jeopardy again and again. It’s only a matter of time before this mouse succumbs to the will of the monsters. Fate or no, this mouse wants to fight. Tonight has reinforced this simple truth: I want to live.
A knock at my door makes me jump.
“Aina, it’s me,” the death god’s voice calls through the door.
I hurry over to the door and pull back the bolt, letting Tuoni enter. He steps into the room, snow dusting his boots. A gust of winter chill sweeps in after him. I shut the door and latch it, leaning against the heavy wood. Tuoni crosses the room. He reaches for the carafe of wine. “Don’t,” I hear myself call.
His hand stills.
“I want you sober, my lord. I have questions.”
He drops his hand back to his side. Slowly, he turns, eyes locked on me. I find I want to run my fingers down his scar. Who hurt him? How did it happen? Was there no healing song to sing for him then? “What happened?” I say instead. “Where did you go?”
He sighs, leaning against the table with his hip. “The väki is bound and reburied.”
“Bound?”
He nods. “Kalman väki feed on mortal souls. When you all began arriving in Tuonela, Kalma had to bury them and bind them with spells. Someone let one loose.”
“And... was I the target?”
He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “You are the only living mortal in Tuonela.”
I hold his gaze. “Who did it?”
He turns away.
“Was it Vammatar?” I call, following him. “She hates me. She’s just like her mother. She hates all who stand between her and more power.”
“It was not Vammatar,” he replies, filling a cup with wine despite my request. “She just helped us bind the väki—and at great personal risk, I might add.”
“So, it wasn’t Kalma... and it wasn’t Vammatar. The Witch Queen remains locked in her tower,” I summarize, ticking off each name on my fingers. “That only leaves...” I glance up to see the look of deep disappointment flutter across his face. “It was the twins, wasn’t it? Kivutar and Kiputyttö, they’ve chosen their side already?”
He drains the cup of wine and slams it down. “We searched the Kipumäki. They’ve disappeared, taking all their mischief with them.”
