Drawing the pistol butt back, I swung for the window pane.

I felt the impact from my wrist all the way to my shoulder. But there wasn’t the sound of shattering glass. Instead, a hollow sound as if the butt had bounced off of wet wood, a log or tree trunk. I opened my eyes – it shamed me to admit I had closed them at that moment – and thought I had missed so poorly as to hit the frame. There was no evidence of that, however, no chipped paint or dent. No evidence of my strike at all, not even on the pistol. I stared from one to the other. The house had repelled me.

‘Ho there!’

I turned to see a cart coming down the track. I stowed the pistol, wondering how much the driver had seen. I met him at the end of the Eder’s garden path.

‘Good morning,’ I said.

‘Is it still?’ he said, eyeing the overhead sun. ‘Dare say we’ve both missed some of the festivities, eh?’ He smiled, which transformed his weathered, bulbous features into something genuinely warm. He had a large wart above one eye.

‘Are you headed that way?’ I said.

‘Not plannin’ on drinking all this meself, now,’ he said, gesturing to the barrels on his cart.

‘No, I suppose not.’

‘They’re gone, you know.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Saw the mayor packing up first thing. In a mighty hurry, he was.’

We both looked to the house. ‘But what of the candles?’ I said.

‘Soul candles, ain’t they.’

My face must have made my ignorance clear.

‘Bring friendly spirits home, keep evil ones out, so my wife says. One in every window – thank heavens we haven’t as many as them lot,’ he said, smiling once more.

‘Friendly spirits,’ I said.

‘Tha’s right. She swears by ’em. But they don’t keep her mother out, more’s the pity!’ He laughed in such a way that I had no choice but to join him, though I could feel how hollow my mirth was. So did he. ‘Well, best be on,’ he said.

He left me there, staring at the candles in the windows of the empty Eder house. I felt more adrift than ever, among strange customs and traditions. Was this not still Reikova? Was I really so far from home? I hesitated to return to the town, unsure just what I would find there.

But the mayor was gone, along with the children it seemed. Olesca was gone, and I didn’t know where.

*

I wandered aimlessly, rubbing shoulders with pandemonium. I saw fire swallowed. Bodies of sack and straw hanging from rafters. Bands of roving children, demonic in not just their garb. There were spits turned by cackling devils on most streets, though only one in two held pig or meat of some kind. I had no appetite regardless.

Eventually, I came to the Dreken river. I stared at the murky waters and considered throwing myself in. Rebecca wouldn’t hear of it, but what else could I do? I had failed to convince Christophor, and I had no authority of my own. This, our body, was the last thing I had any power over. I clambered over the low wall that ran the length of the bank there. It shouldn’t have been such a struggle, but my hands were shaking. I was shaking all over. I started a skittering descent but was stopped.