Chapter Thirty:
Hans had given me a lot to think about, and I felt as though dark spirits watched me walk back to the main house after we parted ways for the night. I had never thought to question history’s claim that a time traveler need not fear death unless they committed ritual suicide—Prince Otto’s choice of death. It made logical sense that the Teuton priest who composed the Song of Time and created the Torstein would weave threads of magic into his fatal act, threads that would bind the traveler to the past and compel them to enter eternity. As long as Beth and I stayed away from the Rhine River, we should be fine.
When I visited the leather shop to order shoes and bags, I ended up requesting a total of three bags rather than just two. I had not yet told Beth that I wanted to invite her boyfriend on our escapade, but even if we decided not to bring Joel, I had begun to suspect that we would need at least three bags for all of our supplies. We planned to travel to the year 1064, two years before the fall of Muniche, long enough to witness Teutonic peace and success before it all came crumbling down. Thus we would reside in the Middle Ages for two full years, hopefully finding some sort of employment in the city to keep us afloat with food and shelter. I suspected that I could find work as a seamstress, and Beth mused about attaching herself to a pottery shop.
Along with extra clothing, I intended to bring a digital camera so I could capture mementos of our trip like I had done during my parents’ wedding. This time I would take one of my father’s older digital cameras that ran on double A batteries; that way once the batteries ran out, I could replace them until none were left. I planned to bring a twelve-pack of batteries along with the two already inside the camera, which should be sufficient. I bought three metal thermoses for water and a smaller bottle that I would use for vitamins. Beth had come up with that idea, for she asserted that it would take our bodies time to adjust to a medieval diet. I hunted through my father’s knife collection and set aside three that seemed practical.
The spring semester at college passed without further incident from abusive drunks or from demonic entities. Dave never returned to campus, though I heard some people saying that he was confined to a wheelchair now. Apparently he had been trying to learn how to push himself around on leg braces, but his size had rendered his attempts futile.
Zack continued to play on the university basketball team, but he no longer took part in carousing after the games. Min-ho told me that something had happened to the nerves in his testicles, rendering him unable to hold an erection. How my father had managed that, I could only guess. I kept my mouth shut about his involvement and held the secret close.
As for Adam, my icy punch had knocked out one of his front incisors. Beth asked me once whether I regretted what I had done. “Hard to regret anything when their assault revived my panic attacks,” I told her. I usually managed to get a full night’s sleep about three times per week. Too often, I would wake drenched in sweat with my lungs constricting in the darkness.
I finally brought up my plans for Joel on the Thursday before Easter. He had gone to practice guitar with the worship team in preparation for the Sunday service, so I took the opportunity to confer with Beth in private. Her forehead wrinkled as I outlined my reasoning—it would be best to bring a man along on a journey into the eleventh century as a bastion against chauvinism. Joel was fit and smart with the ambition to conquer new challenges. He had begun studying German last year and occasionally tried to use it in conversation with me. His archery abilities would be useful in the Middle Ages, both for protection and in case we ever needed to hunt for food.
“I see what you’re saying,” Beth sighed when I had finished. She lounged in the recliner in our parlor with a notebook on her lap, the fingers of her right hand tapping her pen distractedly. “But I’m not sure whether it would be smart to bring someone like him. He has no clue about Teutonic magic, for one thing. If we tell him about it now, he’d think we’re crazy unless you show him what you can do with your ice. And then he might feel the need to blab about it with his friends.” She made a face.
“That’s a good point,” I said from the couch, gazing up at the popcorn ceiling as I tried to think things through. “You’re both coming to visit me in June—finally—so maybe he can just come along on an unexpected side trip. If we didn’t bring him, do you really think you could keep the secret from him once we return? After two years in the Middle Ages? With all kinds of adventures under your belt? It’s been hard enough for me, and all I did was go back to 1978 for a couple hours.”
“Yeah.” Beth sounded noncommittal, and I tilted my head toward her, not really comprehending her hesitation. Our plan was to use the Torstein on her final night at the Thaden house, Friday, June 16th. The next morning she and Joel would fly commercial back to Philadelphia. Personally, I could not imagine keeping my mouth shut while trapped in a seat next to my boyfriend for over eight hours. “But we’d have to get him some clothing, too,” she noted.
“That’s no problem. Our dresses are finished, so that’ll give me something new to work on before graduation. I just need his measurements. And I can put in a rush order for his shoes when I pick up our shoes and bags.”
Beth was silent for a moment, and when she spoke again, the subject took me off guard. “Did people eat a lot of nuts back in the eleventh century?”
My eyebrows came together, and I looked toward my cousin again. “I’m . . . not sure. I know they ate a lot of grain and pretty much drank nothing but alcohol. No sugar, chocolate, or coffee available before Europeans started colonizing.”
“Oh crap. That’s true. I’ll probably get headaches until my body gets used to going without caffeine.” Beth winced, and I felt a touch of sympathy for her. Both she and Joel drank coffee every morning.
“I’m not sure about nuts, though, but it wouldn’t surprise me if people ate things like chestnuts and walnuts,” I mused.
“See, that would be a problem for Joel. He’s allergic to tree nuts.”
My jaw fell open just a little. That was something I had not known. “Oh. Is that why he never drinks any of your almond milk?” I felt like smacking myself. I should have worked that out before. Beth drank almond milk at breakfast with her coffee, while Joel always chose orange juice.
“Yeah, he doesn’t like to talk about it. He keeps an EpiPen on him all the time just in case. But at least peanut butter doesn’t bother him.”
“Hmm. Well, I guess we’d just have to make sure he brings a pen or two with him. And I can find out whether there’s nuts in our food before we eat any meals. But if we end up going our separate ways with employment, I’ll have to teach him how to ask about nuts.” I frowned, trying to piece the phrase together in Teutonica. I realized that I did not know the word for nut. Hopefully Hans knew what it was.
Beth ultimately agreed that Joel would be a useful addition to our conclave, though she was unsure how well he would take to the reality of time travel. I told her that we could break things to him slowly, starting with the magic of the Torstein. Once he accepted that, I could broach the topic of Teutons, their history, their blood, their elemental gifts. I probably would not need to mention the spiritual side, but some of the odd blood magic may prove valuable for all of us.
The secrets of blood magic were held by the Teuton priests; your everyday Teutons knew little aside from their blood percentage. But Hans had mentioned a few other things to me in passing, things about which he had thus far refused to expound. For one thing, Teutons apparently had the ability to control blood flow, to stem the tide from a serious wound. I hoped to drill Hans about that power in particular, for I knew that such a talent could come in handy during the siege before Muniche fell. He had once hinted that Teutons could read someone’s intentions using blood—I had no idea how that could be possible—and that burnt Teuton blood would invoke an indelible curse on a settlement.
My hopes for learning more before embarking on our medieval adventure mostly fell flat. When I returned to München the first weekend of May, I cornered Hans in his office the following Monday. I bluntly informed him that we needed to converse in either Teutonica or Latin until my departure because I needed practice speaking both languages. He raised an eyebrow at me and stated in gravelly Latin that I was interrupting his work. I ignored his complaint and asked him about blood control in Teutonica, stating that I needed to know how to do it in case either Beth, Joel, or I got wounded during the siege. This prompted him to glare at me and reply that I might as well bring all of my American school friends while I was at it, effectively closing the subject. He did tell me that the Teutonic word for nut was Nusi, so the conversation was not entirely wasted.
Ina’s situation with Walfrid had festered in my brain during my time away from home, and I determined to check on her before Beth and Joel came to visit. Since I had no wish to make the long drive to Berlin, I figured that I could just drop in on her as a spirit sometime in the afternoon, when I should be able to catch her alone with her stepdaughter. I knew her address, and my father had a map of Berlin in his archives, so it should not be too difficult to send my spirit there. Berlin was just over six hundred kilometers from München, so I hoped that the distance would not prove too far.
I visited Ina on Thursday afternoon, having shut myself into my bathroom to cross into the spiritual realm undetected. I had stared at the location of her house on my father’s map for nearly an hour that morning, trying to imprint it into my brain. Since I did not know anything about how the house looked inside, I would have to travel there through the air rather than by imagining myself there. If I had not spent so many nights exploring the spiritual realm in recent months, I may not have been able to pull it off. I had gotten used to traversing the Appalachians from high above, checking out all of the towns near to my apartment. I had even pushed myself to the Virginia coast one Friday night, a journey that had tired me until the waves of the ocean rose to restore my spirit. So I planned to fly straight to Ina’s and then return to my body after we chatted.
My plan worked marginally well. I sent my spirit as high into the atmosphere as I dared and zoomed to the north, keeping the sun on my left and A9 within eyeshot below. I pushed my spirit as swiftly as I could, snatching moisture from wisps of clouds now and then, watching Nürnberg pass by below and later Leipzig. I bet Ina was really good at flying here and there in her spiritual form, I thought to myself as my stamina waned. She could claim the entirety of the air to propel her along while I have to snag at clouds. I should have done this back in December, actually. Might have been able to find some snow then, too.
By the time the Berlin metropolis appeared in the distance, I had truly begun to weaken, the robes of my spirit appearing more and more translucent, their colors shifting from water’s blue to the white of clouds. I can do this. I have to do this, I told myself. When I saw the River Havel below on the edges of the wealthy section of the city, I gave a wild cry and cast my spirit beneath its waters. I felt the rush of vitality they gave me, and I laughed in my mind as I gathered them into my spirit. The hue of my robes altered one final time to a murky bluish green; I felt like I had gulped down an alien tonic. Northern Germany did not belong to Teuton lands.
I erupted from the river with more verve than necessary, and I saw several passengers on a nearby tourist boat pointing in confusion at my brief water spout. No matter; I sensed no Teutons among them. I sent my spirit above the trees again and set my course for Ina’s street, just a block from the Forst Grunewald.
When I reached her front door, I did not bother to waste time studying the house’s design. I simply shut my ghostly lids and stretched my element forth, seeking the Teuton spirits inside. I sensed only one and gave an internal shout of victory. That had to be Ina. Her husband was not home, probably at the stock exchange. What servants they likely had were not Teutons. And Lea was too young to manifest an element.
I breezed through the chambers of her house until I found her in the kitchen. She stood before the stove, stirring a pot of what smelled like Eintopf, a soiled apron protecting her sleek khakis and frilly blouse. She had the radio tuned to a classical music station, and little Lea sat perched in a swing, laughing as she smacked at a row of toys dangling from its frame. Ina sang along with the opera that currently played—the quality of her alto was not particularly great—glancing toward a second oven every now and then, checking on the progress of some sort of cake. And when she turned fully around to chatter for a moment with her daughter, I saw that her stomach was swollen with pregnancy. Just as I had predicted, the fool had decided to breed his wife, her high Teuton blood be damned.
I perched my spirit upon an empty countertop and spoke directly to Ina’s mind. So why exactly are you cooking? Shouldn’t Walfrid have hired someone to do that sort of thing?
Ina’s body jerked into an upright position, and she looked around the room, her eyes wide in what appeared to be shock. I noticed that her face was layered with makeup, prompting me to wonder if her husband was the type that expected his woman to look perfect all day every day. Ina had not bothered with makeup when we went to the metal festival two summers before. “Who . . . ?” She spoke at last in a quivering tone, her eyes having passed over me twice.
Swanie. I’m sitting on your counter.
Ina turned to face me, her eyes remaining their natural shade of dark blue. “Swanie? What . . . what are you doing here?” She sounded horrified.
Visiting my friend who’s vanished off the face of the earth. It’s a long way to Tipperary, though. I probably won’t have the stamina to stay here long.
Ina swung away from me to retrieve Lea from her swing. “Since you’re here, you definitely need to meet Princess Lea. Sometimes I call her that even though my master disapproves of Star Wars.” My friend gave a nervous giggle.
She said the word master in Teutonica, which sounded odd stuck in the middle of a Bayerisch sentence. The fact that she referred to her husband with that title prompted my heart to sink, although I knew that terminology was common for a bound Teuton wife. Now Ina balanced her stepdaughter on her left hip, gesturing vaguely toward the counter where I sat, telling the child that they had a visitor. I smiled at Lea, though she could not see me. I’m pleased to meet you at long last, Princess Lea. You could certainly take down any storm trooper.
The little girl fell silent while I spoke, her pale eyes growing as round as an owl’s. She had probably never had a spirit speak to her before. “That’s Swanie,” Ina said gaily, giving the child a kiss on the cheek. “She’s a good friend of mine.”
“Friend?” Lea repeated, her attention diverted by her mother’s earrings.
“Swanie’s a friend. Oh, don’t touch that, Lea dear. You know Pappi likes my ears to sparkle when he comes home.” Ina brushed the child’s hand away from her ear and headed for the swing again. “I’d better put you back in your seat so I can finish dinner before Pappi gets here.”
Lea did not appreciate this arrangement; she started wailing, interspersing her cries with the words Pappi and nein. I smiled to myself as Ina tried to quiet her. Children were nowhere near the top of my wish list. How far along are you? I asked my friend once she had returned to the pot on her stove. I sensed the exhaustion emanating from her spirit, and I wondered again why Walfrid had not hired a cook.
“I’m due in ten weeks, if I make it that far. My blood pressure is already too high. A doctor comes to check me over every Friday.” Ina wiped a drop of sweat off of her forehead and dried her fingers on her apron.
I pursed my lips, my concern about my friend’s situation growing ever stronger. Why did Walfrid get you pregnant when he already has Lea? Maybe that question was a bit too forward, but her husband’s actions angered me.
Ina’s shoulders rose and fell in a sigh, and she turned away from the stove to look toward where I sat, her eyes focusing on something to my right. “He wants a son, but this one’s a girl, too. So I’ll have to try again.” She shook her head.
Ina, can you even see me? I asked, feeling as though there was a knot in the pit of my stomach. Her situation was worse than I had thought. The rich bastard had convinced her that it was her fault he had not yet produced a male heir.
My friend’s face fell. “It’s dangerous for the baby if my element runs free. So no. I can’t see you.” She cradled her swollen abdomen in maternal affection.