Later that evening, I unlocked the back door and sat waiting in my second chair, the Robin’s chair. From the waist up, I made a concerted effort to appear calm and cool, while under the table my knees were jingling like loose change.

Ofelia was the first to show up. The rest tumbled in behind her while I sat at my place with my hands grasping the table so as not to fall into the growing pit in my stomach.

Grim and Hulda were the last two to arrive; both wore an air of solemnity.

Hulda got right down to business, calling for roll, at which we were all accounted for.

“Before we proceed,” Hulda said, rising from her chair, “let me assure my sister Storks that an account of last night’s incident has been dispatched to the World Council.”

This was a group that took its bird-watching seriously, and, much like lifting the cover on a manhole, a rush of steam in the form of remarks and exclamations shot forth. I overheard more than one mention of Dorit, our expelled member, as well as a hushed “enemy still in our midst” response. That one, I feared, was eerily on the mark.

“Order, please.” Hulda calmed the room with fanning hands. “Let us not panic. We have no proof of a sinister connection to the occurrence.” Her eyes raked over me as she said this, and I’m sure I went blotchy; I didn’t even color well under pressure. “Now, who has initiated tonight’s meeting?”

“I’ve been contacted”— I began in the way we always did, but I knew that what followed would be a major divergence. I squeezed my eyes shut briefly, bracing myself —“by two separate and distinct essences. . . . I know it’s highly unusual.”

“Unusual?” Hulda’s head angled to the side.

“Twins, and other multiples, are not unknown to us,” Grim interjected. “You yourself were present when Fru Svana placed twin girls.”

“Except,” I said, “there is only one vessel, someone who is known to me, someone whose desire for a child is known to me, someone whom I want very much to help.”

“What are you saying, child?” Hulda asked. “It almost sounds as if you’re describing a situation in which you have two souls vying for a mother you’ve selected. A situation you’ve orchestrated on behalf of the mother —”

“That’s impossible,” Grim cut in. “It’s quite the reverse of our purpose. The focus is always on the hovering soul. More importantly, such powers are beyond . . .” Here Grim stopped herself as if unwilling to suggest I was capable of anything special.

“Sisters, please,” Hulda said, “hold your comments.”

And, yes, it did gratify me that it had been one “sister” in particular who was being shushed. If I was going rogue, I wasn’t opposed to having Grim’s bitter pucker as my parting glance.

I stood and turned to Hulda. “Indeed, Fru Hulda, I believe this to be the case. I realize that it’s not standard practice, but, yes, on behalf of a predetermined mother, multiple essences presented themselves.”

Hulda sat back in her chair and flopped her arms over its sides. Many moments passed.

I remained standing, not knowing whether to continue or wait for her to comment. And my sister Storks — generally quick to fly into squawks of alarm — took me in with stretched lips and bulging eyes. I finally decided to take my seat. I sensed it was best to keep a low profile and preserve my strength.

“This is quite unprecedented,” Hulda said finally. “Never have I heard of such a thing. Not here. Nor at my many visits to the World Council.” Again, she went ashen. I didn’t know what to do. “You best continue,” she said. “I feel quite certain that we will not know how to proceed until all the information is known to us.”

“But Fru Hulda, this is clearly an act of willful defiance,” Grim said. “Would you have us encourage such behavior?”

Hulda, when turning to Grim, looked tired, the gray of her woolen cardigan the same shade as her neck and face. “Fru Grimilla, I have asked our sister Stork Katla to continue. Would you defy my authority?”

Grim’s head snapped back so far I heard the ping. It sounded like a bullet dropping into a chamber.

All eyes swiveled back to me. How did I never learn with Grim? Her hatred of me was now so complete I could read the fill line at the top of her brow scrunch. But I supposed the bigger question was how did I never learn, period.

“The mother is confident and assertive.” I wasn’t about to use Grim’s choice words of “gung ho and brassy” to describe Jaelle, nor did I have to. Her slitted eyes conveyed her comprehension. “And the souls, as I described earlier, are separate and distinct. I well remember Fru Svana’s placement of twins; those essences presented together and remained united during all dream sequences.” I looked off to the sconces lighting the room. They flared as if censuring me, too. “The two even present as different ages —”

“How so?” Hulda cut in, biting back her lips as if reproaching herself for interrupting.

“One is a baby girl, frightened and helpless. One is a boy, two or possibly three years of age, brave and inquisitive.”

I paused, sensing a shock-and-awe reaction to my announcement. Not a one of them moved. Even the walls seemed to close in, as if leaning in to hear better.

“I recommend number one, the baby girl,” I continued. “A preference for a girl is known to me.” I looked around the room, realizing they were all gaping at me like my head was on backward. I touched my nose just to be sure. They were all still staring. “Should I go ahead with the vote now?”

Hulda stood, pushing her chair back. It scraped across the slab concrete floor. “It occurs to me that, per Stork protocol, once multiple candidates have been presented, a vote must follow.”

Stork protocol? A memo I never got.

“Fru Hulda, this refers to multiple maternal or vessel candidates,” Grim added.

“I believe,” Hulda said, “you’ll find the wording to be nonspecific. Fru Birta, if you would be so kind as to check.”

I’d never really pondered the thickness of Birta’s book before, even after we’d had to replace it after the infamous vandalism incident — by Brigid, no less — to our meeting space. It would appear, however, the way Birta now ran her finger over pages and columns, that it was a reference tome, as well as an attendance log.

“Fru Hulda is correct,” Birta said, removing her round, wire spectacles. “The wording simply states ‘When a minimum of two candidates have been presented, a vote must forthwith proceed.”

Hulda looked at me expectantly. I took it as a “Carry on” directive.

I raised a single shaky digit. “Who votes with me for essence one, the gentle baby girl?”

Half the room raised their index finger.

“And who votes for essence number two, the brave young boy?” I had made my choice clear as well as stated the mother’s preference for a girl. It was no surprise, then, that Grim pumped her bony arm into the air, raising two fingers and leading a rebellion that was quickly joined by the other half of the room, Hulda — to my complete and utter shame — included.

I had a hard time perceiving what happened next. My vision had gone all wavy.

“A tie,” Hulda said, stroking her chin. “Fru Birta, would you please read protocol regarding a tie?”

“We all know what to do in the case of a tie,” Grim added, her voice struggling to tamp down her irritation.

“Fru Birta, please,” Hulda said, overruling Grim’s interruption.

Fru Birta trailed a bony digit along the bottom of a page. She’d always been a bit of a mumbler, but the voice she used as she scanned the text was positively crumbling. I had to strain, leaning forward in my seat, to hear her. She murmured bits of phrasing and then skipped ahead as she searched for the relevant clause. Though her articulation was grainy, like an old phonograph, I made out that she was under the section heading “Extenuating Circumstances,” from which she read: “‘Overlapping jurisdictions, unforeseen physical conditions and limitations, and autonomous bestowments,’ as if we’d want to put any more ideas in Katla’s head.”

I hardly knew what to make of the last comment. It wasn’t like Birta to be so outspoken.

Finally, she perked up and said, loud and clear, with her lips actually moving this time, “‘In the event of a tie vote between two potential vessels —’”

“Stop there,” Hulda broke in. “In this case, the book clearly specifies ‘potential vessels.’ Thus procedural instructions regarding a tie do not apply in the case at hand, one where we’re deciding between potential essences.”

“But what does that mean?” I asked, scooting forward in my seat.

“It means,” Hulda said, sadness apparent in her voice, “that we are without precedent.”

OK, but that didn’t answer my question.

“So what do we do?” I asked, a more direct question this time.

Hulda folded her hands in front of her. “Sister Katla, you have presented us with a very difficult situation. One that, in disservice to all involved parties, leaves us at an impasse.”

“What do you mean by an impasse?” I asked.

Hulda shook her head slowly from side to side, taking a long time to answer.

In the interim, I pondered the term impasse, as in obstruction or roadblock, nothing that a little elbow grease — and possibly a stick of dynamite — couldn’t surmount.

“I shall take the matter to the World Council. This, in combination with the events of last night, merits further consideration.”

Before I could react or object, Hulda had issued her customary “peace be,” the meeting was adjourned, and my sister Storks were filing out past me with looks ranging from pity to fear to outright contempt.

I didn’t mean to stay after, necessarily, but half my body was paralyzed by shock and the other half by plain old embarrassment. Hulda had voted against me. Forget Dickens, it hurt like Faulkner. And Jaelle’s bestowment was on hold. This couldn’t be good, either.

Finally, only Fru Hulda and I remained.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She didn’t respond. Ouch.

I dropped my chin to my chest. “You’re disappointed in me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. You take on too much.”

Ouch again.

“You should know, however, Katla, that when you came to us one year ago, I knew it was a sign of change. Your age, your impulsiveness, your unwitting but lodestone or magnetite quality of attracting other powerful beings, all combined to portend transformation of our ways. All of this I suspected and resigned myself to, but I wonder now . . .” Here she laid her hands flat against the smooth surface of the wooden table, seemingly studying the fretwork of veins on the backs of her hands. “I wonder at your recklessness, your disregard for advice and counsel, your willful independence.” She paused, looking long and hard at me. “I don’t suppose you have anything more to tell me about recent events or your sudden interest in Norse legends.”

Tears stung at my eyes. How did I tease out the stuff that she could help with from the stuff that would endanger her, that would endanger other loved ones? And, finally, how did I even begin to describe the plan taking shape in my head? I simply couldn’t. Nor did I ever want her to think she missed an opportunity. “No,” I said; my throat was dry and my words raspy.

“I didn’t think so.” Hulda stood. She looked weary and sad. “Katla, should the World Council move to discipline you, I would have very little in the way of mitigating information.”

“I understand,” I said, my voice actually cracking now.

I don’t recall Hulda exiting the room. I only remember finding myself, some minutes later, alone in my grandfather’s back room. It had reverted to its utilitarian purpose, and I sat in a simple folding chair. Gone was my Robin’s chair. Gone was our massive oval table. Gone were the candles and sconces. Gone were my sister Storks.

I’d known I was on my own since the moment Marik had delivered his message, but now, having alienated both Jack and Hulda, I felt frightened and lonely and glum. And what did I have to look forward to? Possible disciplinary action. Man, I really knew how to screw things up royally. Royally, ha. As if I needed a pedigree to go with the doghouse I was in.