THEY BROUGHT THE BOOK back to the cemetery, where Agrat bat Machlat was allowed to come and collect her souls and where Rukhele had warned Isser not to bring it, lest he summon the angel and her anger. Shulem-Yontif tagged along, reluctantly, as a representative of the Hasidim and the rebbe’s bloodline, looking all the while as if he might bolt like a rabbit. To Sorel’s great aggravation Isser kept giving him reassuring pats on the back or shoulder.
You’re leading him on, you idiot, she told him.
He doesn’t know it’s me, either! And he’s frightened. Be nice.
Despite Sorel’s plans and the ease with which they were able to share their body now, they were not fully in agreement.
It didn’t take Agrat or Dumiel long to respond to the call, simple as it was. They had been standing among the gravestones for hardly two breaths before they heard the chime of harness bells and a black horse emerged from the forest, picking its way between fallen branches with the lady on its back. Looking at her now next to Sam, Sorel-Isser could see the resemblance. They had the same bottomless eyes.
“You’ve brought me my book,” she said sweetly. “How wonderful. You didn’t have to invite Kaftziel, you know.”
“My name is on the contract,” said Sam. His voice was mild enough, but he’d shifted his weight a little as she approached, squaring up as if preparing to fight. “I intend to make sure you keep to your appointed boundaries, and don’t get carried away spreading a plague, or flooding the river bottoms, or, God forbid, spreading libels against the Jews.”
Agrat sniffed delicately and slid off her horse. She was wearing little embroidered slippers, not unlike the ones Sorel had thrown away on the night of her wedding. The angel stepped carefully between the weeds to keep her feet dry, like a cat. “The Esroger Rebbe stole my rights! Is it so unreasonable for me to want a little revenge? You’d like to take a bit of revenge, wouldn’t you, Soreh bas Kalman? And you, Isser ben Yakov … you’ve been mistreated, yourself. Wouldn’t you like to see them suffer, just a little? The ones who’ve been your enemies, who’ve taken power from you and given you nothing in return? Who haven’t loved you as you have loved them?”
This last she seemed to direct to all of them, even Shulem-Yontif, who shrank back when her eyes swept over him.
“Let my brother have his righteous posturing,” Agrat said, brushing her hand down Sorel-Isser’s cheek. “He’s powerless. You have his dagger—what can he do without it? Bark like a dog, only. He doesn’t mind being constrained. He’s lazy. He likes to watch and wait until the very last moment and never try to change things on his own. Not like us, no? Not like you. Let’s see it, then. Let’s bury it.”
“We’re not going to destroy the contract,” said Sorel.
Agrat stepped back as if she’d been burned. “What?”
“I don’t want revenge. I don’t want to see anyone suffer. I just want to be free. And I understand why you want that, too. It must be boring, never getting to see what’s happening in the city, shut up in your own manor house with no interesting company. But that doesn’t mean you have to destroy everything. We’ll give you back your Wednesday nights and your Fridays. The rebbe never should have taken those from you. But you’re not allowed to take revenge on Esrog for what a rebbe did who isn’t even here anymore.”
The sweetness melted off Agrat’s face. “I don’t have to agree to your terms. I could just take that book from you now and kill you all. No one would even miss you! You’re already dead.”
With a low growl, Sam, dog-shaped, stepped in between them. Agrat glared at him, teeth bared, and for a moment, Sorel-Isser thought she would leap on him and tear at him with her bare hands and teeth. But then she relaxed her shoulders, with a visible effort, and met their eyes again.
“I have been very patient,” she said. “I have waited. I have kept to the terms. But time and again, I have not received what I have been promised. The Esroger Rebbe promised that if I signed that contract, Esrog would be a city of miracles and the whole world would pass by my door. Where are the miracles? No one walks this road now but beggars. I will not agree to a contract without payment.”
Sam growled again, and Sorel-Isser laid a hand on his shoulder, calming. “We have an offer of payment, actually. How would you like to have the life of the princess of Esrog, Reb Kalman’s daughter?”
Agrat blinked and tilted her head.
“The girl’s drowned,” Sorel went on. “It would be a miracle if she returned, wouldn’t it? And if you were Kalman’s daughter, an ordinary girl, the rebbe’s contract wouldn’t stop you from going anywhere at all. I’ll give you everything. All of it. My place in my father’s house, my name, my inheritance. You get to be human, for one lifetime. There’s no better position to annoy the rebbe from. I was supposed to be his daughter-in-law, though that’s not going to happen anymore. His son is running away to Odessa—there’s your revenge.”
“What are you doing?” Adela whispered from behind them.
“There’s just one more stipulation, if you agree to that,” said Sorel. “You have to let Isser stay with me. Both of you.” This was directed to Sam, who’d glanced over his shoulder at them. “We’re giving you everything else you want in this contract. Just let him stay.”