cruelest thing. A leader, me?
Hardly. Folk follow me because I’m the best they’ve got. That’s not saying much in a place like this. Yes, I’m angry. I want the truth—and when I have it, I’ll use it to destroy those who tricked me, those who played the most evil joke in the world on me. I will tear them apart, limb from limb, and then I will destroy their forest so that they can never return to haunt me. I will drive them even out of my dreams.”
“Forget it, Jena,” said Cezar. “I don’t want to discuss this further tonight. In the morning I’ll hear what you have to say, each of you in turn. I’ll know if anyone’s lying. I won’t have the community intimidated by the forces of the forest, and I won’t have my household cursed and polluted by association with Dr?agu?ta the witch and her henchmen. Night People or not, she’s the one who is behind all this. She did it. She drowned Costi. She’s never let me forget that, not for one instant. People think life goes on after these things, that folk recover and get over it, that everything doesn’t change. That’s wrong, Jena. It never goes away. It won’t go away until I make it go. It won’t leave me until I crush it completely.”
Iulia and Paula had finished putting away the dishes; now 194
they hovered in the doorway, waiting for me. Thank heaven for my sisters. I could forgive their small failings instantly, as long as they were there when I needed them. I put my hand around Gogu, inside my pocket. He was tensed up into a little ball, deeply distressed. “I don’t think I understand,” I told my cousin. “I’ve always believed we should try to put bad things behind us—not to forget them, but to learn from them and make the best use of that learning in our lives. If you can’t do that, you shouldn’t blame Dr?agu?ta or the folk of the forest. It’s your life—the only one who can live it is you. Now I’m going to bed, Cezar. If you ever try to hit me again, I will tell my father. And I’ll tell Aunt Bogdana, as well. Once I might possibly come to forgive. Twice will ensure you never regain my good opinion.”
In the quiet of our bedchamber, Stela was tucked under her quilt, almost asleep. There was no sign of Tati.
“Stela?” I crouched down by my little sister’s bed. “Where did Tati go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Jena.” Paula turned solemn eyes on me. “Her outdoor cloak’s gone.”
My stomach dropped; I felt sick. I thought of Tati’s wan, desperate appearance over these last days; her odd trips out into the forest; the way she seemed to drift along on the edges, as if she were not really part of our family anymore. I had told her about Tadeusz. I had told her about Dark of the Moon. “I think I’d better go and see if she’s all right,” I said as calmly as I could while my heart raced with terror. “I’ll just settle Gogu down first.”
195
I poured water into his bowl. My hands shook so much that the stream spilled over the rim.
“Jena,” said Iulia, “where do you think she’s gone? Why are you looking like that?”
“Like what?” I fished Gogu out of my pocket and set him by the water dish.
“You look terrified,” Iulia said.
“I don’t want her to get in Cezar’s way. You saw what kind of mood he’s in. I’ll just slip out and bring her back.”
“It’s Dark of the Moon,” Paula said. “You don’t think she might be planning to—?” She was not quite prepared to put my worst suspicion into words.
“Of course not,” I lied. “She doesn’t even know where to go; none of us do.”
I made for the door before the frog could leap onto my shoulder. I knew that if I picked him up again, I would find it impossible to leave him behind. “I shouldn’t be long,” I said, snatching my cloak from the peg where it hung. “Just go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
I imagined I could feel the horrified eyes of my sisters on my back as I went out. I heard a little thud as Gogu leaped from the table and made to follow me. I shut the door before he could reach it. If Tati was doing what I suspected, my only choice was to follow her, but I would not risk the safety of my little wise friend as well as my own.
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I wanted to run, to find her as quickly as I could before it was too late. But I went cautiously, sidling from one corner to another, constantly watchful. If I drew Cezar’s attention, I would have to find an excuse for creeping about at night in my outdoor cloak, and then retreat to the bedchamber without my sister. There was no map to follow, no logic to choosing where I might look. An instinct I had not known I possessed drew me down one staircase and up another, past Father’s workroom, along a creaking gallery, then down the back way to the chamber that had once been our storeroom and was now swept bare and clean, waiting for the night of Full Moon.
The castle was dark. I had grabbed a candle before I went downstairs, but its feeble flickering did little to illuminate the cavernous spaces and shadowy corners of Piscul Dracului. I walked the length of the big chamber, the pillars rising into darkness on either side, the floor faintly gleaming as my small light passed over it. I went up a set of stone steps at the far end.
From here it was possible to enter a musicians’ gallery set above the main chamber, or to climb still further to an open terrace looking out over dense forest. With the moon hidden, there would be nothing to see tonight. “Tati,” I whispered, “where are you? Don’t be gone already—please, please. . . .”
The door to the terrace was ajar, its chain unfastened and dangling. So much for Cezar’s precautions. I crept through and ascended another flight of steps to emerge on the stone terrace.
The night was pitch-black and cold enough to freeze the breath the moment it left the body. I hugged my cloak around my shoulders, lifting the candle in a feeble attempt to light the darkness. “Tati? Are you here?”
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There was a sudden movement by the parapet wall. She was standing close to the barrier, her face a pale oval in the fit-ful light, her eyes big and wild. The blue cloak shrouded her figure completely;
