CHAPTER 12: Wilt Thou Forget Me

How long wilt thou forget me, O Lord? for ever?
Psalms 13:1

“Danti?” Basti stepped into his master’s workroom, setting a lamp down on the table. The sculptor had lit three lamps and set them about his workplace, and a candle flickered on the table, dripping wax over a hammer. “Danti!”

The rasp stopped and Danti looked over his shoulder. His face was careworn and tense, his beard the tangle of a madman.

“Yes?”

“Albrecht says you should come down to get something to eat.” Basti moved the hammer and began picking the wax off its head. “You’ve been missing too many meals.”

“Is he my nurse now?” Danti asked sullenly, turning back to the sculpture. He stared at it a moment, then rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No. I suppose you’re right.”

“Master…” Basti stopped, tossing the hammer from one hand to the other. He almost hated bringing the subject up, but he had to. The sculptor turned, marble dust turning his hair and beard an elderly white.

“What is it?”

“I was thinking.” Basti looked up, searching his master’s expression for some sort of support. The older sculptor just nodded, setting the rasp file on the table. “You know the night the window in my room shattered?”

“Araciel told me about it,” Danti nodded, pulling a chair over and sitting down. “I was sound asleep.” He smiled wryly. “For a change.”

“Well, we never found whatever broke it. It was like it got into the keep, and then vanished.” Basti took a deep breath. “I think it was either the Erl King … or one of us.”

Danti frowned, pondering that a moment.

“One of us?”

“A werewolf.”

The sculptor blinked, then mustered a weary smile.

“And you think it’s me, because I wasn’t there?”

Basti looked down at the hammer he was holding. That didn’t seem like the kind of question he ought to answer.

“Now that the Erl King tried to kill Dietrich and Araciel, I guess it makes more sense to think he’d come after me, too. But he wouldn’t need to break through my window, would he?” He glanced into the shadows at the end of the studio, then back at the ring of light that surrounded the sculpture of the Erl King. The half-formed stone shape made him shiver. “What are we supposed to do?”

Danti looked away, shoulders wearily slumped.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “He’s beginning to show us his power.”

“Why?”

“The lord and lady are away. We’re not as powerful without them.” Danti stood and pulled off his work apron, brushing dust from the full sleeves and front of his shirt. “Maybe he wants his keep back. How should I know? I’m not your werewolf. I may be a lousy teacher, but I’ve never bitten an apprentice.”

Basti smiled for a second, despite himself. Then he sobered again. “But if the Erl King can go wherever he wants in the keep, how are we supposed to stay safe?”

“Just be smart.” Danti walked back and extinguished the lamps that encircled the statue. “Stick close to Araciel and Caterina, and keep your eyes open.”

“What about Alrune and Naich?”

Danti shrugged, pulling on a simple beige doublet and blowing out the last candle.

“They’ll be all right,” he said, misinterpreting Basti’s question. “Besides, this storm won’t last forever. As soon as it’s over, we’ll open a path down to Gestern and talk to Father Völker again. Maybe he can do something.” The sculptor rubbed his eyes with one hand again, yawning. “All we have to do is wait for the storm to end.”

Basti sighed, setting the hammer down. He’d checked outside on his way up to call Danti. The storm was getting worse, the snowfall heavy and wind-driven.

“How’s Dietrich?” Danti asked.

“All right. Albrecht keeps going upstairs to check on him. Araciel’s potion might have helped a little, but he’s mostly unconscious.”

“And Araciel?”

“He’s pacing and worrying a lot.”

“He should get some rest,” Danti scowled, blowing out the candle on the table. “He’s been through a lot this afternoon. He can’t stay on his feet forever.”

“Does he sleep?” Basti asked, picking up his lamp. He’d never seen the apprentice asleep, although at the time he hadn’t thought much of it. Now, however….

“I think so.” Danti shivered as they stepped into the hall. “Damn! It’s freezing out here.”

The meal passed quietly, everyone too worn out and grieved to make more than obligatory attempts at conversation. In the silence, they could just barely hear storm winds wailing over the fireplace chimney, making the fire flicker sporadically. The dancing shadows made Basti uncomfortable, reminding him of the unnatural shadow-creatures he’d seen around Araciel in the laboratory. Later they sat around the kitchen table in silence as Albrecht cleared away the dishes.

“All right. I’m going to take a turn around the keep to check the doors and windows,” Danti said at last, rising and setting aside Basti’s sketches. He’d glanced at them over dinner, nodding briefly at Basti’s inquiring glance. “I’ll be in the studio afterwards. I might as well get some work done; I’m not going to get any sleep tonight.”

“Me either,” Basti muttered, staring at the toes of his leather boots. How could he sleep when every time he let his mind wander he saw the Erl King?

“There be one thing I would do, with your permission,” Araciel said, opening his eyes as Danti left. He’d been sitting next to the hearth, chin against his chest, and Basti had thought he’d finally fallen asleep. Now he straightened. “I would inscribe a circle about your brother, donna, that he might be better protected from the Erl King.”

“Do you think the Erl King will come back to kill him?” Caterina asked, looking up.

“I know not, but he be vulnerable in his illness. A talisman of Saturn, to protect him from evil spirits, and a talisman of the moon, to protect him from evil sorceries….”

“Inscribe the second one first,” Alrune murmured, dark eyes glittering. “Or you’ll have a hard time reaching his bedside for the other.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Alrune,” Caterina scolded him. The dwarf slid a glance at her, his eyebrows rising. “I thought it took time to make talismans, Araciel.”

“To be done properly,” the apprentice nodded. “But to make of the design a circle of protection to last a day, that be a simpler matter. Of a surety, it shall be no impassable barrier, but ‘twould ease my mind.”

“Will you need help?”

“I’ll go,” Basti volunteered, standing. Araciel nodded.

“I would be grateful for thy aid, Basti.”

“Caterina, you should stay down here,” Albrecht said, glancing quickly at Araciel over her head. “They’ll be too busy to protect you.”

“But I –” Caterina glanced from the cook to Araciel, who seemed uncomfortable. “All right,” she acquiesced, looking at them oddly.

Albrecht appeared relieved as he turned back to the table, picking up the last of the dishes.

“What was that all about?” Basti asked as they climbed the stairs.

“I would prefer she not hear her brother’s accusations,” the apprentice said softly. “And I believe Albrecht does feel the same.”

“She wouldn’t believe them, you know.”

“Would she not?” Araciel looked fatigued as he opened the laboratory door and set his lamp on the table. Shadows flickered around the room, making Basti edge closer to the lamp. “Mayhaps. But I know not what else Dietrich might condemn me of, and there be words and accusations I would not have Donna Caterina hear at all.”

Basti stared as Araciel opened a chest and knelt.

“Like what?”

“Basti. Thou be old enough to know there are things no young woman should hear.” The apprentice’s face was shadowed. Basti opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He’d seen and heard enough during his travels to guess a little at what Araciel meant. But he didn’t think Dietrich would use that kind of language.

“What was it like, being an angel?” he asked at last, skirting the issue.

“I cannot answer that. Ask the dead what it was to live.”

“Well … what did you do, when you were an angel?”

A strange, far-away expression crossed his friend’s face as he rested his arms on the edge of the chest.

“I did guard, and watch, and never did I close my eyes, lest my charges should stray. Ever I sought to nurture the light of my wards against the darkness of those who would test and try them.”

“What happened?”

Araciel closed his eyes, looking away.

“I did come to love my charges overmuch. I found myself fascinated by their light, drawn like a moth to their flame; and I did not understand what I had done until that flame did sear my wings away and send me falling.”

“Araciel –”

“Hush.” The devil took a deep breath and gathered the bundles off the floor, standing. His face seemed calm, closed. “I might have seen the peril, had I not chosen to stare too long and too closely at that light. I will not say that I gazed at evil; I gazed at beauty. But the thoughts it inspired in me were evil, for what I saw, I wished to possess, and the desire to own what should only be admired never leads to good. Would thou bring with thee the two books on the table, that I did read earlier today?”

Silently Basti complied. He didn’t say anything as he followed Araciel to Caterina’s bedroom. He was thinking too hard about what Araciel meant.

He’d seen lots of things during his travels that he’d wished he could own. Horses, furs, good meals, beautiful works of art. But he would have had to steal them to own them.

Was that what Araciel had done? Had he been a thief?

In the bed chamber, Dietrich was motionless, and the flautist Naich kept watch. He looked up as they entered.

“We’re going to draw a magical circle,” Basti explained in a whisper, setting the books down on a small table with an inlaid top. “To protect him.”

Naich glanced at Araciel, his grey eyes wary.

“It be no act of darkness, I swear to thee,” Araciel murmured.

Naich nodded and stood. His fingers rested a moment on Araciel’s chest, then pointed to Dietrich. He gestured to himself and the door.

“I will watch him,” the apprentice promised. Naich nodded and left, slipping like a grey shadow past them.

Basti looked around.

“How do we start?”

“We must clear the floor.”

Together, they pulled out the furniture around the bed, setting it in the dark hall. A figure appeared as they struggled with the wardrobe, trying to move it as quietly as they could.

“Here,” Danti whispered, laying a hand on Basti’s shoulder. Basti moved aside, and Danti and Araciel easily lifted the wardrobe, shuffling it through the door and into the hall.

“I heard the thumping,” the sculptor said, his voice low. “I came up to check it out. I guess I’m getting jumpy.”

“As are we all,” Araciel agreed.

“Do you need help moving the bed?”

“We must needs place it in the center of the room.”

Basti eyed the huge, four-postered bed with doubt, as Dietrich groaned, his chest rising and falling with effort. Danti spat on his hands. Together, he and Araciel each took an end and hefted, muscles straining. As the bed’s feet touched the floor, Dietrich shouted, his hand clawing at the nearest bedpost.

“It’s us.” Danti hurried to his side, pressing the noble’s shoulders back down to the mattress. Dietrich gave him a wild-eyed look, then caught sight of Araciel unwrapping the instruments of their ceremony.

“No….” he rasped.

“Try to relax,” the sculptor urged. “How are you feeling?”

The youth closed his eyes, face taut and shiny with sweat.

“Can’t breathe.”

“It be five hours since he did breathe the toxin,” Araciel murmured. “That he yet lives be a sign of hope.”

“Hear that? You’ll be all right.” Danti patted Dietrich on the shoulder and caught Araciel’s eyes, jerking his head to the door. The three left the room, leaving Dietrich to gasp for air.

“He’s shaking,” Danti murmured. “Are you sure he’ll be all right?”

Araciel turned a square of chalk over in his hands, dragging his eyes up to meet the sculptor’s.

“I know not, but methinks if he were going to die, he would have died already. Each minute he fights for breath his body struggles against the toxin and cleanses it from his lungs. Yet he be weak still, and vulnerable.”

“Make more of that potion,” Danti ordered. “It helped. We’ll keep pouring it into him.”

“There be one measure left from this afternoon, left upon my desk. Gather thee that, Basti, and heat it again to awaken the elements. I must draw these wards, Danti, ere the hunter returns.”

“All right. You take care of the sorcerous end.” The sculptor glanced into the room. “I’m going downstairs to fetch Albrecht, though. I want him to stay close to Dietrich until he’s out of danger.”

“That be a wise precaution,” Araciel agreed. “But come, we must work.”

Basti helped Dietrich drink the last dose of Araciel’s potion; the noble was too weak to protest, although his eyes followed the devil as Araciel slowly moved around the bed, drawing lines and sigils to a soft whisper of incantation. By the time Araciel had finished, the room was covered in lines of chalk, and Dietrich had fallen into a restless sleep again.

Araciel straightened from the last stroke, that closed the circle. Basti wondered if he’d taken Alrune’s advice and drawn the circle against evil spirits last. He’d certainly drawn the circle so that he could finish it outside the room.

“Now, how am I supposed to get in there to check on Master Dietrich?” Albrecht inquired, walking down the hall and stopping behind them. Araciel brushed chalk dust from his fingers.

“Thou may enter and exit at will, save I would caution thee to avoid stepping upon the lines. Chalk be the easiest of media with which to draw upon a wooden floor, but also the most transient. Of a fortune, though, these circles be simpler than some, and there be ample space for thy feet.”

Albrecht looked sourly at the maze of lines.

“Can I bring in a chair?”

“Of a surety,” Araciel agreed.

“Fine.” Albrecht lifted the lightest chair and paused at the doorway. “Danti went back to sculpting. Keep an eye on Caterina.”

“I shall.”

The cook began to negotiate the room as they walked downstairs.

“Is Dietrich all right?” Caterina asked. Araciel nodded, more confidently, Basti thought, than was warranted. Still, the lord’s daughter looked relieved.

“Perhaps thou might read to us, Basti,” Araciel suggested, looking around the silent kitchen. “’Twould be a way to spend a few hours and forget our cares.”

“Me?” Basti was startled. “Why me?”

“I’ve not yet heard thee read aloud,” Araciel explained, spreading his hands. “And I do hear naught but criticism when I do take the reader’s role, for I am told I speak poorly, and with an accent.”

Caterina smiled at Araciel’s long-suffering expression. Encouraged by the promise of cheering her up, Basti took a deep breath.

“Well, what do you want me to read?”

“The Divine Comedy?” Araciel suggested, looking hopeful. Alrune groaned.

“Metamorphoses,” the scholar countered. “If I hear the Comedy once more, I’m going to brave the storm and spend the night in Gestern.”

For a change, Araciel gave in to Alrune with good grace, and within half an hour everyone but Danti and Dietrich had gathered in the parlor while Basti lifted the classic text. Albrecht had left Dietrich’s room with reluctance, but the noble slept, and Basti had convinced the cook to take at least a brief break from his watch. Still, he seemed distracted, shifting in his chair.

Basti opened the book at the tale of Actaeon, the ill-fated hunter who saw the goddess of the hunt bathing and was transformed into a deer.

“…As if in prayer

He dropped upon his knees, wordless, to plead

In pantomime, open invisible arms

To those who looked at him. Friends of the hunt,

His friends who had come up with the dogs to

Claim their prey. These, innocent of his fate, cry

The dogs at him for the kill….”

“Do you hear wolves?” Caterina interrupted. Basti faltered and the group fell silent, looking at each other. A distant howl sounded, just audible over the crackling fire and moaning wind.

“Wolves be no threat,” Araciel assured her. “We be safe behind stone walls.”

“It’s just that they sounded so close,” she whispered, glancing away with a shrug. Everyone saw the worry in her eyes, though, and Basti stood, setting the book aside.

“I’ll go look,” he volunteered, hoping the act would quell her fears. As he swung the windows open and undid the latch on the outer shutters, he wondered why she was suddenly afraid. On the road from Gestern, he’d been the one to worry about wolves.

But maybe now she had a reason to be afarid. As Danti had pointed out, she was the chatelaine of Gestern Keep so long as Dietrich was incapacitated. It was possible, he realized with dismay, that she would be the Erl King’s next victim.

The storm almost tore the shutters from his hands as he pushed them open, and for a moment he struggled to hang on to them. Clinging to the latches, he leaned out.

Wind swept hair into his eyes and snow stung his cheeks as he squinted against the storm. The light from the window illuminated several feet of the courtyard and highlighted the snow that whipped in gusts against the keep’s walls. Basti shrugged.

“Well, they’re not –” he began. Hoofbeats on stone stopped him in mid-sentence.

Araciel sprang to his feet, his hand sweeping to his left hip and grasping empty air. His sword hung over the back of his chair. In the seat beside him, Naich laid his hand over the flute in his giaquetta as though touching a talisman.

The dark rider was almost invisible in the storm, but Basti could clearly hear its horse’s hooves clatter on the cobbles as it made its way toward the keep’s western gate.

“Den Erlkönig!” Albrecht whispered, rising from his seat to stand next to Caterina. His knuckles were white as he grasped the back of her chair. Caterina’s gaze was fixed on the window, one hand closing around the crucifix she wore around her neck.

Araciel leaned past Basti, grabbing one of the shutters from him.

“Close them,” he commanded. Together they fought to seal the shutters against the wind, slamming them shut and latching both shutter and casement.

A hunting horn’s clarion pierced the storm – once, twice, a third time.

“What is it?” Basti demanded.

“He’s calling his pack,” Caterina whispered. “He’s going hunting.”

Basti shuddered. What prey, he wondered, would the Erl King hunt in the middle of storm?

“Are we safe here?” Albrecht looked around as if expecting to see the Huntsman leading his pack into the evening parlor.

Araciel’s expression darkened.

“Our halls be not suitable for horse and rider; yet as a hunter may dismount in a forest, so the Erl King may travel through the keep on foot, to follow his pack.”

“That’s cheerful,” Basti muttered.

“Can you keep him out?” Caterina asked, still looking at the apprentice. Araciel hesitated, then shook his head.

“No spell or ward I might speak would prevent his entrance.”

Alrune laughed without humor.

“His entrance?” A nagging memory surfaced, and Basti looked up. “He didn’t enter your room, Araciel, when he dropped that vial. He glanced at your cross and then tossed the bottle inside.”

“He hides from the sight of God,” Caterina said, nodding.

“Perhaps, but how does that aid us?” Araciel said, still troubled. “There be not crucifixes enough to ward all Gestern Keep’s doors and windows, nor have we a priest to pray over them.”

“I hate to say it,” Basti ventured, “but I think we need Father Völker.”

Araciel met his eyes, then nodded.

“Yes, methinks thou be right. And I would have him here to pray over Master Dietrich, as well.”

Caterina paled at the reminder, then took a deep breath and lifted her chin.

“Are the trails completely impassable?” she asked.

“By horse. ’Twould be possible on foot.”

“You have got to be kidding!” Albrecht exploded, looking from Araciel to Caterina with horror. “You aren’t talking about fetching Father Völker now! There’s no way you’d make it down to town. You’d be swept off a cliff by the wind, or get lost and freeze to death! Der Jäger himself would hunt you down!”

“Then I would die in defense of the keep, and in last service to my lord and lady,” Araciel replied.

“And what good would that do the rest of us?” Albrecht scowled. “What about Caterina? You can’t leave her here alone, with Dietrich ill!”

“He wouldn’t,” Caterina interrupted. “I’ll go with him and Basti.”

“Never!”

“Milady!”

“Donna Caterina, you shouldn’t.” Basti made a face. “It’s too dangerous.” He didn’t really want to go out there, himself. How had he been volunteered, anyway?

Except of course if Araciel went, he had to go. He couldn’t abandon a friend.

“Thou – You – must not risk your life so,” Araciel protested, looking at Caterina.

“I won’t let you,” Albrecht added.

“You’re all forgetting that I’m the mistress of Gestern Keep now,” Caterina replied. She stood, one hand smoothing the rich velvet of her skirt, and lifted her chin to fix Araciel with a steady look. “Until my brother recovers, the care of the keep and its people lies with me.”

“Then name me your champion and stay here in safety,” Araciel pleaded, falling to one knee before her. “I cannot let harm befall you while you be in my care.”

“’Ware his words,” Alrune warned her, still seated in his chair and watching everything with a mocking smile. “He serves the Father of All Lies.”

“I serve Gestern and yourself,” Araciel objected, speaking to Caterina. “As I serve your father and mother.”

“Didn’t they order you to protect Dietrich?” Alrune inquired.

The fallen angel flinched. Basti shot Alrune a hard look.

“Why don’t you shut up?” he suggested. The dwarf chuckled.

“I don’t doubt your loyalty, Araciel.” Caterina started to reach down to touch Araciel’s shoulder, then drew back her hand at the last minute. “But I can’t stay here while the keep is in danger. I’ve walked through this forest all my life, and I go out more than you do. I know the trail better than anyone in the Keep, except maybe Dietrich.”

“Caterina, you’re being ridiculous. I’ll get Danti if I have to — he’ll talk some sense into you!” Albrecht scowled. She turned, still composed. Behind her, Araciel rose, disconsolate.

“Are you questioning my responsibility? Maybe you think Mother was unfaithful? Do you doubt Signore Johannes is my father?”

Albrecht flushed.

“I — no, no! I’m not claiming anything of the kind,” he stammered. “But — you’re only a girl!”

“I’m old enough to marry and manage my own household,” she reminded him. “It just happens that…” she hesitated, “that I’m in charge of this one right now.”

Albrecht grimaced, then tossed his hands into the air in resignation.

“If you’re killed, the lord and lady will hang us all.”

“They won’t, and I’m not going to get killed.”

“You know, my lady, one of your responsibilities to the keep is to stay alive to manage it,” Basti ventured, taking up the debate on behalf of his friends. Araciel flashed him a look of gratitude.

“When my father and mother were here, the keep’s defense was their duty. Would you have respected either of them for staying behind while others took the risks?”

“Sure! They sent Dietrich out to hunt the wolf that bit me, didn’t they? Lords and ladies always send out champions. That’s the way things work.”

“Dietrich can’t do it. I can.”

“As can I,” Araciel protested.

Caterina took a deep breath, looking angry. “Listen, all of you. One of my brothers is dead and another might be dying, and my parents are gone, and there’s nobody here who can order me to stay. Only Araciel was born to a higher rank than me, and he’s in my service now. Right?” She turned on him, and the devil bowed, looking like he’d sell any soul he had left to do otherwise. “I know you’re just trying to protect me, but I’m not going to wait here and worry while more people get hurt! I’m going, and that’s that.”

“All right.” Basti gave her an expressive Neapolitan shrug, surrendering. He was a guest, her guest, now, and it wasn’t his place to argue with her. “When do we leave?”

Naich, who had listened to everything without moving, now tapped his chair arm and signed; a nod, then a gesture toward the clock on the mantel and toward the window.

“Our friend doth remind us the hour be growing late,” Araciel translated, “and we must needs be gone.” He shook his head. “I mislike me this situation; to leave the keep without defense while the Erl King rides.” He looked again at Caterina, pleading. “You will not change your mind, donna?”

Basti grimaced, deciding his friend was an optimist. He didn’t like the fact that Caterina was going with them, either, but he understood making a decision and standing by it. Anyway, she wouldn’t be the first noble lady forced by circumstances to take an active role in the defense of her lands. It was unusual, but it wasn’t unthinkable.

“I’m sorry, Araciel.”

“Then I be at a loss whether to pray our expedition do lead the Hunt after us and leave the keep in safety, or that the Hunter follow us not, leaving you safe whilst harrying the keep in our stead.”

“I know you’ll protect me,” she said. Araciel ran a hand over his face and nodded, pulling himself together. Basti couldn’t help but feel amused by the resolution in his friend’s eyes.

“I’m sure this will offer Araciel all sorts of … opportunities,” Alrune murmured. Basti turned, only to find the dwarf’s dark eyes already on him. The scholar gave him a knowing smile, and Basti quickly turned away, blushing as he remembered Dietrich’s accusations.

No. Araciel might love Caterina — he was almost sure of it — but if he did, it was an honorable love, not the kind of murderous, traitorous desire Dietrich had suggested.

“My lady, even if you go down there,” Albrecht attempted one last time, “what makes you think you’ll be able to bring Father Völker back? He’s an old man, and not in the best of health. If you won’t think of yourselves, think of him, at least!”

Naich tapped on the chair arm again to get their attention, and lifted his wineglass from the table near him. As they watched, he dipped his fingers in the glass’ bowl, then mimicked the signing of the cross, forbearing to complete the gesture.

“All right, I give up,” Albrecht muttered, tossing his hands up in despair. “You’re all determined to meet an icy doom, and who am I to stop you?”

“We must needs get the Father’s permission ere we take holy water from the church,” Araciel mused, “but be the keep’s windows and doors anointed with such, it might indeed prove efficacious against the Hunter.”

“Water, or the Host, if Father Völker can’t come.” Caterina nodded. “Thank you, Naich.”

The composer inclined his head, then glanced at the clock.

“You’re right; we should leave now.” She took a deep breath. “Araciel, Basti – I’ll meet you at the west door in ten minutes.”