C8 Chapter 8

Lisbeth’s apartment was practically made for Tova’s purposes. It was quiet and peaceful, and there were no neighbours who would disturb Tova or whom Tova would disturb.

Evening had descended on Oslo. It was nearly Christmas time and it was a relief to escape the early and overwhelming Christmas displays and throngs of Christmas shoppers in the streets.

Tova folded Lisbeth’s bedspread neatly. Normally she wasn’t so meticulous, but when she was in other people’s homes she was always very careful to be as neat as possible. It was a kind of fear of not being good enough. It was probably Vinnie’s relentless upbringing that had yielded a certain result.

Tova wondered whether her plan of action was good enough. Ought she to go back to Tengel the Evil’s childhood instead of visiting the “other world” first? And what did she intend to do there? Was it just a waste of time and energy? She had only this one night at her disposal.

And another thing: how did she intend to find out about Tengel the Evil’s ancestors? How was she to get there?

It was a question she hadn’t considered earlier. A very important question.

Reincarnations! That was the only method she was familiar with. She had to go back beyond Hanna, farther back in time, to her own lives before Hanna’s existence, to find out the year in which Tengel the Evil might have been born. The exact year wasn’t known, not even the exact century, so she would have to do some searching. There was probably someone who knew, perhaps Dida or the Wanderer, but she couldn’t ask either of them. They weren’t to know her intention or they would immediately try to stop her from doing it.

Once she reached the right year, she would use her own incarnation, make it find the original habitation of the Ice People far away in Siberia. Not Taran-gai, she would have to go farther back. To the place from which they had been chased, the place that was so far east that no one knew of its existence anymore. It had been guessed that it might be Altai, in which case she would have to lead her earlier incarnation there.

Was that at all possible?

Who could answer that kind of question? She would have to find out on her own. And it would have to be tonight.

Her eyes were sparkling. What about taking a short trip to the other world after all? Just to get a small glimpse ...

But how was she to get there?

You would have to cross a border, that was clear, but how?

Well, she’d just have to improvise.

That would be fun!

She lay down on the bed and wrapped herself in blankets, just as Dr Sørensen had done. Then she turned off all the lights.

It was scary how quiet everything around her became. It was as though she was all alone in the world.

“I want to visit the shadowland,” she whispered intensely and then she started to giggle silently. It was probably the excitement as well as her sense of humour that caused the slight detour into the mundane world.

Then she relaxed her body, one part at a time, and let herself slide deeper and deeper down until she felt as though she had reached point zero.

From there she let her thoughts wander however they wanted to. She didn’t have a guide this time and had to manage everything on her own. That was why she tried not to control her thoughts, but her subconscious was constantly ready to cross the border to the world of the invisible, to the world where they could be seen.

It was considerably harder having to do it on her own. She realized now that Dr Sørensen was a skilled man in his field.

Or perhaps the difficulties arose because she was venturing into unknown territory? It wasn’t a transmigration of souls in the normal sense. She wasn’t even certain whether it was at all possible to cross over to the other side in this way? Perhaps there was no shadowland at all?

But those were all negative thoughts! That wouldn’t do, they were nothing but a barrier for her.

She took a deep but inaudible breath and began to focus once again on her purpose, this time thinking more positive thoughts.

The minutes passed.

Ugh! Nothing happened! She whirled slowly about in an empty space of dim pastel colours. But just as she was about to give up, the room around her began to change.

The light grew dimmer. Before her the empty nothingness became a black tunnel into which she was relentlessly pulled. She wasn’t falling, it wasn’t vertical but horizontal, narrow and seemingly endless. She was being sucked into it at a dizzying speed, feet first, and she held her arms above her head as she tried to keep her balance as well as she could so as not to wobble about.

She went incredibly fast. Yet still it seemed as though the tunnel was endless. For a long time she could see a light far away, no bigger than a pinhead, that grew ever so slowly.

At last the light was so strong that it became apparent that it was the other end of the tunnel. Her speed slowed down and she was out.

A landscape of cliffs. Bluish-black, vitrified, gleaming cliffs.

She stood looking for a long time until she saw an opening in the cliffs, a kind of gate.

Through it she could see a soft, beautiful landscape in faint, blue-green colours. But the landscape became lost in a light grey fog so whatever was concealed there was completely out of her reach.

The gate was guarded.

Tova shuddered violently.

Inside the gate itself sat two monsters, each leaning its back against its own pillar and holding a sword. Their faces were turned to the middle, looking out with narrow, watchful eyes. They were completely black except for their yellow slits of eyes. Their human-looking arms and legs were extremely long and thin and practically fringed, and their bird-heads consisted mostly of big, crooked beaks.

They weren’t friendly-looking, that much she could tell.

Then she noticed that on each side of the gate there were small carved recesses holding skulls with or without helmets from the various wars throughout history. In some of the recesses the skulls almost looked as if they were still alive. They had tiny, pointed, predator-like faces and long, pointed teeth. Even though no one had told her, Tova knew that they consumed corpses and were phantoms of the terror of war. There were barbed spearheads protruding everywhere on the cliff.

But the most bizarre thing of all was a sign above the gate inscribed with the words “The Gate of Peace”. Tova stood before the two raptor-like beasts. “Excuse me for asking, but how can such a belligerent looking gate have such a name?”

The bird-people opened their beaks and gave a coarse laugh. “Isn’t that what most people think? That the road to peace can’t be achieved unless you’ve had the chance to slaughter everyone first? What do you want, living being?”

“All I want is to take a small peep inside the grey world.”

“You’re looking at it now.”

“Oh, well, to have more of a look, then.”

They looked at one another.

“Let her,” said the other one. “She’ll have to bear the consequences herself.”

That didn’t sound very tempting. But they pulled aside their shiny swords, which had been preventing her from passing them, and let her go through.

Tova was in the other world. She was standing in a soft meadow enveloped in fog. Before her was a path leading to the hills.

The light was peculiar. A dim glow, like dark amber, reigned everywhere.

She took a few steps towards the path but felt that something within her was warning her.

What exactly was she doing here?

What good could this possibly do?

Suddenly she felt scared. What was she getting into?

At that very moment something came rushing out of the fog towards her. Tova immediately recognized the old witch. She was short, dirty and malicious. Tova might end up resembling her someday if she allowed herself to decline.

Hanna shouted at her: “What are you doing here, you jinx? Are you trying to jeopardize our entire project? Turn back, turn back, don’t waste your energy on this! Hurry, before it’s too late. You have a task, just concentrate on that!”

Tova turned and fled. She didn’t look back, but she could hear an entire army stealthily sneaking, screaming and howling from out of the fog behind her. And as she passed the gate she heard the raven-like laughter of the terrible guards that haunted her so.

She looked for the tunnel but it was no longer there. Instead she had landed in a swampy field that gave way under her feet and she whirled out into empty space.

With a scream she sat upright in her bed in Lisbeth’s apartment in the mundane and familiar city of Oslo.

And that was an incredibly wonderful feeling!

Tova didn’t want to visit the grey world again. Maybe she had just dreamed the whole thing. That was very possible.

She needed a few minutes’ rest before getting started on the task that lay ahead of her. She had spent far too much of her precious time on that ridiculous experiment.

After eating the food she had brought, which, she had to admit, was neither healthy nor sensible, she started again. She wrapped herself well in her blankets and settled down.

The night was very dark and very quiet. Once again she had the feeling of being all alone in the world. Which made sense, because no one knew what she was doing, and no one could follow her on her journey into the past.

Her first experience had shaken her so much that she had difficulty concentrating. But this journey was not going to be dangerous in any way, for there were no ghosts or any bloodthirsty creatures trying to pursue her.

All she was going to do was wander into her own past. Her own previous lives. Before Hanna’s time. That couldn’t possibly be dangerous in any way.

Was that really what she intended to do?

Yes, it was. What had started as a rather general and unexamined feeling of wanting to find out about her past lives had turned into a task that she had to perform.

She realized that it was Hanna, within her, who had made her interested in the transmigration of souls. She had known for a long time now that there was someone or something that had been driving her interest.

But this time it was Tova herself who wanted to seek out Tengel the Evil’s origin, and she was the one who wanted a drop of the evil water in order to become as powerful as the great master himself. Hanna was probably pleased now. She had made her present successor and disciple come to realize the usefulness of drinking the water.

She became increasingly excited the more she thought about the task.

That was why it took her so long to get into a trance-like state this time. She heard her own deep breathing in the stillness, heard it grow slower until she completely forgot to listen to it anymore. She no longer heard it.

Because her concentration was now focused on other phenomena.

She didn’t dare to travel directly to Tengel the Evil’s century. Not yet. To begin with, she wanted to find some of her other incarnations from the time in between.

If there were any past lives, that is. Perhaps Hanna had been the primary one? She’d find out.

Dr Sørensen had said that a person is reincarnated every seventy years. No, that wasn’t the right way to put it – seventy years always passed between a person’s death and their rebirth. So if Hanna was born in the sixteenth century, perhaps before then ...

“I want to travel back to the year 1390,” Tova said quietly to herself. “Then we’ll see what happens.”

The year 1390, she thought. I want to travel back to that. If it’s wrong in some way, or if I’m too young or too old or between incarnations I can just move back or forth in time as I wish. That seems very practical.

And in the fourteenth century Tengel the Evil already lay in his first slumber. It was probably a very heavy slumber, so I can safely travel about in that century.

But she wasn’t quite as bold as she set out to be. It was a little scary having to make this journey all on her own. Still, she could no longer really use Dr Sørensen, and he had said that you could take such a journey on your own if you had the stamina for it.

Which Tova did, she was certain of that.

All at once she discovered that she was surrounded by a different atmosphere.

There was a forest and it was night-time. The moon shone through the bare trees. It was cold: she must be somewhere in the north.

The first feeling she had was that of fear. But it wasn’t her own fear of what was going to happen, but the sense of fear felt by the creature she was inhabiting. It was a primitive, persistent sense of anxiety that the creature must have lived with constantly in its life. Tova was a female, of that she was certain, and she was dressed in a brown colour so dark it was almost black. Or was it perhaps the shadows of the night creating an illusion?

It was strange how information kept streaming towards her. It was, of course, just the knowledge possessed by that particular incarnation, which had now become hers. Still, it was a strange feeling. She was aware that she had woven and sewn her clothes from various fibres she had found in the landscape, combined with the sheep’s wool she had managed to glean from the floors of other people’s barns.

She was standing next to a bonfire and felt utterly lonely. Not old, though – around Tova’s own age.

My name is Halkatla, she thought. I have no relatives; all my loved ones are dead. But I have plenty more distant relatives here in the valley.

A new feeling crystallized within Tova. An intense feeling of hatred towards the outside world – a feeling she recognized all too well from her present life.

She looked around. The twisted trunks, not very tall – these could only be mountain trees.

She was in a mountain valley somewhere in Scandinavia; she was lonely and ostracized and unhappy.

Tova cursed inwardly to herself. Once more she found herself in the Valley of the Ice People, just as Hanna had been. This was yet another of those utterly ostracized ones, another witch. This Halkatla had been allowed to survive, like Hanna and Tova, and hadn’t been strangled at birth. But she hadn’t exactly been born to a happy life.

Had Hanna? Or Tova?

Perhaps after all it was for the best that those other children had been killed at birth.

Couldn’t just one of them have had a happy life, Tova thought.

Suddenly she experienced an intense feeling of hunger. An endless nagging sense of hunger.

But the sense of fear made the strongest impression on her. And now she knew why. She was being chased, pursued by her kinsmen, the Ice People. She was one of the evil ones. She didn’t dare lie down to sleep, she didn’t dare approach their houses to search for food. A deep sense of sympathy took hold of Tova. She had to admit that she herself was much luckier than Halkatla.

Tova had acclimatized herself. She was Halkatla now, she was party to all her grief and hatred. And what a lot of magic spells she could cast! So many lives she must have on her conscience! It was a wonderful feeling: she had killed so many of the virtuous people in the Valley, killed them with magic.

Tonight, she intended to sneak up to where they were and steal some food. She had really deserved it, she was famished. They had so much and she had nothing.

Halkatla sprinkled some ashes on the bonfire so that it wouldn’t die out before she returned. Then she took her staff and made her way out into the blue night.

This had once really occurred. Tova was experiencing a moment of Halkatla’s miserable life as it had been lived in the year 1390 in the Valley of the Ice People.

A field that was frozen stiff, white frost. The moon’s reflection in the lake. Beautiful, but cold!

She saw the little houses of the valley shuddering against the cold. Which farm should she choose?

Halkatla had no scruples whatsoever. She could ...

An abrupt change sent Tova back to herself. The girl lying in the bed in Oslo froze with fear. Someone had entered the Valley, someone who didn’t belong there.

A hollow roar of rage; a thorough, alert search.

Tengel the Evil! He had discovered Tova and what she was doing. Did he understand what her intention was? To gain the upper hand over him by finding a flaw in his parentage so that she could get past the projection in the Valley of the Ice People and consume a drop of the water of evil?

She didn’t think he had grasped the magnitude of her attempt, but she posed a danger to him – that much he apparently understood.

He still hadn’t discovered where she was, Tova sensed. But he was searching through centuries of fog, he knew she was out wandering. Halkatla knew that he had concealed a vessel in the Valley, but she was entertaining a primitive form of fear, verging on the insane, to find that pot.

Far down beneath Tova, where she was now in the cold night in the Valley of the Ice People, the great terror rose from the depths. Like a black, hollow roaring shadow creature of evil, it arose bloodthirsty and in pursuit. And it had been Tova’s wanderings through the ages that had triggered his hatred.

The experience was so terrible that Tova was utterly gripped with panic. She should, of course, have returned to the present but she only had the sense to think one thought: I must leave this time period! I must go back farther in time. Seventy years, no, even farther back!

For she knew now that she could. In other words, there were existences at the bottom of her soul, even before Hanna. But she didn’t have a chance to reflect on any of that, she was so focused on returning to the time of ...

Well, what year would it be?

She didn’t even have a chance to make any calculations before sensing that she had reached a new era.

She tried to locate it. Did she know which year it was?

Yes, strangely, she did. It was the year of our Lord 1255.

Goodness! Then she had actually managed to land in Tengel the Evil’s own era! That wasn’t good!

But really, why not? He was the whole reason why she had started to experiment with time travel, the whole reason why she had to try.

On the other hand, she had had no intention of finding Tengel the Evil himself! Only his parents. They most likely weren’t alive then. Tengel was already an old man. Or so it was assumed. He had been at the Caves of Life in 1120, but when had he been born? No one knew.

Goodness, this time she was a man! How exciting!

She was in Scandinavia again, in a town. What was she doing there? She was thirty years old and her name was Olaves Krestiernsson. But ... ugh! It wasn’t good. It was most certainly not good. This time she was truly Olaves and she knew everything about his life.

He was, of course, one of the Ice People, what else could one expect? And he had his hands tied behind his back and he was being led through the filthy streets of Nidaros to the scaffold.

Oh, how could she have landed here of all moments? But of course, she had said 1255, and according to Dr Sørensen it was the most dramatic events that one risked encountering when one wished to return to a specific year.

And this was undoubtedly dramatic! She wanted to leave! But for the time being they just went on walking through the streets, and that gave her more time to find out more about this Olaves Krestiernsson.

It was strange how you could be two people at once! But now Olaves took over completely for a little while and Tova Brink slipped farther away.

And in that way she forgot about the danger posed by Tengel the Evil.

Confounded creatures, thought Olaves, who was being pushed forward by the throngs of people. But they’re afraid of me! Just look at them, they don’t dare come too close to me, they know that the glow of my yellow eyes can pierce them fatally and that my curses can haunt them for generations to come!

Every so often some “brave” idiot jumps from behind and prods me in the back. But they use long staves, they don’t dare touch me!

Olaves laughed bitterly to himself. I sure managed to frighten the living daylights out of them! I got hold of the most beautiful whore in Nidaros. And what did I do with her afterwards? Decapitated her! Because she deserved it!

And that was when they caught me, as I stood holding her head in my hands. Confound it!

There were too many of them. I couldn’t defend myself against them

They say that I am the most handsome man in Trondelag. And there’s no doubt that I am, which was why I wanted to leave the stifling Valley of the Ice People.

I managed to have one year of freedom. And what marvellous malicious acts I managed to carry out! But it’s all over now.

At least that’s what these wretches think. But I’ll be sure to find a way out ...

Tova shuddered as she lay in bed in Lisbeth’s small apartment. She had accepted the fact that she was once again born as a stricken one. She realized now that Olaves Krestiernsson was the indescribably beautiful man that Sol saw in her narcotic state and who was also mentioned later in the Ice People’s chronicle. Now she knew his name and that he had lived in the thirteenth century. A scary individual!

But he wasn’t the one who was frightening her at the moment. There was a shadow that came creeping out from the houses and was reaching out towards the procession ...

Tengel the Evil! He had managed to track her down again and was approaching her now!

She would have to see if she couldn’t somehow land before his time, and she didn’t have a second to waste. But when would that be?

In 1120 he had visited the Caves of Life: that was what the Wanderer had told Vetle. The year 1120. Tova thought frantically. He had been a young man then. She would have to go back to ... what year would that be? 1075?

He couldn’t possibly have been born then. His parents, on the other hand, must have been alive at that time.

That made good sense. She didn’t have much time left. Tengel the Evil was right at her heels.

She changed her mind at the very last minute. No one knew anything for certain about Tengel the Evil’s age – nothing precise, anyway. Tova didn’t dare go back to 1075 because it was too late. He might already have been born by then. She couldn’t be sure, so she chose 1025.

It may have been unnecessary, but that’s what she decided in the end. She had now escaped Olaves Krestiernsson and the dangerous situation in which he found himself. And she was out of reach from Tengel the Evil.

While she was waiting to reach the next phase, she thought about the stricken ones she had encountered during her travels through the centuries. They wouldn’t have had any descendants. They were all odd individuals in the family; they had died childless, all of them. So she, Tova Brink, did not descend from any of them. Their family lines had always terminated in a dead end. She too, would presumably also remain unmarried and childless.

How sad!

But Heike had been one of them! And Ulvhedin. Even though they had gone over to the “good” side. That wasn’t something she intended to do.

Ulvar? And Sölve ... they had both had children. And they weren’t at all good!

So perhaps there was hope for her, after all.

The only thing was that she was a girl. And she was so ugly that no one would ever want her: that was where they truly differed.

Damn! Not that she cared all that much for children, but not to leave her mark on the world was unbearable to her.

And how long was she supposed to wait for her next incarnation? A new era? A new dimension ...

But nothing happened. She found herself in a light, beautiful and soothing atmosphere, but that was all.

In other words, between death and a new life. In the seventy-year wait until the soul finds a new body.

Well, then I’ll have to settle for 1075 after all. I just hope I’m on target this time, that Tengel the Evil isn’t born yet but that his parents are alive.

One thing is for certain, though. Since I’m always following the path of the Ice People, my incarnation doesn’t need to search for their places of habitation because it is already one of them!

So give me 1075 ...

She was in a wonderfully beautiful and spacious room, whose walls were divided into portable panels of rice paper. Standing on the black, polished floor there were exquisitely lacquered tables bearing bowls. The colours in the room were primarily black, white and red.

I’m in Japan, Tova thought. How on earth did I manage to get this far?

I was expecting a primitive nomadic area with tent-like dwellings on the slopes of the Altai Mountains in Siberia, and now I find myself in Japan!

It’s a very ancient time, undoubtedly. Yes, 1075. And it must be before Tengel the Evil’s time because I’m not affected by his curse. I am neither deformed nor ugly. I am a beautiful Japanese girl. What an exquisite feeling – knowing that you are beautiful!

I am a servant of some kind, I can sense that. Yet still high ranking somehow, however that may be possible. I am busy preparing for a tea ceremony ...

I am a person of distinction ... am I a lady-in-waiting? Yes! A lady-in-waiting to the emperor ...

No, not the emperor but a toryo – a chieftain. But my toryo is the descendant of the first toryo of this clan. And the first toryo was the descendant of Emperor Kammu and his name was ... Heike!

Heike! I am a member of the Heike clan!

Tova’s thoughts wavered. She had read about Sölve who had quickly had to come up with a name for his son – anything – and the first name that had come to his mind was Heike. Back then it had seemed inappropriate because it was a German girl’s name, but ...

But if Sölve had been in an atavistic state: in other words, if deep down his soul had been under the influence of earlier generations, just for a very brief moment ... then perhaps the name had emerged from the ancient history of the family?

No, it was nonsense! The Ice People couldn’t possibly have originated in Japan! That was completely crazy!

Well, perhaps she would be able to get to the bottom of this now.

Tova was satisfied. There was no risk of any threat from Tengel the Evil, for he hadn’t yet been born. She wanted to stay in this fantastic palace. Her name was Machiko. Knowledge of who she was came to her effortlessly. She was highly intelligent, she sensed. A fine lady with many virtues.

It was a wonderful feeling for the unfortunate Tova.

Gradually Tova Brink began to fade away as Machiko of the Heike clan started to take over.

Her position within the clan was truly distinguished. She was a literary woman and within the emperor’s palace the fine arts were appreciated, including the work of female artists. And whatever the court approved the most powerful men were sure to follow.

It was for that reason that Machiko was very knowledgeable about history. She had written a lot on the subject.

The name of the emperor was Shirikawa. His palace was in Kyoto. In northern Japan, in the land of the Ainu people, the clan Abe reigned, and in the west the Fujiwara clan, but the Heike or Taira clan posed a considerable threat to them. The clan was sometimes referred to as the Taira clan after a Heike nobleman who had gained distinction.

But a new clan was emerging to the east: the Genji, also known as the Minamoto. These rival nobles fought each other for power and honour while the emperor’s family led a privileged life of seclusion, taking no interest in what was going on within the borders of the empire.

Machiko looked around the room to make sure that everything was ready for the tea ceremony.

Some of the exquisite objects in the room derived from the Tang dynasty in China or from northern Manchuria. The connection to mainland Asia had once been good, and Japan had derived inspiration from it in terms of both culture and religion.

The Tang dynasty had ended almost a hundred and fifty years earlier, and Japan’s ties to China were no longer as strong. The sea had also become dangerous to cross and the diplomatic ties to Manchuria and the Silla empire on the Korean peninsula had ceased.

The result was that the Japanese high nobility developed its own culture. They lived in self-absorbed isolationism, far removed from ordinary citizens and all so-called inferior people. For that reason they were able to develop a superior culture. Their homes were marvels of beauty that gave nothing but pleasure to the eye of the beholder, down to the very last detail. The aristocracy had chapels built in their honour so that they might reach the “pure land” in their present life. Belief in the “pure land” also derived from the mainland, and was a clandestine, lofty and romantic religion.

But the isolationism of the high nobility and the imperial dynasty eventually led to their downfall. They didn’t bother themselves with what was going on in the country, and they didn’t notice the advance of the warrior class.

And the warrior class consisted of the great clans Abe, Fujiwara, Heike or Taira, Genji or Minamoto and some others.

Heike and Genji were bitter rivals. They had both been ennobled by their emperor. They both wished to gain power over the entire empire. Which they couldn’t. But they could fight one another. And they could marry their daughters off to the imperial family and in that way have grandchildren who would one day become emperors.

A distinguished woman came screaming into the room where Machiko was standing. She was much older than Machiko but closely resembled her.

“What is it?” Machiko asked. “What is it, dearest big sister?”

“Oh,” moaned the other, wringing her small hands. She struggled to keep her balance on her sandalled feet. Her face was white as a sheet, perhaps partially on account of her anxiety but mostly because it had been powdered white to look more attractive. “Oh, my son has run away!”

“What?”

“Yes, and he’s so young!”

“But why? No, that’s right, I know perfectly well why. Oh, how terrible for you.”

The son was a good-for-nothing of the worst kind. He had committed the unspeakable crime of seducing a young woman of the palace so that she was now with child. The boy, Teinosuke, risked facing an exceptionally harsh punishment, especially because he had also been responsible for a number of other misfortunes. And now he had run away. Machiko wasn’t in the least surprised. He had also been engaged in witchcraft.

“But where could he be? He can’t just escape like that?”

“But that’s exactly what he’s done. He’s fled to the mainland by boat. I’ve received word that he has reached the coast of Silla or Manchuria and intends to travel inland in the vast country. He wants to follow a caravan westward in the direction of the great steppes, as far away from Japan as possible.”

“But he’s barely of age!”

“He’s old enough,” the sister said bitterly. “And he’s my son and I’ll never forget him!”

Then Tova Brink took over again, for something had become a certainty.

The young man, the one who had fled westward towards Manchuria.

He couldn’t be Tengel the Evil, for it had been emphasized that he had been a child when the Ice People reached Taran-gai. Fourteen, wasn’t that the age that had been mentioned? Tova couldn’t quite remember, but she was fairly certain that it was.

In other words, this was not Tengel himself but perhaps his father?

That was highly probable, yes! Because the transmigration of Tova’s soul into the past had always followed the Ice People, especially those who were stricken.

She was determined to find flaws in his parents. But flaws of an oppositional kind. Tengel the Evil had to be utterly and completely malicious in order to gain access to the dark water of evil from the primal source. Therefore, his father couldn’t possess any good qualities, for if he had any Tova would immediately pounce on them and use them to conquer Tengel the Evil’s soul in the Valley of the Ice People. Any goodness in the father’s personality could debilitate Tengel the Evil to such an extent that it would allow her to get past his projection and taste the water in the hidden jar.

That was Hanna’s theory.

Tova knew nothing about Tengel’s mother so far. Because it most certainly wasn’t the young woman he had seduced here in the palace of the Heike clan. She hadn’t followed Teinosuke across the sea.

Teinosuke: another indication that he might be Tengel’s father. It was a general custom to name one’s children using the same first letters from one’s own name. Teinosuke – Tengel. Or Tan-ghil, as he was called among the Taran-gais. But even there his name might have been corrupted. Language – or etymology, the development of words – is often an irrational phenomenon.

And it was now that Tova made a catastrophic decision that could have cost her and Nataniel their lives.

Now I know it, she thought. But I need to know more about Tengel the Evil’s ancestors. I’ll have to follow Teinosuke on his journey westwards. Because it’s clear that there can only be one incarnation between Teinosuke in 1075 and Olaves Krestiernsson in 1255, and that it has to be one of the Ice People. I belong there and nowhere else.

What a pity to have to abandon this beautiful fairytale country, but the search must go on.

Let’s take ... 1175. No, 1181. Eighty-one was a magical number for the Ice People. Silje met Tengel the Good in the year 1581, and that was the year when the family’s calendar actually began. Many strange things had occurred in 1681, 1781, 1881 ...

So she chose the year 1181. By that time Machiko must have lived her life and been in the ether, or whatever the world in between was called.

So it was off to the Manchurian steppes! Or to wherever Teinosuke’s relatives had reached. They must know something about him and his wife, even though they would no longer be alive. I must follow my reincarnations, I can’t just choose whatever time periods I want, Tova thought.

How exciting!

She prepared herself to go through the procedure one more time, this time going forward in time instead of back.

Machiko disappeared.

Tova whirled about in empty space ... and out of the depths evil itself came up to greet her.

For this was his own time period, the period when he resided on earth after he had been to the source and before he so disastrously allowed himself to sink into deep hibernation.

Evil incarnate himself towered above her ...

Tengel the Evil ...