The Storyteller

“‘It was him!’ the little queen whispered. ‘He showed the cutter the way!’

“She looked up, and then she saw the dark figure standing at the top of the next snowdrift. The sharp ends of tools were sticking out of her coat pocket.

“The little queen looked back at the lighthouse keeper. A tear fell on his breast, a royal tear, and, all of a sudden, he started breathing again.

“‘But we can’t stay here!’ the rose girl urged. ‘We’ve got to go! Quick!’

“A short while later, they were racing away on their skates, faster than ever, around crevices and more holes. Behind them, the cutter was gliding through the torn white desert on her own skates. She had worked on them all night. She had made them from pure gold, and at their tips she had left some space to put the pieces of diamond. The cutter didn’t stop when she passed the body of the lighthouse keeper.

“Only the gray seagull hovered over him for a while before she stretched her wings and followed the small group of runaways.

“In the distance, a narrow green line had appeared. The mainland. It was close. But not yet close enough.”

Abel fell silent.

“So the lighthouse keeper was our traitor,” A

Abel nodded. “He’s been following me. He thought I wouldn’t notice. It’s none of his business what I do at night … but I didn’t want anything to happen to him. A

“It’s okay,” she said and put an arm around him. “It’s okay.”

“I wonder,” Micha said, “what kind of creature this gull-wolf-sea lion-dog will turn into at the end. Possibly a prince who marries me?”

“Definitely,” someone whispered, and A

A

“Mr. Knaake!” she whispered—why was she whispering? “It’s me, A

He shook his head, very slowly. “I wasn’t alone,” he answered, barely audible. “There was someone else there, too. Someone with … a weapon. I took a step back … into the shipping cha

He opened his eyes now, carefully, as if his eyelids weighed tons; he looked at A

“Who?” A

“I … can’t remember,” Knaake answered. “I really can’t remember.”

He groped for A

“A

“You’re sure you don’t remember who it was?” she asked. “Please, you have to try …”

But Knaake said no more. She wondered whether he’d fallen asleep or lost consciousness—or whether he just didn’t want to answer. The green line of his heartbeat shivered across the monitor, revealing nothing, and left her alone with her fear. She rose from her chair and turned to Abel, who’d risen as well. When he pulled her into his arms, she felt his cheek against hers, and it was wet. The water of the thaw.

“He’s go

Micha pushed her way into their hug and looked up at them. “He’s go

A

The no-nonsense doctor looked at her strangely when she told her he had spoken the day before. “Sometimes, if someone wants something badly enough,” she murmured, “one sees it happen for real.”

“But he did open his eyes!” A

“Hmm,” said the doctor. “Well, he hasn’t spoken to us, that’s for sure. And to be honest, I don’t know if he’ll ever talk to anybody again.”

A

Her cell phone rang twice, and she recognized Bertil’s number. Bertil of all people. She didn’t answer. In the evening, Abel called. They didn’t talk about Bertil; they didn’t talk about police tape; they didn’t talk about people falling through the ice. They talked about summer. About what they would do when it finally arrived. Maybe they would sail somewhere. Swim far out to sea. Forget the winter.

“Tomorrow,” A

“Yes,” Abel said. “Micha said I should say hi, and tell Linda hi from her, too.”

“Abel. It’s your birthday this week.”

“Yes.”

“On Wednesday they’re going to reach the mainland.”

“It’s not Wednesday yet.”

“No,” she said, smiling. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow,” Abel said.

That night, A

And then Monday came. And she understood, too late, what the dream had meant.

SHE WAS SITTING IN MATH CLASS WHEN THE ANNOUNCEMENT came on, over the loudspeaker.

Math would be her third exam, required if you’d chosen music and arts as your intensive classes. One more week of lectures she didn’t understand and that she wasn’t interested in, and after that there’d be no more classes, just sitting at home, cramming formulas into her head … she knew she should listen, but the information just drifted by her. Abel was sitting in the back of the room; he’d been late again and looked tired, like he so often did. She bore the tedium for the sake of being able to talk to him afterward. She didn’t even know about what. She just wanted to talk to him.

And then the a

“The students’ drama group,” the disinterested voice of the secretary said, “asks for a moment of your attention.”

A