40

Siiri

“Easy, girl. That’s it. Get yourself up now.” V?in-?moinen’s voice calls to me, luring me back to consciousness.

I gasp, jolting upright in panic, clutching at my chest.

“Whoa, whoa. First time is always hard. Worse than the luonto, eh?”

As if on cue, the nausea hits. I groan, body swaying. “I think I’m gonna—”

I shriek, my body going rigid as the chill of ice presses against the back of my neck. The infuriating curmudgeon dropped a piece of ice inside my tunic! It slides down my spine, making me wriggle and wince. I fight to undo my belt and let the ice fall to the floor.

“You—weasel,” I shout, unable to think of a better insult.

“But you’re not nauseated anymore, are you?” he says with a barking laugh.

I scowl at him.

His smile falls as he glares right back. “Now, what in the name of Ilmatar’s fuzzy woolen mittens did you do?”

“Nothing!”

“Oh, ‘Nothing,’ she says. I found them tying you to a stake, ready to burn you as a witch!”

“It wasn’t me. It was that rotten priest—”

“You looked like you were giving as good as you got,” he counters, leveling a finger in my face. “I told you to lay low.”

“I did,” I say, slapping his hand away.

“I said you could pop in on your mummi and tell her you’re alive. I didn’t tell you to start a godsdamn rebellion.”

“I didn’t—”

“You told a whole village full of people that V?in?moinen is returning, and then you threatened a priest of the new god. If you think he’ll turn tail and run south, you’re a fool, Siiri Jarintytt?r. He will bring down the hammer and crush your little village into dust.”

“I’m going back,” I say, reaching for my discarded drum. “I have to go back—”

“No, you don’t.” He tugs my drum from my hands.

“Give it back! My family—I have to warn them. I have to help them fight—”

“Who are you here to save, Siiri? Will you save your Aina, or will you save your village?”

“I can save both! I’ll go now and come back. Then I’ll go for Aina.”

He shakes his head. “Even a girl as brave as you cannot fight two gods at once. Fight the death gods and save Aina. Or fight the new god and save your village. You must decide which path you will take.”

I take in the shaman’s lined face. “Oh gods... you knew, didn’t you?”

He huffs and stomps away, taking my drum with him.

“You’ve known all along about the Swedes,” I call after him. “Of course you do. Your itse has been running loose around the south for ages. You watched it all happen and did nothing to stop it. You’re a coward!”

He slams down the drum and turns around. “Do not dare presume to know what is in my heart,” he bellows. “I sacrificed everything to give the people what they need!” In two strides he crosses the hut, grabbing me by the shoulders. “I risked life and limb to bring her to you. I am now cursed for all eternity, hunted instead of thanked. You have all you need to stamp out the threat of the Swedish invaders and their tyrannical god. You’re all just too stupid and selfish to see it, too unwilling to open your hearts to her power.”

“Who?” I wrap my tattooed hands around his wrists. The knowledge sinks in my chest. “Oh gods... V?in?moinen, who did you take from Tuonela?”

He shoves me away. “Even you, bright as you are, cannot see it. You don’t believe, so how can you ever understand?”

“Tell me!”

He spins around. “You met her already, fool girl. You described her to me, remember?”

I furrow my brow, trying to remember. “The woman in the woods. Black of hair, with a child-like face. She came to me twice. She helped me to my feet after Kalma took Aina. Then she appeared in the alder grove. She gave me provisions for my journey north. She told me to trust the bear... to trust you . Who is she?”

“You already know,” he replies. “Use that clever mind and puzzle it out.”

I close my eyes, trying to remember what I felt when she was near. She came to me in a time of need, a time when my spirits were low, and I was ready to give up. When I thought all doors were closed to me, she appeared through an open window and offered me her hand.

“Hope,” I whisper, blinking open my eyes. “She is hope.”

Slowly, the shaman nods.

“But who is she?” I say, dropping to my knees by the fire. “Is she Tuonetar’s daughter?”

“Her granddaughter,” he replies, taking his place at the other side of the fire. “That selfish witch kept her locked away, determined to keep her magic from the world. Not even the gods knew she lived.”

I continue to try to puzzle it all together. “I thought you said you went to Tuonela seeking Antero Vipunen? You wanted secrets to use in your spellcasting.”

“And what secrets do you think he told me?”

My eyes go wide. “He knew about the goddess? He knew she was being kept hidden?”

“More than that, he knew where she was hidden. There is a secret house under the Kipum?ki. Tuonetar kept it concealed, but a few secret words could unlock the door. Vipunen learned those words. He shared them with me.”

“And Tuoni? He didn’t stop you from taking her?”

He laughs. “Stop me? He helped me get her out. He wanted her gone.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s his only hope too.”

I search his face. “His only hope of what?”

V?in?moinen shrugs. “Winning back his realm, putting Tuonetar back in her place, restoring Tuonela to the glory of the time of the first songs.”

The heavy weight of this truth sinks like a rock in my chest. “All this death and violence over these long years, it’s the Witch Queen’s doing? And what of the girl’s mother? Who is she?”

The shaman sighs, taking his pipe from his vest pocket. “Her mother is the only reason we escaped.”

I narrow my eyes. “Her own mother wanted her gone?”

“She wanted her free ,” he corrects. “She’d been looking for the girl in secret, planning for them to escape Tuonela together. In the end, we had to abandon our plans. I escaped with her daughter alone.”

“It doesn’t make sense. What death witch would care so much about the fate of their spawn? I didn’t think they had mothering instincts.”

“Careful, Siiri,” he warns, lighting his pipe. “In my experience, it is the monstrous mothers who love hardest... and grieve longest.”

“Oh gods...” My mind has latched on to something, like fingers scrabbling in the dark. “Loviatar,” I whisper. “She’s her mother, isn’t she?”

He purses his lips around his pipe, smoke spiraling into the air. “And how do you know?”

“Because Loviatar had a daughter. More than that, the name of her child has been concealed from all the stories and songs. I can only imagine that was your doing too? You helped the witch hide her daughter’s identity. If she were named, it might be easier for Tuonetar to track her down and capture her again... Am I right?”

“You know you are,” he replies. “Surely you don’t need me to pat you on the head.”

“So, what’s her name?” I say, leaning forward.

He scoffs, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “If she did not see fit to tell you herself, I surely won’t.”

I curse under my breath. “Stubborn old fool. I thought shamans don’t keep secrets?”

“She will tell you when she’s ready,” he replies.

“So, what happens now? You see what the Swedes are planning. They want to stamp out all the old ways. You say they mean to crush my village to dust.”

He puffs on his pipe, blowing that sweet-smelling smoke towards the fire. “They will crush any and all dissent, yes. Turning many gods into one can only be done through violence, Siiri. And their politics will come with their religion. New rules for a new god. ’Twas ever thus.”

“I will not leave my family to face that threat alone.”

He nods again. “You see now how the larger story weaves itself around us all.”

“What story?”

He holds my gaze. “You thought you were just a girl in search of her lost friend, but the threads around you are much more complex. I’ve known that from almost the moment we met in the woods all those weeks ago.”

“What did you know?”

“You’ve been chosen by the gods,” he replies. “You are fated for greatness, Siiri Jarintytt?r.”

My heart stops. “Where is that story written?”

His mustache twitches with half a smile. “You are writing it now, fool girl.”

“And how can you be sure this is my fate?”

“I’m not,” he replies with another shrug, sucking on the end of his pipe. “But, like you, I have hope. Now, fetch me that rolled hide there, and light a few tallow candles for the table. These old eyes need more light.”

I follow his instructions. “Why do you need more light?”

He takes the hide from me and unrolls it, tucking his feet under the low table. “I’m going to sketch a map of Tuonela. Now, getting in is the easy part. Getting out again is harder. It’s the mess in the middle that may prove to be nigh impossible.”

“What mess?”

He chuckles, dipping the tip of a tattoo needle in what’s left of the ink. “Finding Aina, of course. You don’t think the death gods will have her perched on the river’s edge holding a lantern and a plate of sweet cakes, do you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Of course not,” he echoes. “So, you’ll need to know the lay of the land.” Head bent over the hide, he begins to scratch with the needle. “Listen closely now, Siiri. Commit everything I say to memory. It could mean the difference between taking a leisurely stroll through Tuoni’s back garden... or rotting in his dungeon.”