The man who plays Odin walks by and Grimnir’s words echo in my head. You can see far more than you know. I cover my blind eye and Hel’s wooden face is inanimate. When I remove my hand the mask moves again. Before I can think about what this means, a shout sounds on the opposite side of the room.
The Loki actor is arguing with a performer holding a sword. Tyr steps between the two men, the model of a severed arm in his grasp. He raises it as if to keep the peace. ‘What does it matter if he hasn’t played Freyr before? As for him always turning up late, you’re mistaken.’
Loki huffs. ‘And who asked you? You’re at the centre of every disagreement in this place, telling people to calm down and stirring up a fight. Where are you when the first punch is thrown? Not lending a hand then, are you?’
A huge man dips his head through the door, his face like thunder.
‘Talking of being late,’ scoffs Loki.
The man grunts. ‘I may be late, but I am not afraid of a fight.’ He fixes the Thor mask to his face and its wooden forehead furrows into a frown. ‘Now shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you.’ Loki shrinks back then regains his composure and spits, ‘You haven’t heard the last of this!’ He turns and walks off, shoving people out of his way as he goes.
I glance around me and people shake their heads and talk in hushed tones. The atmosphere feels sour suddenly, as if everything is about to fall apart. In Karl’s book of myths, I’m sure it mentioned the Trickster forcing his way into the hall of the gods and insulting each of them in turn. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but it’s odd that the man who plays him seems out to cause trouble.
A group of performers comes in from the ring and my breath catches when I see Ulva, the wolf mask around her neck. I could tell her everything that’s been happening but even if she believes me, she isn’t going to hand me the evidence.
Suddenly an idea comes to me. I don’t like tricking her, but if I’m going to win this wager I need to be clever. I walk over and look her in the eye. ‘I know what you’ve done. I know where you’ve hidden the harness.’
24
THE DEAD SURROUND ME
U
lva’s eyes flash dark. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She moves to walk past me and I block her way. ‘I know you didn’t mean to do it, but you have to tell the truth. You can come with me and tell Karl what you’ve done, or I will take the harness to him and call the police.’
‘You’re lying. You don’t have it!’
The wolf mask glares at me with empty eyes, the fur on its snout bristling. Ignoring it, I lift my gaze to Ulva’s face.
‘After you pushed Nina, you took the harness and went to your caravan. You put it in a green carrier bag then went into the forest.’
‘How did you . . . ?’
‘I’m psychic, remember.’
She shoves me aside and goes out, just as I hoped she would. I stand inside the doorway, careful to stay out of view. After a couple of minutes I hurry along the walkway, the icy wind whipping my hair into my face. I know where she entered the forest from touching her sweatshirt. She followed the trail I walked with Stig.
At the end of the path, I step into the snow and dash from one caravan to the next, making sure to keep out of sight. When I reach the edge of the clearing, I stop and shiver. It’s darker among the trees, dark enough for the dead to form. I push away a heavy spruce branch and a raven caws in warning. The forest is thick with gloom; tall grey trunks creaking and groaning in the wind. I can’t see her. Panic rises inside me. Where is she?
A flash of blonde hair moves up ahead and I let out a sigh. Stillness hangs in the air, as if the forest is holding its breath. I follow in her footsteps, a thick carpet of snow and pine needles crunching beneath my boots. A pale face looms out from behind a trunk, and I spin to my left. Another face appears, and another, sprouting like mushrooms in the darkness.
I press my back against a tree and try to steady my breathing. When I look again there are more shadowy figures. A woman holding a baby is slumped against a tree trunk, her long hair hanging down, half her body dissolved into the bark. A raven lands on a branch then hops clean through her shoulder. I turn around and an old man stumbles aimlessly. They aren’t doing anything. They’re lost. Desperate souls doomed to wander the earth because I didn’t get them back into Yggdrasil, because I didn’t return them to the underworld.
Loki has rounded them up and brought them here, the same way he brought the dead to fight at Ragnarok. To spite me, but also to make me face up to what I’ve done. He said I’m no better than anyone else, I think only of myself, and he’s right. My throat tightens and I fight a tear. I can’t blame the dead if they want to hurt me, but I can’t stand here feeling sorry for myself either. Whatever happens, I need to follow Ulva. I have to win this wager.
I step out from my hiding place and shadowy shapes flit through the undergrowth: men, women and children, all with empty black eyes. None of them seem to be aware of one another or their surroundings. I think about the dead in the big top and a shudder runs through me. I felt so cold and weak when one of them swiped its hand through me, and I don’t have the light of the caravan to run to now. Before, it took just one of them to notice me, and then they all turned and stared. When the woman on the steps saw me, it was after I’d looked into her eyes. Maybe if I keep my gaze down, the dead won’t pay me any attention.
The moon glints from behind a cloud and I catch a glimpse of Ulva hurrying below. She must have taken a turning off the path. I trudge along the trail and spot a gap in the trees. The ground is steep and twisted with roots. I grab a branch for support then stumble and slide down, stopping myself before I reach the bottom of a hollow.
Ulva stands in the middle of it, a shaft of silver falling on her like a spotlight. Shadowy figures writhe and weave around her. Massed together, the dead look like wisps of mist in the moonlight. Ulva glances in my direction and I crouch behind a trunk and watch as she pushes away a clump of hanging vines and approaches a decaying tree stump. She plunges her hand inside and pulls out a bag. After checking it, she shoves it back, perhaps thinking it’s safest to leave it where it is. After all, if I knew where the harness was, I would have taken it.
I need to get off the path; she’s going to come back this way at any moment. I stand up to go when a shadowy woman crawls towards me. She rushes forward on her knees and I turn my head and dive into the undergrowth, brambles scratching my face. The woman creeps away and I let out a sigh.
‘Who’s there?’ calls Ulva.
I hold still, barely daring to breathe.
I wait until I hear her walk past me, then risk a glance her way. She clambers up the bank and heads along the trail. Once the forest has swallowed her up, I go to the tree and reach inside.
I hurry through the forest, keeping my gaze down and side-stepping the dead, and emerge into the clearing with the carrier bag in my hand. The floodlights are on and the tents and walkways are bathed in bright light. My shoulders drop with relief. If I can make it through the caravan field, I’ll be safe.
Karl knows there’s something strange happening at the circus. If I give him the harness, there’s a chance he will believe me. When Ulva is faced with the evidence, hopefully she will confess. Karl will know what to do; I’ll make him understand it was the mask and not her fault.