“Why?”
“She is the one who thought that all that needed to be done was to strengthen the walls. Well, they tried, and it isn’t working. Your tree, here, is winning the battle.”
Brigitta laughed. “Good for it!”
Miklós nodded.
“I wonder what they’ll do next?” said Brigitta.
“I don’t know. We’ll find out soon enough. Do you think anyone else knows?”
“If not, they will. I imagine they look in on the tree pretty often.”
“Yes.” Miklós sat down with his back to a wall. “Why is it that they can’t cut through it, though?”
“Why does it matter?”
“I want to know its strengths. And its weaknesses and what it needs. If I am to aid it, I must know how.”
Brigitta said slowly, “Then, you are committed to doing what Bölk wanted?”
Miklós nodded. “If I can,” he said, as if he were speaking of the weather.
“And what of what you said earlier, about destroying the Palace?”
He shook his head. “Never mind. I still want to in some ways, but you’re right. I have to do what Bölk wanted.”
Brigitta nodded but didn’t trust herself to speak. His attitudes were so changeable, who knew what he might decide if she said the
wrong thing? She shook her head. No, no. She couldn’t work like that. She had to
know
that she could count on him.
He seemed lost in thought. After enough time had passed she said, “You might want to share it with me.”
“What? Oh. I’ve been trying to think of what we should do. They are certainly going to try to destroy the tree. How are we going to protect it? We can’t stand up to them directly, so we have to find a way—”
“What about Vilmos?”
“Eh? What about him?”
“He could stand up to them.”
“Do you think he will?”
“I’m not sure. We should speak to—”
At that moment, László and Viktor appeared at the doorway. The two pairs stared at each other. Then László stepped through, nodding his head. Viktor followed. The captain’s eyes were on Miklós, and, once again, the hate that gleamed from them shocked Brigitta. She felt trapped, as she had never felt trapped since she had run away from her father. But they were between her and the door. Her breath came in gasps.
Miklós cleared his throat. “We have been looking at the damage, László.”
The King grunted. “To the walls or to the tree?”
“To the walls.”
The King muttered something under his breath. “Where?”
Miklós pointed out the damage. Viktor also looked.
“Well,” said the King speaking to the captain, “Sándor and Mariska were wrong. It isn’t going to work.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Viktor. “It must be destroyed. And that, quickly.”
Brigitta looked at Miklós. He seemed unhappy, but she could tell no more than that.
László faced Miklós fully. “What is your reaction to that, brother?”
Miklós held himself perfectly still, as if there were a knife at his throat. “Why do you ask?” His voice sounded slightly hoarse.
“Exactly what was it you did out there today? And, moreover, why?”
Miklós sighed. “I’m not altogether sure what I did. But I believe the Goddess will no longer be appearing to us.”
Brigitta noticed that the King’s hand seemed to jump for his sabre, but steadied itself. Viktor was not so restrained; his knuckles were white where he gripped the hilt of his own.
“Why?” said László.
“Because she tried to kill me! You saw that.”
“Yes, I saw it. But there’s more to it than that. Why did you summon her? It seemed you were deliberately trying to provoke her. You must have had a reason.”
Miklós didn’t answer.
“Very well then,” said the King. “I will ask you this: When Viktor and I, and the others, attempt to remove this tree, will you aid us or not?”
“You have already asked me that, haven’t you?”
“Yes. Days ago. Much has happened since then. I must hear your answer again.”
Miklós chewed his lip. Why was he being so evasive? Brigitta could tell nothing from looking at him. Then she studied László face, and from the pain there, she suddenly understood. Miklós could do whatever he had to do except for one thing—he couldn’t turn his brother into an enemy once more.
Not for the first time, she was nearly overwhelmed by the pain he must be feeling. She leaned closer to him and squeezed his arm. László looked at her and barely scowled. Miklós, apparently seeing the scowl, stiffened.
“You’re right,” he snapped. “You should ask again. The answer is no. I will do nothing to help you destroy this tree. There. Now you know. Excuse me.”
Miklós walked forward, bringing Brigitta along with him by the arm. Before the captain could respond, Miklós had brushed between him and the King, and they were walking down the hall.
Brigitta felt a relief that was almost palpable. Her legs felt weak for a moment, and Miklós had to pause to let her lean against him. They continued up to the Great Hall. On the way, they passed Sándor.
“Excuse me,” said Miklós, stopping.
The wizard glared at him. “Yes?”
“I find that I must, with thanks, refuse your offer.”
Sándor’s eyes widened, then he laughed. “So I had already guessed, young Prince. So I had guessed.”
As he went past, still laughing, Brigitta squeezed Miklós’s arm. He pressed her hand.
In the Hall they found Vilmos speaking with Mariska. As they came near, she looked up; then, muttering something to Vilmos, walked away.
“I think she doesn’t like us,” said Brigitta.
“Huh? Who?”
“Never mind.” She poked his arm affectionately, which earned her a puzzled glance. They sat down on either side of the giant.
“So,” said Vilmos. “You have killed the Demon Goddess, have you?”
“Yes,” said Miklós. “Poor Andor.”
The giant chuckled. “I think he’ll be all right. He was looking around for something else to do anyway.”
“That’s good.”
“Yes. But
why
, Miki? Why kill her?”
“I had to, Vili. I—” He stopped and seemed to concentrate for a
while. “All right. I need to ask a question of you. What is it you want, right now, more than anything?”
The giant’s face fell for a moment, and Brigitta saw Miklós wince. The wrong question. But Vilmos shook his head, perhaps clearing it of wishes that could not be, and thought over the question.
“What I want? To keep my norska safe.”
Miklós nodded, as if that were the answer he’d been expecting. “Good. The danger to the norska is the Palace, isn’t it?” Vilmos nodded. “Then the way to save them is to make it so the Palace isn’t a danger anymore.”
“Ha!” said Vilmos. “Easily said. I have been working for the last two days to—”
“I know. But listen, Vili, remember the tree in my old room and how you couldn’t make yourself destroy it? Perhaps there is a reason for that.”
Vilmos watched him carefully, still not sure where he was going. Andor came into the room, saw them, and walked over. Brigitta motioned to him not to speak. He sat down next to Vilmos. Miklós nodded to him.
The giant said, “What reason?”
“Maybe you understood, without really being aware of it, that the tree was something you should be preserving.” Vilmos still seemed skeptical.
“What if it is?” he asked.
“There are those who wish to destroy it. Chief among them was the Demon Goddess.”
He thought for a moment. “Why would she wish to destroy the tree if it is good?”
“She, like László, wished to leave the Palace standing rather than replace it, even though it has become a danger to us all. You, of all of us, know that it is danger. If we leave it standing, it will collapse upon us.”
Andor stirred. “Just what are you trying to do?”
Miklós glanced at him, then looked away. Brigitta found herself studying the intricately patterned tiling on the floor.
“No,” said Andor, “don’t answer. I know. You are trying to convince Vilmos to help you. Aren’t you?”
Miklós didn’t answer. Brigitta said, “That seems obvious, Prince Andor.”
“You are manipulating him. Playing on his fears. You—”
“No,” said Miklós. “I don’t think so. I am trying to convince him, as you said. But manipulate? Look around you. Look at the cracks in the ceiling beams, the breaks in the walls. Look at the hole in the floor in front of the main doors. I think we are
all
being pushed into doing something; Vilmos no more than the rest of us.”
Miklós looked at his brother through slitted eyes. “What about you, Andor? From as far back as I remember, you have been looking for something to make life meaningful for you. Time after time, you have failed. Why? Maybe it isn’t something
you
have been doing wrong, as we’ve all been thinking it was. Maybe there just isn’t any way to find out who you are, when everywhere you turn you are surrounded by either the collapse of your home or desperate efforts to hold back this destruction.
“But I have another alternative for you: embrace it. Embrace the collapse of all we’ve lived with and work to create something better in its place.”
Andor fell silent. Brigitta stared at Miklós. Yes, he was growing. For the first time since she’d been in the Palace, someone had been able to speak to Andor as harshly as he deserved, yet respectfully. And, too, Miklós seemed to have more understanding than she had thought he had. What had he and Bölk said to each other, right before the end?
At last Andor spoke. His voice was harsh, yet Brigitta could see that he was shaken. “Better? How, better? You’ve been saying what
is wrong with the Palace, but how do I know that what you want to replace it with is better?”
Miklós didn’t answer. Brigitta, trying to continue what Miklós had begun, said, “I feel that it will be, Andor. Miklós feels that it will be. But how can you know? You have two choices there. One, undertake a long and hard study of the tree that is growing in Miklós’s room. Try to see it clearly, without prejudice, so that you can judge. That would be difficult, I know, but I can see no other way for you to know, save to wait until it has reached its full growth—if it does—and see then. Of course, then it will not matter what you think.”
Andor blinked. “You said I had two choices.”
“Yes. The other is to consider this. Whether it is better or worse than what we have now matters not in the least.”
Andor made a brushing-off motion, as if to clear the air of nonsense. Brigitta reacted. Without warning, blood began to pound in her ears, and she felt gripped by a great and terrible rage. She found herself standing, looming over the Prince.
“Are you mad?”
she cried. “This place is collapsing! It’s going to kill us! How can you stand there like a flag with no device on it and ask if that is better than this, when, at any moment, the ceiling above your head might fall on you and break every bone in that thick, impenetrable skull of yours!”
She sat down, fuming. There was silence for a moment, while Brigitta cooled down.
I should probably apologize. He is a Prince, and I am nothing. But I can’t, Goddess help me.
And,
No, the Goddess will help no one anymore, for good or for ill
. Miklós was looking at her, with a smile playing about his lips. He gave her the smallest nod. She closed her eyes and found herself trembling.
“Then why don’t you just leave?” said Andor.
She glanced quickly at Miklós, then looked away.
“None of us can leave, Andor,” said Miklós. “This is our home.
We belong here. We have nowhere else to go. That is true for the family, and for those who have chosen to tie their fates to our own. We must stay.”
Without another word, Andor stood and left. Brigitta’s eyes snapped open and she looked at Vilmos. He sat leaning forward in his chair, his hands clasped together and his eyes cast down. As if he felt Brigitta looking at him, he raised his head and met her eyes.
“I … will consider—”
“Vilmos,” said Brigitta.
“Yes?”
“The King knows now that Miklós is not going to aid him in his efforts to fell the tree. He may have guessed already that Miklós has decided that this Palace must not stand. If he has not, then he soon will. When that happens, he will try to kill Miklós. You are the only one with the strength to prevent that. Will you?”
Vilmos was silent for a long time. Miklós and Brigitta exchanged glances, but let him think in peace. At last he said, “It isn’t fair to make me decide between my brothers.”
“No,” said Miklós quietly, “it is not. But László is only doing what he feels he must. That is all I am doing. That is what you must do.”