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satisfaction.

      Fortunately, however, he happened to read the article one last time before delivering it to the newspaper, because that was when it became apparent to him.

      Her devilishness emerged there as well. Had the article been published, it would undoubtedly have offended every single elderly patient in need of care. Because in it they were portrayed as a group of egocentric and demanding old fogeys who sucked all the life out of their humble caretakers.

      And it was all because of Tova’s clever formulations. Nataniel would have been embroiled in a huge dispute with the municipal authority if that article had been published in the newspaper.

      He tore it up and realized that he couldn’t handle Tova’s upbringing alone.

      He turned to Benedikte and requested that she invoke Gand.

      Benedikte was eighty-seven years old but just as clear-thinking as ever. “Why don’t you do it yourself?” she asked.

      “Me? I couldn’t possibly do that!”

      “My dear Nataniel,” Benedikte sighed despondently. “Your flaw is that you are much too modest. Have you ever even tried to invoke our ancestors? Or Gand, or Imre before him?”

      “No, I thought ...”

      “Do you have any idea of the kind of powers you possess?”

      “No, to be honest, I don’t. I probably get that from my mother – she doesn’t think we should use them too much.”

      “No, Christa is reluctant because of Abel. But you ... No wonder Tova is leading you up the garden path and amusing herself at your expense! Why the specially chosen one should be so utterly meek and compliant is beyond me. It was the same with Tarjei – as you probably recall, he was the chosen one before you. He never stood up against evil precisely because he didn’t know the power of his own strength. Please don’t let the same thing happen to you, Nataniel, promise me that!”

      “But don’t you think it is important to maintain a pure and gentle frame of mind in one’s battle against Tengel the Evil?”

      “Yes, of course, but not to that extent! Just try to forget all that modesty of yours and build up the courage to invoke Gand. Or better yet, our ancestors. And start with Linde-Lou: he hasn’t exactly been utilized during the time he has served you.”

      “Can Tova take part as well?”

      Benedikte thought for a moment. “Yes, I think she can. She might learn something from meeting the Ice People’s original forces of goodness. But be careful! She’s standing with one foot – at least – in the other camp!”

      “Well, that’s what we’ll do then. When and where should it be?”

      “Let me see ... It’s not that cold outside right now. Dress yourselves warmly and go to the cemetery; it’s easiest to meet them there. Tomorrow night, when there will be nobody else around.”

      “Will you join us, Benedikte?”

      “Me? No, I’m much too old for evening strolls in the autumn.”

      “But Linde-Lou isn’t buried there.”

      “Don’t worry, you’ll be sure to find Linde-Lou. He must have been waiting impatiently to be invoked. And you ...”

      “Yes?”

      “That article you just told me about ... the idea was far from stupid. Rewrite it on your own terms, not Tova’s, and formulate it in such a way that you don’t offend the elderly. The lonely, hard-working caretakers around the country could probably use a little encouragement.”

      Nataniel considered what she had said for a moment. “Well, I still have the draft, and the authorities could use a little shaking up. They never hold back from encouraging relatives to care for their loved ones. I think I’ll do it. I’ll write an article that will singe them in all the right places.”

      “Good! So the two of you will go to the cemetery tomorrow? Thank goodness, something is finally beginning to happen again. It has been so unbearably quiet on all fronts for a while now. I’ll call Tova.”

      Tova was ecstatic at the thought of meeting spirits in the cemetery.

      “Think of all the pranks you could do here!” she chirped.

      “Don’t you dare,” said Nataniel, feeling like a stick-in-the-mud again. Why was he the one who had to be so sensible all the time?

      They were standing in the appointed spot as the late twilight of the autumn evening settled over the old cemetery, surrounded by bare black trees. Tova, who only reached up to Nataniel’s waist, giggled elatedly.

      “Are the evil stricken ones buried here as well? Yes, Ulvar must be here.”

      “I truly doubt that you can invoke him. And try to keep quiet now,” Nataniel said warningly. “Leave the invocation of our ancestors to me. I don’t know how bad a relationship you have with them.”

      “The worst, I hope.”

      He felt like asking whether it was really necessary for her to act so devilishly but decided against it.

      He was also irritated with himself. He knew that he didn’t have to live a flawless life, not like Shira who had had to be put through so many hard tests back then. Nataniel could indulge in just about anything; he could vent his anger on other people if they stood in the way of the battle that lay ahead of him, but he just couldn’t get himself to do it. There was something gentle and soft-hearted in his character that prevented him.

      Just like Tarjei. And Tarjei had been killed by Tengel the Evil’s disciple, Kolgrim.

      That was something that Nataniel had to keep in mind. He needed to be on his guard and make sure that his civilized manners didn’t play tricks on him one day.

      They stopped near the graves of Tengel the Good and Silje. Nataniel felt very solemn as he said in a low voice: “Linde-Lou, I’m asking for permission to meet you now. And if there are others of you who would like to come and greet Tova and me we would be very honoured.”

      The cemetery was completely quiet. Not a leaf stirred.

      Tova poked Nataniel. “Don’t forget Imre.”

      “Tova would also like to meet Imre, if he can hear us. I know this might be difficult since he has been succeeded by Gand, who belongs to the living, and we don’t know if Imre is still alive.”

      Then they waited. The graves remained just as they had for centuries. The graves of the Ice People, which had never been levelled.

      “This isn’t going to work,” Tova whispered, “Probably because I’m here. They probably don’t want to meet me.”

      “Stop feeling sorry for yourself,” Nataniel muttered. “Maybe we should fetch Benedikte after all.”

      “No, don’t bother,” Tova snorted. “Why would I want to meet those stone-dead old guys anyway? I’ve managed perfectly well up until now without them, haven’t I? So they might as well stay in their graves. Who needs them? Ulvar!” she shouted. “Can you hear me? Why don’t you come out instead of ...”

      Nataniel put his hand over her mouth so that the rest of what she said emerged as an incomprehensible, semi-stifled mumble.

      “Are you mad? Do you want to ruin everything?” he hissed as he removed his hand. “I should never have brought you with me, you’re crazy!”

      He noticed that Tova stiffened. “Nataniel ...”

      And then they emerged! Out of nowhere, until they were standing before Nataniel and Tova, just as real as if they had been living human beings. But Ulvar wasn’t included in the group, and Nataniel hadn’t expected him to be. Exactly where the evil stricken went after death was something no one knew for sure, but they had never actually emerged before the living.

      “Linde-Lou,”

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