You must kill her, said the Dark One on Thomas’s left.
She knows your secret, said the one on the right. She knows what you did. She will tell your father.
Then the two chorused together: And when your father knows, he will banish you. You have always disappointed him. You are useless and weak. He wishes your sister still lived, so that the Estate could be left to her instead of you, you worthless failure.
Master Thomas moaned.
“No,” whispered Yorik.
Instantly the Dark Ones turned their hunger onto Yorik.
The ghost-boy! they chattered. He is here!
Yorik stepped through the wall into the bedroom. “Leave him alone,” he said.
Look, they whispered to Master Thomas. Look! The ghost of the murdered boy has come for revenge!
Master Thomas sniffed. He blinked in confusion.
Look, fool! screamed the Dark Ones. Then they began to make noise, a high, whining, and monstrous sort of singing.
Though Yorik knew that Master Thomas was not aware of the Dark Ones on his shoulders, something about that piercing song seemed to direct the boy’s attention. Master Thomas peered into the dark corner where Yorik stood.
Their eyes met. Horror sprang onto Thomas’s face.
“No!” said Yorik. “Wait, the Dark Ones, they—”
But it was futile. Master Thomas leapt to his feet. “Yorik!” he said. “No!” He stumbled backward.
Run! screamed the Dark Ones.
Master Thomas ran through a set of doors onto his balcony.
Yorik wished he had Erde with him. She could do something about the two Dark Ones. Not knowing what to do, not wanting to scare Thomas further, Yorik began to leave.
Then, through the doors, he saw that Master Thomas was standing on the stone balcony railing.
The Dark Ones screamed of ghostly terrors, of a wrathful Yorik coming to seek vengeance.
Master Thomas wobbled on the balustrade. He seemed to think he could escape by leaping to the next balcony. But Yorik could see that it was too far, and Master Thomas, never a graceful boy, was going to fall.
Yorik ran onto the balcony, wondering if somehow he could tear the Dark Ones away before something awful happened. They were hissing more whispers into Thomas’s ears, urging him on with You fool, you useless, cowardly, stupid, hated waste—you must jump!
Yorik reached hopelessly for Thomas as the Dark Ones shrieked in triumph and vanished.
Master Thomas fell through the night.
Yorik raced to the balcony’s edge and looked over.
Far, far below lay the body of Master Thomas. Yorik, having had one himself, could see that the boy had a broken neck.
Twelve-year-old Master Thomas lay on the hard, cold ground, dead.
Chapter Eight
The Princess had established herself on a sort of throne, which she had cultivated from the low branches of a sycamore.
“Hmm,” she said. “A really horrible, nasty, tragic death, by the sound of things.”
“Does that mean he’ll wake as a ghost?” asked Yorik.
The Princess frowned. “I hope not. I’ve enough trouble with the ghost I’ve already got.”
“Saved me,” croaked Erde, almost angrily. She was huddled in the dirt.
“Yes,” sighed the Princess. “He did. Well,” she said to Yorik, “if that one does turn up, I don’t want you bringing it back here. I’ve finally got the place looking respectable.”
Yorik agreed that the glade looked lovely, especially in the nighttime. He was sitting on the grass in the middle of an absolute explosion of flowers, perfect green flora, and tall, thriving trees. Yorik wondered why the Princess was doing all of this in the middle of winter, but knew he could not ask. Only after he’d saved Erde had the Princess allowed him to return to the glade.
But he did have other questions.
“I don’t understand why Master Thomas could see me,” said Yorik. “None of the other living can.”
The Princess yawned. “Probably because you’re supposed to haunt him. He’s the one who murdered you, you know.”
Yorik had been pondering this. “I don’t think he did that on purpose. Killed me, I mean.”
“Let’s find out,” replied the Princess. She pointed her leafy twig.
A flickering, faded image appeared near the elm. It was Master Thomas, bundled up in his white wool coat. It’s an apple tree, said the image. Now start climbing.
Yorik stood, startled. “Is that a ghost?”
“Sort of,” said the Princess, twirling her twig. “It’s a memory.”
Two flickering gray Dark Ones were hunched on the shoulders of the image. They spoke, sounding whispery and scratched. The servant boy is very clever. He’ll find out what you did. Throw a rock. Throw a rock.
They repeated this again and again. The image bent, chose a rock, and threw it. The Princess twitched the twig, and the image vanished.
“I’d find out what he did?” said Yorik, surprised. “What were they talking about?”
“I don’t know.” The Princess shrugged. “But it’s only human business, so it can’t be very important. I have other things to worry about.” She looked at Erde.
Yorik was worried about Erde too. She had dwindled since her encounter with the Dark Ones. She had stopped having conversations with ants, or drawing in the dirt. She mostly huddled, slumped and motionless.
“Are you sick?” Yorik asked.
Erde nodded. “Sick,” she sniffled. A piece of mud fell from her mouth. Yorik noticed that the mud was drier than it had been. Erde was drying up, like the creek bed during a drought.
“Can’t you help her?” said Yorik to the Princess.
The Princess shook her head grimly. “I could,” she began, “but beastly Father—”
Yorik was done with hearing about beastly Father. “What does that have to do with it? The Dark Ones can’t come near you. You have loads of power.” The Princess’s eyelashes fluttered. “True. But my power is limited to this glade because of—”
“Beastly Father,” said Yorik.
The Princess gave Yorik a withering look. “Yes. The instant any bit of me left my glade, he would know. And Erde’s sickness comes from outside. It comes from them.”
All of Yorik’s attempts to repeat their word for the Dark Ones—Yglhfm—had only made the girls giggle nervously.
“I don’t understand,” said Yorik, “why they make her sick.”
The Princess and Erde exchanged searching looks.
“Tell him,” grunted Erde weakly.
“Are you sure?” said the Princess anxiously. “He’s only a human.”
Erde looked at Yorik. “Not a human.”
“It’s still a human,” objected the Princess. “Just a dead one, that’s all.”
Erde wearily rumbled, “Tell him.” She closed her dark brown eyes.
A wind blew through the glade. The trees and flowers stirred. Patterns flowed across the grass and across the surface of the pond. The light in the glade darkened.
“Very well,” said the Princess. “I will show you who Erde is.” And to Yorik’s surprise, when she said that, her voice did not sound high and haughty as it usually did, but deeper and richer. It stirred and echoed in his mind. Goose bumps rose on his arms.
The Princess stood and raised her leafy twig. Her glow deepened, and her gossamer dress grew black.
“Be honored, boy,” she said. “This knowledge is a gift rarely given to one of human birth.”