The Banks of Sansretour,

******

No nightmares this time. Which was good. They had been plaguing me ever more violently ever since I'd found out that Lord Himmel was the Pied Piper.

I opened my eyes, slowly scanning my surroundings. Heidi was sitting on a stool beside me, head buried in a book. I must have made a faint rustling sound, however, for she soon noticed that I was awake. She leapt out of her seat and helped me to sit upright. "How are you feeling, Your Ladyship?"

I looked about. This room was small, square and sparsely furnished. It was also impossibly clean, as though dust had thought about settling here but eventually changed their minds as it was far too clean for their liking. It felt unlived in—empty.

"Where am I?" I asked wearily.

"In the guest room, Your Grace." She moved towards a small, sturdy table beside the bed. There was a pitcher and a mug on it. She poured out some water and pressed the mug into my hands. I took it without protest. She looked to be only one or two years older than me, yet she had the air of a mothering hen.

"What happened?"

"Well, I don't have the whole story, but I do have the odds and ends of it, if you'd like to hear, Your Ladyship."

"Klaudia," I said. It was odd for a girl around my age to address me with such reverence. "And please, do tell."

"Not much that you don't know, I suppose," she said hastily, turning pink around the ears, "but I heard from Cook saying that you and Lord Himmel were here on a visit. Then His Lordship went mad and attacked Lady Anya, while you were left behind when he was escaping in a frenzy. That true, milady?"

"Klaudia," I corrected her again. "And not quite," I added with a grim smile.

Since Lady Anya was going to report the Council of the incident, I decided that there was no use in keeping anything from Heidi. So I told her everything. Or not exactly everything, but the essential details. It felt good to let it all pour out, to finally let an outsider know what was truly going on in Heidelberg.

When I was done with my story, Heidi's eyes sparkled with admiration and horror. "So Lord Himmel was the Pied Piper all this time?" I nodded. "Saints above, I'd never have suspected it!"

"Who would have?" I couldn't keep the bitterness out of my tone. "If Lady Anya hadn't been there to witness the whole spectacle, I doubt if anyone would have believed me."

"Well then, fortunately Lady Anya was there, no?" She gestured towards the mug in my hands. "Take a sip, milady. Should do you some good."

"Klaudia. Otherwise I shan't drink this," I insisted with faux heaviness.

Heidi looked mildly frightened, but I think she was secretly amused. "Klaudia," she tested my name carefully, as though afraid that I would lash out against her, "please. Do have a sip."

"That wasn't so hard, no?" I actually managed a laugh before taking a sip out of the mug. The water was refreshingly warm. "Thank you, Heidi."

"No worries," she said. "Just doing my job."

"So...what happens to me now?"

The sparkle in her hazel eyes dimmed. "I reckon that the Council will want to meet with you soon. And that they will want to address the issue of Lord Himmel."

I heaved a sigh. "Naturally."

"Take a rest first though. Your Core is still recovering." She flashed me a reassuring grin. "I'm sure that they won't mind waiting for a little while longer, according to the advice of a trained Healer."

"Hmm, hopefully," I played along. My head suddenly felt heavy. "I think I shall sleep first."

Heidi took the mug away and placed it on the table. Then she helped me to slide back down so that I was lying flat on the bed. "Thank you, Heidi," I said once more.

"No worries, Klaudia," I heard her say before sleep pulled me under.

******

The sound of steel scraping against wood filled the air. I had meant for the block of wood in my hand to resemble a hare, but it looked more like a potato instead.

I heaved a sigh and set the carving knife and the failed project onto the worktable. If only I had some useful skill, then I could help Papa Gunter earn some coin. As it stood now, I was near to useless. I could sing, but that was the only substantial talent I had. Besides, music was forbidden in Hamelin; the Mayor considered it an art that brought ill fortune to the town, even though its fortune was already ill enough.

The setting sun cast long shadows over the area, cloaking me in its coolness. I looked out of the window, watching clusters of houses huddled together, as if they were leaning onto each other for comfort. Ours was built a little further apart, distancing itself from the others. Some days, it gave me an illusion that I was completely safe from the brutes; today, it made me feel isolated.

Papa Gunter had told me that he might come home a little late. He had some business on the other side of town, a terribly long walk for me.

I sighed again. Most of my afternoon had been occupied with unsuccessful attempts at wood carving. I'd been shown the proper techniques, yet I still couldn't quite master it.

I was feeling restless. I got up, stretched, grabbed my crutches and made my way towards the front of the house. For a moment, I contemplated going outside, just to get some fresh air and clear my head. But wariness held me back. Papa Gunter wasn't here; no one could defend me.

Then what could I do?

I slowed as I passed by one of the rooms. Its door was almost permanently closed, the wooden structure decaying slightly and looking like it could be smashed down with one powerful kick. It was the one room I was absolutely forbidden to enter. Technically speaking, not completely forbidden, but Papa Gunter's expression had been absolutely livid the first time I'd ventured into it, when I was about six years old.

Since then, I'd avoided it. Just to avoid the sheer rage in Papa Gunter.

But I wasn't six years old anymore. I was thirteen; I was old enough to know about certain things. Besides, there couldn't be anything particularly scary inside.

Could there?

No, there wouldn't be any lindworms or gryphons or nachtkrapp lurking inside, like the spooky bedtime stories that had filled my childhood. This was ridiculous. I was a big girl. I wouldn't allow such childish fears to take hold of me.

Decisively, I took the key dangling from a nail hammered beside the door. It almost seemed to be waiting for me to take it. I unlocked the door and held my breath. It swung open.

No lindworms, gryphons or nachtkrapp lurking inside.

I released a breath I hadn't realised that I had been holding. Then I mentally chided myself for being so melodramatic. Papa Gunter wasn't a monster; of course he wouldn't be hiding any monsters.

Cautiously, I stepped into the room. It looked like any other room, save for the thick coat of dust settling over everything. There was a small bed in the corner, its covers unmade, as though someone had jumped out of it and hadn't bothered to tidy it. A table was pushed against a wall, right in front of the window. I tentatively made my way over. Stacks of papers flew over the surface, yellowed at the edges. A few had fallen off the table, while most of them had been stained by the weather.

I studied them closely. They were mostly sketches, ideas of impossible inventions: flying contraptions, containers that boiled water, and false limbs. All imaginings of a child who dreamed.

Despite the ridiculous sketchings, a smile played at my lips. This person—whoever he or she was—had the liberty to dream then. A liberty that was taken for granted.

I moved past the table and onto the sole chest in the room. I opened it, and a few moths fluttered out. I coughed, flapping my hand in front of my face to clear the dust. After a while only did I feel that it was safe enough for me to open my eyes.

I stared at the cupboard's contents. It was clothes.

I took one of them out. It was a pair of trousers, made for a boy who was about my size. A frown creased my brows. I put it aside and continued to dig through the chest.

More boy's clothing turned up. Then my fingers touched something that felt like wood. I pulled the new item up.

A flute.

The craftsmanship was terrible—its holes were uneven, and the entire structure was crooked. But evidently a lot of time and love went into this; I felt it as I traced the grains of the wood. It was just the sensation of knowing that someone had poured their soul into something.

I gently set it onto the floor and continued to rifle through the chest. I found more flutes like the first, each of them clearly made by someone who was inexperienced, but determined to improve. Each of them contained just as much love, and I felt like if I closed my eyes, I could almost see the undefined figure hunched over the table, sweat beading on his brows as he shaped wood into instrument—

I heard the front door clicking open.

With a gasp, I hastily dumped all the items back into the chest, not bothering to put them back in their original positions. I scrambled off the floor and lunged for my crutches. Stifling a cry as I accidentally stumbled, I got up. In hardly any time at all, the door was closed and locked behind me, and the key hooked onto the nail.

I hoped I didn't look as dishevelled as I felt. I combed down my tangled curls and straightened my dress. Papa Gunter suddenly emerged into sight, like a wraith appearing in the middle of the hallway.

I nearly jumped in fright.

"Hallo there, mäuschen," he said pleasantly, his bag of tools slung across his back. "What are you doing here?"

"Nothing," I replied quickly. Too quickly, I realised. "Just coming out of the workrooms to greet you, Papa." I added a smiled, just in case.

He smiled back. Dirt and grime coated his face, and his clothes had been torn out in several places. I would have to patch the holes up later tonight.

"Is dinner ready yet?" he asked.

I sensed the colour draining from my face. I'd been so preoccupied with the room that I'd totally forgotten about it. "Uh – no. I'm sorry, Papa. I'll get to it right away—"

He laid a hand on my shoulder, squeezing it comfortably. His was the only touch that I could endure. "Don't worry, mäuschen. Go clean yourself up," he said affably. "I'll prepare dinner."

"Of – of course." I shouldn't be surprised at his kindness. He had always been like this. I shouldn't be shaking with nervousness. I hadn't done anything wrong. Well, not exactly wrong.

Papa Gunter narrowed his eyes at me. "Are you all right, mäuschen? You look rather pale."

"Probably because I haven't eaten yet," I answered, plastering a grin onto my face. "Go on. Make dinner!"

He continued to narrow his eyes at me, as if he had seen through my lie. Then his expression relaxed, and he ruffled my hair affectionately. "But of course. Anything for you, you ravenous little creature," he said jokingly.

I giggled and ducked out of his grip. "I'll go change now," I said.

"And I'll...make dinner." His words were slightly stilted, aware that he had mentioned the fact several times over.

Then he walked towards the back of the house, towards the kitchen just before the workrooms. I waited for him to turn back and question what I had been doing, why I was acting so unnaturally, how I had gotten dust all over my dress.

He didn't.

******