Margit Sandemo: The Ice People 39 - Silent Voices

I was right, Ellen thought angrily. He is one of those psychics that people use but laugh at behind their backs. An eccentric. A village idiot.

Rikard went on. “Or the terrible time a year later when Nataniel suddenly curled up in violent pain, gasping for breath. I watched in terror as he fought against it, and I didn’t mind the fact that his fingers had left deep marks on my upper arm. ‘I can’t get out,’ he had gasped, stifled. ‘The water is rising and I can’t get out.’ Finally he calmed down, but he didn’t want to tell me anything, just sat in a kind of despair for a long time. The following day a car was found at the bottom of a lake a kilometre from where we live. Four people had died, clearly at the same time that Nataniel had had his painful experience. But we never told anyone about it.

“When he was twelve years old, he saw a blue glow around his grandmother’s head. The glow grew brighter and brighter each day, until a week later she was dead. Another time when I was visiting them, he and I went for a walk. He doesn’t seem to mind confiding in me, though normally he is very lonely and taciturn. We went into a small cottage where a rather shady family lived. Nataniel told me afterwards that he had been gripped by an intensely unpleasant feeling. All I saw was that he was watching the slovenly young wife until she shouted that I ought to take that scoundrel with me and get out. The next day she turned herself into the police, and they discovered numerous stolen goods hidden in the cottage. But no one connected Nataniel with her sudden confession.

“I could tell you about hundreds of such small episodes. About how impossible it was to play cards with him because he always knew what we had in our hands, and how he knew beforehand that we would meet a car when we turned a corner on the road. No, I’ll stop! Anyway, our paths didn’t cross for a few years; my job took up most of my time and I lived far away from him with my little family ... Then, one day I had a very complicated case on my hands. There were so many contradictions, so many aspects that were unclear, and even a hint of something supernatural. That was when I suddenly thought of Nataniel. It wasn’t easy to track him down, because he had retreated into the mountains to work as a dam watchman, in order to escape all the impressions that would overwhelm him when he was in the company of people. He came – and managed to solve the riddles in no time. By eliminating everything that was anything to do with superstition – which had no part in that story, he saw that immediately – he was able to extract whatever small scraps of factual evidence were left. And then it was up to us to crack down on the culprit. Since then, the police have contacted him several times to help solve the most mysterious disappearances and to purge any alleged ghost stories that might be circulating. It’s amazing how often people try to put the blame on the subconscious and spirits and devils when they have committed a crime.”

“I wouldn’t have thought the police would want to collaborate with someone like him.”

“No, most of them are sceptical. But there are a few exceptions, like the sheriff here.”

“But it’s hard to imagine Nataniel going along with this when he loathes his ability so much.”

Rikard Brink smiled. “Yes, he certainly does, it torments him terribly, yet at the same time he is somewhat proud of it, even though he would never admit that. You could call it a kind of love-hate relationship, if you will. And then he loves to solve riddles.”

“So he’ll want to solve this one?”

“He said yes right away, and do you know why?”

“No.”

“Because of you.”

Ellen blushed. “Does he know me? I mean, can he see me from a distance or something spooky like that?”

“Oh, no. And he can’t read minds, so you don’t need to worry about that. At least I don’t think he can, I’ve never thought about that before. No, there were two things in your account that interested him greatly. But he didn’t say what those two things were. Only that it was the role of the girl in the story that sounded odd.”

“So he didn’t believe me?” she said disappointedly.

“He gave no indication of that. On the contrary.”

Ellen sat motionless for a moment deep in thought, then she shuddered: “Ugh.”

“Why do you say that?”

“The whole thing. I’m getting this unpleasant sense of pressure in my chest. Out of compassion, perhaps. For Nataniel.”

“You understand him?” Rikard asked gently. “Understand his pain?”

“I have reasons for doing so,” she said curtly and reluctantly.

Rikard nodded. “I thought so. Please don’t think that I normally go around telling people so much about Nataniel. But I chose to tell you. Partly because of something he said, and partly because you have exactly the same expression in your eyes as he does. And what sort of expression that is I can’t explain. Something eternal, if you understand what I mean.”

Ellen didn’t really. “But what’s he like? Is he like Efraim? Because he definitely didn’t sound sympathetic.”

“Nataniel doesn’t have any of Efraim’s nauseating self-righteousness. There are many good people in his family who have distanced themselves from Efraim’s way of life. Nataniel is ... strange. Strong ... frightfully strong mentally, yet still vulnerable. And he is carrying a tremendous burden on his ... Oh, I think I hear his car. I’ll go down to the office and greet him. Come down once you’re finished here.”

Suddenly Ellen was gripped by such an intense sense of nervousness that her hands felt both clammy and cold.

He turned at the door. “By the way ... don’t offer him your hand when you meet him. Nataniel prefers it that way: he receives so many unnecessary impressions from people with whom he has no need to preoccupy himself that he simply doesn’t shake hands.”

It wasn’t exactly reassuring for Ellen to hear that.

Chapter 3

She gave the men time to chat a little before she went downstairs. After hearing all those things about Nataniel, she needed to pluck up the little courage she had. And despite the stories she had heard about him, she didn’t know anything about how he looked or how old he was. Only that he had melancholy eyes. Which meant that they were probably as dark as wells. That sounded a little too romantic, Ellen didn’t really like it. Or maybe he was just an old psychic after all.

Well, she couldn’t procrastinate much longer. She quickly glanced in the mirror and saw that she had big, frightened eyes and that her hair was dishevelled. And how pale she looked! Suddenly the corners of her mouth pulled up in a self-deprecating smile. She looked as if she was on her way to the dentist’s – or like a heroine in a novel who is about to see her young man.

Good gracious, she thought to herself, laughing.

But when she had reached the bottom of the stairs she was gripped by that sense of nervousness again. Their murmuring voices could be heard coming from the office. She wiped the palms of her hands on her trousers and went in.

The sheriff was the first to speak: “And here she is!”

The newly arrived guest stood with his back to her. At the sheriff’s words, he turned around.

Nataniel was surprisingly young – he might have been about twenty-five. Long-limbed with broad shoulders, strong yet sensitive hands and very dark hair, that would soon need a trim. Later, Ellen would notice the details of his face, such as his sensitive yet determined mouth, the width of his forehead and the pronounced lines of his cheekbones. But in the sheriff’s office she only noticed his eyes. They were melancholy, it was true, but that wasn’t what captivated her: they were yellow. Never in her life had she thought such yellow eyes existed! And they had a peculiar sort of intensity that frightened her somewhat. He looked at her with an undisguised interest, with a certain sense of wonderment, as no one else had ever done before. Ellen responded to his critical examination with an uneasy smile.