She heads into the dining hall.
I slip inside after her before the door can close. The dining hall is crowded, full of noise and the briny aroma of soðin ýsa. Looking around at all the plates full of fresh boiled haddock and potatoes and buttered rye bread, I feel my stomach start to rumble, but I need to stay focused.
Edith takes a seat at a table by herself. She glances around nervously, bouncing her leg and reaching into her coat pocket once. Twice. She must be double-checking she still has something important. But what? My heightened vision narrows in on Edith, giving me a better look.
She’s fiddling with a small vial of liquid.
Could this be how she goes berserk? I think back to the history class I took a few years ago. Supposedly, some warriors consumed mushrooms to help induce berserkr rage. Fly agaric can trigger a range of intense emotions like joy, sorrow, or anger.
Edith stares down at the vial, but she makes no move to drink from it. It seems like she’s waiting for someone to show up. Her next victim?
Eventually the dining hall slowly empties.
Edith remains at her table.
Whenever the door opens, she looks up, only to seem disappointed.
Whoever she’s waiting for must have stood her up. Dinner is mostly gone, except for lukewarm leftovers. A hunter shovels mouthfuls of stew at a table in the corner, while a pack of berserkir are talking loudly to one another, and two witches study quietly at a far table.
I check the lignite. It’s already crumbling in my palm, and I don’t know how much longer I have. I can’t stay hidden until she drinks the potion. If it is what I suspect, once she goes berserk, she’ll be that much harder to stop. Especiallyoncampus.
Now that the dining hall is mostly empty, I can crush the lignite to dust without the worry of being seen appearing out of thin air. Once I do, I approach her table from behind.
“Hello.”
Edith whirls around. “Amund?”
Clearly not who she was expecting.
“What are you doing here?” Only after I ask the question do I realize I want her to give me some explanation. Something to convince me she isn’t what I fear. Iwantto be wrong about her.
She seems agitated. Annoyed by my presence.
Edith slips the vial back in her coat pocket. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“What was that?” I demand.
She hesitates a moment. “Just something for my headaches.”
I watch her closely, studying her reaction. I don’t believe her for one second. And she can clearly tell.
“I really do have terrible migraines,” she adds, her eyes fierce.
“I know.”
Edith frowns. “How do you know that?”
“Like I said. I’ve looked into you. Now hand it over,” I tell her. “I’m confiscating it.” I grab hold of the vial, my hand brushing hers. Both of us grip the glass until it feels as though it might shatter. She releases the vial, and I slip it away from her quickly.
“Give it back,” she protests.
I hold the vial up to the overhead lights. It’s opaque, which means it’s concentrated. Whatever this potion is, it’s potent, but that’s all I can glean from my inspection. I’m sure Nils or Mother would know—
Edith tries to swipe the vial from me. I avoid her easily. Her movements are surprisingly clumsy and slow compared to a hunter’s. “With your speed and reflexes,youshould have an advantage,” I find myself taunting, unable to resist.
She scowls at me. “Says someone who’s trained to be a hunter his whole life.”
“How do you—”
