than he had ever hoped for. Of course I couldn’t foresee all the secretiveness that would ensue. Papa was sure that Eric would call off the engagement if he found out who my papa was; I was sure of the opposite. But it turned out as Papa wished, as usual. I said that my papa was dead.
I still don’t know how it happened that Teddy proposed to me two days after Eric. True, they were twins, so perhaps it was a coincidence. Or else Teddy heard what had happened and didn’t want to be worse than his brother. If there is anything I regret…or perhaps don’t regret, but if there is something I’m not terribly content with, it’s the entire charade with Teddy. It felt completely wrong to pretend. But all the doctors told me to do it, and Eric told me to do it, and, of course: Papa threatened all sorts of things if I didn’t see to it to wind up in the church with one of Rhinoceros’s cubs. The deacon wanted it, too. We fooled Teddy. Penguin Odenrick play-acted. He had a serious talk with Teddy and me for several hours, as though he was really going to marry us. And later the same day the whole procedure was repeated, but then with Eric and me. It was weird. Especially because the twins were more or less identical in appearance. Odenrick mostly seemed to think it was funny. Eric, I believe, did it for Teddy’s sake. I did it mostly for my own, and a little for Papa’s sake. I got married to Eric, I avoided working at Lakestead House, and Eric never found out that he’d married the cub of a gangster king.
I never believed that our marriage would last as long as it has. I saw it mostly as a way of getting out of being a nurse. Can it be that it hasn’t fallen apart because I’ve never really cared about it? Sometimes when I’m talking with my friends, I think that might be so. All the others seem so filled up with their love. They take betrayal so hard—both their own and their spouse’s. Personally I could care less about either.
My life works well. And with a freshening up of my knees, there’s nothing to complain about.
CHAPTER 27
Through the window opening in Archdeacon Odenrick’s office, Eric Bear could see that the clouds in the sky were about to break up, and he knew he had to hurry. Soon Sam and Tom-Tom would arrive.
Archdeacon Odenrick stood leaning against the door, but he had no intention of leaving. For the past few minutes he’d been wandering restlessly back and forth on the small floor area between the door and the desk, to the right of the armchair where Eric was sitting. The penguin had let so much pent-up frustration run out into his legs that he was getting out of breath as a result. Now he was leaning against the door to gather strength. He was breathing with an open mouth; the odor of old mustard and parsley spread around the room. Eric Bear’s provocations had gone on for almost twenty minutes, and if it weren’t for Eric’s close relationship to the archdeacon, and the archdeacon’s close relationship to Eric and his family, the attacks would perhaps have been possible to shake off. But slowly the bear found ways through the pious defenses.
“This is meaningless,” hissed the penguin. “You’re still not listening.”
“It was you who taught me to let be,” Eric smiled. “But I’m making myself important, right? Isn’t the reason that you, Archdeacon, don’t need to listen to criticism is that you and Magnus are so terribly close to each other? I’m not. I ought to be humble. Between the archdeacon and Magnus there is…yes, there’s hardly any difference at all.”
Eric remained seated on the edge of the armchair before the desk; it no longer felt quite so uncomfortable. The conversation had been rancorous, but nevertheless it moved forward with an implacable logic. The archdeacon was driven by a lust for power that he would be ashamed of when it was exposed. But like all stuffed animals, he basically wanted to be loved, and if that wasn’t possible, then he at least demanded to be understood. That was his weak point.
The penguin fixed his eyes on the bear.
“What do you want? Really?”
“Remove one name from the list,” the bear answered simply. “To start with.”
He had revised his request; he had to start somewhere.
“I stole