To Sio Lieselotte, who still hasn’t written back,

I’ve sent several letters now, but there’s been no reply. It’s nothing new for your letters to go astray when you’re wandering all over the continent, but this is the first time you’ve gone this long without a word, and it worries me. You’ve always sent at least a short letter to let us know how you’re doing, wherever you ended up. You’ve always written to tell us when you’ve moved somewhere new, too. Of course, if something had happened to someone as well-known as you, the newspapers would already be making a fuss, so I’ve been trying to take no news as good news, but Danyu can’t seem to settle. She was worrying about you right up until the contractions started and she was taken to the hospital.

Anyway, I’m writing because there’s news to share. I can’t be sure this letter will reach you either, but I think I’ll feel better for having written it.

The third child was born yesterday. My prediction was wrong, I’m sorry to say, and the baby turned out to be a boy. He has blond hair like Rene, and gray eyes like Alex. Half me and half Danyu, in other words. The other children are absolutely fascinated by their new little sibling. Apparently they had always believed that blond hair could only come with red eyes, and red hair could only come with gray eyes. Oddly enough, they each inherited my coloring and Danyu’s exactly, so I suppose that made sense to them.

Isn’t that just like children? This house and this family are their entire world, so they judge everything by that measure. I think I was the same way when I was very small. There must have been a time when I believed that one small house was all the world there was. Just as I broke out of that shell, these children will gradually widen their own worlds too.

Rene said she wished her new brother had black hair and green eyes, like Uncle Sio. When I told her that if that had been the case I would have beaten Uncle Sio half to death, she couldn’t make sense of it at all. Well, the children still believe a great big stork brings babies, so I suppose that’s only natural. They’re already saying they want another little sibling. They must love tiny, wriggling babies. They have no idea how much their mother goes through.

Oh, Danyu and the baby are both well. Fortunately the baby came quickly, so it wasn’t too hard on Danyu. But even now, on our third, I can’t seem to get used to seeing Danyu exhausted after giving birth. When I look at her pale face, gratitude and guilt circle through my chest and I don’t quite know what to do with myself. All I can do is sit quietly, hold her hand, and whisper that I love her. Only when she gives me that tired little smile does some of the worry ease.

The fact that she can smile so beautifully after going through something so enormous makes me think women are truly remarkable. She winces if I hold her wrist too firmly, yet she endures the immense pain of childbirth in silence. I can’t even imagine it. Because of her, I love my wife a little more today than I did yesterday. I think the image of her today will stay with me forever.

Who could have imagined I would ever know happiness like this? If Danyu hadn’t come to me, I would have gone my whole life without it. After the first marriage arrangement fell through, no new proposals came for a long while, and I had more or less given up on the idea of marriage. Truthfully, my parents [1] didn’t have a marriage full of warmth and affection, so I never felt any particular drive to marry either.

Then Danyu appeared, and everything changed. Every morning when I open my eyes, I want to see her. I feel like I could do anything if it meant she could smile. Absurd, impossible wishes of the kind I once would have laughed at filled me up entirely. Danyu is the one who made that miracle happen. Someday, someone will appear in your life like a miracle too, and fill you with wishes just as unreasonable as mine.

Speaking of miracles, something just came to mind. You asked me about that once, didn’t you? About the likelihood of a miracle like snow falling in summer. Your question made me curious, so I went looking through old records, and remarkably, there is a record of snow falling in the capital. In August, the height of summer. It was hundreds of years ago, so the probability is vanishingly small, but it seems it isn’t entirely impossible. I don’t know what made you ask, but I hope whatever miracle you were wishing for comes true someday.

I’m afraid I have to close the letter now. I’ve only stepped away from Danyu’s side for a short while, so I can’t linger over this much longer. Though I suppose it’s already grown quite long for that. I think the worry from not hearing back from you for so long made me run on.

Just in case, I’m going to find someone to carry this letter to you directly rather than sending it through the post. There may be some problem with the postal service. It won’t be easy to find someone willing to travel all the way to Kasinov, so I’ll have to pay well. I hope whoever it is doesn’t have a change of heart halfway and sees the letter through to the end.

I’ll truly wrap up now. I’m still uneasy about leaving Danyu alone. We haven’t settled on a name for the baby yet, so that’s another thing weighing on my mind. Oh, if you did receive my earlier letters, you may already have a name in mind for the third. Danyu is very curious to see what you come up with. She says my names are too predictable and not much fun. What’s wrong with Alex and Rene? A good name is one that’s common enough and distinctive enough, isn’t it?

Anyway, I hope you’ll forgive me for rushing to a close. I’m hoping for a reply this time.

From Astaire, now a father of three.

P.S. I mean it when I say we haven’t chosen a name. I was absolutely convinced a daughter was coming. If a name comes to you, please let me know. We’ll need to register the birth, so we can’t wait too long, but for a while we’ll call the third one “baby” [2] and wait for your decision. You know a great deal of the old Seydel tongue, so I trust you’ll find a good name we never would have thought of ourselves.

A hurried additional P.S. If this letter does find you, could you send a postcard with a view of Kasinov? Better yet, bring one yourself. Danyu had grown very fond of the postcard you sent and put it up in the bedroom, but Rene was playing around and accidentally tore it. Danyu said it was fine, but her face looked dim somehow. She’ll be spending some time at the hospital, and I think putting up a postcard with a Kasinov view there would lift her spirits considerably.

* * *

Endnotes

[1] Parents │ Astaire was originally a member of the Werner family. As befitting a prominent family, his parents entered into an arranged marriage and had Astaire and his older brother. The atmosphere typical of such families, which placed great value on the eldest son, played a significant role in his decision to leave the Werners and become a live-in son-in-law to the Astrids. After Astaire left, the Werner family passed to his older brother, who squandered the family fortune through gambling not long after, leaving only the family name behind. When the brother came to Astaire and brazenly asked for financial support, Astaire drew a firm line and told him that since he was no longer a Werner, he was in no position to help. Danyu quietly helped the brother on Astaire’s behalf, but after he gambled away that support as well, all assistance came to a complete end.

[2] Calling the third one “baby” │ For the two months it took for Sio Lieselotte’s reply to arrive, Espen went without a name and was simply called “baby.” Espen would sometimes express his grievance over this, saying that because his siblings remembered that period, “baby” remained his nickname for the rest of his life. For that reason, the one and only complaint he held against his deeply admired godfather was that the slow reply had saddled him with such a ridiculous nickname.