The End of Drum-Time


 Contents
 
 Title Page
 Copyright Notice
 Dedication
 Map
 Family Tree
 Epigraph
 Part One
 
 Chapter 1
 Chapter 2
 Chapter 3
 Chapter 4
 Chapter 5
 Chapter 6
 Chapter 7
 Chapter 8
 Chapter 9
 Chapter 10
 Chapter 11
 Chapter 12
 Part Two
 
 Chapter 13
 Chapter 14
 Chapter 15
 Chapter 16
 Chapter 17
 Chapter 18
 Chapter 19
 Part Three
 
 Chapter 20
 Chapter 21
 Chapter 22
 Chapter 23
 Chapter 24
 Chapter 25
 Chapter 26
 Chapter 27
 Chapter 28
 Acknowledgments
 Also by Hanna Pylväinen
 About the Author
 Newsletter Sign-up
 Copyright
 
 
 
 Guide
 
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 PART ONE
 Chapter 1
 Acknowledgments
 Contents
 Copyright
 
 
 
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 Begin Reading
 Table of Contents
 About the Author
 Copyright Page
 
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 To Anne-Maret Labba
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 The Laestadius Family
 
 Lars Levi & Brita
 Nora
 Willa
 Carl
 Levi (deceased)
 Lorens
 Four daughters, unnamed
 One son, unnamed
 
 The Tomma Siida
 
 Nilsa & Anna
 Risten (Kristina)
 Elle (deceased)
 Nilsa’s brother and wife
 Their children
 
 The Rasti Siida
 
 Biettar & Biret (deceased)
 Ivvár
 Two of Biettar’s brothers, unnamed
 Ánde & Niko, Biettar’s nephews
 
 The Lindström Family
 
 Henrik
 Frans, Henrik’s uncle
 
 
 
 Let the reindeer decide.
 Sámi proverb
 
 
 
 PART ONE
 
 
 
 
 1
 
 The day of the earthquake was the darkest day of the year. This far north what counted as day was just twilight stretched thin, so that no shadows fell, and the steeple of the church made no impression on the snow, and the river and forest and hills were all suspended in the same half-finished light. The effect of this was a shared, if unexpressed, uneasiness, but most people were used to it—if given the choice they would have said, let there be darkness, and gone back to their work. That was the sentiment anyway around people who had grown up here, Lars Levi among them—he found the cold and the dark invigorating, he was a man of extremes and so he was drawn to extremes, they suited him, they spurred him on.
 But even he had to admit the morning was off-kilter somehow. He had dreamed the night before of something of importance, what, he couldn’t say, and it troubled him, that he might have missed its message. He was a man who put credence in these things, in the importance of what was felt, in part because his mother had been that way and in part because the land made everyone here that way—no one could live beneath the northern lights and the midnight sun and not come out of it sure there was something besides rationality at work, least of all Lars Levi, the pastor of this most northern parish for the past twenty-two years, a man of some hubris but not a man who could be accused of insincerity. He was here to preach, he believed in what he spoke, but today he was especially sure of his purpose, and the weight of that purpose made him anxious. He paced up and down the side aisle, inventing little tasks to check on—had Henrik