The Midnight Land: Part Two: The Gift (The Zemnian Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  The Midnight Land

  Part II: The Gift

  Text copyright © 2015 E.P. Clark

  Cover art copyright © 2015 A.A. Davis, B.C. Clark, and E.P. Clark

  All rights reserved

  Table of Contents

  A Note to the Reader

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  About the Author

  A Note to the Reader

  Presumably if you’re here it’s because you’ve already read Part I. I hope so, because otherwise you’re going to be really confused. But just to refresh your memory, in Part I our heroine, Slava, left her native Krasnograd to go adventuring above the sunline with Olga Vasilisovna and the rest of her party. After numerous exciting events, they leave the tundra and head to Lesnograd to consult with the sorceresses there about Slava’s emerging magical gifts. When they arrive, they discover the city in disarray and all the members of Olga’s family at each other’s throats. Part I ends with Slava’s discovery that a curse has been laid on her sister the Empress, and that ten-year-old Vladislava Vasilisovna, Olga’s niece, was the mastermind of the plan. Part II begins immediately where Part I leaves off.

  Chapter One

  “What…what curse?” Slava asked. Her voice was quavering from shock, but Vladislava was so engrossed in her story she didn’t even notice, and carried on obliviously.

  “The curse was also partly my idea,” she said, her voice ringing with pride. “They did a great spell, using Grandmother’s blood, and mine too, so that someone of Grandmother’s blood would carry the curse to the Empress. But the curse itself was to cause the Empress great harm, so that those closest to her would turn against her, just as had happened to Grandmother, and she would be unable to rule. But when they tried to cast it, Grandmother had a fit, and they told her it was because of the spell, it had gone wrong, so she dismissed all her sorceresses and they laid a curse on her, like you know, and I think on me too, because they blamed me for coming up with the idea, even though the spell going wrong was surely their fault, not mine, and now Grandmother is ill, maybe dying, I don’t know. They keep saying she’s probably going to die, when they think she and I aren’t listening. I’ve never seen anyone die before, have you? What do dying people look like? Do they look like Grandmother? Is it scary?”

  “Most likely,” said Slava. “What about the curse on the Tsarina? Was it broken?”

  “Probably not,” said Vladislava with a shrug of indifference. “Maybe part of it, but it was much too strong a spell to be broken all at once. I wonder how it will come about, don’t you? I think they meant her to be betrayed by someone of her own blood. I wonder who that will be, don’t you? It would have to be someone of her blood and ours as well. Do you know who that might be? Although Grandmother said we were all fourth-sisters, or something of the kind, so the Zerkalitsy all have Severnolesnaya blood, little as they deserve it. And I wonder how it will happen. They didn’t tell me that part, maybe because they didn’t know themselves. Oh look, there’s the herbwoman’s gate. I hope she’s at home.”

  They had left the kremlin far behind and come to a neighborhood of modest cottages. Vladislava pushed open a small gate in a plain fence, and started down the narrow path in the snow that led to the herbwoman’s front door. Slava followed numbly. She knew that she had just received information of great value, and that she would need to take action, probably unpleasant action, but right now she was so shocked she was not sure she could speak, let alone act.

  “Slavochka!” cried the woman who opened the door, and Slava started, wondering how this stranger could have learned her name, and then realized that, of course, Vladislava was a Slava too. And also a Vladya, just like Slava’s sister. She was just like both of them.

  “Good day, Alina Marinovna,” said Vladislava. “Look: I brought someone. Alina Marinovna, this is the Tsarinovna—I don’t know her first name. Tsarinovna, this is Alina Marinovna.”

  “The Tsarinovna’s name is Krasnoslava, child, everyone knows that,” said Alina Marinovna, before freezing in the doorway and staring at Slava with her mouth open. She was dressed for indoors, and she stood there for so long that she began to shiver violently, but did not seem to notice until Slava said, “May we come in, Alina Marinovna? It is cold on the street.”

  “Come in,” said Alina Marinovna, backing away from the door on unbending knees. She was a woman of middle years with a round kind face, which made the shock and fear on it particularly out of place.

  “You have a very pleasant cottage, Alina Marinovna,” Slava remarked as she stepped inside. Although she was no less shocked than Alina Marinovna, even if for different reasons, she had had a moment longer to compose herself, and a lifetime of good manners was coming to her aid. “May I hang my cloak on this hook?”

  “Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna wonderingly. “Are you…” she turned to Vladislava, “a real Tsarinovna?” she finished. “Did you really bring a Tsarinovna into my home, Slavochka?” Slava couldn’t tell how much of the question was astonishment, and how much was an awakening horror of the danger this posed.

  “Oh, she’s very nice, Alina Marinovna,” said Vladislava carelessly. “Much nicer than most of the princesses I know. And she wants to find the sorceresses, just like I do, don’t you, Tsarinovna?”

  “Yes,” said Slava. That much was most definitely true. “I have heard wondrous things of your Lesnograd sorceresses, Alina Marinovna,” she continued, doing her best to sound innocently flattering despite the fact that her head was still whirling from surprise and, she suspected, hunger, thirst, and exhaustion. “I was most disappointed to hear that they had left the city, but Vladislava Vasilisovna assures me that we will be able to find them. I would be most grateful for any help you could offer us, Alina Marinovna.”

  “Really a Tsarinovna?” said Alina Marinovna, giving Slava a disbelieving look. “How?”

  “I arrived in Lesnograd today with Olga Vasilisovna,” Slava said, speaking more smoothly with every word.

  “Olga Vasilisovna is in town?” cried Alina Marinovna. “Really? What is she doing here?”

  “Oh, Aunty Olya came in today,” said Vladislava. “I think she’s mostly quarreling with Mother and Andrey Vladislavych and the others. So the Tsarinovna and I decided to come here instead. We don’t like quarreling.”

  “Tea,” said Alina Marinovna, in the voice of a woman clutching at anything she could to save herself from drowning. “Would you like some tea? Tsarinovna?” She started to meet Slava’s eyes, but then lost her nerve and quickly looked away.

  “Tea would be wonderful, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” said Slava, sincerely hoping that it wouldn’t be too much trouble.

  “With pleasure, Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna faintly, and hurried off into the other room, presumably the kitchen.

  “Alina Marinovna’s very nice, isn’t she?” said Vladislava. “Let’s sit down.” She sat down in what was clearly a chair she had occupied many times befor
e. After a moment, Slava sat down in another chair.

  “Do you come here often, Vladislava Vasilisovna?” Slava asked. She found she was having a hard time looking Vladislava in the face and not screaming at her. A curse! A curse against Slava’s sister! And it was all Vladislava’s idea! She wanted to grab Vladislava by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth shattered against each other and came out.

  As soon as the image rose in Slava’s mind, though, she was repulsed and horrified, and she found herself remembering Vladislava’s voice as she said, “What do dying people look like? Do they look like Grandmother? Is it scary?” and a wave of heartbroken tender protectiveness rose up and threatened to engulf the rage entirely. Slava had many times before thought her feelings would tug so hard in opposite directions that they would tear her apart, but never, she thought, so acutely. She wished she had a moment alone to compose herself, and to…she didn’t know what…pray, maybe. Not as most people did, begging for selfish favors they were too weak to win on their own, but the way priestesses were said to do when they were seeking wisdom. Right now, sitting in a strange woman’s cottage in a hostile town, looking across at the innocent author of so much evil, Slava wished for the first time in her life that she had learned how to pray, that she had learned how to seek wisdom and guidance from without and within.

  Please, she said to herself, if anyone is listening, and then she realized that it didn’t matter whether or not anyone else was listening, because what mattered was her own inner voice, the one that was so often silenced by the clamoring shouts of all the other voices around her. Let me know what to do, she said, and then changed it to, When the time comes, I will know what to do. When the time comes, I will know what to do.

  “Is something wrong, Tsarinovna?” asked Vladislava. “You closed your eyes for a moment.”

  “I am just very tired,” Slava told her. “It has been a long journey.”

  “How many days?” asked Vladislava.

  “Many weeks,” said Slava.

  “Weeks!” exclaimed Vladislava. “Really? Weeks? Why? Where did you go?”

  “The Midnight Land,” Slava told her.

  “Really?” said Vladislava, her eyes growing large. “Aunty Olya talked about it, but nobody thought she’d make it. Was it nice?”

  “It was dark,” Slava said.

  “Why did you go, then?” asked Vladislava.

  “For knowledge,” said Slava.

  “But what could learn, if it was dark?” asked Vladislava. “Why didn’t you wait until summer? Or is it dark all the time there in summer, too?”

  “No, in summer it is light all the time there, I believe,” said Slava. “But the travelling is easier on snow than mud.”

  “That makes sense,” said Vladislava, nodding wisely. “Grandmother always preferred traveling in winter to summer, too. Did you hear that, Alina Marinovna? The Tsarinovna has been travelling for weeks in the Midnight Land!”

  Alina Marinovna, who was carrying a tray of tea things into the room, stopped and gave Slava a look in which appraisal was beginning to flicker amongst the fear. “Yes, one can see that,” she said eventually. “Or at least, one can see that she has been consorting with the gods.” She gave Slava another uncertain look, as if consorting with the gods made her both closer and farther away. “Did you have much luck with it, Tsarinovna?” she asked.

  “What luck is there to be had with gods?” Slava asked.

  “The luck of not dying, Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna, almost smiling.

  “In that case, I had much luck,” Slava told her, also smiling. “And now I am in Lesnograd, and eager to meet with the famed Lesnograd sorceresses, who, Vladislava Vasilisovna tells me, have fled, leaving only their curses behind.”

  “Well, they had their reasons, Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna, setting the tray down and pouring tea with hands that barely shook. Like everyone else, she was beginning to feel at ease around Slava, a gift of Slava’s that, like all her other gifts, was not without its benefits, even as it brought her much inconvenience.

  “I’m sure they did,” Slava said sympathetically. “Vladislava Vasilisovna has told me some of the story already.”

  “Grandmother was very rude to them,” said Vladislava, nodding in agreement. “But we have to get them back, don’t we, Alina Marinovna?” She made no move to help Alina Marinovna distribute the tea, which struck Slava unpleasantly, until she realized that she was not doing anything to help Alina Marinovna, either. She stood up to assist, but Alina Marinovna gave her a look of such horror when she heard Slava’s offer that she was forced to sit back down and wait while Alina Marinovna brought her tea and pastries, accompanied with many bows and apologies for the coarseness of the fare. A few months with Olga and the others may have rendered her unfit to be a noblewoman, Slava thought, and for the first time since Krasnograd had disappeared behind her, she wondered what people would think of her there when she returned. Lesnograd might be the barbaric North, but it was still a city of sorts, and as such was a distant sister to Krasnograd, just as Vladislava was a distant sister to Slava. With the walls of Lesnograd closed around her, she could feel the walls of Krasnograd close around her too. That image was so unpleasant that Slava quickly forced her mind away from it and back to the missing sorceresses.

  “We’ll do our best to get them back, don’t worry, little princess,” said Alina Marinovna, once Slava and Vladislava had been served and she felt able to sit down herself and drink her tea, which she did with one eye cocked nervously at Slava. “The sorceresses aren’t going to go far from Lesnogorod.”

  “Alina Marinovna thinks she knows where they went, don’t you, Alina Marinovna?” said Vladislava, sitting there drinking her tea with an air that was both comically adult and endearingly childish. Slava was forcing herself to see Vladislava as a child, but she also reminded herself that children often were, after all, much more clever and ruthless than adults, and Vladislava was certainly no exception.

  “It’s no secret where they’ve gone,” said Alina Marinovna. “They’ve gone to live with the priestesses, well, most of them, anyway. They’re in the sanctuaries.”

  “Are they far from here?” Slava asked.

  “Not if you know where to look,” said Alina Marinovna. “But if you don’t know how to find them, you can stumble around in the woods till you starve and never catch sight of them.”

  “I would very much like to speak with the sorceresses,” said Slava “What do you think my chances are of finding them?”

  “I would say none, except that you claim you have been to the Midnight Land, Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna. “That might weigh heavily in your favor.”

  “Should I go to a sanctuary?” Slava asked. “Perhaps the gods will help me; they have thus far.”

  “Or we could send them a message, couldn’t we, Alina Marinovna?” said Vladislava. “We’ve tried before, but maybe they’ll listen this time, won’t they?”

  “Maybe they will, little princess,” said Alina Marinovna. “I’m going into the forest tomorrow, Tsarinovna. I’ll tell them of you, and perhaps they’ll listen. Wait for word from me in three days’ time.”

  “My many thanks, Alina Marinovna,” said Slava.

  “It’s not every day that I have the honor of serving a Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna. “They say”—she gave Slava an unexpectedly shrewd look—“they say that trouble comes to those who fall into the affairs of empresses.”

  “Oh, this Tsarinovna is very kind, aren’t you, Tsarinovna?” said Vladislava confidently.

  “Yes,” said Slava. “I am very kind, and trouble does come to those who fall into my affairs. But perhaps there is worse trouble for those who don’t.”

  “Should I tell the sorceresses that, Tsarinovna?” asked Alina Marinovna.

  “No,” said Slava slowly. “Tell them…Tell them that the gods have said I have a purpose in life, and that they have taken an interest in my fate. Tell the sorceresses I would speak to them of
this.”

  “That will make them come running, Tsarinovna, them and the priestesses too, I have no doubt,” said Alina Marinovna. “Or run the other way, I don’t know. But run they will.”

  “My many thanks,” Slava repeated, standing up. “I will trespass no longer on your time.”

  “You have done me great honor, Tsarinovna,” said Alina Marinovna, standing up too and bowing deeply, but with evident relief at the thought of Slava’s imminent absence.

  “You’ll tell us as soon as you know something, won’t you, Alina Marinovna?” said Vladislava, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be waiting and waiting to hear from you.”

  “Of course, little princess,” said Alina Marinovna. “I won’t make you wait a moment longer than I have to.”

  “Thanks so much, Alina Marinovna,” said Vladislava. “You should come to the kremlin more often.”

  “Perhaps someday, little princess,” said Alina Marinovna with a sad smile. “In the meantime, you can come visit me whenever you wish.” She led Slava and Vladislava out the front door, and bowed them out of sight.

  “Alina Marinovna is so kind, isn’t she?” said Vladislava, as soon as the wicker gate had closed behind them and they had gone around the corner to the next street. “She’s really the only person who’s kind to me. No one else lets me come sit in their sitting room and drink tea with them. She used to live with us in the kremlin, but then she left, I don’t know why except that Mother said she was trying to steal me away, which isn’t true, so it must be something else, and then Mother said I wasn’t to come see her, so I have to sneak away when she isn’t paying attention to me, which isn’t that hard, really. Mother pays a lot more attention to the me she has in her head than to the me I have in my head, so she’s very easy to fool. I can normally manage to see Alina Marinovna two or three times a week; isn’t that nice?”

  “Very nice,” said Slava, pity and anger rising up and threatening to choke her again. She felt so sorry for and so horrified by Vladislava that for a moment she wished she could just run away from her and pretend that she had never existed.