The Midnight Land: Part Two: The Gift (The Zemnian Trilogy Book 2) Page 15

  The leshaya, flanked by many more of its kind, strode along in silence for a little while longer, and then said, “Yes, Gray Wolf said it would be best to take you away as quickly as possible. The world of women is strange. Let us hope our plan works. Let us hope enough of the power of the gods has passed into you.”

  “I felt it,” Slava repeated.

  “Let us hope it was enough. The ways of women are strange. The gods’ youngest daughters are also the most difficult to manage. Let us hope it was enough.”

  Privately Slava thought that any child of hers—and, judging by Olga, any child of Oleg’s—would be difficult to manage indeed, and that the gods were going to be sorely disappointed if they were hoping to plant a puppet in the world of women, but she said nothing of this to the leshaya.

  The leshiye moved very fast, and they reached the sanctuary even sooner than Slava had expected. The golden-eyed leshaya set her down by the front gate, which was open.

  “We will be watching over you, Krasnoslava,” it said. By the time Slava had made it to the sanctuary porch and looked back, the leshiye had disappeared into the trees.

  ***

  Sister Alyona let her into the sanctuary silently, but with a curious look on her normally impassive face. Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, who must have somehow been alerted to her arrival, came hurrying up while Slava was still taking off her outer clothes.

  “Were you…successful?” asked Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, with more animation and less calm than Slava had seen in her before.

  “Yes,” said Slava, hanging up her coat.

  “Here…let me…” Vlastomila Serafimiyevna helped Slava out of her shawl and hung it up for her. “Let me look at you.” She took Slava’s face in her hands and turned it this way and that. “Yes…I think I can see the signs…”

  Slava blushed hotly, thinking that Oleg must have left marks from his kisses on her.

  “I can see the inner glow…” continued Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “The mark of the gods…”

  “Oh,” said Slava, relieved.

  “Come, Slava, you must be hungry.” Vlastomila Serafimiyevna took her by the arm and led her, not in the direction of the main room, but to a small chamber that must have been her private room. She sat Slava down at the small table and started fussing over her about drafts until Sister Alyona appeared with tea and jam and set it down in front of Slava.

  “There were leshiye,” said Sister Alyona suddenly. “With her.” She nodded at Slava.

  “Yes…I know, sister…We must pray on this…”

  “The others are already talking about it,” Sister Alyona told her.

  “Then tell them to gather in prayer,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna with some of her old firmness. “But first bring us food.”

  Once Sister Alyona had returned bearing bread, and been dismissed to go join the others in prayer, and Slava, who really was very hungry, had started eating, Vlastomila Serafimiyevna sat down across from her and took her free hand. This made it more difficult for Slava to eat, but she could see that Vlastomila Serafimiyevna had a strong need to hold Slava’s hand, and so she let her.

  “You are sure you were…successful, Slava?” she asked.

  “Very,” said Slava. She smiled for a moment, provoking an unexpected smile out of Vlastomila Serafimiyevna as well.

  “I am glad for you, Slava,” she said. “Forgive me…you must think it strange that I presume to know so much about your private business…”

  “I assume the gods told you, and probably Oleg Svetoslavovich as well,” said Slava, who had been doing a lot of thinking on the walk home in the leshaya’s branches, and had put together a number of things that had happened ever since she had first set off from Lesnograd. “He was supposed to…The gods made a plan, didn’t they, when the leshiye were unsuccessful in their attempts to take me as their own? They made a plan, and he was the instrument. And they told you about it as well.”

  “Yes…They spoke to me earlier this winter, when I was at prayer. They spoke to me and said that I would be called upon to render a service to someone who would be called upon to render an even greater service to them, and I would know her when I saw their servant beside her. As I was walking into the kremlin in Lesnograd I caught sight of Oleg Svetoslavovich, and I knew that he was the servant. I know Oleg Svetoslavovich of old, you know. Our families are from the same village, not that my family would be very proud to claim any connection to his. But I know him, and I know what…what was done to him, and I knew he was the servant I was waiting for. When I was brought to you, I guessed you might be that person I was supposed to serve…And then Oleg Svetoslavovich told me, on the morning we set off, that the gods had called him to go with us, they had laid a heavy duty on him, and he begged me to take him with you, so I did. And then, the first night you were here, I had a dream…I saw what was the nature of the service you would be called upon to perform. I knew it was a true dream, and when you came to me and said that you must go to him, I knew that the time had come, and I sent you. You are not angry? Many find service to the gods onerous, and rebel against it. And your service will be heavy indeed.”

  “No, it will be a gift,” said Slava firmly.

  “The gods have chosen well, I see,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, cocking her head and looking at Slava curiously. “Truly, your mind is strong as well as your gift.”

  “The gods had no choice, as I understand it,” said Slava. “Is that not what is said about my gift? It is of the world of women. Neither magic nor prayer can control it. Which means that it is to the world of women that I must return, Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. I thank you for your hospitality and help, but I must return to Lesnograd, where I am needed.”

  “Tomorrow,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “Return tomorrow, when you are rested. And it is already too late for any of the sisters to set out and return in a single day, anyway.”

  “Very well,” said Slava. “Tomorrow.”

  “And in the meantime we will pray for guidance,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “Perhaps the gods will speak to us, and if they do, we will share with you the wisdom that we gain.”

  “That would be welcome,” said Slava.

  “I am glad,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. She released Slava’s hand and stood. “Once you are finished eating, you should return to your chamber and rest.”

  “No doubt you are right,” said Slava politely, hiding her smile at the way Vlastomila Serafimiyevna was mothering her. She suddenly thought of how everyone fussed over women with child, and realized with horror that this was the fate awaiting her, only more so. She probably wouldn’t be able to stir a step for the next nine months without someone hovering anxiously over her, demanding to know how she felt…She’d be lucky if she were allowed to feed herself. That, Slava thought to herself, would be very unpleasant, but it also solved the problem of when to tell Olga, which she had been worrying over all morning. Clearly no one could know until she was on her way back in Krasnograd, or they’d never let her leave Lesnograd. For a moment Slava worried that she was being much too lightminded about this. After all, people fussed over women with child for a reason. She should be taking care of herself, she knew. And she would, she told herself, and she would start by not allowing anyone to bully or harass her into agreeing to anything she didn’t want to.

  “Actually, I am not tired at all right now,” she said, also rising. “And so with your permission, I would like to copy out those scrolls I looked at yesterday. They might still be of use to me.”

  “The scrolls?” repeated Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “You think so?”

  “I do,” said Slava. “That was why I came here, after all.”

  “The will of the gods called you here, Slava,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. She smiled slightly. “Although I believe their pretext was for you to consult with the sorceresses.”

  “Yes…” said Slava. “I suppose I should at least try to speak with them…”

  “Unfortunately, they all left d
uring the night,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “You were not the only one who heard the will of the gods. The sorceresses were tainted by their association with Princess Severnolesnaya and the curse; they could not have remained here once you returned without endangering you and your…task. I did not even have to ask them to leave: they took off of their own free will, as soon as it became clear that you would not be returning last night. So you will have to go seeking your magical answers elsewhere. If you still have questions, that is.”

  “I think most of my questions have been answered,” said Slava. “Which is why I want copies of those scrolls.”

  “Well, in that case, very well. Sister Marfa will assist you.”

  Sister Marfa turned out to be the library-keeper. She showed up shortly afterwards and led Slava off to the library, clearly delighted with her task.

  “They say you’ve been called to render a great service to the gods, sister,” she said as they walked along.

  “So it seems,” said Slava.

  “Well, may they watch over you, sister, may they watch over you. Serving the gods is a blessing, but it’s also a curse, if you know what I mean. Sometimes they lay a heavy burden on you, and you must carry it and carry it, you can’t put it down. I hope I’m not frightening you, sister.”

  “Not at all,” said Slava. “No doubt you are correct.”

  “Do you think your service will be a burden, sister?” asked Sister Marfa, looking up at Slava with suddenly sharp eyes. Slava could see that Sister Marfa was dying to know the exact nature of her service—although she seemed by the look in her eyes to have a pretty shrewd guess—as well as trying to read Slava’s nature in the bargain, and that she was much quicker than someone might think on first glance.

  “I think it will be a gift,” said Slava. “Although some gifts can be very heavy to carry, it is true. But I am not afraid.”

  “And rightly so, sister, rightly so. There’s no use in fearing anything the gods give us, for it won’t do any good—we’ll get it just the same. Ah, here we are. The copying materials are in this desk. I kept the scrolls set aside, in case you wanted to see them again. Do you think you’ll need any help, sister?”

  “I think I will be able to manage on my own,” Slava assured her. “Do not let me keep you from your prayers.”

  “Ah, thank you, sister, you’re so thoughtful…” and Sister Marfa scurried off, apparently eager to return to the others, probably in hopes that more would be revealed about Slava’s service. Slava supposed it was no secret where she had been last night, and that even if the gods remained stubbornly silent on the subject, soon enough every sister in the sanctuary would be able to figure out on her own what Slava had been up to and exactly what service she was rendering the gods. That was, Slava had to admit to herself, mortifying, but as there was nothing she could do about it, she decided to put it out of her mind as much as possible.

  Despite her desire—both professed and actual—to copy the scrolls, she spent a little while wandering around the room restlessly, wondering where Oleg was and what he was thinking. Such a pointless subject for her thoughts, she knew, but she couldn’t help it. She wondered what the sorceresses who had left in the night thought of her, whether they resented the trouble she had unwittingly caused them…She wondered how much danger they really posed her…It rather seemed that her family had no need of outside curses when they were so efficient at bringing down harm on their own…She had slid so smoothly through the forest, bearing the evil within her even before she had come here…Slava’s sister’s face was both angry and delighted as she heard the news, and Slava couldn’t tell what her true feelings would be…She jerked back awake from where she had dozed off. Somehow she had ended up sitting at the copying table, and was in danger of falling asleep with her face in the scrolls. Her breasts itched from Oleg’s beard. She wished she could take a steam, but even if the sisters would agree to heat their bathhouse for her, she didn’t want to take the trouble of seeking them out and asking them. She pictured the looks on their faces if she said she needed to bathe…much too knowing…Intolerable, and it would probably only get worse…She sighed and decided to focus on the matter at hand. There was nothing she could do about the rest of it anyway.

  She spent much of the day copying out the scrolls, including portions that were not directly of interest, as a way of avoiding the sisters as much as possible. By evening, though, there was no escaping the supper table. Slava toyed with the idea of making use of her privileged status and asking to be served in her room, but quickly rejected it and made herself go to the common room instead. There was the lengthy period of prayer—Slava would have thought they would have long grown tired of praying, and would want to cut this prayer short, but no such luck—and then Vlastomila Serafimiyevna made a short speech about how grateful they were to have Slava as their guest, much to her embarrassment.

  All the sisters stared at her in rapt fascination as she ate, which quite put her off her appetite. By the looks on their faces, she would bet that they had already guessed everything, and their devout admiration was mixed with the much more human curiosity about all matters pertaining to love. Slava wished she weren’t so shy, especially about such matters. She supposed she would have to get over that in the coming months, as the court at Krasnograd would be even more curious, and much less reserved in asking about it, than the sisters. No doubt she would be pressed for a detailed description of Oleg, as well as the precise configuration of their bodies at the moment of conception…At which point she would have to admit she couldn’t be sure, they had tried so many…Suppressed laughter made her choke on her bread, provoking a stir of consternation at the table.

  “It’s nothing,” Slava assured them once she had recovered. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “You don’t think you are taking ill, I hope?” Vlastomila Serafimiyevna asked anxiously.

  “No, I was just laughing,” Slava told her.

  “Laughing?”

  “At the thought of my sister’s face when I tell her the news,” said Slava.

  “Ah.” Vlastomila Serafimiyevna nodded understandingly, and her mouth twitched in a smile. “It will be unexpected, I take it?”

  “Very unexpected, although she’s been urging me for years to…Well, you know.”

  “No doubt she will be pleased, then.”

  “Let us hope so,” said Slava, who was privately full of doubts. Despite all her urging of Slava to take a lover and get a child off of him, Slava wasn’t sure how pleased her sister would actually be when she discovered that Slava had followed her advice, especially when she discovered just what kind of child Slava had gotten off of just what kind of lover. Vladya’s desire for Slava to bear a child had always struck Slava as yet another aspect of her desire to make Slava her miserable slave, thereby preserving Vladya from any contemplation of her own enslavement to misery. She remembered her half-dozing dream of earlier in the day. Although she was no foreseer, Slava suspected the dream meant that there would be scenes in her future, once her sister found out what she had been up to. Well, Slava said to herself, her sister would just have to learn to be happy about it. It would be good for her.

  Unsurprisingly, Slava found herself growing extremely tired after supper, and immediately after lying down, fell into a deep dreamless sleep in which she was bathed in a golden glow.

  ***

  She awoke the next morning feeling rested and…she couldn’t find the words for it at first…happy. Yes, happy, even content, and, what was even more surprising, brave. Or rather, unafraid. She had no fear of whatever stood before her. She spent a moment imagining her return to Lesnograd, what everyone would say, the journey back to Krasnograd, what everyone would say, the birth of the baby—that was always said to be bad—what everyone would say, the growth of the child with golden eyes, what everyone would say…

  “Well, they’ll just have to stop saying it,” Slava said to herself, and got up.

  The morning prayers seemed less lengt
hy than before, and Slava really did try to pray in them, too. For a moment it even seemed as if she had been heard. Then she said goodbye to Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, who told her the sanctuary would always be open to her, whenever she found herself in the North, passed on her thanks to all the sisters, and climbed into the waiting sleigh, driven once again by Sister Alyona.

  A clear blue sky was already shining through the trees as they set off.

  “Spring will be here soon,” said Sister Alyona. “It grows light so early now.”

  “Yes,” said Slava, and that was the extent of their conversation, all the way back to the gates of the Lesnograd kremlin. Slava tried to give Sister Alyona some money for her troubles, but Sister Alyona refused.

  “For the sanctuary, then,” said Slava, thrusting the coins into Sister Alyona’s hand once again.

  “We take nothing from the world, sister,” said Sister Alyona.

  “But the world takes from you, sister,” Slava said back. “Do you not sometimes have people come to you for sanctuary?”

  “All the time, sister,” said Sister Alyona, this time with a faint smile. “We are a sanctuary, after all.”

  “Then this is for them. I am sure that many of them cannot contribute much—after all, I didn’t.”

  “True enough, sister,” said Sister Alyona, still with a faint smile on her thin lips. “At least for the moment. Thank you. May the gods watch over you.”

  “And over you, sister,” said Slava, not bothering to say that the gods seemed unable to let her out of their sight. Sister Alyona must have guessed her thoughts, though, or been thinking along the same lines, for she added, “Their reach is short in Krasnograd, sister. Take care.”

  “I will,” Slava promised, not sure whether to feel relieved or worried that the gods’ reach was apparently so short in Krasnograd. She was about to say more, to thank Sister Alyona again, when guards came out of the gatehouse and demanded to know who they were and what they were doing, loitering in front of the kremlin gates. Unfortunately for them, they said all that and only then saw Sister Alyona’s sanctuary robes, which threw them into such confusion and embarrassment that they didn’t know what to say when Slava asked to be taken directly to Olga. Slava could see that they wanted to say something impudent to her, in order to make themselves forget their own confusion and embarrassment, but were afraid to in case she turned out to be another priestess, or worse yet, a person of importance. They settled for telling her that they would have to announce her arrival to the kremlin stewardess, who would decide whether or not to pass on her name to Olga Vasilisovna, who would decide whether or not to speak with her.