The Midnight Land: Part Two: The Gift (The Zemnian Trilogy Book 2) Page 18

  “Only if you think you would be of use there, Andrey Vladislavovich,” she said. “If Olga Vasilisovna and Vasilisa Vasilisovna consented, you could represent Lesnograd’s interests there, especially since Lesnograd is currently experiencing so many…complications.”

  “Of use! What use is anyone in Krasnograd?”

  Although Slava was privately in agreement with him, she was now too annoyed to let him see this, so she asked, “Or perhaps you would prefer to go to a sanctuary?” instead.

  “A sanctuary!” he cried in horror.

  “They are not so bad,” she told him with a smile. “I was just at one myself.”

  “A sanctuary!” he repeated. “I might as well be buried alive!”

  “Well, what do you want, Andrey Vladislavovich?” she asked. “What do you think is your best way out of this situation?”

  “It’s not my fault!” he said, instead of answering, and Slava could see that he didn’t know, because he didn’t want to think about it, because he didn’t want to be in the situation he was in, and was therefore not going to try to find a way out of it. And some, even a lot, of it was not, as he said, his fault, and Slava did feel very sorry for him when she thought about that, especially the part about him being starving, and how the food had been snatched out his hands before he had had a chance to do more than sample it, but unfortunately that changed nothing.

  “That is true,” she said. “And I’m sorry you were married off so unfortunately, while you were too young to know any better, and I’m sorry that your wife left you for another man, and I’m sorry you found love with someone who wasn’t able to love you back, and I’m sorry that you’ve been led into this sad state, but I can’t change any of that. You can, though. You can change that by doing something about it. Think on it,” she said, rising from the table. “Because like as not, you will have to do something, and sooner rather than later. I will attempt to find out the truth of this story about the village being burnt to the ground, but still, you will have to do something. So think on it hard.”

  He bowed in a way that suggested that everything she had said was too terrifying for him to even contemplate, and therefore he was going to pretend that he had heard nothing of it, and showed her to the door, which the guards opened at her call. She left, still feeling terribly sorry for him, and terribly annoyed.

  She returned to Olga’s chamber and knocked softly, in case Olga had gone to bed, but Olga was still up and still pacing around the room unhappily, while Dima tried to comfort her and calm her down. Ruling, Slava reflected, did not sit well on Olga’s shoulders. Princess Severnolesnaya had been very unfortunate in her daughters in that respect, for neither of them had been born to sit a throne. But there was nothing Slava could do about that.

  She told Olga and Dima about Andrey’s denial that he had burnt down the village, although she left out the part about him being starving, on the assumption that Olga didn’t need to know that and would only react unkindly if she did.

  “He’s lying!” insisted Olga. “He always was a liar, and he’s lying again! He wouldn’t know the truth if it hit him between the eyes.”

  “I think he believes to be telling the truth, at least,” Slava said.

  “How would you know?” demanded Olga. “He could have worked on your sympathies…that’s easy enough to do…”

  “Yes,” said Slava. “It is very easy to enlist my sympathies. But it is rather more difficult to cloud my vision. And Andrey sincerely believes that he did not have that village burnt down. He insists that he gave up and rode back as soon as he discovered the girl to have left.”

  “That does seem more in his character…” agreed Olga. “Giving up like that…I’m astonished he managed to make it that far, to be honest. I never suspected him of being capable of doing something so bold.”

  “Desperation will make anyone bold,” said Slava.

  “Desperation! What does he know about desperation!”

  “Quite a lot, apparently,” said Slava. She tried not to look in Dima’s direction, but found herself glancing his way despite herself, and promptly wished she hadn’t, since he was hunched up with guilt and misery. She felt almost as sorry for him as she did for Andrey Vladislavovich, but once again, there was nothing she could do about that. Nothing, except try to find a solution to their problems. She quickly turned back to Olga, and changed the subject. “But that is not the point. The point is that there is more to this story than meets the eye. We should try to find out what is behind all this.”

  “We know what’s behind all this! My stupid husband’s stupid foolishness!”

  “There is more,” Slava repeated tiredly. “I’m sure of it.” But she could see that Olga had no desire to hear anything that didn’t confirm Andrey’s guilt in her eyes, and arguing with her about it right now would be pointless.

  “It has been a long day, and morning is wiser than evening,” she said instead. “I think I’ll go to bed now. We can return to this with fresh heads tomorrow.”

  “A wise thought, Tsarinovna,” said Dima, straightening up and looking more hopeful.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” said Olga, still pacing distractedly. “Oh, and what did you learn at the sanctuary? What did you do there?”

  “Many things,” said Slava. “Too many to tell right now.”

  “Some other time, then. But it was a fruitful journey?”

  “Very,” said Slava. She was unable to stop herself from smiling as she answered, but Olga was so preoccupied with her own cares that she didn’t notice. Slava left them to go sink into her bed, which rose up around her and refused to let her go until dawn.

  Chapter Nine

  In fact, she awoke only because one of the nervous serving women whose unenviable duty it was to wake her, woke her up with the news that she was needed.

  “What is it? Is Olga Vasilisovna calling for me?” she asked, wishing her head were clearer. She would have thought that the return to civilization would have caused her to be more rested than camping out in the tundra, but instead it seemed to be an excuse for everyone to stay up late and sleep at odd hours, with the result that Slava found herself staggering out of bed at mid-morning.

  “Not Olga Vasilisovna, noblewoman…” said the serving woman hesitantly.

  “Then who?” asked Slava. But it came out much too sharply, driving the serving woman into such a state that it took some time for her to work up the courage to tell Slava that it was Vladislava who wanted to see her.

  “Well, take me to her, then,” said Slava, who was dressed by this time. The serving woman cringed back at Slava’s tone. Slava suppressed a sigh and forced herself to smile kindly and say a few soothing words, for which she was amply rewarded. The serving woman cheered up immensely and told Slava all kinds of things as she led her to Vladislava’s chambers. Most of the gossip was of little interest, but she also let slip that Sonya’s second-sister had arrived before first light that morning. At first Slava paid no attention to that particular piece of news, but then she remembered that Sonya’s second-sister was a sorceress, and that she and Vladislava had gone to Sonya to find her. So that must be why Vladislava wanted to see her.

  And in fact, as soon as Vladislava had finished throwing her arms around Slava and squealing with joy over her return, she cried out, “Guess what! Sonya’s second-sister has come! She arrived before first light this morning! Let’s go see her!”

  “Let’s,” said Slava. “Is she in the kitchens?”

  “Probably. Sonya will be, anyway, and she’ll know where to find her.”

  “Good. Maybe we can have some breakfast as well.”

  “Have you not eaten yet? Why haven’t you eaten yet? Here, take this,” and Vladislava thrust a roll left over from her own breakfast into Slava’s hand, before rushing off without bothering to see if Slava was following her.

  Slava jogged briskly down the corridors after her, attempting to eat the roll at the same time, but with only moderate success. Every now and then Vladislava
would glance over her shoulder to tell Slava something and to cry, “Let’s go! Let’s go!” before dashing off even more quickly than before. She was, Slava could see, desperately keen to see Sonya’s second-sister.

  The kitchen was full of what seemed to Slava to be chaos, as all the cooks and servants were cleaning up after breakfast and starting on dinner, and it took them a while to find Sonya, who was mixing dough with an air of steely determination and muttering something under her breath about people who ordered pies as if they just appeared out of the clear blue sky. On catching sight of Slava and Vladislava, she nodded in the direction of a corner, before returning to her dough and her muttering.

  In the corner sat a short, round woman with a strong resemblance to Sonya, except that Slava couldn’t see her muttering to herself about people who ordered pies as if they just appeared out of the clear blue sky. She seemed more like someone who would make pies appear out of the clear blue sky, probably raining them down on the other person’s head. She was sitting and watching the commotion with a look of amused indifference, and drinking tea with an expression that showed she knew the tea had caused someone trouble to prepare, and she didn’t care.

  “You’re Sonya’s second-sister!” said Vladislava.

  “Anastasiya,” said Sonya’s second-sister, bowing without rising from her seat.

  “I’m Vladislava, and this is Slava. She’s a Tsarinovna,” said Vladislava.

  “Yes, Sonya told me about you,” said Anastasiya, this time getting up to bow, although without too much concern about appearing respectful. “She said you were looking for sorceresses. It seems like everyone is looking for sorceresses these days. Every herbwoman, every priestess, every hunter and tracker, and now my very own second-sister—they’re all looking for sorceresses, and all for the little princess here and, they say, the Tsarinovna herself. Well, one of them. The one who counts. So tell me, little princess—oh, and Tsarinovna—” she raised her eyebrows at Slava—“why are you looking for sorceresses?”

  “Why does everyone call me ‘little princess’?” complained Vladislava. “I wish they wouldn’t! At least not strangers.”

  “Because you are little and a princess?” suggested Anastasiya, smiling a smile that was almost kindly and amusing but also, Slava couldn’t help but note, a trifle mocking and arrogant.

  “Do they call you ‘little sorceress’?” asked Vladislava, giving Anastasiya a look that showed the arrogance had not passed her by unnoticed. “Because you’re little and a sorceress, you know.”

  “No, they don’t,” said Anastasiya calmly. “They call me Anastasiya, because that is my name.”

  “Well, in that case, call me Vladislava! That’s my name, you know!”

  “Not Vladislava Vasilisovna?” asked Anastasiya, still with that annoying smile on her face.

  “Only if you want to,” said Vladislava, annoyed.

  “I like to see a girl with spirit,” said Anastasiya. “They’re so rare. Most of the girls who come to me are nothing but sheep.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they are, but I’m not a sheep,” said Vladislava, still annoyed. “So don’t treat me like one! We have questions for you, and we want answers!”

  “And you don’t think you need to be more polite to me?” asked Anastasiya, raising her eyebrows again.

  “Would it help?” demanded Vladislava.

  “Flattery and smooth talking often do.”

  “I don’t want answers from someone who needs flattery and smooth talking! They’d just give me flattery and smooth talking in return!”

  “True enough—Vladislava. Don’t you agree—Tsarinovna?” Anastasiya nodded in Slava’s direction.

  Slava did her best to smile at Anastasiya enigmatically, which seemed to work, for a little of Anastasiya’s arrogance slipped off her face. Slava waited for a moment, and then said, “Perhaps we should go somewhere more…quiet?”

  “More private, you mean?” said Anastasiya, some of the arrogance returning to her face.

  “If you wish.” Slava was about to ask if that would inconvenience Anastasiya, and apologize for even suggesting something that might inconvenience her, but stopped herself. Anastasiya looked like the kind of person who would take that to be weakness. Anastasiya, Slava reflected, looked like someone who would be trouble to deal with.

  “I haven’t finished my tea yet,” said Anastasiya.

  Slava smiled to herself.

  “You find that amusing?” demanded Anastasiya.

  “I find it amusing that half the people in Lesnograd are so afraid of me they can hardly speak in my presence, and half the people forget who I am,” said Slava.

  “And that isn’t to your taste, is it—Tsarinovna?” demanded Anastasiya.

  “Just amusing,” said Slava. “I’m sure we can have tea for all of us sent up to my chambers. Shall we go?”

  And, somewhat to her surprise, Vladislava and Anastasiya both followed her meekly out of the kitchen and back to her rooms.

  Anastasiya was querulous and uncooperative until the tea arrived, accompanied by rolls. Then she was still querulous and uncooperative, but her mouth was occupied with other things. She must, Slava thought, be a trial to the other sorceresses.

  “You’re smiling again—Tsarinovna,” said Anastasiya, with the voice of someone who is very certain and very satisfied with her own cleverness.

  “I was just wondering why you came,” said Slava. “Why you came back, that is. To Lesnograd. Since they say that all the sorceresses have placed a curse on the old princess.”

  “I don’t do what I’m told,” said Anastasiya.

  “Yes,” said Slava. “But…”

  “But what? You want to say that you told me to come back?”

  “Well, we did ask,” said Slava. “Although ‘tell’ might be too strong a word.”

  “I couldn’t stand it there anymore,” said Anastasiya. “Too boring, too many sheep.”

  “Really?” said Slava, looking interested. This was all it took for Anastasiya to pour out a lengthy complaint about the Sisters of the Wolf, in whose sanctuary some of the Lesnograd sorceresses had taken refuge upon fleeing the city. Anastasiya then followed it up with a lengthy speech on their mistreatment by the old princess, and how delighted they all were at the misfortune that had befallen her, which allowed Slava to look even more interested, in a harmless sort of way—while thanking the gods that Vladislava had the sense to be quiet during this outpouring—which prompted Anastasiya to spill out everything about her involvement in the old princess’s scheme. Anastasiya was, Slava quickly realized, almost as clever as she thought she was, and a great deal more lonely than she would like to admit, and like most such clever and lonely people that Slava knew, found the force of Slava’s sympathy to be irresistible, and told her all kinds of things that she probably never would have breathed to another soul.

  “The old princess has been scheming for years, but this past year it’s gone to her head, she started demanding more and more from us, as if we were her servants, as if magic were her servant, she had all sorts of plans and schemes, some of them that any other woman would have been ashamed of if she’d thought about it for half a breath,” said Anastasiya hotly. “She’s been hiring every sorceress she can get her hands on, and then driving them away with her demands and her schemes, as if we wouldn’t talk about it! As if we didn’t know she was up to something! But every time someone displeased her, she’d send them away, and hire someone else, and…I’m surprised the Tsarina hasn’t come for her already! Gossip must have spread all over Zem’ by now, with all the sorceresses she’s taken in and sent away in the past year!”

  “Really?” said Slava, leaning forward just enough to show Anastasiya her interest without frightening her. So this must have been how Princess Primorskaya and Princess Malogornaya had gotten their suspicions…

  “Yes, and you know what she did? You know what her first trial was? She wanted to try cursing people, and you know whom she cursed first?”

&nbs
p; Slava merely widened her eyes and smiled, which was all Anastasiya needed.

  “Her own son-in-law! Andrey Vladislavovich! He used to be her pet, but of late she’d turned against him, he started getting too hard to manage, he was taking more and more over the running of Lesnograd as she spent more and more time on the magic, which was making her mad, she didn’t want him running things even though she wasn’t doing it herself, and so she decided to see if cursing would work by trying it out on him!”

  “Oh!” said Slava. “How terrible!”

  “Yes! I didn’t cast the curse—I refused to have anything to do with anything of that nature, but I heard from the one who did that he was supposed to suffer from his greatest desire. The old princess wasn’t sure if it would work—she said she didn’t think he had any desires, he was too much of a weak character for that—but they talked her into it, they told her that everyone has desires, even if they aren’t very strong, and she agreed, and apparently it worked, although I didn’t see any sign of it, but they say he ran off last spring, and now they say he’s locked up, he’s in terrible disgrace, so it must have worked.”

  “Yes, it must have,” Slava agreed. “I wonder how it worked? I mean, did it work directly on him, or did it work on others?”

  “Curses work the easiest way, like water running downhill,” said Anastasiya. “And they take the form their victims give them. They get their power from the evil already within their targets. They love fear and jealousy and envy and vanity—especially vanity. It could have worked directly on him and on everyone around him, too, at the same time. I don’t know. What happened to him?”