The rest of us went to our bunks too, who reads, who teaches.
I tightened my knees to my chest, drearily curled up into a ball. And trying not to look at my friend.
- Chickenpox... can you tell me?
I waved my head without raising my eyes.
- I... I can't remember, Xenya. I don't remember what I dreamt. I'm sorry.
The girlfriend didn't believe me and she sighed.
- Well, if you want, you can tell me. It's just that I'm worried about you. - I sighed again, you've become... weird...
I smiled.
- You did? I can't remember when I wasn't weird!
- Well, that's right," Xenia smiled crookedly and said even quieter, "but especially now, Vetriana. You don't sleep at night, I've seen you standing by the window several times, watching... at night. And... and I'm scared. And these nightmares are yours all the time. What are you dreaming about? Why don't you ask Danina for some soothing drops? What are you... afraid of, Vetriana?
I didn't say anything.
Ksenka tilted her head to my very ear.
- Is that... the same thing? - she exhaled almost inaudible, - Vetryana... is... a call?
I feverishly breathed into a pillow that smelled of mold and damp.
- No! - It was louder than I wanted, louder than I should and I was frightened. A couple of girls raised their heads, surprised to look at us. I squeezed out a smile and stared into my friend's eyes.
- No," I said more calmly, "what are you talking about? It's just nightmares. And then it's day!
Xenia nodded slowly. Yes, it was the day. Everyone knows that the call is only heard at night.
I smiled again, mowed my eyes like when I was a kid. Ksenia always laughed at it like she was crazy. And now she's smiling. Uncertain, crooked, but still.
- Ksen, these are just nightmares," I said seriously. - Run away from Harpy's whip, it's not like that!
- Yes, you've had it today," the girlfriend cried out sympathetically. She ran well, and almost never got hit by a whip.
- Yeah... she also hit her nose, it hurt, by the way!
My girlfriend is pitiful, immediately began to groan and give advice on how to treat a broken nose. She must have had a fight more than once. And she forgot about the dangerous topic. Or she pretended to. I nodded carefully, listening to her instructions and trying not to cry. But my eyes stinged, took my breath and I, afraid that I would not hold my breath, jumped cheerfully from the bed. And shit, it hurt my legs so much.
Tears immediately spilled out of my eyes. Xenia grabbed me under her elbow, held me down and unceremoniously pulled up my skirt.
- Oh, you dead merino ass!!! - a godly novice girl scolded me. And where does she get that from? Rogneda looked judgmental, the others giggled.
- I'm going to see Danina," I sniffed my nose, "I'll ask for an ointment.
And she wandered into the corridor, so that Ksenka wouldn't get mixed up with me. Now I just need to be alone.
* * *
The hallways of the shelter were deaf and deserted. And it was dark. It's only evening outside, but here in the stone corridors with one small window - a loopholes - the real night darkness had already thickened at the end. Candles, as always, were saved and did not burn in the corridor, and I did not take with me from the room.
That's all right. The darkness didn't scare me. Scared of what? I've lived here all my life and I knew every nook in the old building.
Fifty years ago there were trade routes in this area and the local village with the picturesque name "Heather Heath" was a strong and rich settlement, with an annual fair and weekly market days. The villagers kept cattle, cultivated fields, caravans of passing trade trains were replenished with products of local craftsmen, life was boiling.
And the building of our shelter then belonged to the local lord and his beautiful wife. Chronicles have preserved memories of their hunts and balls, which were attended by high-ranking guests from the neighboring town of Zarechensk and even!
Then the trade route started to swirl, merchants of the Wasteland started to go around, I don't know why. Maybe the robbers were dashing or the merchants found a more convenient way. And the lord somehow hurriedly decided to get out of here, moved to the capital with all his retinue, servants, horses and hunting dogs.
Villagers, especially young people, also reached out from their native places to other people's lands, who for earnings, who for the bride or groom.
And the castle remained. Hard, dark stone, crowned with a conical roof and towers, with a central building and two wings, severely towering over a quiet village. And its name was equally gloomy and arrogant: "Riverstein" - towering.
As early as a decade old Riverstein was empty, the old gatekeeper, left by the Lord to look after the baroque property, died quietly and the building collapsed. The villagers did not lash out here, afraid of the uncomfortable spirits and ghouls who supposedly lived in Riverstein and were spied on at night.
And then the idea came to someone's "bright" head to organize a shelter for girls here and prepare novices from them under the patronage of the Order of the Blessed Mother Progenitor. Evil tongues claimed that this way they had exiled a disgraced servant of this Order at that time.
I read all this in the folios I loved so much that I could sit on for hours, for which I was mercilessly scolded by Ksenka. Ksenka didn't like to read, she preferred to spend her free time actively and cheerfully, for example, dragging sour apples from village gardens or, putting on a gray sheet on her head to scare the novices in the corridors.
I smiled, remembering the children's fun. All corners of our orphanage were already kissed by me and restless Ksenka along and across. So I was not afraid of dark corridors at all, and even without the lamp went quietly, habitually.
And when a lonely candle light froze in front of me, I also habitually hid in a niche behind the old drapery. I do not know what this niche was intended for in the days of a lord, and in the days of our foolishness, we regularly sat there after through zealous fun, so that it did not fly.
- ...I am still in my mind and confident in my words... - Harpy's unpleasant whisper made me wince. I gently peered into one of the rifts of the old tapestry. It is, Mrs. Karislava, and with her is our teacher of arithmetic and numbering, Mrs. Bozhena. I offered a quick prayer of thanks to the Blessed Mother for leaving the room without a lamp. The shivering lonely light of the two old check-lists would certainly have been noticed from afar, and I would not have been so fortunate to avoid meeting. And knowing harpy's love for me... brr... I didn't want to meet her in the narrow corridor.
I lurked behind a ramshackle cloth, praying that I wouldn't be noticed.
On the wall of the corridor two shadows were shaking: narrow and thin, like an arrow, the silhouette of God and stocky, pear-shaped Harpy.
- Bozhena, I know what I'm saying! Don't make me say it! This girl's marked, I knew it from the beginning! A geek, a sinful bastard, a monster! I always knew it, I smelled it, but today I'm convinced!
- Karislava, your hatred of this novice is outrageous, - mistress Bozhena smiled, - right, it's beyond all limits. In the end, soon her stay here will be over, you know.
I stopped breathing. Oh, great Mother! Are they really talking about me? If they notice me... ooh...
The teachers stopped a few steps away from me. I was afraid to look in a rift, what if Harpy could smell me with his monstrous sniff or feel my look?
Or the light of a candle will dazzle on my white hair and it will draw their attention... oh Gods... the tapestry is old and there's enough rift on it. Why didn't I tie my handkerchief???
Harpy's whispering, accustomed to screaming at her wards, has snatched me back up the ridge again.
- It's gonna end... heh-heh... whatever our time here ends! I'm telling you, a marked girl! And don't look at me like that! I... have seen...
- Karislava, what did you see? I saw you beat up a girl today too. Right, you should be more careful. The lord won'
t like it. You've read the decree. We shouldn't be so zealous... teaching obedience to the students.
- Stupid new decrees... it's the only way to knock unwanted thoughts out of their evil heads.
What kind of thoughts is that, I wonder?
- But I have seen... I have seen, Beaujolais...
- Oh, yeah? - Mrs. Beaujolais was irritated to fix her hair. I was even denser in the wall, my back was already whining from an uncomfortable posture.
Harpy's panting as if she hadn't made up her mind.
- The girl... she... flew!
Flying???
Great mother, Harpy's gone mad! That's the joy!
Mrs. Beaujolais seems to have come to the same conclusion.
- Karislava, you need to rest, - she said with feeling, - you've overworked.
Yes, I have. You can put her in a cart instead of our old mare and plough the field. And with a whip on the sides of the whip, it's a good way to go.
I liked the picture before my eyes so much that I almost giggled. But I came to my senses in time and grabbed my teeth.
- You don't understand," Harpy stepped on an evil whisper like the hissing of a waking viper, "you don't understand, I saw it! The girl was spitting in the yard like a dead snail, and then a snowy wind swirled around her and she flew! She flew right to the gate! Like on wings! You bastard!
Beaujolais made a decisive step forward.
- Karislava, it seemed to you. Today, the first snow fell, and in the snow fog, everything just imagined, understand! And if I were you, I wouldn't spread about your, uh... fantasies. That sounds pretty weird, you know.
I was moaning in my mind. It sounds weird, but I'll have to pay for Harpy's bad fantasies again!
- And then, you're just worried, I know. We're all worried... - the teacher's voice was gone, the candlelight swam down the hall and I had to strain my hearing to hear the rest.
- These strange disappearances of girls... they're all so... scary. I had to write to Starover about the raging Rot, let them keep the messengers, we don't need extra eyes... but still, we didn't get six in one moon. And from the wasteland come quite wild tales, and their children disappear... understandably, the village man is dark, but still, still... smells my heart - not good...
- Come on, the girls have disappeared before," said Harpy in a frown, "not at first... the wolves may have taken away, fool, nothing to climb over the fence... wilderness, wilderness. And Starovera doesn't care about us anyway, you should be afraid...
The voices have finally quieted down around the corner of the hall.
I gently glanced off the wall and took a breath. I don't think I was really breathing! My back was whining, my legs were hurting. I think the rags are soaked in blood, I have to change. I restlessly walked my palm on the stone floor. It was not enough to leave a blood trail, then it is easier to write here in arsenic letters: here stood and eavesdropped Vetryana Belogorskaya. Just like the farewell inscription on the tombstone will do!
But nothing, the stones are cold and dry. In the morning, just in case, I'll come and check with a candle.
Still lurking and shuddering, I moved down the corridor in the opposite direction from the departed teachers.
* * *
I got to the herbalist without incident, without meeting anyone else. I honestly tried on the way to think about what I had heard, but my head was empty and reverberating, like in the stone corridors of the shelter. So, shaking my head and hoping to chase away this ringing void, I reached Danina's quarters.
The herbalist, dry, dried as her weeds, stood in the corner of the room and squelched her nose clearly, clutching her fingers to her eyes, yellow-brown from the juice of the plants that had entered them. My footsteps made her tremble, drove hurriedly across her face with the tip of her headscarf, and looked frightened.
- Oh, Vetriana, it's you... and I got something in my eye...
And rushed around the lump, shifting clay mortar silly.
I smiled soothingly.
- Danina, I need some ointment... for my feet.
- Oh, poor bastard, are you whipped again? Lute Mrs. Karislava, lute... you lie down, baby, on the couch, lie down... like this... oh, Mother of God, what's happening? They've got you, you poor thing, there's no place alive... what's being done? A girl isn't a Volkhov's sufferer, but...
So wailing, Danina put me on the couch, unwrapped the rags that had dried up at my feet and began to gently wash my wounds.
- And she didn't heal at all. You should lie down for a week or two without getting hit by a whip...
I almost laughed funny. Lying down for a week was Danina's idea. But who's gonna let me?
Resting on a narrow couch was so good that I almost did not wrinkle when the herbalist began to smear my feet with something thick and stinky.
- That's it, girl, that's it... easy. Oh, Chickenpox, you poor lady! Here's your girlfriend, Xenia, how nice! And as strong as a horse, and as frisky as a goat! Why are you so lucrative? Mountain dandelion, dun-split, look at the breakage... Although you're all here... mountain-splitters, orphans... oh, little one!
Under her cozy mumble, I glued my nose. Once again I had an unbearable sleep pull, and I forced myself to shake up, sat down, correcting my skirt. The old couch really squeaked.
I used to love being in Danina's closet. The small room was much cozier than our bedrooms. It always smelled of roots and herbs, the bundles of which were fun on wooden beams under the ceiling. There were clay and stone mortars, grinding wheels, skeins of clean rags and vials with infusions on the roughly cut table. In the corner of the carved, good-quality cabinet, on curves of frightening legs and a large padlock.
As a child, Danina's closet seemed to us a magical, enchanted place, and the herbalist herself a charmer. There were even those who claimed that she was not much, not much - a fairy, and under a brown moulting cover hides real mica wings. And her closet was for us a repository of incredible mysteries and wonders. We used to think that if we had had a chance to look into it, we would have found there a door to the fairytale Boarnia, or a chest with jewels, or at the worst unicorn horn, which everyone knows, once and for all makes happy.
In the night, knocked down in a bunch and covered with blankets, we whispered, so that we would not hear Harpius, speculate one miraculous and ridiculous about the contents of the magic cabinet. Xenia traditionally insisted on the treasure, and with rapture dreamed of what will spend countless wealth when you manage to take them. True, mostly she was able to buy a lot of rolls, sweet pies with maple syrup and candied berries. What a new pair of shoes. And a down blanket. No, you can't take the blanket away, though. So beyond gastronomic delights, the fantasy of a practical friend did not spread.
I dreamt of a secret door, behind which begins the fairytale land of Varnia, where magical creatures live - unicorns and dragons, where it's always summer and there's a small house in which I'm expected ...
The mysterious closet occupied our thoughts until the day when we once again with our broken knees chained to the equalizer and did not catch it in place.
But we caught the closet and, oh miracle! - A big rusty lock was hanging on it, only clinging to one of the half rings with its hook.
The closet was open!
With reverence, which Aristarchus could not drive into us in relation to the holy elders of the Order, and curiosity, which cats never dreamed of, we pulled the door on ourselves, squatting in terror at the natural squeak and ...
...and nothing. Nothing in that closet was interesting, of course. There were slightly dusty shelves filled with empty and full of vials, skeins of twine, a willow basket with cones, acorns and branches, rags, old garlic dresses in which Danina walked in winter, as well as honeycomb bottles of sour country wine, carefully closed with a rag.
For another year Ksenia and I experienced severe disappointment and even felt cheated, as if Danina had spelled the cupboard on purpose and left it open!
I smiled when I remembered all this. A tired middle
-aged woman, a herbalist, skillfully swept away the dirty rags and threw them into a boiling bucket. Only stupid orphanage girls could think of her as a fairy.
- Danina, I also wanted to ask you for a tincture... for cheer. You know, senior year, they ask a lot of questions, and I get sleepy. For the weather, I guess. Maybe you got something? Something to keep me awake... unwilling?
- Chickenpox, baby, where can't you sleep?
Danina, like a pile of wings, splashed her hands.
- And so there are only eyes left, what does the soul hold on to?
I shrugged my shoulders looking at the equalizer.
- Well, I will," she twisted, "wow, these novices, teaching and learning... and teaching what? I don't understand.
She cleverly laid out the weeds on the table, and began to mix them in a mortar, continuing to grumble.
- Teach and teach, how much can you teach? Just like my Danilka, he's all over the books, he decided to go to the witch doctors. It would be better to go to the tanner as an apprentice, there will always be a copper in his hands! No, you can't, you can't, you're a witch doctor! And he doesn't sleep at night, he sits above his healers! I'll make a tincture, as for him, cheer up!
Mentioning the son of Danilka, as if highlighted from the inside brown, dry face of the herbalist and it got younger, smoothed out. And in the grumbling of her scolding still took pride in the boy, so he decided and will do!
I remembered Danila, a whirled, white-haired Danila, who didn't look like a swarthy mother at all. He was the same age as us, and he used to spin around in Riverstein sometimes, helping his mother carry heavy willow baskets with herbs and bumps, or pulling branches in stone mortars. He was shy of us girls, hiding behind wide grass skirts and sparkling with curious blue eyes from there.
True, about eight years ago, when the boy was ten, our mistress considered Danilka too old to be in a women's shelter, saying that this can affect our morals and the boy stopped coming to us.
- And what's wrong with sorcerers?
The Wind of the North Page 2