“What are you thinking, Father?”
“That we have much to ask Folkwin when he arrives.”
“Do clawmen serve the Moon Lady?” asked Ivan.
Dimitri shrugged.
“Who do they serve?” Ivan asked.
Dimitri said, “The Axe People said they were creatures of the Old Ones. I asked Folkwin about that. The Old Ones, he said, were once servants of Old Father Night. More I do not know.”
“Do you think the Imp was a clawman?” Feodor asked his Father.
“No.”
“Why not?” Ivan asked.
“She played pipes, you said. No clawman I know of could do that.”
Ivan scratched that idea. Then he reconsidered. Dimitri wasn’t an authority on clawmen, just the only Belgorod Folk to have seen any.
“I’d better go,” Ivan said. “Hosar guide you.”
“And you,” Dimitri said, a devout believer.
-21-
Lord Mikulas’s messenger arrived a day later. He made it clear that Lord Mikulas wished Sir Karlo to have every courtesy extended him. The king’s messenger had told Mikulas that his majesty had taken a liking to the bold relic hunter.
Two days after Sir Karlo’s departure, a pigeon flew into the holding coop. Folkwin the Monk expected to arrive in three weeks time. A hard snowfall had barred the passes, delaying him. It seemed the news worried Magda, for she kept muttering, “Too late. It will be too late by then.”
Three days after Sir Karlo’s departure, Nadia joined Ivan by the mill. Hounds frolicked around her. She petted some, then told them to shoo. She seemed sad and wistful, although her face didn’t look puffy any more.
“I’ve been meaning to thank you,” she said.
Ivan waited, not trusting himself to speak.
“It took courage to do what you did the other night. It also helped me.”
“I’m glad,” he said.
“It helped me stall. I need time to think, to weigh things over. Just having one other person than Mary on my side helps.”
“You really love Sir Karlo?”
“I must,” she said. “I almost ran away with him.” Nadia smiled sadly. “It has been hard these last three years. Sometimes I wonder if I should have returned at all. The sisters advised against it.”
“Why?” asked Ivan.
Nadia took her time answering. “It’s hard being in the Sisterhood. It costs.”
“I thought Lady Belgorod paid most of the costs.”
Nadia laughed. “Not that kind of costs, silly. Life-costs.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t. You have everything you want.”
That surprised Ivan. He didn’t know how to reply. They watched the hounds romp. He had so many questions, but he didn’t know how to start. He was tired of playing this false game.
Nadia said after a while, “Sometimes I wonder about Sisterhood Magic, how it really works.”
“I thought that’s what they taught you at the Chapter-House.”
“It is. But there is much to magic that is a mystery to the Sisterhood.”
Ivan thought about Dimitri, Feodor and their trip into the Old Forest to help the Axe People. The woodcutters had wanted that kept secret. Most likely, the Sisterhood and Nadia had their own secrets.
“Are you forbidden to talk about it?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Oh?”
Nadia seemed troubled. “It isn’t what you think.”
“What do you mean?” He was puzzled.
Nadia pressed her lips together. “I don’t know if I like being so different, having the talent.”
“It’s a good thing,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Of course.”
“Do you know the story of Moiré?”
“I know that’s what the Sisterhood is named,” Ivan said, “the Sisterhood of Moiré. I know that Moiré was the first healer and that the Sisterhood is supposed to follow in her footsteps.”
“All that is true,” Nadia said. “But did you know that Moiré could never have children?”
“Why not?”
“They say her power, her talent, burned her out and used her up. Although she created mighty spells, she never created life. She sacrificed much to wield her power.” Nadia’s smooth forehead puckered as she studied the sky. “I’m not sure I’m willing to make such hard sacrifices. I think…I wonder if I wouldn’t be better off running away with Sir Karlo. He’d never question me about my decision. He’d accept me for me.”
Ivan nodded, finally understanding why Nadia had fallen so quickly for Sir Karlo.
She touched his cheek. “Even-tempered Ivan. You always were a good listener. Nothing daunts you.”
“Is that how you see me?” he asked in surprise.
“It’s true.”
He shook his head. “Lots of things daunt me.”
“Like what?”
He thought about it. “Like storm wolves,” he said.
“Storm wolves?” she asked with a nervous laugh. “Whatever made you say that?”
“Mary talked to me.”
“Ah. Mary. Yes, she does fear storm wolves. I never should have said anything about them.”
“How did you come to hear about storm wolves?”
“…sometimes a few Magyars come to trade in Pavia.” Maybe she saw his frown. “The Magyars are the newest horse-barbarians to trickle into the grasslands.”
“Into the land of the Avars?” asked Ivan.
“Exactly,” Nadia said. “The Magyars are expert archers, and the ones I spoke with are wonderful storytellers. In the ancient times, they used to ride against the lords of Darkness. The Magyars remember those times better than most. I heard one of their storytellers say that in the far south the Magyars war against wolf-riders. He said a tribe of clawmen has tamed a large breed of wolf—storm wolves.”
“So what are storm wolves?”
Nadia lowered her voice. “They say the Dark Ones slumber, the gods of evil, but that some of their servants still walk aboard. Those servants are Old Ones. Many of those are accomplished spell-casters. More about them, I don’t know. Storm wolves and clawmen, though…” Nadia gripped Ivan’s arm. “Evil changes people. It twists them if they serve it long enough.”
“Like a were-wolf?” Ivan asked.
“Were-wolf, clawman, storm wolf…they were all normal once and became twisted by evil.”
Ivan frowned.
“If storm wolves exist,” Nadia said, “then some of the Old Ones are near to have worked the transforming magic.”
“And that means?”
“That the Sisterhood of Moiré must rise up to fight,” she said, studying Ivan. “I’m not certain I’ve the strength for that. I’m not certain I can pay the price that standing takes.” She fidgeted. “I’ve learned one critical law or rule in the Chapter-House. Nothing is free. The power to defeat Darkness is costly.”
“Your choice to leave with Karlo is even harder than I thought,” he said.
“Either that, or I’m fleeing my responsibilities. That’s why what you said the other night hit me so deeply. I need time to think.”
Shortly, one of the housemaids came and told Nadia that Magda wished to see her. She and Ivan agreed to finish the conversation another time.
-22-
The days passed. Yury grew stronger as color returned to his cheeks. He began to practice his swordsmanship with Petor. A week after Karlo had left, Yury saddled up his old red horse. Ivan and he trekked to the woods to search for fist-sized pinecones. When they returned, and after Yury had rested, Ivan hacked into the frozen ground and set up a number of poles. Atop the poles, he secured pinecones. As long as the supply of cones lasted, Yury galloped by and slashed them with the sword his father had given him.
As sweat began to freeze on his face, Yury cantered to Ivan. “What did you think of that?”
“You swung well,” Ivan said, “with assurance.”
/> Yury shivered, but grinned. He patted the sword pommel. “The sword has a fine balance.”
“Where did your father get it?”
“He had it locked away. He finally decided that a real squire should have a real sword. ‘How else’ he said, ‘are you going to learn a knight’s trade unless you have knightly weapons?’ Of course, chopping down pinecones is another matter entirely from chopping down foemen who swing back.”
“We’d better go inside. You’re looking chilly. I’ll take care of the horse.”
“A squire’s duty—”
“Is to make sure that he’s well enough to serve his knight,” Ivan cut in. “So don’t argue, you old hardhead. Go on.”
Yury stiffened and then relented. “Yes. I am tired.” He slid out of the saddle and handed the reins to Ivan. “I’ll see you inside.”
After Ivan returned the horse to the barn, he tromped into the house and found Yury in front of the fireplace, sipping broth. Several of the housemaids sat in rocking chairs, mending clothes. Lady Belgorod needled a new scarf for her husband. Nadia grinned at them as she worked a butter-churn.
“Now this is what I missed most about the holding,” she said.
Magda stepped in and glanced at Yury. “Are you feeling well?”
“Yes Magda,” Yury dutifully said. When Magda walked out, he leaned over to Ivan and whispered, “I’m getting tired of people treating me like I’m a weakling. I’m a real squire now. Don’t they know that?”
“Sure they do. But you took a nasty bite and scared all of us.”
Yury chewed his lip. “Come on!” he whispered. “Let’s go to my room.”
Ivan followed him upstairs into a small bedroom. It contained a down bed, a portrait of his father in full chain-mail, a few clay figurines of knights and a dozen shoes scattered throughout the room.
Kicking a shoe, Ivan said, “What a mess.”
Yury doffed his tunic and unwound the white bandage at his side.
“What are you doing?”
“Look at this.” Yury dropped the bandage onto the floor and pointed at the purple puckered scars. Ivan inspected the ugly wound. The wolf’s bite had torn away a goodly amount of flesh, but there weren’t any scabs. That surprised Ivan, because he recalled how the blood had flown when Yury had been brought back to the holding. There should still be scabs.
“It’s healed rapidly,” Ivan said.
“Exactly.”
Puzzled, Ivan asked, “What do you mean exactly?”
“I think Magda’s suspicious about it.”
“In what way?” asked Ivan.
“She’s mumbled that the wound shouldn’t have healed so quickly. Then in the next breath she wonders why I’ve been so pale of late.”
“What’s your point?”
Yury put his tunic back on, but didn’t bother to re-wrap the bandage. “Maybe I’ve received a gift of rapid healing.”
Ivan laughed weakly. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“I have.”
“When?”
Yury glanced about as if somebody where trying to listen in. He lowered his voice. “Sir Karlo told me about it.”
“Sir Karlo?” Ivan asked in alarm.
Yury stiffened. “What’s wrong with that?”
Ivan shrugged. “I don’t know. “You surprised me.”
“Really? Sir Karlo said that some warriors have an inborn talent to heal faster than others do. He also said that there are magic potions that can quickly restore a man to health. In fact, he gave me just such a potion.”
“What?”
“Shhh, not so loud.” Yury glanced around. “I’ve been drinking from it. That’s why I’ve healed so quickly.”
“You should tell Magda.”
Yury shook his head.
“What did Karlo put in the potion?”
Yury laughed. “It’s a magic healing draught.”
“I don’t know.”
Yury stepped closer. “I want you to promise not to tell anyone else about this.”
“I can’t promise that.”
Yury threw up his hands and began to pace. “I don’t believe this! I thought I could trust you, Ivan. I thought of all the people here, you’d be the one who would understand. Now you aren’t even willing to keep a small secret.”
“It isn’t that, Yury.”
“What else is it?”
Ivan hesitated. “I’m concerned about what’s in the potion.”
“You saw how the wound has healed.”
“Yes…”
“So why are you so worried?”
“Because my hounds didn’t like Karlo,” Ivan said softly.
Yury stared at him in disbelief. “That’s a foolish reason.”
Ivan turned away, uncertain if he should say more.
Yury grabbed his arm. “Ivan! You must promise not to tell. I trusted you.”
There wasn’t any question now, Ivan knew. Karlo was a sorcerer or had access to one. Magda already knew that, though. So what difference would it make telling her or not? She must know that Yury couldn’t have healed so quickly without supernatural aid.
All of a sudden, Ivan had the terrible feeling of being a pawn, a piece in a game of strategy between hidden factions. Magda and Folkwin represented one side, Karlo the other. Each was probably a captain for higher powers. Yury could throw a chess piece into a dangerous position, even allow it to be taken. He did so in the interest of the greater good of winning the game. Ivan wondered if Yury and he were pieces that had been thrust into enemy territory.
“Promise, Ivan,” Yury said.
For all her kindness, Magda ran Belgorod through Lady Belgorod and therefore through Master Volok and Petor. She’d seemed harried as of late. Maybe making the decisions she’d had had drained her.
“Say something, Ivan.”
Ivan knew no higher game. He had his friends, and one stuck by his friends. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “I promise not to tell anyone on one condition.”
“Name it.”
“You must pour out the rest now.”
Yury stepped back in disbelief. “Pour it out?”
Ivan had guessed right, Yury had more. “Yes,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll go to Magda and your mother.”
Yury sighed and said half to himself, “Sir Karlo warned me that nobody else would understand. I should have heeded his warning.”
“Maybe you’re right, but that’s my price for silence.”
Yury squinted at his hands and then slyly glanced at Ivan. “Agreed.”
“Now,” Ivan said.
“Now?”
Ivan nodded.
Blowing out his cheeks, Yury said, “Oh, very well.” He reached under his bed and withdrew a leather jug. Slowly, he went to his window and threw open the shutters. Unstopping the cork, Yury looked back at Ivan.
Ivan stepped near, knowing that something important happened.
Yury drew back his arm. “I can’t do it,” he whispered. “I don’t know why I told you anyway. Sir Karlo said this had to remain a secret. I vowed not to tell anyone.” Yury looked up in agony.
Without thinking about it, Ivan snatched the jug out of Yury’s hands and upended it. A stream of purple liquid poured toward the snow below. Yury made a strangled gasp and lunged for the jug. Ivan interposed his body between Yury and it. Soon the purple liquid was gone. Silently, Ivan handed back the jug and closed the shutters.
“You did the right thing,” Ivan said.
Yury stared at the empty jug.
Ivan put his hand on Yury’s shoulder. “I need to finish my chores. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Glumly, Yury nodded, but he said nothing more.
-23-
Two weeks after Sir Karlo departed, a sleigh-full of worried mothers came to the holding. They asked Master Volok when he was going to the Old Forest to check up on their sons. Master Volok assured them that a party would be gathered in a day. That night at dinner, after talking with Lady Belgorod, Master Volok
brought up the subject.
“What do you think, Petor,” Volok asked his oldest son. “Which of us should go?”
Ivan worked on a chicken leg as he listened to the conversation.
“Petor should go,” Yury said from his spot at the table.
Volok raised his eyebrows. “Why Petor?” he asked.
“So I can go,” Yury answered bluntly.
Volok looked skeptical.
“I’m much better and I’m tired of doing nothing. You’ve barely returned from visiting Andrei. You deserve a rest while Petor and I do this needed chore.”
“My back is sore,” Volok said. “And I’m weary of the winter cold.”
“There you are,” Yury said.
Petor stared sourly at his plate.
“What’s wrong?” Volok asked. “Don’t you want to go?”
“I’ll go if you will it,” Petor said.
“Hmm,” Volok said.
Ivan noticed Magda studying Yury. She cleared her throat.
“Yes, Healer?” Master Volok said.
“Are you certain that Yury should travel so soon after his injury?”
“I’m better,” Yury said stubbornly.
“Squire,” Volok said, “do not interrupt the healer.”
Yury hung his head.
Volok asked, “Has the wound healed?”
“As far as I can tell,” Magda said.
“Then what is your objection?”
Magda straightened her folk before she said, “I begin to wonder if the air within the Old Forest would be good for his recovery.”
“The air?” Volok asked in bewilderment.
Magda glanced at Nadia and the escort. “Yury took his hurt in the woods.”
“But not in the Old Forest,” Yury said.
Volok scowled at his youngest son.
“You still took a terrible hurt in a forest,” Magda said. “Your wound was tainted in some manner that I either don’t understand or cannot fathom. To trek into the Old Forest…I feel it would be an ill thing for you.” She smiled in an obvious attempt to take the sting out of her words. “Maybe you can journey to the Old Forest later.”
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