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

by E. P. Clark

  “Call Vladislava Vasilisovna to the Great Hall,” Slava ordered one of the soldiers who was standing with Innokenty. He bowed, also looking shocked, and hurried off.

  “Innokenty,” said Slava, rising and going over to him. “You did it, did you not? You set the fire that killed your wife and her lover, and it spread to the rest of the village.”

  “No!” cried Innokenty, but his voice was not the voice of someone telling the truth, but of someone desperately trying to conceal it, from himself as much as from his judges.

  “Yes,” said Slava, lowering her voice. “Your wife was always unkind, was she not?” A vision of Innokenty’s wife rose up in Slava’s mind, and she found herself describing it. “She was always loud and bullying, was she not? And when you dared to stand up for yourself, she beat you down twice as hard, did she not? Told you you weren’t fit to be a man, especially her man, did she not?”

  “Yes!” cried Innokenty, staring at her. “How did you know?”

  “I have seen it,” said Slava, somewhat honestly. She supposed her vision, which was little more than a guess, was sort of like seeing. Vague memories of Mirik’s words about those who had been killed in the fire came back to her, and she used them to build on her guesses. “She made your life one long torment, did she not, until you were finally forced to seek comfort with another, and when she discovered it, she decided to toss you aside for someone else…Some other young victim…”

  “Yes!” cried Innokenty.

  Out of the corner of her eye Slava saw Vladislava slip into the room, her face both puzzled and eager.

  “And when the woman to whom you had entrusted yourself, with whom you had sought comfort, found out that you were being set aside, she turned away from you, abandoning you to a fate she had helped create.”

  “Yes!” cried Innokenty.

  “And so you were left with no choice,” said Slava. “No choice but to strike back, to protect yourself…”

  “Yes!” cried Innokenty, now looking at Slava with an expression of dawning hope that she couldn’t bear to think about.

  “The rest was an accident,” she said, trying to think only about what she should say, not what it would mean for Innokenty. “You seized the opportunity caused by the nobleman’s arrival, and you decided to strike back, to protect yourself, only it got out of hand…”

  “The guards!” Innokenty cried. “The nobleman left behind some guards, in case our Milochka—that heartless bitch!—came back! When they saw the fire, instead of putting it out, they ran to loot our homes! And everyone ran to fight them, to protect their own homes from looters, and no one would protect her neighbor from fire, and soon the whole village was caught! And when they saw what had happened, the guards took off without doing anything to help. It was all their fault…And Milochka’s…If she hadn’t lured that nobleman to our village, none of this would have happened…But that’s women, those wolves—never satisfied unless the whole pack is snarling over them, ripping each other apart for the pleasure of serving her…” Innokenty trailed off in tears.

  “Vasilisa Vasilisovna,” said Slava sharply. “Do you not have road crews in Severnolesnoye?”

  “Yes,” said Vasilisa Vasilisovna faintly.

  “Let Innokenty serve on a road crew,” said Slava. “Let him make restitution in that way.”

  “Very well,” said Vasilisa Vasilisovna, still looking as if she wished she could just faint away instead of sitting there and thinking whatever it was she was thinking.

  “Take him away,” Slava told the soldiers surrounding Innokenty, when it became apparent that no one else would give the order. The soldiers, looking somewhat lost, led Innokenty, who looked even more lost, stumblingly out of the hall.

  “I assume you feel you’ve been very lenient,” said Olga.

  Slava gave her a look.

  “Life is not so sweet on those road crews, you know,” Olga continued maliciously. “They work them into the ground, you know, and beat them when they fall. And the newcomers are used for pleasure by the ‘granddads,’ the old hands. Often they cut off their balls their first day there, just to teach them a lesson.” Olga gave Slava a look of spiteful triumph.

  “Yes,” said Slava. She had a vision of proud, stocky, red-faced Innokenty being beaten and gelded and raped by the “granddads,” the men who had been there longer, and wished she hadn’t. There was nothing, other than torture, that could be worse than the evil the prisoners made of their lot. Everyone said life on the road crews was little better than death, perhaps worse, and said that it was the prisoners themselves who made it that way. Slava tried to push that vision out of her head. Then she had a vision of his wife and her lover dying in the fire. The forest was filled that night with the screams of dying animals caught in the flames, Mirik had said, and Slava could see and hear it so clearly she thought for a moment she might be sick. Unfortunately, the one vision did not cancel the other out; instead they hung there in her mind, poisoning her. “And it is all in your family’s name,” she said.

  “And so, what, we should just let them go free?” cried Vasilisa Vasilisovna, shedding her faintness and showing a rare flash of spine. “Let murderers like Innokenty go free to kill again?”

  “No,” said Slava. “But perhaps we should try to be better than they are.”

  “And what, stop them from…from what they do there on the road crews?” said Vasilisa Vasilisovna. For a moment Slava could see, just as she had on their first meeting, that she was Princess Severnolesnaya’s daughter, and Olga’s sister, not the rag she usually appeared to be. Slava wished she could have chosen a more opportune time to develop a backbone. “Insist that they behave like, like civilized people? Hah! You know how men are! Weak-minded idiots, unable to perform when called upon, but secretly dreaming of rape if the opportunity should present itself! If they’re not worse, that is! Better that they should be amongst their own kind than causing us trouble! Well, well, well…if it makes you feel better, Tsarinovna, perhaps he’s better off where he’ll be going. Perhaps he’ll learn to like…what will happen to him there. They say that many men do. They finally get to be women of a sort, just like they’ve always wanted—except for all the ways that matter, that is. Never in all the ways that matter. But where else should we send him? After all, you wouldn’t take Innokenty into your house, would you? Who would!”

  “No one,” said Slava. “No one has ever wanted Innokenty in her house, and now he is unfit for anyone. One might say that he has been cursed, and now he has become a curse to the rest of us. Perhaps you are right, and where he is going is the only place he should be. I hope he does become reconciled to his lot quickly there, that he does ‘learn to like it,’ as you say, because he will have no other choice. I hope he does not make his sufferings any greater than they are destined to be. But that does not mean that we should sink to his level, because the Innokenties of this world will always manage to sink even lower, and then where will we end up? Even lower than we are now, no doubt. Good day to you all. I am glad to see that the truth has been revealed, and justice has been done. Let us all feel proud of the part we have played in this day’s doings.” She walked out of the hall back to her own chamber. Halfway there her hands started shaking, and by the time she had come to her door, her heart was beating so fast that spots were floating before her eyes. Courage, she could see, did not come naturally for her, and its price was always going to be very high.

  ***

  She tried to calm herself by re-reading her copies of the scrolls from the sanctuary, since that was the only thing she had to read, but that was only somewhat effective. She told herself she had to be calm, since her health now was not just her own—presumably she was also responsible for a child. That, alas, did not have an especially calming effect. When there was a knock at the door, she twitched all over and then ran to open it, hoping that her visitor would bring distractions, and not more problems.

  The visitor was Vladislava. Slava let her in, waiting to see what she woul
d say. Vladislava could be a distraction, but she was also a problem.

  “You made them come and get me and witness the judgment today, didn’t you?” said Vladislava as soon as she had stepped into the room.

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “That was good of you. They never let me witness that kind of thing. And now I know why. They’re not very good judges, are they? All they could think about was themselves, and not the person they were judging, couldn’t they?”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “It’s very sad, isn’t it? When I’m ruling Lesnograd, I’m going to do a much better job. Did you have them send Innokenty to the road crews so that he wouldn’t be killed?”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “I’m glad. I don’t like executions one bit, even when they deserve to die. Mother used to never let me go, she said it wasn’t something I should see—like the sight of her sitting in judgment, that was horrible, I wish I hadn’t seen that, no wonder she never wanted me to see that—but Grandmother talked her into it after a while. I wish she hadn’t, though. I always feel like it’s me being killed, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Slava. “Although I dare say it would be much worse if we were actually the people on the block.”

  “Oh yes, but it’s still so horrible, and you can feel how much the crowd likes to watch other people being killed, and I just feel disgusted with them, it makes me want to kill people, don’t you? I mean, when I see people who want to kill other people, I want to kill the people who want to kill people, don’t you? Isn’t that strange?”

  “Yes,” said Slava. “And you can see how it would never end.”

  “Oh yes,” said Vladislava. “Because then someone would want to kill me for killing someone for killing someone, wouldn’t she? Not if she were like the crowd that likes to watch, of course, but if she were like me. I suppose there must be a few more people like me out there somewhere, although there don’t seem to be very many of them. Is it true what Aunty Olga said about the road crews? That life is still very bad for them there?”

  “No doubt,” said Slava.

  “When I rule Lesnograd, I’m going to make things better for the road crews,” said Vladislava decisively. “And I’m not going to kill people!”

  “That sounds wise,” said Slava.

  “But that’s not why I came. I wanted to talk to you. Do you think that it was the curse? The curse that Grandmother put on Andrey Vladislavovich? Is that what made Innokenty do what he did?”

  “Perhaps,” said Slava.

  “But then he’s innocent! It wasn’t his fault at all! It was the curse!”

  “No,” said Slava. “Or rather, perhaps the curse found him and worked through him, I don’t know, but he wanted to kill his wife before the curse was ever dreamed of. He probably would have done it anyway. Do you remember what Anastasiya said? A curse takes the form its victims give it, and it goes where it can, like water running downhill. Innokenty was just the lowest point in that village, because he already wanted to kill his wife. And do you remember what he said about the guards from Lesnograd? The curse, if that’s what it was, worked through them too. But they were still guilty, all of them, even if the curse was working through them. Even Innokenty’s wife—she was cruel, and her cruelty came back on her.”

  “You mean she deserved to die? He was right to kill her?”

  “No, I mean that all of them already carried evil inside of them, and did evil things to other people, and so it was easy for the curse to find them. And now Innokenty has killed his wife and faces a life—probably a short one—of even more suffering than he had before, and the rest of the village had to suffer as well, and so did Andrey Vladislavovich…So many people were touched by that evil.” Slava realized that she was speaking much more heatedly than she intended, and fell silent.

  “Yes, it’s very sad,” said Vladislava, not sounding particularly sad about it. “When are we leaving for Krasnograd?”

  “Soon, I hope,” said Slava. “We must speak with Olga about it.”

  “Oh, that’s also why I came to see you—supper will be soon, and I wanted to come talk to you beforehand, and then we could walk down together, because I didn’t want to go in there alone, do you? Mother and Aunty Olga are probably in terrible moods right now, don’t you think? I wish Oleg Svetoslavovich were still here, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “Why did he have to leave? I wish he hadn’t left. Surely he could have asked the gods to let him stay a little longer, at least until we left for Krasnograd,” said Vladislava, with the voice of someone who still felt that her own wishes outweighed those of the gods.

  “He had a duty,” said Slava. “And life is hard sometimes for those who serve the gods.”

  “Well, let’s go down to supper now! I’m starving, aren’t you?”

  Slava was not, in fact, starving, but she was, she realized as they set off, lightheaded, and eating would probably be wise, as much as she was dreading being in the company of Olga and Vasilisa Vasilisovna.

  When she arrived at the table she discovered that things were even worse than she had envisioned, since Andrey Vladislavovich had apparently been allowed to leave his room and was there too. Glad as she was to see he had been released, she had no desire to share a meal with him. Everyone took their seats in strained silence. Vasilisa Vasilisovna looked distraught, Olga looked angry, and Andrey Vladislavovich looked like he didn’t know what to think. Lisochka, who was also there, looked like she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to bite somebody’s head off or sink through the floor. Probably both.

  Vladislava picked at her food for a few bites, and then demanded, “When are we leaving for Krasnograd?”

  This set off loud lamentations from Vasilisa Vasilisovna about how her only daughter was so eager to abandon her. As this provided an acceptable subject for Vasilisa Vasilisovna to complain about, the lamentations went on for some time. Vladislava sat there stony-faced until they dried up, and then repeated, this time much more rudely, “When are we leaving for Krasnograd?”

  Vasilisa Vasilisovna opened her mouth to emit more complaints, but before she could get any out, Olga said crossly, “The sooner we get out of this thrice-cursed city the better, as far as I’m concerned. Let’s leave tomorrow.”

  “Really!” cried Vladislava, straightening up in her chair. “Tomorrow! Let’s!”

  Vasilisa Vasilisovna gave up on complaining and started sniffling to herself about her abandonment by her hard-hearted and thoughtless relations instead.

  “Will we be ready by tomorrow?” asked Slava.

  “We will if I have to steal our provisions from the gods themselves,” said Olga, without actually looking in Slava’s direction.

  “And will Lesnograd be ready for us to leave?” Slava pressed.

  “Well, it’s not like we’re doing it much good by staying,” said Olga. “Although you can stay and rule it if you want, Tsarinovna, since you seem to like it so much. But I’m through with it. Any beggar on the street can have my claim to it, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Oh, Olya…” said Vasilisa Vasilisovna, breaking off from her sniffling.

  This started another terrible but trivial quarrel that provoked a strong desire in Slava to break her plate over their heads. Instead, she turned to Lisochka and asked, “And what of you, Vasilisa Olgovna? Will you be joining us on our journey? My offer stands, you know, and you will be welcome in Krasnograd whenever you are able to grace us with your presence. Our ties with the Severnolesnaya family,” for a moment Slava realized she was babbling in the face of all this bad temper and had no idea what she was going to say next, but having talked herself into this uncomfortable position, she had no choice but to continue, and so plunged on, “have been far too distant of late, and I would welcome any member of your family who could join me there. Indeed, dear Vasilisa Olgovna, I am sure you would be an ornament to Krasnograd’s kremlin, and I hope to see you there before too long.”

/>   For a moment hope at the thought of escaping Lesnograd and her miserable life there, as well as pleasure at the unaccustomed phrase “dear Vasilisa Olgovna,” flooded Lisochka’s face, but then she shook her head. “My place is here,” she said. “Especially now, with Grandmother so ill, and, well…”

  Slava could see that Lisochka had no good motives for her words, that she was acting entirely out of sullen anger and fear, but she decided to pretend otherwise, and said, with all the sympathy and encouragement she could muster, “Yes, I’m sure your strength and your counsel must be of great use to your father and Vasilisa Vasilisovna at this trying time.”

  Lisochka gave Slava a look that wavered between shock and contempt. Slava decided to press on even so.

  “Trying times such as these can bring out the best in people, Vasilisa Olgovna,” she continued, leaning forward slightly and looking Lisochka directly in the eyes. “And I am sure they will bring out the best in you! Andrey Vladislavovich and Vasilisa Vasilisovna are counting on you, I am sure of it! You must be their unwavering support and the wise word in their ear, not only for them but for Lesnograd and all of Severnolesnoye!”

  Lisochka shook her head dismissively, but Slava could see the look in the back of her eyes, and it was the look of a starving person, the same look she had seen in Andrey Vladislavovich’s eyes when he had talked about his mad affair, the same look she had seen in her own eyes so many times. Encouraged, she looked even more deeply into Lisochka’s hungry eyes and told her how much her father, her aunt, and her grandmother needed her, how she was an essential member of their family and had an important duty to fulfill, and so on and so forth, and within a very few sentences Lisochka was almost smiling. It was not much, Slava knew, but she had made Lisochka happier for the moment, and perhaps she would take some of Slava’s words to heart and act as if they were true, and then perhaps they would become true, and then she really would be happy. It was, Slava knew, unlikely, but perhaps it would happen.

  By then the quarrel between Olga and Vasilisa Vasilisovna had died down, and Slava was able to turn away from Lisochka, which she did with a guilty sense of relief. She had meant everything she had said to Lisochka, and she was glad she had said it, but pouring all of her own hope and energy into Lisochka was exhausting.