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

by E. P. Clark

  “Let’s see…” said Princess Malolesnaya, unrolling the letter and peering at it. She brought it right up to her nose, and then, shaking her head, said, “How silly of me! I can’t see anything closer than arm’s length,” and held the scroll out as far from her as she could. This was still not far enough for her to make out the letters, though, so she started to call for her stewardess to read it for her, but Olga jumped up and insisted on reading it herself, to which Princess Malolesnaya acquiesced with surprise but smiling good grace.

  “Most honored Princess, and dearest Mother…” began Olga, only to be interrupted as Princess Malolesnaya went into a lengthy disquisition on her eldest daughter’s many merits, until she was interrupted in her turn by Olga, who was still in no mood to listen to the good-natured chatter of others. Slava feared that Vladislava was being exposed to a very poor model of how to behave, but she could do nothing to check Olga without behaving poorly herself, and so resolved to suffer in silence as long as she could.

  “I hope you continue in the excellent health in which I found you last…And so on and so on,” continued Olga, only to be told by Princess Malolesnaya to read out the full list of compliments and courtesies, since “it would do us all such good to hear so many good sentiments.”

  Gritting her teeth, Olga complied in a tone of voice that belied the sugary words she was reading, but to Slava’s relief, Princess Malolesnaya appeared completely oblivious to Olga’s mood, and smiled and interjected multiple compliments and courtesies of her own. Slava began to wonder what land Princess Malolesnaya actually lived in, and whether or not she could join her there. But then she thought that even if she could join Princess Malolesnaya there, she shouldn’t, because the inhabitants of Princess Malolesnaya’s land, by failing to see evil, allowed a great deal of it to go on unchecked.

  “Much of import has happened since I wrote you last—finally!” said Olga. Slava found herself closing her eyes for a moment in horror, but when she hastily reopened them, hoping that no one had noticed, Princess Malolesnaya was still smiling away.

  “Marriages, births, deaths, the usual,” said Olga, skimming down the letter with her eyes.

  “Oh, do read them out complete, dearest Olga Vasilisovna,” said Princess Malolesnaya. “So much good news!”

  Sighing audibly, Olga read:

  “Princess Malokrasnova and Princess Yuzhnokrasnova have at long last healed the enmity between their families by joining their youngest children in marriage, to the great delight of the whole kremlin. Theirs was truly a story of forbidden love that brought two warring families together, and after all the obstacles that stood in their way, it was with wholehearted joy that I witnessed their wedding. Although it took place in the midst of sad events, for Valery Annovich’s sister at long last succumbed to the illness that had made her its victim since the fall, and his second-sister, it seems, will never walk again after her unlucky accident, while Serafimiya Svetlanovna’s older sister is very weak and is unlikely to recover after the difficult birth of a still-born child, the wedding itself was a joyous occasion, and both princesses may take heart in the fact that they still have members of the family to carry on their line, and that these two hearts have at last been joined into what, we all pray, will be a fruitful union.”

  “Serafimiya Svetlanovna finally got Valery Annovich to marry her!” cried Slava in astonishment.

  “You know them?” asked Olga, looking at Slava over the edge of the letter with a sour expression.

  “You know them!” exclaimed Princess Malolesnaya happily. “Oh, Tsarinovna! Was there truly a great love between them?”

  “Well…” said Slava. “Serafimiya Svetlanovna was certainly very much in love with Valery Annovich when I left Krasnograd, and despaired of every getting him to marry her.”

  “Oh, the poor young man! No doubt he suffered from the most awful longing for his beloved for so many months! Thank the gods that his mother’s hard heart was finally softened enough to give him his own heart’s desire!”

  “Yes,” said Slava, not having the heart to say that, as far as she could see, Valery Annovich was a fickle and spoiled little boy who had long grown tired of Serafimiya Svetlanovna, but had not found the strength of will to disobey his mother’s command. But perhaps, she told herself comfortingly, Serafimiya Svetlanovna would become like a mother to him, and they could both learn to be happy.

  “I am saddened to report that Princess Stepnaya’s health continues to worsen, and she is not expected to last the winter,” continued Olga.

  “Oh!” cried Princess Malolesnaya, even though she must have known that was coming. “The poor thing! Her poor family! Did you know her, Tsarinovna?”

  “She was my father’s aunt, and my mother’s most trusted ally,” said Slava. “I am very sorry to hear this, although she has been in such poor health for the past two years that living has become a burden to her, I believe. But her passing will throw the entire kremlin into disarray.”

  “As you know, her only daughter has failed to produce an heir even after several husbands,” read Olga. “However, it is said that her son’s new wife has happy expectations.”

  “That must be a great comfort to her in her final days!” exclaimed Princess Malolesnaya.

  “Her son’s wife is half Tribeswoman, and it is rumored that she intends to return to her homeland beyond the mountains after the the joyous event. It is also rumored that the father is not Princess Stepnaya’s son, as his wife had a well-known connection with the khan of her tribe before her marriage.”

  “Tribeswomen,” said Princess Malolesnaya, shaking her head.

  “Naturally this has caused much talk about the succession of the Stepnaya family, which unfortunately of late has not been very prolific. The Tsarina has reminded everyone that her own sister, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna, is in fact next in line to inherit the Stepnaya territory after Princess Stepnaya’s daughter, if her son should fail to produce a daughter or if there should be doubt about the father. Descent through the male line is such a chancy business! There is much speculation that the Tsarina intends not to permit the adoption of the prince’s wife into the family, as might happen under other circumstances, but to dissolve the marriage between Princess Stepnaya’s son and the Tribeswoman, in order to marry him to Krasnoslava Tsarinovna, which would cement her claim to the Stepnaya lands.” Olga stopped and looked at Slava inquiringly.

  “It’s true that I am next in line to inherit,” said Slava.

  “But would you want the leavings of some Tribeswoman?” demanded Olga. “And your own, what, third-brother at that?”

  “Well, no,” Slava admitted. “Perhaps it won’t come to that.”

  “Hmmm,” said Olga, and went back to reading.

  The rest of the letter was only meaningless gossip, leaving Slava free to think on what she had heard. As soon as Olga had spoken Princess Stepnaya’s name, Slava’s heart had jumped in her chest, and had gone on to pour out cold blood to the rest of her body as she had heard the rest of the story. She was not in the habit of thinking much about the Stepnaya succession issue, and tended to forget the very real possibility that she could end up inheriting the territory. Princess Stepnaya’s daughter was only a little older than she was, and Slava had always assumed that one day she would manage to produce a child, and even if she didn’t, she would still be able to rule the territory for many years after her mother’s death, which, despite the old princess’s ill health, had always seemed such a far-off event…But now it seemed the old princess really was on her deathbed, and her heir still had not produced an heir of her own, while Slava herself might very well be expecting…Slava tried to calculate the days, to see if she really was pregnant, but decided it was too early to come to any definite conclusions…travel was so upsetting to the body…perhaps by the time they arrived in Krasnograd she would know for certain…she was going to have to break the news to her sister…she couldn’t help but think (with a cold sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach) that the curse h
ad already started working, and that the situation with the Stepnaya family was in some way connected to it, even if she couldn’t quite think how…greed was a curse in and of itself, with no need for Northern sorceresses to cast it…

  “What are you thinking about?” demanded Vladislava, jolting her back to the supper table.

  “Krasnograd,” answered Slava, fairly honestly. “I’ve been gone so long it’s almost as if Krasnograd had stopped existing for me, and now it has stretched out its hand and is pulling me back.”

  “That’s a horrible picture,” said Olga, shuddering. “Like a nightmare.”

  “Yes,” Slava had to agree. “Although I think I am ready to face it now.” And as she said it, she realized that right at this moment, at least, she did feel ready to face Krasnograd. She had turned down the icy armor she had been offered in the Midnight Land, but right now she felt as if she had found something warmer and stronger to take its place, as if, at long last, she had finally grown the psychic skin she had been missing since birth. New skin was so fragile, though.

  Princess Malolesnaya made a number of comments on the letter, all of which, fortunately, required no thought from Slava for their response, and then, showing true kindness, sent them to bed immediately after supper.

  ***

  Slava awoke the next morning with a feeling of unease. At first she couldn’t put her finger on what was bothering her, but then she understood: it was early, the maids had not yet come and breakfast was still being prepared in the kitchen, and yet it was already light. There was also some kind of strange sound coming from the yard…Slava got out of bed and looked out the window, but could see nothing except a clear gray sheet of water running over the glass…it was raining. There was a knock at the door.

  “Did you see?” Olga demanded as soon as Slava let her in. “Rain! It will be a disgusting day for travel.”

  “Spring has come,” said Slava.

  “Yes,” agreed Olga, wrinkling her nose in distaste. “Thank the gods it won’t be true spring for another month at least! Let us hope this rain turns to snow before the day gets much further.”

  But it was still raining when they set off, despite Princess Malolesnaya’s attempts to keep them until the rain stopped. Olga and Slava were both too keen to reach Krasnograd, they agreed, to be put off by a little rain.

  This keenness lasted, though, only until the cold rain soaked through their clothes, which were meant to withstand nothing more substantial than snow. The rain also turned the firm snowy road into patches of treacherous ice and knee-deep slop, exhausting the horses and causing the sleighs to skid wildly on the slick patches and then jerk to a sudden stop on hitting the slush. After a few versts of this Slava would have been glad to be in the Malolesnaya kremlin, or any other shelter with four walls and a fire, but there was nothing around them but endless fir trees.

  By afternoon the rain had let off, but the relief was short-lived, for it was followed closely by a rising wind that howled so eerily through the trees that Vladislava started to cry and the horses, who were little happier with the weather than they were, flicked their ears and jingled their harnesses nervously.

  “How much longer till we stop for the night?” Slava asked Olga.

  “I’d meant to go all the way to Sredyolochnoye, the village on the far side of this forest, but now I think we should stop sooner, if we can,” Olga told her. “Sredyolochnoye’s at least another fifteen versts off, but if I remember right, there’s a cabin only two or three versts from here. Judging by this wind, there’ll be snow during the night, so if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to make good time tomorrow.”

  “Good,” said Slava, cheered considerably at the news that they only had another two or three versts to go before they reached shelter. Even Vladislava stopped crying at this, although she remained huddled up next to Slava with her face buried in Slava’s chest, and shuddered every time the wind gave a particularly loud howl. It was no doubt better that she wasn’t looking out into the forest, Slava thought, for the trees were moving in the wind like living things, stretching out their branches covetously towards the sleighs. Whenever she could catch a glimpse of the sky, dark gray clouds were racing across it as if fleeing the oncoming night, but the sky itself only grew darker and darker.

  They had slogged through the slushy snow for what seemed like much longer than two or three versts when Olga suddenly cried out, unable to hide the relief in her voice, “There it is! The cabin!”

  Everyone cheered, and the horses, who had obviously travelled this road many times before, picked up their pace and, despite their exhaustion, trotted quite smartly through the gate and up to the stable behind the cabin.

  “Quick, close the gate!” shouted someone, and one of the men leapt out of the sleigh and slammed the gate shut behind them, while everyone else piled out of the sleighs to begin unloading things and putting the horses away for the night.

  As as soon as the tall stockade gate had been barred, it seemed that the howling of the wind grew less, even though Slava knew that was not actually true. She and Vladislava carried the food inside, leaving the others to unharness the horses.

  “The horses must be very tired, poor things,” said Vladislava, who had recovered most of her spirits as soon as the gate had been shut.

  “Yes,” said Slava. “Very tired. I hope none of them were injured, sliding around like that all day.”

  “Look!” cried Vladislava, pointing up. “A star!” And sure enough, a star shone through a tiny break in the clouds for a moment, before being engulfed in their insatiable racing. The trees loomed over the stockade fence and waved frenziedly at Slava.

  “Yes, a star,” said Slava, looking quickly back down.

  “Do you think it’s good luck?” asked Vladislava.

  “Oh certainly,” said Slava, who thought no such thing but also thought it would do them both good to hear her say it.

  “OH!” Vladislava screamed, and dropped her bundle.

  “What is it!” Slava cried, dropping her own bundle and clutching Vladislava to her.

  “Eyes!” said Vladislava. “I saw eyes peering out from under the porch!” She pointed at the space under the porch stairs.

  Afterwards, when she thought of it, Slava was always amazed at how boldly she went to look under the stairs, but she could see no eyes, nor any sign that a creature had been there.

  “Perhaps you just thought you saw them,” she suggested kindly.

  “No, I saw them! Eyes looking right at us!” Vladislava insisted.

  “Perhaps it was a little woodland creature, taking refuge from the rain,” Slava said.

  “Like what?”

  “Like a snow hare or a snow fox,” said Slava.

  “It looked bigger than that,” said Vladislava doubtfully, but she seemed comforted by Slava’s suggestion, and made her way up the steps, albeit with exaggerated caution, and followed Slava into the cabin, where the charms of a run-down wayside cabin and the prospect of cooking their coarse provisions into some kind of supper soon overshadowed all thoughts of the howling wind and mysterious eyes watching them from the darkness.

  The cabin was too small for a party as large as theirs, and they ended up being jammed in four to a bed, which was warm if not especially comfortable.

  “It’s only fair,” said Dunya, when Vladislava complained about it. “We had to put some of the horses in two to a stall.”

  “But what if they start fighting!” cried Vladislava anxiously. “Don’t horses fight with each other sometimes?”

  “We’ll have to hope for the best,” Dunya told her. “Princess Malolesnaya’s horses are very calm, and I think they’re too tired to fight tonight, anyway.”

  “Oh good, because it would be terrible if they started fighting—but what if that creature comes in the night and starts bothering them? What will they do then?” demanded Vladislava.

  “What creature?” Olga wanted to know.

  This led to a very exciting description by Vladislav
a of the eyes she had seen.

  “Probably a snow hare,” said Olga. “I doubt the horses have anything to worry about. Go to sleep.”

  Being right on the edge of the bed with Vladislava digging into her back, Slava found it difficult to fall asleep, despite an exhaustion from the long day in the rain that made it impossible to form a single coherent thought. For a long time there was nothing in her mind except blackness, but then it seemed to her that something was watching her. She looked all around the room, but every time she thought she had turned her gaze in the direction of the eyes fixed upon her, they disappeared.

  “Can’t you stay still!” she finally cried in exasperation. “I only want to talk to you!”

  “Over here, Krasnoslava Tsarinovna,” said a faint voice, that sounded as if it must be at least two hundred years old. “Down here, in the far corner.”

  “Oh, there you are,” said Slava, finally finding the small huddled figure in the far corner of the tiny bedroom. “What do you want?”

  “I want you to come down and talk to me,” said the small huddled figure. “If you can lower yourself so far.”

  “Of course,” said Slava, climbing out of bed. The shock of the cold air made her jerk awake. She was balanced precariously right on the edge of the bed, with Vladislava digging into her back. She had an intense sensation of being watched. She searched all over the room with her eyes, but found nothing.

  “It was a dream,” she told herself, and shut her eyes to go back to sleep, but just then she thought she heard a noise from the far corner, where the small huddled figure had been in her dream. She opened her eyes again, and this time it seemed to her that perhaps there was a small huddled figure, crouched down in that corner. Slava’s heart jumped in her throat, and a cold trickle of sweat ran down her side.