by E. P. Clark
“You say that now, but you’ll change your mind! You might think this is a blessing now, Slava, but it’s a curse, a horrible curse, and it will ruin your life!”
“Olga,” said Slava, speaking calmly but firmly. “I am not some little girl, caught up in someone else’s greedy schemes. What happened to you was terrible, unforgiveable, and I’m sure it seemed that it ruined your life, but…”
“I’m not talking about me!”
“Yes, you are,” said Slava. “Or rather, you’re talking about me, but you’re thinking about how your mother used you for her own ends, and how that ruined three lives—yours, Andrey Vladislavovich’s, and poor Lisochka’s. But my case now is different. When I faced a fate such as yours, I had the good fortune to find an herbwoman in time, and I thank the gods for it, for now I am free to welcome this child, should she have the good fortune to be born, as she deserves, of my own free will.”
“They’re using you!”
“Yes,” agreed Slava. “They are. And I agreed to it. After all, I am getting something out of it too.”
“What could you possibly be getting out of this, this, travesty of charity!”
“A child,” said Slava. “A purpose, as I said before.”
“Slava, listen to me.” For a moment Olga’s face became calmer and more focused. “I know you think that now, but a child isn’t a purpose, a reason for living. Or at least, it’s not enough. A child is a burden, pain and sickness, dirty diapers, cracked nipples, screaming through the night, fighting and quarreling, a constant chain holding you back…A child won’t make you happy, Slava. A child won’t be enough, Slava, it never is.”
“No,” said Slava. “I have certainly seen too many unhappy mothers and unwanted children to think that a child is the solution to all life’s problems. Some, perhaps many, women should never become mothers, Olga, and no woman should become a mother as you did. But that doesn’t mean that no one should ever become a mother. I don’t know how to convey this to you, Olga, but as soon as it was explained to me, I knew that it was the right thing to do. I knew, Olga, and I still know. Have you ever just known something, Olga?”
“Yes,” said Olga. “The moment I discovered I was with child, I knew it was a terrible mistake, a curse.”
“And were you right?”
“Yes,” said Olga.
“There you go, then,” said Slava.
Olga drove on in silence. After a while she said, “I can’t change your mind, can I?”
“No,” said Slava.
“You’re very stubborn, you know,” said Olga. “You seem all soft and gentle on the outside, but on the inside you’re all—fire and steel. Like your foremother.”
“Which one?” asked Slava.
“Miroslava Praskovyevna. Your foremother. The queen of fire and steel. Wasn’t that what she was called? It’s so easy to forget that her blood flows through your veins, but it does, doesn’t it? You are a direct descendent, are you not?”
“Yes, of course,” said Slava. “But…” She was about to say out of habit that she and Miroslava Praskovyevna had nothing in common, but then she remembered how untrue that was. Little as Slava would like to admit it, it seemed that she and Miroslava Praskovyevna had a great deal in common, and even Olga, who had not a drop of true-seeing in her blood as far as Slava knew, had seen that truth.
“Well, I suppose it’s your problem anyway, not mine,” said Olga with a sigh. Then she shook her shoulders and, apparently, shook off her worry, and cried, “The father! You still haven’t told me who the father is!”
“Well…”
“There is a father, is there not?”
“Of course,” said Slava.
“Of course, you already admitted as much. So who is he? How did it happen? When did it happen? When did you find the time…The sanctuary!”
“Yes,” admitted Slava.
“Those priestesses are a sly lot!” laughed Olga. “I thought they foreswore relations with men in that order.”
“Yes, but I didn’t,” Slava pointed out.
“But how did they happen to have a man lying about, ready…” Olga trailed off and gave Slava a peculiar look. “Surely not…” she said slowly.
“Mmmm,” said Slava, guessing what Olga was thinking.
“He was the only man…But how…”
“It’s probably best for you not to dwell on it,” said Slava, grinning again.
“You don’t mean that I am to have a…a sister?”
“It seems likely,” said Slava. “Are you happy?”
“Disgusted, more like,” said Olga, curling up her lip but then breaking out into laughter.
“As I said, probably best if you don’t dwell on it,” said Slava.
“How can I not!” said Olga, but she was still laughing.
“Try,” said Slava, pretending to give her a severe look. This only provoked more laughter from Olga, though, and so it was some time before she could speak again.
“So you’re happy, then?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Slava.
“Well, as you will, then,” said Olga, shaking her head. “A sister! At my age! Can I visit her?”
“Of course,” said Slava.
“She should come and be fostered in Lesnograd for a time,” said Olga.
“Well…” said Slava.
“No, you’re right: not at Lesnograd. What I meant was that she should come and be fostered with me for a time. I could take her on a journey.”
“It wasn’t that,” said Slava. “It’s just that this is the third request I’ve had to foster her, and she has not yet even quickened inside me. I can’t help but fear it’s bad luck to make these plans so early.”
“Oh!” cried Olga, looking remorse-stricken. “You’re so right…I’m so sorry, Slava…Normally I would never so much as speak of…it…But in this case…”
“In this case there seems to be no reason to fear drawing down the ill-will of the gods upon her,” Slava reassured her. “They seem more well-informed about…this matter than I am, and thus far even keener to see her come into existence. I, frankly speaking, still have little faith in her appearance, and this is all…somewhat of a dream to me. But those who came up with this scheme seem much more certain, and I believe they will do what they can to help, not hinder, her entrance into the world. But she could end up being strong-willed and difficult, and then where would we and our plans be?”
“My sister?” said Olga, laughing once more. “Strong-willed and difficult? I refuse to believe it!”
“I know,” said Slava. “It seems so unlikely. But I must plan for all eventualities.”
“Well…Well, in that case, Slava, I will simply say that any child of yours will always be welcome to journey with me, should she desire it. I might even take on a son, should you happen to produce one. Well, as long as he resembles his father, that is. If he turns into one of those prancing ninnies filling your kremlin, I’ll probably disown him on the spot.”
“Once again, I have been promised it will be a girl…Although I don’t see how even the gods could have control over something like that…”
“The ways of the gods are strange,” said Olga, nodding her head sagely. “Probably best not to question what they say.”
“No doubt you are right,” agreed Slava.
“A sister!” repeated Olga, giving Slava a look in which all her former bad temper had been forgotten.
“Don’t tell the others just yet,” said Slava.
“Of course not,” promised Olga, giving Slava another fond look. “We’re practically sisters now! Well, I suppose you’re more like an aunt to me, but I can’t think of you that way. Let’s just call ourselves sisters, shall we?”
“Of course, it would please me very much,” said Slava.
“Frankly, you’re much better than my real sister in many respects,” said Olga.
“I could say the same,” said Slava, smiling.
“Agreed, then! We’ll be sisters!”
/> “Agreed,” said Slava.
***
And just like that, Olga was back to her old self, just as she had been when they had set out from Krasnograd back before midwinter, as if the ill humor of Lesnograd were less than a bad dream.
She remained that way not only for the rest of the day, but for the next day, and the next, and the next. She even suggested that Vladislava rejoin them in their sleigh, and once she had, she asked Slava to continue her lessons, saying, “She’ll need to know this if she’s to make the Severnolesniye proud in Krasnograd.”
For her part, Vladislava seemed to have finally absorbed some of Slava’s teachings, and was able to act for longer and longer stretches at a time like a real princess, as opposed to a spoiled and abused child. Slava began to feel hope that she would be able to let Vladislava out into the company of other young princesses, and even introduce her to her sister, without the results being absolutely disastrous.
As they drew nearer and nearer to Krasnograd, the mood of everyone in the company, including Slava, continued to lift. After dreading her return to Krasnograd for so long, Slava now found herself increasingly eager to arrive and begin what she felt would be a new, important, and meaningful phase in her life. She remembered how numb she had felt as she was leaving the city, and how she had thought that she was, in a sense, going out to her death, even if she survived the journey itself. Now she thought that she had been right, that she had been going out to her death, or at least the death of her old self, and now she was returning a new woman, carrying new life with her and within her.
Sometimes she thought of the curse and her possible role in it, but she felt strangely unconcerned about it. What will be, will be, she thought every time the curse entered her thoughts, and whatever it is, it will lead to rebirth. I will go to it as eagerly as a bride to her wedding, and in fact, that was exactly how she felt. Or at least, how she imagined she felt, since of course she had never actually been married and therefore had no idea whether a bride really went eagerly to her wedding or not. In fact, in her experience, even when brides seemed to go eagerly to their weddings, they all too often heartily regretted it afterwards. When that thought entered her head, she grinned at herself and told herself not to get so puffed up with her newfound wisdom, which was after all of rather doubtful provenance—and went right back to dreaming about how wonderful everything would be once they all reached Krasnograd, and how she would be happy for the rest of her life, and so on and so forth.
Occupied with such pleasant fantasies, Slava was content to drift along in the sleighs, letting the others worry about where they were and how far they had still to go, and so it was somewhat of a surprise when she overheard Olga telling Vladislava one morning that they were only three days out from Krasnograd.
“Only three days!” exclaimed Slava. “So soon!”
“I don’t know what you mean by ‘so soon,’” said Olga dryly. “It’s been a week of the most disgusting rain and sleet. Travelling in early spring is no joke. And once we get to Krasnograd, we’ll be trapped there for weeks.”
“Weeks!” Dunya cried out unexpectedly.
“Yes, horrible, isn’t it?” said Olga. “The roads will be impassable for at least a month, I’d say, and of course trying to go North will only make it worse, since you’ll be traveling with the spring, not the summer.”
“No…I just didn’t realize it would be so long…To spend so much time in Krasnograd.”
“But you’ll be with us, Dunya!” said Vladislava. “It will be ever so jolly! You can learn to be a princess, like me!”
“Well…” said Dunya, her normally impassive face caught somewhere between awkwardness and amusement.
“We’ll all be in an inn somewhere,” said Olga firmly. “Only you and the Tsarinovna will be in the kremlin, Vladislava.”
“Why?” demanded Vladislava.
“You would be most welcome in the kremlin,” Slava put in.
“Is that so?” said Olga, raising an eyebrow at her. “Do you think the Empress would agree to that?”
“I have a whole suite of rooms for guests at my disposal,” said Slava. “You can stay there.” She refrained from adding unless someone else has already been put there, although in truth she so rarely used “her” guest chambers that she and everyone else tended to forget that they were, in fact, hers, and her sister often put less welcome guests there without bothering to ask Slava’s permission. So Olga and the others would probably end up in them anyway, Slava told herself.
“You can’t stay in an inn,” she said out loud. “Princess Severnolesnaya’s daughter, and the aunt to the Tsarinovna’s ward! You’ll have to stay in the kremlin whether you like it or not, and so will the rest of your party.”
“Oh, by all the gods!” said Olga, grinning and looking annoyed at the same time. “No doubt the kremlin will be deadly dull. An inn would be much more lively, I’m sure.”
“You can catch up on all the intrigues and plotting that went on while we were gone,” said Slava. “That should be entertainment enough to last at least a month.”
“Oh yes, that should be very jolly indeed,” said Olga. “I think I’d rather join Vladenka in learning to be a princess. Dunya can tag along to make a nice threesome. Would you like to learn to be a princess, Dunya?”
“I fear it will not come very naturally to me,” said Dunya gravely, much to everyone’s delight.
“Well, we won’t be trapped in the kremlin all day, every day,” said Olga, looking quite consoled by this thought. “We can go out and about as much as we like, and then return to a nice clean bed and a warm supper. It will be just like being in an inn, only even more comfortable.”
“There might be feasts and such,” warned Slava. “And if my sister should call a meeting of the Princess Council, then you, at least, would have to attend.”
“Oh gods, no!” groaned Olga. “Doesn’t my mother have a representative there, anyway?”
“Alyona Miroslavovna, yes,” said Slava. “But if the princess’s actual daughter were to be in Krasnograd, then naturally she would have to attend…”
“How often does the Empress call meetings of the Princess Council?” asked Olga.
“Oh, two or three times a year, unless some special circumstance should warrant it,” said Slava.
“And how often has she called it in the past year?” asked Olga.
“Twice, but she might have called another one while I was away,” said Slava.
“So with any luck, she won’t call another for months,” said Olga, brightening up.
“Yes, but as you said, the roads will be impassable and the princesses correspondingly restless, so she could easily end up calling a meeting just to give them something to do,” said Slava. “They spend most of their time eating and quarreling and bossing their children and servants around like a pack of querulous old men who have long outlived their usefulness, so sometimes my sister will call a Princess Council just to see if they can still behave like princesses. Not, it has to be said, that they ever could in the first place. But she has been known to do things like that, when she’s in a particularly cruel mood.”
“I’m sure I wouldn’t need to attend,” said Olga, pursing her lips seriously in order to repress a grin. “I’m sure Alyona Miroslavovna has been representing the family admirably, and my presence would only distract her. It would be better if I stayed out of her hair as much as possible.”
“Perhaps,” said Slava, who was inclined to agree with Olga, but also knew that it would be considered a terrible affront for her not to attend any meeting of the Princess Council, should one be called. She decided to join Olga in hoping that one wouldn’t be called.
“Will there be more rain tomorrow?” asked Vladislava. “I hope not!”
“Tomorrow might be clear, little princess,” said Grisha, sniffing the air. “Clear and cold.”
“How can you tell by sniffing?” Vladislava wanted to know. This led to an unusually wordy explanation from Grisha
, which left Slava to her own thoughts.
Three days to Krasnograd! she said to herself. Only three days! She wasn’t sure what she thought about that. Somehow, when she had left, any possibility of her return had seemed so distant and unlikely that she had had a hard time believing she would ever see Krasnograd again, and yet here she was, only three days away from it. Her stomach suddenly twisted from the thought, and she couldn’t tell whether that was because she feared her homecoming, or because she feared that some last-minute catastrophe would prevent it. All the terrors of Krasnograd, all the unhappiness she had experienced there, rose up before her and washed away the happy dreams she had been spinning to herself, making her wish that she still had weeks left of her journey, or that she were back in Lesnograd…Well, maybe not…But now that the Midnight Land, and Lesnograd, and all the other troubles they had faced were far away, and Krasnograd was near, Krasnograd’s power suddenly loomed large in Slava’s mind, and there was the little matter of the curse, as well...
“Is something the matter, Tsarinovna?” Dunya whispered in her ear.
“No, why?” asked Slava, startled. Dunya’s face was very close to hers, and she could see that Dunya was worried too about their imminent arrival in Krasnograd, and that she had seen some sign of nerves from Slava, which was only making her doubly fearful.
“You’re clutching your stomach. I thought you might have taken ill.”
“Just hungry,” said Slava with a smile that was supposed to hide her nerves. She made a conscious effort to stop clutching her stomach, and to straighten up and look cheerful and confident. She had another stab of fear when she thought that now she had even more reason to worry about pains in the stomach, but strictly ordered herself to ignore all such thoughts. “I must have had a sudden vision of the food awaiting us in Krasnograd, and my poor stomach rebelled against its diet of watery porridge.”
“Ah, food,” said Dunya, also smiling a smile that was meant to show that she wasn’t afraid at all. “It will be most welcome after our long days on this rainy road.”
“Indeed,” Slava agreed, smiling even harder. “Krasnograd is a most marvelous city, Dunya, and right now it seems to me that the food is the most marvelous thing about it.”