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

by E. P. Clark

  Olik, who was still standing on the bank above them, moved as if to come down and join them on the road, but Dima shook his head furiously and mouthed the words run to safety, and Olik, after an equally furious silent argument with Dima over the advisability of that action, retreated out of sight.

  Two wagons came walking slowly around the corner. Zhenya and an older woman were sitting in the first one. The older woman pulled her horses to a stop on seeing Slava and the others.

  “Hello, travelers,” she said cheerfully. “It’s muddy weather to be out walking.”

  “And to be out driving,” said Slava, since no one else seemed to be capable of speech. “But spring is a muddy time.”

  “So true, traveler, so true,” said the older woman with a smile. “Where are you headed, my dears?”

  “East,” said Slava. “And yourselves?”

  “Krasnograd, of course, where else? I’m from the steppe myself, but my passenger here comes from Malogornoye, don’t you, my dear? Not coming by the most direct route, are you, sweetheart? But she was desperate to get to Krasnograd, weren’t you, darling?”

  “Yes,” said Zhenya. Her eyes were fixed on Slava.

  “But do you know each others, my doves? I can tell that you do. What a chance meeting!”

  “Tsarinovna?” whispered Zhenya. “Is that you?”

  “Yes, Yevgeniya Marislavovna, and in dire need of your help, or at least your silence,” Slava told her.

  “Tsarinovna?” repeated the older woman, giving Slava a sharp look. “Truly?”

  “Truly, Svetlana Alinovna,” said Zhenya softly.

  “Should I get out and kneel?” asked Svetlana Alinovna, sounding bewildered.

  “No, no, no need for that,” said Slava hastily. “But Zhenya! It is imperative that no one, especially no one in Krasnograd, finds out that you saw us. Do you understand? Please, Zhenya, if you have any care for my life and the lives of my companions, please tell no one, absolutely no one, that you saw us.”

  “Are you in trouble, Tsarinovna?” asked Zhenya slowly.

  “Yes, and Zhenya, if you…”

  “Do you need help, Tsarinovna?” Zhenya interrupted her.

  “We need your silence, Zhenya, your complete and absolute silence about meeting us here, and…”

  “Where are you going, Tsarinovna?” said Zhenya before Slava could finish her plea.

  “It’s better if you don’t know, Zhenya, so that no one can force you…”

  “No one will force me, Tsarinovna,” said Zhenya, with more conviction than Slava would have thought possible from such a poor beaten-down creature. “But I can see you are heading East, with no horses, no carts, and hardly any weapons or provisions worth speaking of. So I am asking you: do you have far to go? Do you need help reaching your destination?”

  “Well…” said Slava, since Zhenya’s assessment of her situation was all too accurate, but she was still reluctant to ask for her help.

  “I can see that you do,” said Zhenya. “Svetlana Alinovna! We must assist the Tsarinovna and her companions!”

  “Of course, Yevgeniya Marislavovna,” said Svetlana Alinovna, respect pushing out all the motherliness that had previously filled her voice. Slava couldn’t blame her. Zhenya’s transformation had been quite impressive.

  “We will take you East, Tsarinovna, don’t you worry,” said Zhenya. “Here: climb in with me.”

  And so, quite unexpectedly, Slava found herself in a cart next to Zhenya, and soon they had gathered up Olik from his hiding place on the bank, and he and all the others had seated themselves in the two carts as well, and the carts had been turned around—not without difficulty and nearly getting stuck on the muddy banks—and they were heading East.

  “We’re taking you in the wrong way,” Slava whispered to Zhenya, as they set off.

  “My only direction is with you, Tsarinovna,” Zhenya whispered back.

  “Well, then, we’re taking Svetlana Alinovna in the wrong direction,” said Slava.

  “Svetlana Alinovna will be glad to serve you,” said Zhenya.

  “I will try to see she is well rewarded,” said Slava with a sigh. “If it is in my power at all, I will make sure she is not put out of her way for nothing.”

  “Why are you fleeing, Tsarinovna?” asked Zhenya.

  “I…the fewer who hear of it, the better, Zhenya, so now is not the time.”

  “Well then, where are you fleeing, Tsarinovna?” said Zhenya. “That, at least, you must tell us, if we are to take you there.”

  “Gluboky Prud sanctuary,” said Slava apologetically.

  “Gluboky Prud sanctuary, Tsarinovna?” said Svetlana Alinovna. “I was just there. And now I suppose I’ll be seeing it again. Ah well, I’m sure they’ll be glad to have me back, for we always have a nice little chat and I give them a few nice things. I picked up some blankets at our last stop; I was going to bring them to Krasnograd, but perhaps they’ll need them at the sanctuary—perhaps they’ll need them even more than in Krasnograd—they get so few visitors there, while merchants in Krasnograd are simply crawling around every street corner.”

  “You were just there?” asked Slava, surprised, gratified, and amused at how readily and graciously Svetlana Alinovna was allowing them to take over her caravan and cause her to return exactly to the place from where she had just departed. “And how…how were things there?”

  “The same as always, Tsarinovna: peaceful and quiet. Although—you know they have a men’s sanctuary there as well? Well, it was all abuzz with the latest news.” Svetlana Alinovna seemed to be recovering from her shock and returning to what Slava could see was her usual cheerful, motherly, talkative self.

  “And what was that?” asked Slava.

  “That some new nobleman had arrived, some new young prince, straight from Krasnograd and all distraught over something, and spends all his time laboring and praying, so that even the hardiest of the brothers are amazed. They say he’s terribly handsome, but heartbroken, Tsarinovna, utterly heartbroken and sick with himself. I only caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye, as I was unloading my goods, but I could tell they were telling the truth; he was as handsome and sad as they said. He was chopping wood. They say he fell into some great guilt before his wife, and is now committing a most awful penance.” Svetlana Alinovna sighed. “Romantic, is it not, girls?” she said.

  “Yes,” said Slava. “You don’t happen to know his name, do you?”

  “No, Tsarinovna, and more’s a pity, for it’s a great story, isn’t it? All the sanctuary was full of it, as I said—well, as much as it could be, being a sanctuary and concerned with other things and trying to keep silent—I’m glad I’m not a sister, aren’t you? Give me traveling any day over prayer, that’s what I say. But other than that there was nothing of interest at all—a sanctuary’s a sanctuary, after all, you know.”

  “Yes,” agreed Slava. She couldn’t help but suspect that the newest arrival at the men’s sanctuary was Valery Annovich. She would like to think so, anyway.

  Soon she forgot to think about Valery Annovich or anyone else, and stared off at the trees, and then at the empty fields, through which they were traveling. For a while she was too apprehensive of meeting another traveler to get any rest, but after they had been going for a few hours and not seen another soul, she found herself dozing off on the cart bench, despite the lurching and the jolting.

  “Rest your head on my shoulder, Tsarinovna,” said Zhenya, after Slava lolled over and then jerked awake for the third time.

  “I don’t want to bother you,” said Slava hesitantly.

  “Nonsense, Tsarinovna, you won’t be bothering me at all,” Zhenya told her. “Rest your head on my shoulder and get some sleep while you can.”

  And so Slava rested her head on Zhenya’s shoulder and drifted off to a kind of semi-sleep. She stayed in that condition for what she guessed to be several versts, until she suddenly heard Vladislava calling for help, and snapped awake, her heat racing and sweat
running down her sides.

  “What is it, Tsarinovna?” asked Zhenya, as Dunya asked, “What’s the matter?” at the same time.

  “I thought I heard Vladislava calling for help,” Slava told them. “Vladislava is my ward,” she explained to Zhenya.

  “It was just a dream,” Dunya told her comfortingly. “It’s natural you’re worried for her, so it’s natural that you’re dreaming of her. Think nothing of it.”

  “Yes, think nothing of it, Tsarinovna,” Zhenya echoed.

  “I suppose you’re right,” said Slava, but she couldn’t shake off the awful impression of Vladislava’s plea for help all the rest of the day.

  ***

  They stopped for the night in a small village whose inhabitants accepted the return of Svetlana Alinovna with an added retinue without question. Slava could see by their faces that they considered the ways of all travelers incomprehensible, and that if Svetlana Alinovna wanted to come back their way only the day after she had set out, with a party of noblewomen and their guards, that was her business. They were all fed and given beds, and in the morning, they were fed again and sent on their way without further questions. Slava could only marvel at how easily everything had turned out for her: two days ago she had been fleeing for her life, and now, while she was still in fact fleeing for her life, she was doing so with a minimum of trouble and inconvenience. She wondered if the gods had had a hand in it, or if it was only her own good luck. She supposed she was due a little good luck, and decided not to view it with too much suspicion, although she knew that was a decision easier made than upheld.

  They passed very few travelers that day, and those whom they did encounter also showed very little interest in them. They greeted Svetlana Alinovna, remarked briefly on the size of her party, and then carried on towards Krasnograd without a backwards glance. It was apparent that Slava had outrun the news of her treason, and no one they met had reason so much as to look twice at her. She hoped that none of them remembered her once they arrived in Krasnograd and heard what had happened.

  They traveled for several days in that fashion, with, Slava couldn’t help but think, the most unaccountable ease. It was as if the world were making way for them. Slava, abandoning her earlier decision not to treat their good fortune with too much suspicion, wondered what ill fortune their current good luck presaged, and had to tell herself to stop wondering such things immediately. It did no good at all, and only made her unhappy. She passed most of the journey in a haze of tiredness and morning sickness.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A week after they had set out from Krasnograd, they arrived at Deep Pond sanctuary. As might be expected from the name, it was on the banks of a deep pond in a small clearing in the midst of a thick woods. A sister came out to greet them.

  “Svetlana Alinovna,” she said in surprise. “What brings you back so early?”

  “Travelers your way,” said Svetlana Alinovna. “I decided to give them a ride.”

  “That was kind of you, Svetlana Alinovna,” said the sister. “Welcome, travelers. What brings you to our sanctuary?”

  “The Tsarina,” said Slava, speaking for the first time that day.

  “The Tsarina is in Krasnograd, sister,” said the sister with a faint smile.

  “You know whom I mean,” said Slava impatiently, and then, embarrassed at her rudeness, added quickly, “I’m sorry, sister. But you know whom I mean. I must speak with her this instant.” Having arrived at the sanctuary, Slava’s earlier dazedness had suddenly given way to a frightening urgency that was making her heart jump in her chest and sweat trickle down her back.

  “The woman of whom you speak has chosen to retire from the world of women, sister,” said the sister, calmly but firmly.

  “I’m her daughter,” said Slava. “Surely she’ll see me.”

  The sister started at that announcement, and stood there for a moment in speechless surprise before bowing and saying, “I’ll see that she’s informed. In the meanwhile, please, come in and refresh yourselves. Sisters will take your horses, and show your men where they can rest.”

  They all climbed out of the carts, and Slava, Dunya, Zhenya, and Svetlana Alinovna followed the sister inside the main building, Svetlana Alinovna hanging back to the rear and looking very uncertain about her place in things now that it had become clear that she was about to encounter the Tsarina.

  “Of course,” Slava heard her whisper to Zhenya as they took of their boots and slipped on slippers, “I saw her before, but somehow it was different: she was always just another sister then. But now—the Tsarina! I know there’s another one ruling in Krasnograd now, but our little mother Marislava will always be the Tsarina in my heart. The good-hearted Tsarina, that’s what we always called her! And now here’s the Tsarinovna here to see her! It makes a difference, somehow, don’t you feel it, Zhenechka my dear? It makes a difference, and my heart’s beating so that my hands are shaking—just look! I don’t know if I’ll have the nerve to face her, if she should appear.”

  “We’ll just stand back here,” Zhenya whispered back to her. “I doubt she’ll have eyes for anyone except the Tsarinovna.”

  And then they were in a small side room and there was the sound of someone walking quickly down the corridor towards them, and then her mother was there in the room with them, wearing a brown sister’s dress and looking very surprised, and also a little bit different than Slava remembered her looking two years ago, when they had last seen each other, but mostly she looked surprised, more surprised even than pleased.

  “Slava?” she asked disbelievingly. “Is that you?”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “What…What brings you here?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Slava.

  “Oh…well…there will be time, I’m sure…are you here for long?”

  “I don’t know,” said Slava. “Did you not receive my letter?”

  “Oh, that…Well…Come here, then…I haven’t hugged you in so long…”

  And when her mother put her arms around her, Slava saw that tears suddenly came to her eyes, and that she was now, finally, really glad to see her. Her face looked older than it had when she had left Krasnograd, but also softer and happier, more like the face of an ordinary woman and less like the remote mask of an empress.

  “Are these your companions, then?” she asked, after she had hugged Slava for a long time, squeezing her almost painfully hard. She was much bigger than Slava, almost as big as Vladya, and Slava could feel how she had filled out in her time at the sanctuary—probably she had to work in the garden and the stables every day.

  “Some of them,” Slava told her. “The men are putting away the horses, and the others…” She thought of Olga and Vladislava, and her throat closed up, so that she had to stop for a moment, confused. “It’s a long story,” she said again. “But an urgent one. Oh mother! Did you not receive my letter? Vladya…I come to you with no good news!”

  “Vladya!” cried her mother. “Is she…ill?” Slava could see by her face that she was really thinking dead, since surely nothing else would bring Slava herself all the way out here.

  “She is…Oh mother! She seems to have fallen under a curse!”

  “A curse!” exclaimed her mother. “How?”

  “It’s a long story,” said Slava for a third time.

  “I can imagine,” said her mother dryly, and for a moment they both smiled, despite the gravity of the situation. “What signs does she show?” Slava’s mother asked.

  “She mistrusts me…Oh mother! I am here because she declared me a traitor, and I had to flee Krasnograd, perhaps for my life…We slipped out the secret corridors and then out the old Malaya Vostochnaya gate…Soldiers were searching for us everywhere…And two of my companions never met with us at the meeting point, and we think they were captured…Olga Vasilisovna, Princess Severnolesnaya’s younger daughter, and Vladislava Vasilisovna, her granddaughter—I took her as my ward, and I am afraid…But we couldn’t go back, what could
we have done? And so we came to you—actually it was Olga’s idea, and we decided to carry it out even after she was unable to join us, she must have been captured—we came to you, as the only person who could manage her, who could do anything…And here we are…”

  “You fled Krasnograd?” said Slava’s mother, taking a step back. “Vladya declared you a traitor? What did you do?”

  Slava stared at her mother. In that moment she saw that her mother desperately did not want to be dragged back to Krasnograd, and even more desperately did not want to hear anything against Vladya’s rule, as she had always feared that Vladya would be a poor ruler but was too eager to give up her throne to admit it. She had told herself she was doing the right thing by turning the throne over to Vladya while they were still both of sound mind and body, and if Vladya had ever been fit to rule, she would have been right, but Vladya never had been and, Slava thought, most likely never would be fit to rule. But her mother had never been able to bring herself to see that, and now she was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to avoid becoming entangled in her daughters’ problems and being dragged back to Krasnograd, and if that meant throwing Slava to the wolves, then so be it. Slava supposed she couldn’t blame her—in fact, she, too, would have done almost anything to avoid being dragged back to Krasnograd—but she also knew, with the most sickening certainty, that her mother was not going to save her.

  “I made her afraid of me,” said Slava, telling herself that she was wrong, she had misjudged her mother and that she mustn’t give up now, now that they had made it all the way to the sanctuary, oustripping even her letter. At that thought, Slava felt a strong twinge, and she knew she was lying to herself, but she tried to cover that up with even more lies.

  “Afraid of you! How!?”

  “She’s never been very brave,” said Slava. “I didn’t even mean to, but I did it anyway. But really it was the curse—or rather, the curse took the easiest route…”

  “You must be tired,” her mother interrupted. “And no doubt hungry as well. Let’s sit down and have something to eat. This way.”