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

by E. P. Clark

  “Yes, of course, Tsarina,” said Masha and Manya together, eyeing the robe with new interest. “Perhaps people will want to see it, and pay their respects.”

  For a moment Slava thought they must be mocking her, but then she looked at their solemn faces and realized that they were speaking perfectly seriously. “Perhaps,” she said. “Let’s not turn it into kitchen rags just yet, in any case.”

  Masha and Manya reverently folded the ragged robe and set it aside, before returning to dressing Slava.

  “Do you think this is fine enough?” Masha asked Manya, holding up a gown she had dug up somewhere, probably from one of the chests that filled the wardrobe room next door to overflowing. Slava had never seen that particular gown before, but there was nothing unusual about that, as Masha and Manya were constantly producing new gowns out of nowhere. She suspected they stayed up late at night and sewed them in their own time, which was both touching and horrible. This one was so encrusted with gold and precious gems that Masha was having a hard time holding it up high enough to keep it from dragging on the floor.

  “It has a headdress somewhere to go with it,” said Manya. “Very large and gold. If we could find that…”

  “And two or three stout guards to carry me,” Slava put in.

  Masha and Manya stopped and gave her looks of confusion and terror.

  “It will be very heavy,” Slava said with a gentle smile. “Let’s save it for an audience with the Princess Council, shall we? And that way you can search out the matching headdress—I would hate to appear ill-dressed”—Masha and Manya flinched so horribly at that thought that Slava knew she had gone too far, and added hastily—“not that I ever would, with you two to dress me. Do find the headdress, if you can, and see if needs burnishing or dusting or something. Meanwhile, something simple would suit me better for this simple evening with my friends and family.”

  “Of course, Tsarina, of course, of course,” said Masha, bowing three or four times and scurrying, or rather dragging herself and the massive gown, off to the wardrobe.

  “You are very kind, Tsarina,” said Manya. She gave Slava a surprisingly shrewd look. Slava had occasionally suspected that there was some kind of intelligence lurking behind Manya’s eyes, if only she would take the trouble to let it out. Pleased to see it peeking out again, Slava smiled as encouragingly as possible and said, “Much can be accomplished with kindness, Manya.”

  “I see that, Tsarina,” said Manya, giving Slava an even shrewder look.

  “Will this gown suit, Tsarina?” asked Masha anxiously, trotting back from the wardrobe with a gown in her arms that was so plain it was almost wearable.

  “Excellently,” said Slava, giving her a smile as well. For a moment Masha smiled in return with the smile of the genuinely good-hearted.

  “Did anyone try to harm you while I was…gone?” asked Slava, suddenly wondering if anyone had attempted to take revenge on her through her maids. She could feel her cheeks flushing at the very idea.

  “No, no, not at all, Tsarina,” Masha assured her.

  “There was some talk of locking us up, and we got some queer looks from the guards, and once Vova who guards the lower stairs said that we’d get what was coming to us and pinched my waist so hard I got a bruise, but other than that nothing. Tsarina,” said Manya in one long hurried breath.

  “Vova pinched me, too, and twisted my arm so hard I thought I’d sprained it,” whispered Masha, looking down.

  “Vova was sent to do night watch at the East Gate,” added Manya with great satisfaction. “I told Allochka in the kitchen, who told one of the cooks, who told Anna Avdotyevna, who told Boleslav Vlasiyevich if any of his guards ever laid a hand on her maids again, she’d…” Manya paused in unusual confusion, and concluded, “and Vova was out doing the coldest night duty the very next evening, with a black eye to boot.”

  “She said she’d cut off his balls and eat them in the Hall of Celebration,” said Masha with a giggle.

  “Really?” said Slava. “I suddenly feel a new respect for Anna Avdotyevna. I knew she ruled with an iron fist, but truly…”

  “I don’t think she’d’ve had to make good on her threat, Tsarina,” said Manya with a grin. “Because everyone knows that she already did it once. Or something like it.”

  “Everyone is very afraid of Anna Avdotyevna, Tsarina,” said Masha, with an expression that said she counted herself most emphatically amongst that number.

  “Every now and then she likes to remind people they shouldn’t stop being afraid, Tsarina,” said Manya. “Not that they need much reminding. And the guards are even more afraid to cross Boleslav Vlasiyevich now than they were before.”

  “I shall keep that in mind,” said Slava. “Now, my gown…”

  Although clearly full of misgivings about allowing Slava to go out in such unpresentable attire, Masha and Manya dressed her in the very plain dress they had found, and, with only feeble attacks at her hair and face, let her go.

  A large gang of guards was waiting for Slava as soon as she stepped out of her chambers, and they all closed silently around her as she began walking down the hall. Slava tried to smile at them in an encouraging fashion, but they all resolutely refused to meet her eye. Some of them, she recognized, were the same men who half a year ago would share gossip with her from the kitchens. Those guards appeared particularly keen not to catch her gaze.

  Anna Avdotyevna suddenly swept in from a side corridor and, sliding in some mysterious fashion through all the guards, joined up with Slava. Everyone, including Slava, twitched in uncontrollable terror at her unexpected appearance. Somehow, from one step to the next, the guards were all walking two paces farther away from Slava than they had been an instant before. Anna Avdotyevna really did bear a strong resemblance to Vladya in both mind and manner, Slava thought as they walked through the suddenly-empty air around them. She wondered, uncomfortably, how strong a resemblance Anna Avdotyevna bore to her.

  “I see I have not spoken in vain,” said Anna Avdotyevna with satisfaction, breaking the terrified silence. Slava could see that she was thinking of the story Masha and Manya had just shared with her, and that she knew that everyone else there was also thinking of the same story. “Bear that in mind, Tsarina, for when you must command the respect of those you rule.”

  “Perhaps I will let you do it for me, Anna Avdotyevna,” said Slava. “You do it so much better than I ever could, I think.”

  “Some Tsarinas do employ other women to do their dirty work for them, it is true, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna. Slava couldn’t tell whether she approved of this or not.

  “I am coming with you, Tsarina,” Anna Avdotyevna continued. “You should not have to face…what you are about to face alone.”

  “Is my niece there?” Slava asked.

  “I brought her to her mother myself, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna. “I judged no one else so fit to perform that sad task.”

  “And…How is she? How has she taken it?”

  “I cannot tell, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna thoughtfully. “Or at least, I could not when I left them. Your niece did not appear to have grasped the enormity of what had happened. Or even what had happened at all. I am not sure that she understands the change undergone by her mother, in both mind and station.”

  “I’m not sure I do either,” said Slava.

  “Well, whatever you do, Tsarina, do not let your niece know that. At the moment I think you have little to fear from her, but even at her tender age she possesses some cunning and little honor, and there are those who would support her claim to the Wooden Throne, I am sure of it.”

  “Like whom?” Slava asked.

  Anna Avdotyevna gave her an approving look. “You should have the matter looked into, Tsarina,” she said. “Soon. By someone you trust. But in the meantime, do not let your guard down around Prasha. She might seem like a mere little girl, but because of who she is, she is much more dangerous than that.”

  “Yes, I know,” said Slava. />
  “Then make sure you do not stop knowing it, Tsarina, when you see your sister and your niece before you. I know how tender your heart can be, but in this you must steel it against the claims of others. Do not forget with whom you are dealing.”

  “My heart is more than tender, Anna Avdotyevna,” said Slava. “I will not forget. I will do what I consider necessary, you may be sure of that.”

  “Then be sure that you consider keeping your sister and your niece off the throne necessary, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna.

  “I was the one who stopped my sister when no one else would,” said Slava evenly. “I will not forget.”

  By then they had reached the doors to her sister’s chambers, preventing Anna Avdotyevna from saying more, but Slava could see from her face that she had nothing more to say, as she had tested Slava and not found her wanting. Slava wondered how often she was going to do that, and what Slava would have to do to stop her. She knew that to Anna Avdotyevna’s firm mind, Slava’s own softness seemed like weakness, and that it would be very hard to disabuse her of that notion, as in Anna Avdotyevna herself, softness would be weakness. Slava knew that the argument she had been given, up there in the North, that the world needed more people like her, would hold little weight with Anna Avdotyevna. She needed some other argument, something that would appeal to Anna Avdotyevna…

  “Anna Avdotyevna!” said Slava abruptly, making the guard at the door freeze in mid-knock.

  “Do not confuse me for you, or anyone else,” Slava said. “The blood of both Lyubov the Kind and Miroslava Praskovyevna runs through my veins. Thus far you have only seen Lyubov’s granddaughter, but Miroslava’s granddaughter is there just as surely. Be assured that she stands behind me, stiffening my backbone and strengthening all my actions.”

  “Truly, Tsarina?” asked Anna Avdotyevna.

  “I hear her speak to me every day,” said Slava. “Sometimes—often—I force myself to be soft and gentle in order to drown out her voice, which calls for blood and fire. Her voice is not a kind one, Anna Avdotyevna, and should not be given too much say, especially in the Hall of Council. It whispers sweet things to the evil that lurks in all of us, urging us to do terrible deeds. You do not want me to do terrible deeds, Anna Avdotyevna. But be assured that I could. I am not so soft as you think, Anna Avdotyevna.”

  Slava could see by the look on Anna Avdotyevna’s face that she had accomplished her aim, and made Anna Avdotyevna believe in her. Anna Avdotyevna, Slava thought, was a lot less like Vladya than seemed at first glance, because Anna Avdotyevna could, on occasion, actually hear what other people were saying when they spoke. Even if what they were speaking was barely more than nonsense. Once again she marveled at how easy it was to win people over by telling a certain kind of truth, a truth that skirted dangerously close to stupidity and lies, a truth that she had not known existed until that moment, but as soon as it left her mouth, she knew that it was not only true, it was exactly the right thing to say.

  “They say that even the strongest wept when you looked into their hearts in the Hall of Council, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna. “The kitchens and the maids’ chambers are afire with the news. Is it true?”

  “I have no doubt that the kitchens are afire with gossip,” said Slava. “They always are. But in this case it is true. My own sister lost her wits when I let her look into my heart, and the Hall of Council was nearly undone when I looked into theirs. You do not want me to do terrible deeds, Anna Avdotyevna.”

  “Perhaps not,” said Anna Avdotyevna. “But I want you remember that you can do them. Guard! Open the door!”

  The guard, who had stood there in frozen terror during the entire conversation between Slava and Anna Avdotyevna, let his hand reach the door and knock.

  “Who is it!” cried a voice. Slava realized it was Prasha’s.

  “The Tsarina demands entry!” called Anna Avdotyevna.

  “The Tsarina is already here!” shouted Prasha back through the door.

  Anna Avdotyevna flared her nostrils.

  “Boleslav Vlasiyevich!” called Slava quickly. “Are you there?”

  “I’m opening the door as we speak, Tsarina!” shouted Boleslav Vlasiyevich. There was a rattling of bolts, and Boleslav Vlasiyevich pulled open the door.

  “How is my sister?” Slava demanded.

  “A healer is with her, Tsarina,” said Boleslav Vlasiyevich, stepping back with a bow to let Slava in. “She appears…as she was, but she does not appear to suffer.”

  “That is good,” said Slava. “I would see her.”

  “She is in her bedroom, with her daughter and the healer, Tsarina,” said Boleslav Vlasiyevich. “I will take you to her.”

  “Don’t you dare! Don’t let her near us!” cried Prasha from the next room.

  “Prasha!” called Slava. Part of her was aware how ridiculous this was, to be conducting this delicate and terrible conversation with her niece at the top of her lungs, in front of at least a dozen onlookers, but there didn’t seem to be any way around it. “Prasha!” she repeated. “I would speak to you!”

  “NO!” screamed Prasha, making Slava flinch.

  “Tsarina…” said Anna Avdotyevna warningly.

  “I know,” said Slava softly. She brushed past the guards and went into her sister’s bedroom.

  “HOW DARE YOU!” screamed Prasha from where she was sitting on the bed, next to Slava’s sister, who was lying propped on pillows. Slava couldn’t tell if she was awake or asleep. Perhaps she couldn’t tell herself. “HOW DARE YOU COME IN HERE! BOLESLAV! WHY IS SHE NOT ARRESTED?”

  “It is good that you care so for your mother, Prasha,” said Slava gently. “You are a good daughter.”

  “GET AWAY! GUARDS! GUARDS!! ARREST THIS TRAITOR!!” Prasha’s face, never, alas, very handsome, crumpled into pitiful tears. Slava spared a moment to wonder how her sister, who despite all her flaws had always been a great beauty, and her handpicked husband, who on his wedding day had been counted the handsomement man in the empire, had managed to produce a girl so ill-favored as Prasha. Truly, the gods were cruel. Of course, a sweeter temper would have sweetened her face considerably.

  “Healer!” said Slava. “Is there nothing you can do for my niece?”

  “I can give her watered vodka, Tsarinovna…Tsarina!” added the healer, after catching the menacing eyes of both Boleslav Vlasiyevich and (much more terrifying) Anna Avdotyevna. “But it may only make her more excited. A nervous trouble of this sort…”

  “I understand,” said Slava. “Prasha, my dear niece, dry your eyes. Your mother needs you. Someone must be strong for her, since she cannot be strong for herself.”

  “NO!” screamed Prasha.

  “Prasha?” said Slava’s sister, raising herself feebly from her pillows. “Did you say something, Prashenka?”

  “Mama!” cried Prasha. “Mama, send her away! Send them all away, the traitors!”

  “Who is here?” asked Vladya. “Is that Slava?”

  “Yes,” said Slava, stepping closer to the bed. “How do you feel, Vladya?”

  “My head…” said Vladya feebly. “But it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re here. Come lie beside me, Slavochka. I want you to lie beside me. Do you remember when we were little girls?”

  “Of course,” said Slava.

  “I don’t remember…I don’t remember much today, for some reason. But I remember when you were born. I remember when you were a little baby. Lie down beside me, Slavochka.”

  Slava lay down beside her, on the other side of the bed from Prasha, who was radiating rage and pain like heat from bathhouse stones. Vladya reached over and pulled Slava close to her, so that Slava’s head was resting on her shoulder.

  “I used to hold you like this, Slavochka, when you were little. I loved you so much. Mother told me to watch over you always. You were fragile and special, she said, and I must watch over you always.”

  On the other side of the bed Prasha gave a great sob and buried her face in the bedclothes.
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  “And then I had Prasha, and I knew exactly how mother felt. Only Prasha is strong, like me, isn’t she?”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “So she’ll have to watch over you always, won’t she? Because you’re still fragile and special.”

  “I am a woman grown now,” said Slava. “It is my turn to watch over Prasha.”

  “But you are still fragile and special. I can feel it. Our hearts…Our hearts were torn apart for a long time, Slava, but now they are joined again. I looked into your heart, and I was washed away, just as the dream warned me, wasn’t I?”

  Slava looked up at Vladya. Her eyes were bright and clear.

  “Vladya!” cried Slava.

  “I am washed away, Slava,” said Vladya serenely. “You can’t call me back. But I have a piece of your heart with me.”

  “No, Vladya! Try to stay!” Out of the corner of her eye Slava saw Anna Avdotyevna shake her head in warning.

  “I am washed away,” repeated Vladya. “I can no longer watch over you. Prasha will have to take my place. Prasha!” She sat up. “Swear to me.”

  “What, mama?” asked Prasha, raising her tear-rumpled face from the bedclothes.

  “Swear to me you will watch over Slava always. Swear your allegiance to her.”

  “What! No! Mama, no!”

  “Swear it, Prasha. I will not be able to ask this of you again. Already the flood is taking me. So swear it now.”

  “I…” Prasha gave Slava a look of such bitter hatred that Slava half-feared she would be forced to call the guards to restrain her. “I swear it.”

  “My sweet girl,” said Vladya, kissing Prasha’s hand. She stroked Slava’s hair. “Fragile and special…” she murmured.

  “Vladya…” said Slava, but before she could say anything else, Vladya had fallen back onto the pillows. When Slava looked into her eyes, they were closed.

  “It didn’t have to be like this,” Slava said, mostly to herself. “It didn’t have to be like this. We both had the same gifts…the same sight. You just never cared enough to use them. You never wanted to make yourself weak enough to accept them. And then when they washed over you, you broke instead of bending, and were washed away.” She looked over at the healer. “What ails her now?” she asked.