by E. P. Clark
“Yes,” I said, in order to stop her. To be honest, I was only partially convinced by my own arguments. It seemed like there had to be something more, something besides just a marriage, although… “Well, we'll find out soon enough, won't we?” I said. “And now perhaps I should make our arrangements. Whatever else the Tsarina wants from me, she wants me to present myself in Krasnograd as soon as possible, and that won’t happen on its own. I need to go speak with Irina Yaroslavovna about horses.”
Chapter Two
We set off the next morning as early as could be expected, given that I had had to muster up an escort and a wagon and pack horses to supply us. I would have preferred to travel light, but with Mirochka joining us, and an Empress waiting for us at the end of our road, that was not to be.
The journey was as unremarkable as two-week journey across the steppe could be. Mirochka was bored and whiny part of the time, and the rest of the time required constant watching to keep her from getting into mischief. We lost a day due to a torrential rain, and as soon as we left the steppe (I couldn’t help but think it was an omen) one of the packhorses stepped on a stone and bruised her foot, requiring us to redistribute our load and leave her at the next waystation, but other than that, our trip was without incident, and all too soon we were in the fertile black earth region of the Krasna riverlands and approaching Krasnograd.
Mirochka's excitement reached a fever pitch as we came in sight of the walls and the forty forties of towers of Krasnograd, so that I feared I would have to take her off her pony in order to keep both of them safe. It was her first time seeing it, as the only time I had come here since her birth, I had left her behind with my parents at Stepnoy Dom.
I was rather less excited to be returning, but I put on a brave face for her and told her as much about Krasnograd as I could. I also avoided the East Gate, which was the most direct entrance to the city from our road, and instead circled around to the South Gate. In the past generation the shantytown of Outer Krasnograd had been cleared away from the South and West Gates, so that one could ride in and out of the city there without witnessing the muddy alleys, leaking shacks, and other signs of the squalor that marked Outer Krasnograd. Of course, the squalor had simply moved to the East and North sides of the city, so that there was now what amounted to practically a second city outside the real city’s walls, but one that consisted entirely of poverty and desperation, without any of the green parks and fine buildings that graced the better parts of Krasnograd proper. The road to the East Gate was particularly unpleasant, leading as it did past the stockyards and abattoir whose filth and misery fed the heedless dwellers of the walled city. Including, when I was there, me, as my mother had rebelled against the Imperial oath made by our foremother Darya Krasnoslavovna, and raised me and Mirochka in that rebellion too.
I couldn’t help but suspect that Mirochka and I would be called upon to honor the terms of Darya Krasnoslavovna’s oath, and that we would be able to ride past the abattoir without any personal guilt, but it was still (I thought with weak-willed squeamishness) not a sight for a little girl. It was something that Mirochka would need to see someday, but it should not be her first introduction to Krasnograd. Let her see that—although I doubted it myself—there was something to it other than cruelty. There would be plenty of time for disillusionment later. So, although part of me condemned my actions as cowardly and hypocritical, I took us well around Outer Krasnograd and up the broad, smooth road to the imposing South Gate, which was solid enough to withstand an army and yet had gold filigree that flashed from the top of the wall in the sun.
The gate guards, all with the round rosy faces and round blue eyes of black earth boys, straightened up as soon as I gave my name, and said that the Tsarina had left orders for our party to be escorted directly to the kremlin as soon as we put in an appearance, and for us to be given lodging there.
“My family has a house here in Krasnograd,” I said. “There’s no need for us to be quartered in the kremlin.”
“Your father’s family has a house here, begging your pardon, Valeriya Dariyevna,” replied the guard with a bow. “But the place for your mother’s family is in the kremlin. The Tsarina ordered us to convey those words exactly. She would like you to stay with her there, just as you did the last time you were here, for she may have need of you again.”
“Did she also ask for those words to be conveyed to me exactly?” I asked. The mention of my last stay in Krasnograd was not a good sign. Not a good sign at all.
“Not as such, Valeriya Dariyevna, but she did say something like that,” said the guard nervously, put off by the intensity of my question.
“I see.” I was liking this less and less, but perhaps I was overreacting. Just because my previous two visits to Krasnograd had ended in disaster didn’t mean that this one had to as well. “Of course we would be honored and delighted to accept the Tsarina's hospitality,” I told the guards, since there didn't seem to be any way out of it, and Mirochka’s eyes were shining at the thought of staying in the kremlin. I tried to forget the ominous reference to last time. Perhaps keeping us in the kremlin would be the best way to ensure that we would be forced to mingle with whatever princes she had in mind for us, if that was in fact what she had in mind. She was certainly planning something, something that seemed to involve bringing me closer to my mother’s family and to the throne.
I wondered (growing ever more worried) what had brought this on. Second-sister to the Tsarina I might be, but despite the issue of succession, I had always been treated, and was accustomed to thinking of myself as, the Stepnaya heir, not another Zerkalitsa. The old Tsarina, my mother's sister, had been very careful to make it clear that her daughter, not her sister, would inherit the Wooden Throne and the rule of Zem’, and following the Western invasion and its successful repulsion by the steppe army, she had married my mother off to the only child of Princess Stepnaya at the first opportunity, thereby renewing the blood ties between the Stepniye and Zerkalitsy, and ensuring that the issue of the Stepnaya succession, which was precarious due to the unfortunate fact that the old Princess Stepnaya had only had a single son, was resolved in Krasnograd’s favor. The steppe army may have saved Krasnograd from the enemy at its gates, but that only made it more imperative that it be kept under the firm hand of Krasnograd’s rule. No one loves a conqueror, even one on their own side.
Claiming the double right of Stepnaya blood on her mother’s side, and marriage to a Stepnoy prince for her own part, my mother became the new Princess Stepnaya, and I was her heir in turn. My mother had retired gratefully from Krasnograd to the steppe, and it had been assumed that I would spend my life out there with her, ruling the steppe as the next Princess Stepnaya when the time came. But all that had been thrown into doubt when I had borne a daughter, while my second-sister had had nothing but a succession of sons, each one leaving her more weakened than the last. The last time we had spoken, when I had been preparing to leave Krasnograd, despairing of the future and out of favor with the other princesses yet again, she had said that Mirochka and I could not be allowed to rusticate forever on the steppe, and that the time would come when we would be called to Krasnograd to take up our position as Zerkalitsy. It appeared that that time had come, much as I might wish it hadn’t. Serving the Zerkalitsy, especially when one was a Zerkalitsa, tended not to go so well for the server.
Mirochka, though, seemed unaffected by my misgivings, which I had never shared with her anyway, and looked this way and that and questioned the guards about everything strange and new that she saw, which was everything, since we had no cities on the steppe. The guards answered her questions indulgently, and by the time we reached the kremlin, appeared completely charmed by her. I tucked that information away to consider later. Mirochka had never had occasion to charm strangers before, but it seemed she had a knack for it. There could be worse skills for the heir to all of Zem’ to possess.
There was a slight hitch when we arrived at the kremlin and stablehands came to take ou
r horses away. Mirochka did not want to entrust her pony, or any of the other horses, to strangers, and it was only when the kremlin's own mistress of horse came out and assured her personally that our horses would receive the best of care that she agreed to relinquish her reins to the waiting groom, and then only with reluctance and with many dire threats as to what would happen of any harm should befall any of our mounts.
I attempted to quiet her and to assure her that her fears were groundless, but all the guards and stablehands appeared not to take it amiss, saying with approving smiles that they could see Mirochka was a steppe princess as well as a Zerkalitsa, and they wouldn't want to curb her fiery spirit for anything. While I approved of the sentiment in principle, at the moment I found Mirochka’s fiery spirit rather annoying, and it was all I could do to keep my patience with her and with everyone else as we finally, finally left our horses and baggage with the servants and allowed ourselves to be escorted inside.
The kremlin was just as I remembered it from my previous visits: large, with long wide corridors leading to massive halls, and everywhere bustling with servants and guards and petitioners and princesses and all the other folk who populate the seat of Zem’’s rule.
Despite her earlier brave words, Mirochka was overwhelmed by it all, and took my hand without being directed to do so. When serving women came and led our companions off to the chambers they had been given, while informing us that we were to be taken directly to the Tsarina, Mirochka’s grip on my hand grew quite death-like, and she clung to my side all the way down the long whitewashed corridors and into the Hall of Council.
To my relief, since I didn’t know how Mirochka would react to a crowd, there were only half a dozen people there, but as one of those people was the Empress, the Hall of Council seemed very full. Even though she was my sister, I always felt as if she took up all the space in any room she happened to be occupying. My heart was beating faster than I would have liked to admit, and I felt dizzy, to my shame. The last time we had seen each other had been in her private chambers, and there had been blood and fear and great oaths sworn. Seeing her here in the Hall of Council again, where she was meant to be, caused something to squeeze in my chest the way that it did sometimes when I looked upon Mirochka and realized how dear she was to me, but I could not reach out and take her into my arms the way I could with Mirochka. Most likely she would wish to forget all that had passed between us when I was last in Krasnograd, and would greet me just as she would any other noblewoman presenting herself in the kremlin. And most likely that would be easier for me as well.
“Greetings, sister,” said the Empress, rising as we approached the dais. “I see you have arrived in good time, just as you promised. An auspicious start to your sojourn here with us in Krasnograd, my dearest Valeriya Dariyevna. And this,” she continued, ignoring my bow and stepping off the dais, “must be my second-niece, Miroslava Valeriyevna.”
She smiled kindly at Mirochka, and then moved to embrace me. I allowed it, trying not to betray the shock I felt when, as she drew me close, I realized that she was with child. It was still early yet, I could feel, early enough that it was not visible under the loose sarafan she was wearing, but her firm rounded belly pressed unmistakably against me, and when she stepped back and looked me in the eyes, my expression must have shown her that I knew, for she smiled a smile of half-joyful, half-chagrined admission, before withdrawing from me and smoothing her face into a look of Imperial welcome once more.
“I trust your journey was uneventful?” she asked. “You look hale and hearty as always, my dear sister.”
“As uneventful as could be expected, Tsarina,” I told her, surprised at how well my lips moved and how smoothly the words came, given the state of shock I was in. My sister with child! After all that had happened…I wrenched my mind away from that. There would be time to confront her about it later. “And we are delighted to be here and ready to be of service the moment you should deign to call upon us. The honor that you…”
“Oh, enough of that, Valya,” she said, smiling the girlish smile she liked to use with me. It seemed odd, almost wrong, that someone destined for such a grave situation in the world, and who truly was a woman of great power and force of will, should be able to smile like that, as if thrones and empires and the rule of nations weighed only lightly upon her. “I am overjoyed that you were able to come, and so promptly, too! And to bring your darling daughter at last to Krasnograd. My dear, let me look at you.” She knelt down in front of Mirochka, causing a stir amongst her attendants, and looked her in the face. “How old are you now, dear, eight?”
“Eight,” confirmed Mirochka, and bobbed a quick bow just to be sure, almost hitting the Empress’s face with her own and then clutching my hand even harder in her confusion.
“You’re a fine, large girl for eight,” the Tsarina observed. “And no doubt very active. Do tell me, my dear, what are your accomplishments?”
From another woman it would have sounded condescending, but from her it sounded genuine, and Mirochka, after a quick glance at me, relaxed and answered proudly, “Riding, and shooting, and fighting with a short sword—although mama says I may have a long sword when I am big, like she is—and tracking, and herding—well, only a bit, as yet, but when I’m bigger and can ride a full-sized horse I will be allowed to do it more—and I am also learning which wild plants are good to eat, although I don’t know how to cook yet. Mama is teaching me a bit about camp cooking, and says I will learn more when I’m big enough to lift the pots over the fire without burning myself.”
“Very impressive,” said the Empress. “I see you’re a true steppe princess, my dear.” The nobles around us all grimaced in distaste at those words, but my sister only looked up at me and raised an eyebrow. “Tracking, Valya?”
“Reading sign can be the difference between life and death on the steppe,” I told her, trying not to sound defensive.
“And can she read words on paper as well?”
“Mama has taught me my letters, and I can spell my name and hers,” Mirochka put in. “And we read a book together this spring. She promised that we would read more books in the winter, when we would have time.”
“Well, I’m glad of that, at least,” said the Empress. “You seem a very promising young woman, my dear.” She stood back up and cocked an eyebrow at me again. “Can she really track, my dear Valya? And shoot? And forage for wild plants on the steppe?”
I stroked Mirochka’s hair soothingly, since I could feel that she was starting to become angry over having her abilities questioned. “She is but a child, Tsarina,” I answered. “But I would still bet on her tracking abilities over any one of your fine princesses here in Krasnograd. And while she can only draw a child’s bow as of yet, she can hit her target nine tries out of ten. I would…”
“Yes, I’m sure you would, Valya,” said the Empress, cutting me off before I could become too heated in Mirochka’s defense. “I have no doubt that your flesh and blood is very resourceful and would put any of us Krasnograders to shame…on the steppe.” She gave Mirochka a considering look. “I see her blood runs true,” she said. “She has the look of Darya Krasnoslavovna, and no mistake.”
“I am glad to hear it, Tsarina,” I said. I had never met Darya Krasnoslavovna, but the Empress, who was a good ten years older than me, remembered her fondly from her girlhood, and took after her in body as well as inclination. Now that I looked at Mirochka and my sister together, I could see the resemblance, down to the red in their hair. The Northern heritage, which seemed to have passed me by entirely. It was silly, as I’d seen Mirochka almost every day since she had been born, but for the first time I saw how much she took after my sister and how little she took after me. It would not have worried me, except for the hungry look that my sister gave her. My sister, after all, needed a daughter much more than I did.
“Well, we must speak of that and many other things,” said the Empress. “We have many things to speak of, Valya. I have my own news to give you, an
d I have received the letters you sent me, detailing your concerns about…the situation in the East. But I will stop detaining you and allow you to refresh yourselves after your journey. And then I must beg you to join me for some supper after you are washed and changed. In my chambers, I think, a little family party. And tomorrow we will have a feast to celebrate your arrival.” She nodded at one of the attendants who were loitering a discreet distance away from us, and the woman bowed and disappeared silently out a side door. The Tsarina, my sister, folded me in an embrace once more.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Valya,” she said into my ear, her arms hugging me convulsively as her rounding belly pressed against my side. A little shiver of alarm ran up my spine. Something was wrong here: wrong with my sister and wrong with Krasnograd, and somehow I was going to have to make it right.
“I am always glad to be of service, Tsarina,” I told her. I knew that that was not what she wanted to hear, that she wanted something more of me, but it was what I had to offer and I meant it sincerely, even as the little shiver of fear ran all over my body and told me that whatever had prompted her to summon me here to Krasnograd, it was more than whatever I could have guessed back home on the steppe. My service would be more than mere words before the end, I was sure of it.