So it was with some surprise that he received an answer much sooner than he had expected. The form it came in was even more of a shock.
He had just finished attending an early-morning class on the Four Pillars of Wisdom and was on his way out of the monastery to go to the library when he spotted a woman leaning against a lamppost just outside the gates. She had a cloud of long dark hair, piercing amber eyes, and an attitude that said she could have waited all day if that’s what it had taken. Her black leather jacket and high-heeled motorcycle boots looked a bit jarring outside a Buddhist monastery, but not nearly so much as the gigantic white pit bull that sat by her side, almost but not quite blending in with the snowbank behind him.
“Baba Yaga!” Gregori said. “I did not expect to see you here.” He bowed in her direction, hands folded in front of his chest.
“And what am I, chopped liver?” Chudo-Yudo said gruffly, sauntering over to sit at Sun’s feet. “I don’t get a bow too?”
Barbara thumped him gently on the head as she walked past him. “I think genuflecting to dogs would be taking the Buddhist thing a little too far, even for our friend Gregori,” she said, then thumped Sun on the shoulder in much the same manner. Coming from her, it was the equivalent of a bear hug from anyone else.
“I have missed you, old friend,” she said softly. “So when Mikhail showed me your letter, I thought perhaps it was time for a visit. I hope you don’t mind.” She took a second look at him and blinked. “You shaved off your mustache. And cut your hair. I guess you are taking this monk thing seriously.” She shook her head, as if to dismiss the unimportant distraction. “Anyway, here I am.”
“I am honored,” Sun said. In truth, he was unexpectedly moved by her appearance. It wasn’t that he thought that he—or any of the Riders, for that matter—hadn’t been appreciated for their long years of service to the Baba Yagas, Barbara included. But he had supposed that association had ended along with their usefulness. All three Baba Yagas had told him otherwise, but at the time, he had thought it merely words. It would appear that he had been wrong.
“How did you get here?” he asked, looking around for the silver Airstream trailer that was her usual mode of travel to distant places and not seeing it. It was the modern manifestation of the traditional Baba Yaga’s hut on chicken legs, and therefore as magical as the Baba Yaga herself, but invisibility was not one of its attributes. That he knew of, anyway. The Airstream had a mind of its own sometimes.
“Oh, I took a shortcut,” Barbara said. “Went in through the door to the Otherworld in the Airstream at home, then came out in the Wabasha Street Caves in St. Paul.”
“There is a portal to the Otherworld in the Wabasha Street Caves?” Gregori said.
“Apparently. At least that’s where I ended up when I asked the Otherworld to get me as close to you as it could. Then we took a taxi the rest of the way here.”
Gregori glanced down the street at the taxi he could see idling there, its exhaust perfuming the night with petroleum distillates. “Why did you not simply sit in the taxi to wait for me to come out? It’s cold this morning.”
Chudo-Yudo gave one of his barking laughs. “Apparently, I make the driver nervous,” he said. “I can’t imagine why.”
Gregori could. Chudo-Yudo was a huge dog, although, as Barbara often said, a small dragon. His guise as a pit bull made him less obvious than a dragon in downtown Minneapolis, but no less intimidating. Gregori could understand his speech because the dragon-dog wished it, but to the driver, it would have sounded like barking, or worse yet, growling.
“How absurd,” Gregori said dryly. “But I doubt you came all this way simply to terrify innocent cabdrivers. Has Mikhail learned something he thought might help me with my situation?” He thought it unlikely, since in that case, his brother could have sent him the information in a letter. Or even called, if it came to that, although none of the Riders had ever truly become comfortable with cell phones, and using the communal telephone at the monastery might make for a frustratingly circumspect conversation.
“Alas, no. He is making some progress with his own issues, but nothing that would carry over to your completely different set of challenges.” Barbara shook her head. “I’m sorry, Gregori. When I gave you all the massive dose of the Water of Life and Death, I knew that side effects were possible, but I never imagined anything like what you and Day ended up dealing with.” Neither of them mentioned that they had no idea what Alexei might be coping with, since there had still been no word from him other than the occasional rude postcard from various watering holes across the country.
Gregori shrugged. “It was the only way to save our lives. I cannot bring myself to regret it, no matter what inconvenience and uncertainty I might be facing now.”
“Damn straight,” Chudo-Yudo muttered. “Tell the woman to stop feeling guilty. It puts me right off my food.”
“Sure it does.” Barbara rolled her eyes. “You only ate three steaks last night for dinner instead of four. You are practically wasting away.” She turned her attention back to Gregori.
“You still haven’t made any progress finding your mother?”
Gregori shrugged again. “I am spending much of my time at the Wilson Library; a librarian there is aiding me in my search, but so far I have not turned up anything definitive.”
“That’s too bad,” she said, then looked thoughtful. “A librarian, huh? ‘Little old lady with glasses and a bun’ librarian or ‘sexy short-skirted’ librarian?”
Gregori gave her his best blank stare. “Sexy librarian with glasses and a bun. Her skirts seem the normal length to me. But it is strictly a professional relationship, Baba Yaga. It is her job to help me, and so she helps me. It is merely a coincidence that she also volunteers at the soup kitchen where I do my community service work.”
“Uh-huh.” Barbara and Chudo-Yudo exchanged meaningful glances. “So you’re spending a lot of time with this librarian? Maybe the universe is trying to tell you something.”
“The universe is trying to tell me to find my mother and my spiritual balance before I hurt someone else accidentally or do myself some serious harm,” Gregori said, a trifle acerbically. “I am on a different path now. A solitary one.”
Chudo-Yudo coughed, blowing gouts of powdery snow in every direction. “Barbara thought that once too. Life has a way of changing the path you are on when you least expect it.”
“Not this time,” Gregori said firmly.
“Never mind,” Barbara said. “We’re not here to check up on your love life.”
“Or lack of one,” Chudo-Yudo said.
“Indeed,” Gregori said. “Then why are you here?”
“I’ve decided that the best way to get some answers may be to go back to the source,” Barbara said. “I suggest we pay a visit to the Queen, since she is the one who created the Water of Life and Death in the first place, and therefore knows more about it than anyone else. And, of course, as the High Queen of the Otherworld, she also knows a great deal about magic in general. Perhaps she will be able to help us. It’s worth a try.” She winked at him. “Unless you have a librarian you need to see.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I am completely at your disposal.”
Barbara gave her tiny smile, just a twitch upward of the corner of her mouth. “Nice to know that some things never change,” she said, and marched off toward the taxi without a backward glance.
• • •
THE taxi driver dropped them off back at the Wabasha Street Caves, clutching a huge tip and muttering under his breath about dog drool on his upholstery. In return, Chudo-Yudo muttered something about taxi drivers tasting good with ketchup. Barbara ignored them both and waved her hand at the entrance door, which opened eagerly to let them in. Thankfully, there did not seem to be anyone around at this early hour, and they were able to make their way back to the depths where the portal to the Otherworld was
hidden in plain sight, accessible only to those who knew the proper way to pass through its enchanted gate.
Once they had wandered a little way through the sparkling gray mist that lay between one reality and the next, they came out into an underground grotto and from there climbed mossy stone steps up into the pseudosunlight and everlasting summer of the Otherworld. The warmth was something of a shock to Gregori after the bitter chill of a Minnesota winter, and he shrugged off his heavy wool coat with relief.
Chudo-Yudo shook himself like a dog coming out of the sea and took off running across a turquoise-hued meadow filled with yellow buttercups three feet tall. Between one step and the next, the white pit bull vanished and a dragon with scalloped black iridescent scales claimed the azure sky. He flew figure eights overhead as Gregori and Barbara took the slower ground route through the meadow into a miniature forest that rang with pixie laughter, and down past a stream where a lovely naked maiden sat on a rock and combed her long green hair as she sang something in what sounded like Gaelic. A burly centaur sat on the shore, strumming along on a ukulele.
Once they arrived at the castle, an improbable confection of lofty spires and sparkling walls topped with colorful banners that snapped in a nonexistent breeze, Chudo-Yudo glided down to join them, changing back into his pit bull form so as not to trample any of the tiny servitors who ran back and forth with trays of drinks and tasty tidbits.
They found the Queen, along with her consort and some favored members of her court, playing a game of croquet on the rolling front lawn. The croquet mallets were decorated with precious jewels and the balls themselves were polished rounds of malachite, lapis, and other gemstones, but other than that, the game looked much like any on the other side of the doorway. If a normal game was played by tall, slim, incredibly attractive people draped in silks and velvets, with an occasional glimpse of a pointed ear or a tail poking out from under long, flowing skirts.
The Queen looked up from where she was carefully aiming her next move, nodded at them, and then gave her ball a gentle but decisive whack that sent it careening into a ruby orb that let out a high-pitched eep before rolling out of the way. The Queen’s ball came to rest against the post she’d been targeting and breathed a sigh of relief at having successfully fulfilled its mission. It didn’t do to disappoint the High Queen of the Otherworld, even if you were a theoretically inanimate object.
“Baba Yaga! Gregori Sun!” the Queen cried with evident pleasure, reaching behind herself to hand off her mallet, confident in the knowledge that a servant would be there to receive it. “And Chudo-Yudo. What an unexpected pleasure.”
Her consort, the King, followed her over to greet the pair. “Indeed. It has been far too long since you have graced Our court with your presence, Red Rider. Welcome.” He reached out both strong hands to clasp Gregori’s. “We trust you are healed from your ordeal?”
Gregori clasped the King’s hands in return, feeling honored and uncomfortable in equal measures by Their Majesties’ warm welcome, and bowed low to the Queen.
“In most ways, yes, Your Majesties,” he said. “But there have been some difficulties.”
The Queen raised one elegant eyebrow, its hue a match to her elaborately styled white hair, topped today with a crown of diamonds that glittered as brightly as her glowing amethyst-colored eyes. “Difficulties?” she said, turning to Barbara. “Are We to assume that this is not merely a social call, then?”
“I am afraid not, Majesty,” Barbara said, executing a surprisingly graceful curtsy for one wearing head-to-toe black leather. She usually wore formal garb when visiting the court, but their royal Majesties had long become accustomed to her less-than-traditional attire when the issues were more urgent.
She glanced around at the various lords and ladies nearby, all of whom were endeavoring to listen in on the conversation without appearing to do so. “We apologize for interrupting your game, Majesties, but I wonder if it would be possible for us to speak in more private surroundings. It is a matter of some delicacy.”
The King, well acquainted with his court’s propensity for gossip, suppressed a decidedly unregal snort and smoothed a hand over his neatly pointed ebony beard. “I was growing somewhat bored with the match anyway.” Humor glinted in his intelligent eyes. “Besides, I was losing.” He held out one velvet-clad arm to his wife. “Shall we go sit in the shade and enjoy some refreshments with our friends, my darling?”
The Queen nodded and gathered up the train of her pale blue silk gown, draping it over one arm before laying the other atop her consort’s. “A splendid plan,” she said, and the royal couple led the way to a secluded spot under a gigantic weeping willow tree whose silvery-gray branches flowed down to create an enclosed grotto. A small gnome dressed in a top hat and tails of vivid chartreuse scurried over with a tray almost as large as he was and placed it on a wooden table that appeared to have grown up out of one of the tree’s roots. The four of them sat down in woven willow chairs, Chudo-Yudo stretching out under the table at Barbara’s feet.
He gave a loud sniff and said, “Is that raspberry jam and scones I smell?” Barbara nudged him with the tip of her booted foot, but the Queen simply laughed, an enchanting and musical sound like chimes in the wind, and handed a filled plate down to the dragon-dog.
Then she gazed more somberly at Gregori and Barbara, concern etched over her ethereally beautiful face. “Tell Us,” she commanded.
She and the King listened attentively as Gregori described the healing work he had done and the persistent haunting dreams and occasional eerily accurate predictions. When he was done, the Queen pursed her lips and allowed the tiniest of frowns to wrinkle her perfect brow.
“We do not like this at all,” she said, and her consort nodded his grave agreement. They exchanged one of their special looks, in which it was clear that centuries of marriage had made words unnecessary.
With an imperious gesture, the Queen indicated that Gregori should come and stand before her. She arose gracefully and paced around him, occasionally placing one slim hand an inch or two away from his body. Finally, she shook her head and sighed, sending him back to his seat.
“Majesty?” Barbara asked. “Can you tell what’s wrong with him?”
“His anam is running too hot,” the Queen said, sadness turning her eyes a lighter lavender hue. “He needs to learn to control it or it could burn him out until there is nothing left but an ember.”
“Um, what’s an . . . What was the word you used?” Barbara reached down and patted Chudo-Yudo, as if seeking comfort from his furry form.
“It means soul, more or less,” Gregori told her. “These days we would be more likely to call it chi. It is the life force or spirit energy that resides within us all. Some believe that our chi is what drives our physical body, much like an engine powers a car.”
Barbara bit her lip. “So your engine is overheating?”
Gregori gave a short laugh. “Something like that. I feel fine now, but if the Queen is correct, these incidents of healing and prophecy will eventually drain me, possibly to the point of death. Am I right, Your Majesty?”
The Queen gave an unhappy nod of agreement, and the King took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips for a moment before letting it go.
“Do you think this has something to do with the large amount of the Water of Life and Death I gave the Riders?” Barbara asked, her tone grim. “Did I do this to him?”
The King leaned forward. “You had no choice, Baba Yaga. The Riders were dying. No one holds you responsible for this.”
“We simply do not know,” the Queen added. “The Water of Life and Death was designed for the Baba Yagas—women all, and magic users besides. It might be that. Or perhaps this would have happened when they all lost their immortality, regardless of any other outside intervention.” She gazed at Gregori. “We would have thought you of all the Riders would have the ability to control your own ana
m, Red Rider.”
Gregori fought not to show the frustration he felt. He used to have better control over that as well. Sometimes it seemed as though he was less himself every day.
“I have lost my ability to connect with the universal energy,” he said quietly. “I do not know if it was something that Brenna did to me intentionally with her torture, or if it was simply an unfortunate side effect. I have been attempting to regain my spiritual balance, as well as the connection to the natural world that used to ground me. When I failed to achieve that goal here in the Otherworld, I went through the doorway to pursue a different approach. I have entered a Buddhist monastery there, and I am hopeful that following this path will lead me to the balance I seek.”
The King looked thoughtful. “And how is that going?”
Gregori lifted one shoulder. “Not well, as yet. But it is early days.”
“Early or late,” the Queen said, “we are afraid that you are running out of them.” She tapped one slim finger against her lips. “Have you considered seeking out your mother? It seems that many of your brother Day’s unexpected gifts came from his maternal side. Perhaps this is true for you as well. At the very least, Iduyan was a very wise and learned woman; perhaps she would have some answers for you.”
“I am already attempting to find her, Your Majesty,” Gregori said. “But I have failed in this endeavor as well. It is probable that she is no longer alive, since when last I saw her, she had already far outlived the normal span for a Human.” His heart sank at the thought.
“Oh, that is quite unlikely,” the Queen said. She turned to her consort. “Did We not hear her name mentioned only a few years ago?”
The King nibbled at a crescent of something green and dainty. “Possibly. Was it at that dinner party where the Le Fay twins made such a ruckus? There were a few creatures there that night who are among those who still go back and forth between the worlds occasionally.” He chewed thoughtfully, then shook his head. “I am sorry, Gregori. I truly cannot recall. The days and years blend together here, like many streams leading into one great ocean. It is hard to distinguish one drop of time among the multitudes.”
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