A Bend in the Stars

by Rachel Barenbaum

  Yuri rubbed his nose and winced. “I had no choice. I was protecting you.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re as close as I have to family. Dima helped. Popov was stronger than I anticipated.”

  “Dima fought for us?”

  “I was just as surprised.”

  Their conversation was cut short when a sailor shoved them to the side so he could pass and wrap Dima in a bear hug. “Thank the lord you’re safe,” the man said in a booming voice. It took Vanya only a moment longer to recognize the crooked nose. Kolya.

  “We should leave,” Yuri said quietly. Vanya nodded and they shifted back against the wall while the two sailors clapped one another on the back.

  Dima asked, “The czar’s men didn’t take our ship today?”

  “No, not yet. There’s always tomorrow.” Kolya ticked his head toward Yuri and Vanya, who had made it only a few steps closer to the door. “What the hell are they doing here?”

  “They’re my guests.” Dima gestured to them to come back, laughing. “Stop trying to leave. There’s no place else that’s safe. Pyotrovich, a bottle for the four of us. And dinner. Join us, Kolya.” He grabbed Vanya’s arm and took him back to the table. Kolya followed. As did Yuri, who kept his back up against the wall, his eyes on the sailors. Once the vodka came, Dima filled their thimbles and insisted they toast, and toast again. It didn’t take long for the alcohol to ease some of the tension. Pyotrovich brought black bread and broth, balanced on a tray that he somehow managed to hold steady with his one good hand as he wove between tables. Toward the front of the room, two sailors were locked in an arm wrestling match. One was thick and broad, the other thin and twice as tall. Sailors around them cheered.

  At their own table, Dima and Kolya talked about ships leaving, trying to dodge the czar’s men, while Yuri and Vanya scraped at their bowls. It was Vanya who dared to address the sailors first. “Where’s Brovary?” he asked.

  “You found your man, then?” Dima asked. “I figured as much when I saw you in the manager’s office. He’s in Brovary?”

  “What did you earn for it?” Kolya smiled, and slung an arm around Dima. “You slippery bastard.”

  “His boots and binoculars!”

  “I lost my binoculars this morning.”

  “Fine, I’ll take just your boots. That’s enough,” Dima said. “Brovary’s outside of Kiev. A long way from here.”

  “We can’t be sure Clay’s there,” Yuri added.

  “He has to be. The manager said Brovary and used the word ‘centerline.’ It’s a technical term for the darkest part of the eclipse,” Vanya said. “He wouldn’t have known it unless he’d heard it. And Brovary is in the centerline.”

  “An eclipse?” Dima raised an eyebrow. “That’s what this is about?”

  “Eclipse is the devil’s work,” Kolya said.

  “I assumed you were looking for passage to America. That you wanted to track down an American to help you escape this hellhole,” Dima said. “Does this have something to do with your university?”

  “How’d you know Vanya has anything to do with a university?” Yuri asked.

  “You mentioned it.”

  “We didn’t.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Vanya said. “We’re going to the eclipse. The American is going to help me with my work. Then we’ll head to the United States.”

  “Vanya! Quiet,” Yuri snapped. He was right. Vanya knew it the minute he’d said it. He never should have admitted they planned to desert for the eclipse, or to leave Russia. Babushka would have been embarrassed by the mistake. The Okhrana were always lurking, especially in a spot like this where men gossiped freely. And the memory of Evgeny, the lashes he’d taken, wasn’t far. Nor was Sukovich or Beilis.

  “Doesn’t matter what they wanted. They found their man. Pay up,” Kolya said. “I’ll go for vodka. When I’m back, if you don’t have your boots, I’ll make sure you get them.” Kolya pushed away from the table and stumbled through the crowd. More than one man slapped his back, threw an arm around his shoulders as he passed.

  Vanya took a cigarette out and lit it on the lard candle, not risking his lighter being stolen. He felt as if every sailor in the pub was watching, even while they went about their business. The fat made the tobacco taste horrid, but still it was tobacco. A heavy man trudged up the steps. A cloud of dust fell over the table, into their bowls and thimbles. “What does your eclipse have to do with time? And the chronometer?” Dima asked.

  “Math. It starts with math,” Vanya said. “Tell me, how is your chronometer set?”

  “Vanya, this is a waste. He’s a sailor. Come, we should find a safe place to stay for the night,” Yuri said. He leaned close to whisper, “Onegin could identify us. He saw Dima. Could lead them here.” He made to stand but Dima held out a hand signaling for them to wait.

  “The manager from the hotel?” Dima asked. “He’s gone. Shot in the street.” He shrugged. “After I left the alley I saw it, while you were still helping Vanya. Can’t say why.” And then: “If you leave, where will you stay? You’re in uniform, in a sailors’ neighborhood. You think you can make it without help?”

  “Give him your boots and we’ll go,” Yuri said. “We’ll risk it.”

  Vanya motioned for Yuri to give him a minute. “Please, Yuri. He’s smart. Can’t you see that?” Vanya turned to Dima. “Which clock do you use to set your device?”

  “I never thought much about it. Any clock in the port.”

  “But what if that clock is wrong? You know a small difference here, spread over thirty days, can take you off course at sea.”

  “Aye, it’s true. That’s why I traded for the new chronometer. It’s more precise.”

  “Only if you have the right time to start.”

  “Vanya, please,” Yuri said.

  “No, this is the heart of it. It’s a problem for anyone who depends on a map or a schedule, and I have an answer.” Vanya slapped the table to make his point. The thimbles rattled. “We use light. Light travels at a constant speed. That means we can use it to synchronize clocks. And the eclipse, it’s part of my study of light. I use numbers, equations, studying light.”

  “You have so many answers,” Dima said. There was a challenge in his voice.

  “More questions than answers. But I’ll figure it out. I’ll get to the equations.”

  “So you don’t have them, these equations?” Dima asked.

  “No. But I will,” Vanya said.

  “Really?” Dima shook his head. Why was he smiling? He reached into his pocket for his own cigarette. He used a lighter instead of a candle, and immediately Vanya smelled the pure tobacco. An image of Miri sitting in his room, smoking, flashed in his mind. For the first time, he wondered if he’d see his little sister again. Dima leaned across the table. His barrel chest pushed the edge. “How will you get to Brovary?”

  “We can figure it out,” Yuri said.

  “Are you certain? How would you have fared on the docks today without me? Or behind the hotel?” A cheer came up from the table on the far end of the room where the men had been arm wrestling. The thinner, taller man raised his arms in victory. “I can take you to Brovary.”

  “For another fee,” Yuri said.

  “I’ve worked coal depots. I know the trains and I can get you to Kiev.”

  “And what about your business proposal?” Yuri asked.

  “My proposal?” Dima tipped his chair back. He circled one thumb around the other. The front door opened and carried a gust that sent the lamps flickering. “I’ll let you keep your boots. And I’ll take you to your man, in Brovary. I’ll even help you secure passage on a ship out of Russia. Afterward…” He paused. “In exchange, you’ll pay me the equivalent of my passage to America, as if you were taking me with you. That’s my proposal.”

  “That’s a fortune. Why would we agree to that?” Yuri scoffed.

  “We don’t have a kopeck,” Vanya said.

  “Nothing? Didn’t you have to bri
be the man at the hotel? Where’d you get boots like those? Binoculars? No, you’re lying. You have money. Your family has a great deal of money.”

  “We left it all for this eclipse.”

  “Aye, then you are fools.” Dima curled his lips around his teeth, went back to spinning one thumb around the other. Pyotrovich brought more vodka.

  “What makes you think we need you?” Yuri asked.

  “I speak English.” Dima grinned. “I’ve sailed to England more times than I can count. I know the language. Do you think your American found a translator in Brovary? ’Cause the one he had is long gone. Mark my words, you’ll need me.”

  Vanya fell back against the chair. In his frenzy, he hadn’t considered the fact that if Russell Clay found his way to Brovary, he was likely there without a translator. How would Vanya communicate with him? Even more, how would Clay settle into Brovary, run an expedition off the backs of Russians, without a translator? Who knew if his English photographer had ever arrived. Vanya looked behind him to make sure Kolya was still at the bar and that no one else was listening. When he was sure it was clear, he looked back at Dima. “Prove it! Prove your English.” He fumbled in his haversack and found Clay’s article. “Translate this.”

  “I can speak, not read,” Dima said. He pushed the paper away.

  “Then I’ll read in Russian, you speak the English.”

  “How will you be able to judge?”

  “I’ve written my own translation. It’s rough, but I did it.”

  Yes, there was a risk to Dima learning so much about their plans, but Vanya had no choice. If Dima truly spoke English, Vanya would need his help. Vanya read slowly in Russian. Dima responded easily in English—except when it came to technical terms and equipment. Vanya had never heard much English spoken out loud. The language sounded rough and weak at the same time, but so far as he could tell, Dima knew it.

  “I still don’t understand. Why risk traveling with us?” Yuri asked.

  “Because you’re here. Now. It could take me months to find another opportunity as lucrative, and I could be in the navy by then. Or dead.” Dima reached for Vanya’s thimble of vodka and drank it in one swig. “I’ll have more proposals. You have to agree to listen.”

  “There’s the trick,” Yuri said. “I knew there was more.”

  “Doctor, no tricks. All I ask is that you listen. Spend the night upstairs. I’ll get you a room. Think about it and tell me your answer at sunrise.”

  Vanya nodded toward the bar. “And Kolya? Your shipmates? Won’t they miss you?”

  “No one would blame me for leaving now.”

  XXVII

  Vanya had to think clearly, but he wasn’t sure he could. He’d been up all night, in the room above the pub, arguing with Yuri. Neither of them trusted the sailor, but Vanya was convinced they needed him as a guide and translator. Yuri disagreed. He thought the whole idea was ridiculous. They went back and forth, around and around. Near dawn, they settled into an uncomfortable silence; all that could be said was said. Twenty-nine days until the eclipse. There was no more time to waste.

  A man kicked their door. “Time to go,” Pyotrovich, the barkeep, called.

  Vanya splashed water on his face and glanced at his reflection in the mirror. His skin was jagged with stubble, and his chin was swollen from the punch he took the day before. “Do you think Dima’s told us his real business proposal?”

  “No,” Yuri said.

  “Nor do I. But I also believe I don’t have a choice. I need his help.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to Brovary. With Dima. What will you do?”

  Yuri hunched over so he could look out the small window under the rafters. He took a deep breath. “I’ll go to Brovary,” he said. “With you. And then to Miri.”

  “Then we need to send a telegram. Brovary’s far from Riga, in the opposite direction. And as deserters we’ll have to be careful. Take back roads. Avoid trains. It will take much longer to get to Klara’s from there than it would from Riga. Especially with winter coming, and I don’t want them to worry. They need to know we won’t be there for Rosh Hashanah.”

  “You can’t tell them where we’re headed. You know telegrams can be read by anyone.”

  “Kir?” Vanya rubbed his forehead with his fingertips as he thought it through. Yuri knew all about Vanya’s situation at the university. As Yuri had become more and more part of the family, Miri had opened up to him about how Vanya’s work had been stolen, how he’d been threatened. “You think Kir could be looking for me?”

  “It wouldn’t be a surprise. But now, also, the police. Our commander.”

  “Yuri, the way you suspect everyone. It’s like Baba. Can’t you see everyone needs friends?” Vanya looked up. “Still, you’re right for now. I’ll send a message only she can understand, telling her we’re going to Kiev. It’s close enough.”

  “Kir is a clever man.”

  “He won’t figure it out. Even if he does, it will take time to search for us in Kiev—it’s a large city, and he won’t know to look for us with the American. My letters from Eliot, they went to the baker’s house. Kir never read any of them.”

  “You don’t think he’s smart enough to figure it all out?”

  “No.” Vanya was about to open the door and head downstairs, but Yuri stopped him.

  “Don’t trust that sailor. He seems to know too much.”

  “What do you mean?” Vanya asked.

  “We never told him you had anything to do with a university. I’m sure of it.”

  Av

  The fifth month in the Hebrew calendar is known as Av. The first half of the month is marked as a period for mourning. It commemorates the destruction of the first and second Temples, and also the Jewish expulsion from England in 1290 and from Spain in 1492.

  But no sorrow is all-consuming. Life is a cycle. The end of Av is said to be designated for finding one’s bashert—one’s soul mate. The Talmud tells that God declares whom a child will marry forty days before he is born, and the day on which these two souls find one another is considered to be one of the happiest days of the year.

  I

  Kir Romanovitch won’t like it,” Ilya said. “I’m supposed to bring the professor home. Already you’ve stalled. I was supposed to leave with him yesterday.” He stood opposite Dima in the train yard amid the stench of burnt coal. The commotion of workers loading crates of ammunition was around them. All those bullets, Dima was certain, guaranteed this war would be a bloodbath. Ilya looked haggard and wrinkled, like he knew it, too. Pathetic. Turning on a man he called friend. Dima spit on the ground at Ilya’s feet and Ilya flinched. He was afraid, yes, but worse, Ilya was off balance. Overwhelmed. This negotiation, Dima saw, was more than Ilya had anticipated.

  “Kir wants numbers and this is his only way to get them,” Dima said. “Vanya doesn’t have them.”

  “Of course Vanya has them. Kir told me so himself.”

  “Kir lied. Vanya told me he doesn’t have any equations. He’s still working on it. I thought the extra day would help but he needs more time than that.”

  “Kir wouldn’t tell me something that isn’t true.”

  “You believe that?” Dima paused and let his words sink in. Then he pushed his finger into Ilya’s chest and continued, “If Vanya ran, it was from Kir. This Romanovitch, he’s powerful, no? He must have scared the Jew off.”

  “Maybe.”

  “No maybe. I know he did. Let’s start again. Kir Romanovitch wants Vanya’s numbers, but from what I see there are two problems. First, Vanya doesn’t want to give them to him. Second, Vanya doesn’t have them. Not yet. That means if you take Vanya to Kir now, he’ll never produce anything for your man. But if you leave Vanya with me, let him think he’s free, he’ll produce. And when he does, I’ll get the numbers for you to give to Kir.”

  Ilya kicked a rock. It ricocheted off a rail with a ping. “But now that I found Vanya…”

  “You’re set! I’ll stay with him while he works. I’ll
get you what Kir needs.”

  “I can’t let him go like that.”

  “What choice do you have? What will happen if you return to Kir with Vanya, and Vanya doesn’t have the numbers Kir expects? Even worse, what happens when he refuses to work?”

  “Fine. Then I’ll join Vanya. I’ll travel with him.”

  “How would you explain how you got here? Found him? If Vanya’s as smart as you say, he’ll put it together. He’ll see Kir’s hand in it. Whether he trusts you or not—and he’d be a fool to trust you showing up here like this—he’ll run. You’ll never find him again.” Ilya nodded, and Dima couldn’t tell whether Ilya’s cheeks burned because he was embarrassed or because he felt guilty. Either way, thanks to God he got the point. “All this is going to cost more than we agreed.”

  “I can’t pay more.”

  “You have no choice.” He stepped closer. “I’m going to have to stay with Vanya for weeks. While he works. And my time is expensive. You’ll pay me what you have now. Then more, later. Did you bring the money?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Enough with the stalling. If you’re not going to pay me, then Vanya’s right there.” Dima pointed across the train yard, past crates of ammunition and the litter of seats and berths ripped from passenger cars to make way for supplies. It was risky, but Dima sensed he had the upper hand. “Take him if you want. But mark my words, Kir won’t be happy.” Ilya didn’t move. Dima continued, “When we land, I’ll send a telegram. Here. To Riga. I’ll let you know where we are, and how close Vanya is to solving his math.”

  “No. I need to know where you’re going. Now. So I can send a report.”

  “I don’t know yet.” The lie was easy. “They won’t tell me. Just west. You need to trust I’ll get what Kir wants.”

  “Why would I trust you?”