by E. P. Clark
“Valya!” she cried as I came in. “Just in time! Where have you been? I sent for you earlier, but I was told you’d gone out. It can’t have been to ‘train’ with Ivan Marinovich, for I know he has been shadowing Ruslan all morning.”
“I know,” I said, taking a seat across from her. Vyacheslav Irinovich was hovering by the door to the bedchamber, but when Sera waved at him to come join us, he bowed and said that he would go lunch with the children in order to leave us to do our planning in peace.
“Yes, we really must finalize the members of your party, Valya,” said Sera. “You’re supposed to be ready to leave in two days’ time! Do you think you’ll actually be ready? You’ve been occupied with other things when you should have been preparing for the journey.”
“I’ll be ready,” I told her. “I’ll have the whole kremlin at my disposal for my preparations.”
“Oh good—only everyone will be very busy, what with the Midsummer celebrations…”
“We’ll see what happens,” I said. “I’m not concerned. Who has been put forward as members?”
“Well, there’s you, Aksinya Olgovna, and Ivan Marinovich, of course. Princess Iridivadze has asked that her oldest son, Amiran, be included, and I’ve said I would pass on her request to you.”
“Have you met him?”
“Yes, his mother brings him to Krasnograd every summer, along with her youngest daughter, Adriana. I think she is hoping that I will either name him as Ruslan’s companion, or his sister as Ruslan’s bride. And truth be told, he would have been my first choice for the post.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.”
She shrugged. “Your actions were a stroke of brilliance last night, so I can’t complain. But now I think we really must include Amiran in the party unless you have a very compelling reason to keep him out of it. The Iridivadze family has maintained close ties with ours for generations, and they’re the reason we’ve been able to keep our hold on the Southern mountains. Amiran is two-and-twenty and, to the best of my knowledge, a trustworthy and honorable young man, if a trifle hot-tempered. To be honest, if there had not been such a pressing need to tie the black earth princesses to us, I would have chosen him as your husband, not Ivan Marinovich. I suspect you might find him…very congenial. But right now we need the Krasna princesses more, and so the task will probably fall on Ruslan to strengthen our alliance with the Iridivadze.” She frowned. “I fear that Adriana Gulisovna will not find my son nearly so to her taste as I suspect you will find her brother.”
“Well, perhaps she would prefer Dariusz,” I suggested.
“Perhaps…although they set a great store on the eldest son in the South,” said Sera. “Boys like Amiran are raised almost as a daughter. Perhaps that’s why they say that Southern men are so full of charm, in their own way.”
“Perhaps,” I said, thinking that Sera had chosen the exact opposite of a Southern man in Vyacheslav Irinovich, and had always seemed to find his silent presence charming enough. “And in any case, Ruslan has a rather woman-like stubbornness of his own. Maybe Adriana will take to that.”
“But he’s absolutely hopeless at any of the things you’d expect a man to be able to do, or at least you would if you were a noblewoman from the Southern mountains. Of course it’s not expected that any of my sons could hunt, but they should at least be able to handle weapons, and horses, and…all those sorts of things. But you’ve seen him, Valya: I think he takes delight in failing in his lessons on purpose, just to vex me.”
“Very likely.” Sera’s energy was rapidly changing from the strength of health to the fretfulness of ill health. “He is a boy of twelve, after all,” I said, trying to distract her.
“And one day he’ll be a man of twenty, and in need of a wife. And how, pray tell, will he be able to get one without any skills other than sulking? My influence can buy many things, but even I, I fear, cannot induce the most powerful of my princesses to take on someone like that as a son-in-law, or at least, not to love him. And, and…” She trailed off, and by the look on her face I could tell it was because she was thinking that she might not be there when Ruslan turned twenty, and that he would no longer be the son of the Tsarina, but the son of the Tsarina’s dead sister.
“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” I said. “I’m sure between the two of us we can figure something out for him. And we’re certainly not going to let him starve, are we? We’ll find a suitable situation for him, my head for beheading. So,” I continued briskly before she could begin to weep, as she seemed in danger of doing, “Amiran Gulisovich Iridivadze, then? Let’s count him in for the time being. I’ll want to meet everyone before I make my final decision, of course.”
“Of course. So…we have the steppe, the black earth district, and both sets of mountains. Now we just need…what happened to your arm?”
“My arm?”
“Yes, I…I noticed it when you first came in, and I haven’t been able to concentrate because of it, wondering what you had…Valya! You took the oath, didn’t you?”
“Mirochka and I both did it,” I told her.
“Valya!” She seemed dumbfounded for a moment, but then jumped up and threw her arms around my neck. “Valya! You and Mirochka both! Oh, I’m so happy! I wasn’t sure you would actually go through with it! So what made you do it?” She sat back down as she asked, and before I could answer I could see that she had come to the conclusion that we had done it because we expected to take her place soon.
“It seemed like the right thing to do,” I told her.
“But…why now?” she asked.
“Because…how often have you had leshiye, or animals, or anyone else in service to the gods come up and talk to you, Sera? Because I never have. But maybe…maybe it’s something that we need. These days it’s only you. And Vyacheslav Irinovich and the boys, of course, but they hardly count. So I thought…maybe it would help if I made the oath, if I promised to follow in Darya Krasnoslavovna’s footsteps and pledge myself to…to our allies. Our other allies. I don’t know. It just…seemed like the right thing to do. And then Mirochka said she wanted to do it too, so this morning we went out and did it.”
“Oh.” She reached over and took my hand. “And you sealed it with blood, too. Did Mirochka?”
“Yes,” I said. “She was afraid at first, but at the end she went through with it.” I grinned. “Now she’ll probably be insufferable until the wound heals over and the scar disappears. So for the next week or two, that is. I was afraid she would cut herself too deeply, like I did my first time, but she barely nicked herself. Which is probably just as well. So we both took the oath. And…you may need to support her in it, while I’m gone. It can be a hard oath to keep. You know, I tried, on and off, back home, but others always managed to talk me out of it.”
“You!” she said, quirking a corner of her mouth into almost a smile. “I find that very hard to believe, Valya.”
“I’m sure you do, but on occasion—frequently, even—I listen to the voice of reason, or what passes for reason, and everyone always had such reasonable arguments for why I should break it. Of course there was teasing too, but that was easier to resist—at least for me. I don’t know how well Mirochka will stand up to it—she’s less…well, less like me in some ways, more, much as it pains me to admit it, like her father. Not that she’s easy to influence, but I’d say that she listens to others more than I do, and she cares more about what other people think. But anyway. People always had such good reasons for why I shouldn’t keep your oath, the oath of our family, and…I always wanted to show I was a steppewoman, not some soft Krasnograder. That I was a Stepnaya, not a Zerkalitsa. Only now I think that I was the soft one, that I was taking the easy way out, and that their reasons were not very reasonable at all. So I took the oath again, but this time for real, this time with blood, so that I couldn’t lose heart and back out. And I won’t. But I don’t know how firm Mirochka’s convictions are. She’s just a child still, and she�
�s…she’s stubborn but she’s not me. So please, while I’m gone, please watch over her and make sure she doesn’t break her oath.”
“Of course, Valya,” said Sera. “But I must ask: what is your worry here? That she’ll…I don’t know, jeopardize our family’s…agreement with the spirits who supposedly watch over us? Of course she should learn to keep her word, but frankly, Valya, I doubt that the leshiye and all the animals with whom Darya Krasnoslavovna made her bargain will care that much about what a girl of eight does, even if she is a Zerkalitsa and heir to the Wooden Throne. From what Darya Krasnoslavovna said of them, they were merciful, in their own way. I wouldn’t think that one little slip on her part would cause any great harm to us.”
“No…but she would be breaking a blood oath. And I couldn’t…I don’t know what would happen to her if she did, and I couldn’t…I couldn’t stand to find out!”
“Even if it were nothing, Valya?” asked Sera, smiling, but giving my hand a squeeze at the same time.
“That would hardly be comforting!”
“No, I suppose not, not for you,” she agreed, giving my hand another squeeze. “And of course I’ll—we’ll—watch over her while you’re gone, Valya, and of course we’ll all help her keep her oath. She’ll live with us and spend all her time with us, so it won’t be hard at all for her. And,” she stroked my hand and then let go of it, “it’s not her you should be worried about, Valya. It’s you. After all, you’re the one going on a long journey with the intention of catching slavers.”
“I’m mostly worried about me for her sake,” I said.
“I know you are, which is why,” she gave me a bright smile, “we should make sure that you make it back, which is why we should make sure that you have the very best companions you possibly could have, which is why we should choose the rest of your party.”
“Oh very well,” I said, smiling back at her as if our conversation had never been anything but light and cheery. “If you insist.”
“I do, Valya, I do. So, we have the steppe, the black earth district, and both sets of mountains. Four of you in total.”
“Plus whatever guards and servants we bring with us.”
“Yes, of course. I don’t think Aksinya Olgovna has anyone with her or will want to take anyone back with her. As for you, Valya…”
“We need a mistress of horse,” I said.
“Of course you do. So, a mistress of horse, and I imagine that Ivan Marinovich and Amiran will need guards and chaperones and people like that.”
“Very likely,” I said. “And we still need someone to represent the North. Are any of Vyacheslav Irinovich’s kin in town? I know they might not be able to spare any daughters, but his brothers Makary and Mstislav are capable men…”
“I think we already have enough men in the party, Valya,” Sera cut in. “We need some actual princesses, or at least one more other than you, if the group is to have the legitimacy it needs in the eyes of the mountain folk. And besides, Makary has just been betrothed, and Mstislav is about to become a father. It’s hardly a good time for either of them to be gallivanting about the countryside. No, I was thinking…” she gave me a sidelong glance, and then plunged on, “I was thinking of young Alzhbetka Arinovna.”
“Princess Pristanogradskaya’s youngest?” I asked. “But she’s…”
“Arrogant? Demanding? Not a trustworthy supporter of our family?”
“Well, yes, all of those, I suppose,” I said. “But mostly I was thinking of how she seems to have no great fondness for me. I remember the last time I was here, and it was her first time in Krasnograd…I thought she wanted to be friends, so I offered to show her around, but…I was mistaken. I’m sure I will have no trouble keeping everyone else in line, but Alzhbetka…”
“Alzhbetka is a very promising young woman who needs to learn a little humility,” said Sera. “I can hardly think of a better person to teach it to her than you, Valya.”
“I live to serve,” I said with a bow.
“I know you do, Valya, I know. And how convenient that your natural talents will be able to serve such a useful cause! Although…”—she gave me a wicked smile—“despite what you just said, I have a suspicion that Alzhbetka admires you very much, in her own way, and she is a very fine-looking young woman, again, in her own way, so…you might come to find her as congenial as you do Amiran. Just remember that the ultimate goal is for us to strengthen our ties with all these families, not sever them. If you do find yourself engaging in a dalliance, do so with discretion.”
“I don’t dally,” I said, more murderously than I had intended.
Sera gave me a look of surprise, that turned to compassion. “I suppose you don’t,” she said. “It’s always life or death every time for you, isn’t it?”
I tried to say something witty, but was only able to clench my jaw in reply, although I hoped expressively. I hadn’t thought even Sera would dare joke with me about that…although of course she would…if I hadn’t wanted to be teased about it, I shouldn’t have told her about it…now she was never going to give me any peace on that subject.
“Which is why you need to get married, Valya,” she said, still compassionately. “It’s time for you to have someone who will give you the constancy that you demand…and deserve. So just leave Alzhbetka to her own problems, all right? The rumors say…but rumors say many things, and she’ll need to find a man she can tolerate and get with child at some point anyway, so just leave her to it, and do what you can to make her like you.”
“If the rumors say about Alzhbetka what I think you’re implying, they’re wrong,” I said. “Unless something has changed greatly in the past three years.”
This made Sera raise both brows. “Is that so? Do you…ah, have first-hand knowledge of this fact?”
“No!”
“Is that it, then? You tried to gain first-hand knowledge, and failed?” Her lips quirked as she said it.
“No! There was no…there was absolutely nothing of that sort between us! It never even…it never even occurred to me! She’s not my…” type, I almost said, but shut my mouth before it could come out.
“Well, perhaps it occurred to Alzhbetka,” suggested Sera, smiling more broadly, as if she had guessed what I had been thinking. “Perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps you broke her heart without even meaning to.”
“No! It wasn’t like that…if you must know,” I said, annoyed, “she, ah, she wanted to know if it were true that out on the steppe women, well, you know”—why was I so embarrassed about this? No one had a problem discussing it at home, any more than we would anything else about love. But in front of Sera’s laughing, judging eyes I felt my cheeks flush—“and I told her yes, sometimes, and then, well…she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.”
Sera laughed heartily. “I knew it!” she said. “You broke her heart!”
“Think what you will. But you’re wrong. And I don’t want those kinds of problems on this journey. It will be hard enough as it is. Isn’t there someone other than Alzhbetka we could choose?”
“No, there isn’t,” said Sera, turning sober. “Because it’s time the Pristanogradskiye stopped going against us at every turn, and began acting like our sisters again. The Zerkalitsy came from Pristanograd, after all, which the Pristanogradskiye can never seem to accept as they should. Anyway. It is time to bring them back into the fold, Valya, and it’s time for Alzhbetka Arinovna to stop acting like her mother’s spoiled youngest child and start acting like a princess. Naming her for this mission can accomplish both those aims, if we play our cards right.”
“And if we don’t?” I asked.
“Well, short of them declaring war on us, things could hardly be worse between our families than they already are, so I doubt we have much to lose. And besides…”
“The children,” I said. “The children that they say are coming through Zem’ from Seumi. If it’s true, they have to be coming through Pristanograd.”
“More than likely, Valya,
” agreed Sera.
“And you think Alzhbetka…what, is part of this scheme?”
Sera shook her head. “I don’t know, Valya, I truly don’t, but if I had to guess…I would say no. Alzhbetka has many flaws, and I know you two have never been friends, but I have known her since she was a babe in arms, and I would say that whatever else she might do, she would never be part of something like this. She’s too…too gods-cursedly arrogant and self-regarding to sell children into slavery. Kind of like,” Sera raised a brow at me, “someone else here in this chamber.”
“I guess I can’t really argue with that. So what: you think she…I don’t know: knows something?”
Sera shrugged. “Maybe. But if she does, I doubt that she knows that she knows it, at least to admit it to herself. But if our suspicions are correct and the Pristanogradskiye and Velikokrasnovy are involved in this vile business, then…I want Alzhbetka and Ivan to see it with their own eyes. I want to make sure that they can’t deny it, no matter how much they might wish to. Because,” she leaned forward and took, not my hand, but my arm in a firm grip, “if what we fear is true, if our own princesses are selling children into slavery, then we will make them pay, Valya. Do you hear me? We will make them sorry they’d ever so much as dreamed of their unspeakable schemes, and we will make it so that no one else will ever dare try it again.”
“Of course we will,” I said. “Alzhbetka Arinovna it is, then.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Messages were sent to Aksinya Olgovna, Amiran Iridivadze, Alzhbetka, and Ivan to wait upon us the third hour after noon in the Receiving Room, a small chamber off the Hall of Council where the Tsarina could hold more intimate audiences.
Ivan and Aksinya Olgovna showed up looking diffident but not particularly apprehensive; after all, they knew why they had been summoned. Amiran entered the room with the eager gait of a young man whom fate had favored and who never doubted that a summons by the Empress could only mean good news. I eyed him closely as he came in, curious to see whether Sera’s assessment of him was correct. He was, I had to agree, quite handsome in a Southern way, with curly black hair and flashing dark eyes. Which was common enough amongst Southerners, although I fancied I could see traces of his great-grandfather, the foreigner from far, far across the Middle Sea that Susanna Gulisovna (they must have a fondness for that name in the family) Iridivadze had married, in the tightness of his curls and the swarthiness of his skin. It was lucky that Southerners did not hold men’s virtue so highly as, say, the black earth people did, as anyone could see that his had been long lost, and no wonder, as handsome as he was.