by E. P. Clark
“I’ve been ready for ages,” said Ruslan with a moan, while Dariusz claimed that he was not ready at all, and Valery dug his face more firmly into Ivan’s chest.
“I’ll leave them to you, then,” I told him. “And let’s try to be underway by midmorning.”
“Good night, then, Valeriya Dariyevna. And…” he suddenly sounded very shy, “Joyous Midsummer.”
“Joyous Midsummer to you as well,” I said, smiling more than I would have thought possible earlier in the day. “Come on, Mirochka, let’s go.”
Mirochka moaned and complained all the way back to our chambers, and was only slightly mollified when I lifted her up to look out the window in the corridor onto the sun rising over the city. “You see mama, it’s already morning,” she argued. “There’s no point in going to bed: we’ll just have to get up again shortly.”
“As you very well know, my dear, I have a long journey ahead of me, and I need at least a little rest before I set off. And you will need your rest in order to look fresh and cheerful when you see me off, and to apply yourself to your lessons once I’m gone.”
“Why do I need to look fresh and cheerful when I see you off, mama?”
“Because lots of people will be watching, my dove.”
“Why, mama? Why would they care?”
“Because I am the Tsarina’s sister, my dove, and my mission has become a very public matter, so people will be curious. And they will be curious to see you as well, because you are my daughter and heir and one day could be their ruler.”
“Oh.” Mirochka stopped whining for a moment to consider that, and I hustled her into our chambers. “What if I can’t be fresh and cheerful tomorrow, mama?” she asked once we were inside. “What would they think of me if I cried? I’m afraid I might cry, mama!”
“Some might think less of you, my dear, but I wouldn’t worry about them. Many would probably like you more for it. A girl should feel affection for her mother, and if you cry they’ll probably just think that you’re more gentle-hearted and less troublesome than I am, which will be all for the good.”
“So should I try to cry, then, mama?” she asked anxiously.
“Don’t try to do anything other than not make trouble,” I told her. “Lots of people here want to like you, my dove, and you’ve already started winning them over. Just try not to get into trouble while I’m gone.”
“Do I often get into trouble, mama?” she asked, even more anxiously.
I laughed. “No, my heart. If you did you’d know it, believe me. But you see, I got into trouble all the time and I still do, so it would be best if you left the troublemaking to me, or at least waited till I return. Then we can get into trouble together.”
“How will I know how not to get into trouble, since I don’t do it very often, mama? How will I know if I’m doing something that might get me into trouble?”
“Just…try not to hurt people, and if Sera or Vyacheslav Irinovich or your teachers tell you to do something, try to do it.”
“What if they tell me to do a bad thing, though?”
“Like what, my dove?”
“Like…break my oath.”
“That they most certainly won’t do,” I assured her. “They keep it themselves. And as for anything else…it seems very unlikely that they would tell you to do something really bad. I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Don’t worry about anything too much, my dove, and before you know it, I’ll be back.”
“And I can always ask you, mama!” she exclaimed, brightening at the thought.
“Yes, of course, when I return.”
“No, I mean, I can come to you in your dreams and ask you then!” she said, sounding very relieved.
“Of course, my dear,” I told her, trying not to seem too taken aback. “I’ll keep a watch out for you, shall I?”
“Of course, mama! And that way you won’t be gone at all! I’ll be able to stay here in Krasnograd and travel with you at the same time! It will be the best of both things!”
“That is an excellent plan, my dove,” I told her. “I’ll be watching out for you all the time I’m asleep.”
“How can you watch out for me when you’re asleep, mama?” she asked with a giggle. “I’ll sneak in and surprise you!”
“Oh you will, will you? I think you’ll find it’s not that easy to catch me by surprise!”
“Here, I’m going to show you!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sun streaming in through the window and directly into my eyes awoke me. I was lying on top of the covers, still in my clothes from the night before. I sat up. The angle of the sun told me it was still early, and that I could have only slept a few hours, but I felt refreshed, with neither the dull fatigue of not enough sleep, or the grogginess of a sleep that was too deep. I looked around. Mirochka was lying beside me, apparently asleep herself. Someone—probably her—had pulled off my boots and left them lying haphazardly on the floor by the bed. I had no memory of doing it myself, and a maid would have cleaned them and put them away.
“You’re a terrifying child, you know that,” I said.
Mirochka opened her eyes. “Did I hurt you?” she asked anxiously. “I didn’t mean to scare you, mama, I really didn’t! I didn’t know you’d go out so fast, but I caught you and put you on the bed and took off your boots. I would have put on your nightclothes, but once I got you in bed I was too tired and you were too heavy for me to move you.”
“I thought you were still asleep,” I told her. “I didn’t really mean it. I’m not scared of you. I just didn’t know you were so strong. And I’m very impressed that you could catch me and put me to bed! All that training is doing you good. How did you do it, though? How did you put me to sleep so fast?”
“I don’t know, mama! I didn’t know it would work so well. I wanted you to sleep, and you just…went out, like you’d been hit on the head or something. I had to jump to catch you, and at first I was really scared! I thought,” her voice trembled, “something bad had happened to you. I even thought of calling for a healer. But then I checked your pulse and your breathing, just like you showed me for a person who’s been knocked out, and there was nothing wrong, so I decided I’d check in your dreams, and I slipped in, but you were just asleep, so I lay down next to you to keep you company. Your dreams were so…strange, mama! Some of them were making you so unhappy, so I took them away. I don’t think you’ll remember them at all now.”
“I see,” I said lightly. “Do you remember what they were about?”
“I think they were about my father, mama. I recognized him, but he was ignoring us and chasing after some other woman, and you were so sad! So I took that away, but then you started dreaming about some woman. I don’t know her, but she was a steppe woman, like us. She came up and kissed you and asked you not to go, but you ran away, and that made both of you so sad. Who was she, mama?”
“A friend I had when you were very small.”
“She seemed very nice, mama. Have I met her?”
“A few times. Do you remember the woman with blonde hair who came by last year? The one in the army.”
“I think so,” said Mirochka doubtfully.
“She had a big chestnut stallion. She only stopped by for a moment.”
“The one named Plamya, that was so high-tempered?”
“That’s the one.”
“Isn’t he the brother of Iskra and Zvezda?”
“He is.”
“So how’d she end up with him, then? That’s our bloodline!”
“I gave him to her. As a gift.”
“She must have been a very good friend,” said Mirochka. “Why doesn’t she come around more often, then?”
“She has duties. Duties that keep her away.”
“Well, I wish she would come visit more,” said Mirochka. “You don’t have very many friends, mama.” And before I could react to that, she continued, “And I liked her very much, what I saw of her. And now I remember: I think I’ve seen her in dreams bef
ore. They must have been your dreams. I wish I could meet her, mama. Do you think I could find her in her dreams?”
“I think it would be best if you stayed out of them, my dove. I don’t think it would be very nice for you to go into other people’s dreams without their permission, especially if they don’t know you very well.”
“Really?” said Mirochka, sounding surprised. “No one’s every complained about it before.”
“That’s probably because they didn’t realize what was happening. It isn’t a very common thing for people to do. If they had known, many of them probably wouldn’t have been very happy about it. I think you should only do it with people who’ve given you permission.”
“But no one’s given me permission, mama!” she objected.
“You can practice with me,” I told her, even though I knew it was probably a bad idea and I was going to regret it. “But only if you promise that if you see strange things or things you don’t understand, you’ll go away and leave them alone.”
“Fine, mama, but I see lots of strange things in dreams all the time.”
“I’m sure you do. But most people don’t like to share the strange things they see in their sleep with others. Those things are supposed to be private.”
“Really?” she said again, sounding even more surprised, as if the inviolate privacy of dreams had never occurred to her before. Which, since for her it didn’t exist, it probably hadn’t.
“Really,” I told her. “And I think you probably shouldn’t do this making-people-fall-asleep thing either. Do it only with me.”
“But you’ll be gone, mama!”
“Well, you’ll have to wait until I come back then, my dove.”
“I wonder if I can make it happen from far away,” said Mirochka speculatively, a gleam of curiosity coming into her eyes.
“We can try, my dear, but only if we’ve agreed about it beforehand. Otherwise, if it works, you could make me fall asleep when I’m riding, or…fighting, or something like that, and it could be very dangerous.”
“But how will we agree about it if you’re so far away, mama?”
“You’ll have to figure it out,” I said, tapping her lightly on the nose. “If you can really reach into my dreams from so far away, maybe you can reach into my waking mind too, and talk to me. Otherwise no falling asleep, are we agreed?”
“I suppose so, mama. Can I practice on my brothers? I’ll need someone else to practice on, you know.”
I hesitated. “Only if the Tsarina gives you her permission to ask them, and they give you their permission to do it,” I said after thinking it over. “Otherwise, absolutely not. Do we have a deal?”
“I suppose,” she said, pouting a little.
“Good, because I have to be up and on my way,” I said, sliding out of bed. “And thanks to your excellent sleep, I’m all bright and refreshed, even though I was up half the night. I hope you can make it work when I’m far away, my dove, because it’s a wonderful gift.”
Breakfasting and gathering our things and saddling the horses took longer than it should, but we were still ready to leave well before mid-morning. We had decided to set off without too much fanfare, but Sera came to see us off, flanked by Vyacheslav Irinovich and the tsarinoviches, and with several princesses and half the kremlin staff hovering around on the edges. Mirochka threatened to make a scene at the last minute, but I was able to deflect it by reminding her that she had to be brave for her brothers and that I would be back soon and she would be enjoying herself so much she wouldn’t miss me anyway. That was hard to say, but I said it cheerfully enough, and only Sera seemed to guess how much it pained me. She embraced me and said, “She will be well cared for, Valya, I swear it.”
“I know,” I said, and then added, only lying a little, “I have no fears on that score.”
“I wish you success, Valya. But no matter what the outcome of your mission, come back by fall. I want you here by my side when…as soon as I can return to us.”
“I will,” I promised. “We will return by the time the snow starts to stick, if not sooner, and I have every hope we’ll have reason to celebrate when we do.” I stepped out of her embrace. “But for that to happen, we must be off.” I waved at everyone with much more jauntiness than I felt, vaulted onto Zlata’s back, and set off briskly before anyone could start to cry or do anything inauspicious like that.
In truth, I was probably the only one in danger of crying, as everyone else seemed in tremendously high spirits as we rode under the bright sun through the streets of Krasnograd. Even I started to cheer up, once we were a few streets away from the kremlin and I could think less about leaving Mirochka behind, and more about setting off on a journey. I loved setting off on a journey, especially one where I didn’t know what the end would be. So many of my foremothers had loved journeying, too, and here I was, heading out once again on the road just like them. The people on the streets waved and gave us good wishes as we went by, passing them on their slower, shorter journeys. We were all every one of us on a journey, whether we ever left our towns and farms and villages or not. Things kept circling around and around…my thoughts were distracted by our arrival at the East Gate.
Once we passed through the East Gate and entered Outer Krasnograd, people no longer waved at us and wished us well, but watched us with a mixture of fear and dull despair. Unlike the South Gate, the East Gate opened onto a dirty shantytown of unpaved, wandering streets, disreputable huts, the reek of middens and privies, and humans, dogs, and other creatures living lives of filthy degradation.
What a nice journey you’re on. And theirs is even nicer. The stories said that when Krasnoslava Tsarina had fled Krasnograd to go raise her army, she had slipped out through the East Gate on foot, with only a single companion for a guard. So I really shouldn’t whine. But she had come through here on her journey, and here I was riding through on my fine horse with my noble companions on my journey, and the only difference for the people of Outer Krasnograd was that their own journeys through life were even more miserable than their foremothers’ had been.
Things keep circling around and around. Can I break free? Or—I rode past a filthy woman screaming at her filthy child for losing their only coin—is freedom the wrong thing to aim for? After all, in a certain light, these people here are about as free as a person can be. I threw a coin at the woman, and thought about all the other women who were just as desperate, but who didn’t have the good fortune to be desperate just at the moment when I was riding past and could shower them with a tiny bit of the largess that the gods had gifted to me. I ground my teeth and kept my gaze trained straight ahead, wondering how many of them had sold or would sell their children into slavery in order to keep them all from starving. The coals of rage that I always kept banked pretty high flared every time a dirty face refused to look at me, and for a moment I almost turned around in order to ride back to the kremlin and start haranguing Sera and the other princesses about this gross injustice happening right under their noses.
But that would do little good, so instead I kept riding forward as briskly as I could, until we drew near the abattoir that had been placed near the East Road on the edge of Outer Krasnograd, the better for herders from all the Eastern provinces to bring their stock to slaughter. I tried not to look, and then I forced myself not to look away. Krasnoslava, it was said, had thought that all of Krasnograd was founded upon the evil of the dungeons under the kremlin, and had had them emptied out. But now the dungeons were fuller than ever, and Krasnograd stood with one foot resting on them and the other on something even worse, because this stinking abattoir was Krasnograd, even if all the princesses in their fine palaces would never admit it. The pens of cattle, sheep, and goats lowed and bleated pitifully, causing Zlata to slow her pace and sidle away from them as we drew close, and once we were past them and passing the abattoir itself, the scent of blood and the screams of the animals being killed caused her to stop dead and then, at my insistent urging, bolt forward, the other horse
s racing pell-mell after her until we had left Outer Krasnograd behind entirely and were riding between cultivated fields, the city receding behind us.
“We should have ridden through the South Gate,” said Alzhbetka. “Or at least the North Gate. It’s not so good as the South Gate, but it’s not like that. No one takes the East Gate.”
“Yes they do,” I said sharply. “People take the East Gate all the time. For example, when they deliver the products of the abattoir to your table.”
“Well, I don’t want to see it,” said Alzhbetka angrily. “Why should I force myself to look at something like that? Something so…distasteful.”
“Because you can flee it, but the people living in squalor there cannot, and neither can the animals being killed or the people killing them at the abattoir. Don’t call it distasteful and then happily consume what it gives you, reveling in the taste.” I realized I was speaking too angrily to do any good, and, forcing myself to speak more calmly, added, “I wanted us to see that. To remind us what kind of a mission we are on here. We are not on this for our own pleasure, but to confront the worst aspects of ourselves and our people. If you can’t stomach Outer Krasnograd, you won’t be able to face what we may find if we come across an actual slave caravan.”
“Why do you think you will be able to face it any better than the rest of us?” Alzhbetka demanded. “You can’t even stomach the products you say I shouldn’t enjoy!”
“I’m hoping my rage will carry me through,” I said, more lightly than I felt. “After all, the last time I encountered a slave caravan, I beheaded its leaders. Don’t confuse principle with weakness, Alzhbetka.”
Alzhbetka looked angry, Amiran looked surprised, and Ivan looked thoughtful, but no one argued any more, and we rode for several more versts in silence while I wrestled with my temper and the sudden surge of rage at Sera for letting things be so bad that had suddenly flared up in me. I knew that no ruler could solve all her realm’s problems, but it seemed as if every time I came to Krasnograd, Outer Krasnograd was bigger, poorer, and more disgusting and desperate. As soon as I returned, I resolved, I would do something about it, and Sera and the other princesses could go to the Black God if they disagreed. But then I thought of what might be happening with Sera upon my return, and felt ashamed of my anger and of any thoughts of attempting to change things or overrule her. Besides, while I thought she was wrong about the inevitability of Outer Krasnograd’s squalor and misery, I knew she was right that it was not a problem that would be easily solved. So by the time we were a dozen versts down the road, I had calmed down enough to put the matter somewhere in the back of my mind, where it could age and grow as we traveled, perhaps bursting forth with some surprising solution when I was least expecting it.