The Usurper's Crown (30 page)

Ingrid smiled sympathetically at her sister, patting her hand and setting it down on the quilts. “If I married, I would leave you anyway,” she said reasonably.

“But not like this. You cannot leave me alone here. What am I going to do without you?”

“I know this is sudden, Grace, and I know it is strange, but I have given Avanasy my promise, and he has given me this.” She held out her hand so that Grace could see the ring.

Grace just struck her hand away. “I’m supposed to be the flighty one. I’m the one who is supposed to get into trouble with men, not you, Ingrid. We need you. I need you. Everything will fall apart if you’re not here.” She wrapped her arms around her knees and looked away, her jaw working back and forth.

Ingrid could not believe what she was hearing. After all this time, after all they had been through together. They were sisters. They had always stood together, against Papa, against everything …

“Grace, I thought you would be happy for me.”

“How was I supposed to be happy with you running away in the middle of the night and leaving me here?”

“Grace …” Ingrid reached for her, but Grace jerked her whole body away.

“You don’t even care what they’re going to do to me when they wake up and find out you’re gone,” she muttered.

Which was too much, even if she had upset Grace with the suddenness of her plans. That was just too much. “How can you of all people, after everything that has happened, say I don’t care?”

Grace wasn’t looking at her. She just stared at the blank, dark wall and snapped, “If you cared, you would persuade this Avan, or Avanasy, whatever he calls himself, to stay here.”

Bitter understanding crept into Ingrid’s veins. She stood and turned away from her sister, rounding the foot of the bed to the linen press. “I don’t have time to sit here and argue with you, Grace.” She pulled out a clean sheet and laid it on the foot of the bed. Her clean dress and petticoats came off their hooks, and fresh linens and the thickest wool stockings she owned came out of the dresser drawers.

“I can scream,” announced Grace. “I can wake up everybody, and Papa will lock you in here.”

Ingrid couldn’t bear to look at her sister. “All my life,” she said, tying her bundle closed. “All my life, I have looked after you. I have stood between Mama and Papa for you more times that I can count. I have asked for nothing from you until now. Why are you doing this?”

Grace crawled across the bed to Ingrid. She looked like a little child, kneeling there on the covers, wisps of hair coming loose from her fair braids. “Because I can’t lose you. Because I don’t know how to live without you to lean on.”

“Then that is my fault,” breathed Ingrid, pressing both hands against her bundle. “And I’m sorry. But I’m going. You’re a good girl, Grace. You’re smart. You’ll manage.”

She lifted the bundle up and started for the door, biting her lip hard to keep back the tears. This was not the parting she had wanted from Grace. She had known it would be hard to say good-bye, but this reproach, this bitterness. It was too much, and she had to leave at once.

“Ingrid, I’m seeing things.”

Ingrid froze, her hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“I’m seeing things. Since the night with the ghost. I’ve been seeing things, and I’ve been having dreams. Sometimes they come true.” She paused and her voice dropped even lower. “I saw Leo’s accident before it happened. I saw the scythe slip. That’s why I was so upset when it happened. I think he … I think the ghost did something to me.”

Ingrid pivoted on her heel and stared at her sister, who still crouched at the foot of their bed. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

Grace huddled in on herself again. “I didn’t want you to think I was going mad.”

“Grace, you should have told me.” Ingrid rushed to her and seized her shoulder. She could not help it. She had protected Grace for too many years to stay distant from her at this moment. “We could have asked Avanasy. He would know.”

“We can go now. You can tell him …”

Ingrid saw the sudden light, the sudden hope that filled Grace’s face as she said that, and she realized what was truly happening here. Grace was trying to work on her. Anger sparked inside her. “I don’t believe this,” she said, pressing her hand against her forehead. “I knew you would say anything to Papa and Mama, but I did not believe you would try this nonsense with me.”

“It’s the truth. I swear.”

“Then it’s too late,” Ingrid told her. “I’m leaving. Now. This minute.” She turned away. She couldn’t look at Grace anymore. Not like this. Not with all that was hanging in the air between them.

“They’ll never let you in the house again,” said Grace desperately.

“Then you’ll have to remember me in your prayers, as I’ll remember you in mine.”

“You promised me, Ingrid.” Real anger touched Grace’s voice, and it wrung Ingrid’s heart. “You promised you would always be here for me.”

Now. You must leave now, or you never will
. Ingrid gripped her bundle more tightly. “You promised me too,” she said without turning around. “You promised me we would always be best friends. This is not how a friend talks.”

She left the house without pausing to close the door. Grace would see to it, or she would not. Ingrid ran down the track to the road, dashing the tears from her eyes.

She is only startled. When she has time to think it over, she will regret her words. She truly understands, she just does not want me to go. Later I will find some way to get word to her. Perhaps, when the troubles are over in this Isavalta it will be possible to send for her
.

Clutching those thoughts like she clutched her bundle, Ingrid ran through the dying night to the docks.

The light of a single lantern guided her down the pier to Avanasy’s boat. Avanasy himself was nothing but a silhouette in the false dawn, crouched on the deck coiling a rope. At the sound of her hurrying footsteps and her ragged breathing, he straightened up. Ingrid saw him fully in the lantern light and froze.

This was not Avan the fisherman who had sat so many evenings at her mother’s kitchen table, drinking coffee and passing the time. This was a Cossack, this was a prince. He wore a wide-skirted coat of rich black. Two dozen silver buttons fastened the front of it. Elaborate silver embroidery adorned the high collar and wide cuffs. A cloth of silver sash circled his waist. There must have been a knife belt underneath that, because she could see the sheath with the dagger’s handle protruding from the top of the sash. The coat’s hems brushed the tops of polished leather boots and worked leather gloves encased his hands. A peaked black cap with yet more silver embroidery covered his hair.

Ingrid stared, and for an awful moment felt every inch the poor, pale, country girl.

But the loving eyes were all Avanasy’s, as was the welcoming hand that reached up to help her step into the boat.

“Is all well?” he asked.

“No,” she admitted. “I had a scene with Grace. She is angry at me for leaving.”

Avanasy touched her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”
But I am glad you are not asking if I would rather stay
. Even as she thought that, she knew in her heart they were already well beyond such questions. “Is there a hold? Let me stow my things.”

Avanasy nodded toward the hatch. “Take the lamp. I must get us ready to cast off. The men will be coming soon, and we must be away before then.”

The men, and Papa with them, if Papa is not already on the way
.

She climbed down the stout ladder. Ingrid had lived all her life around boats, and she knew a well-made craft when she saw it. Avanasy’s boat was clinker-built, but stout and strong. The cordage, casks and extra canvas were all neatly stowed. The chests from his cabin had been tied into place below one of the two bunks. Ingrid hung the lantern on a peg and stowed her own meager bundle in one of the cabinets built into the bow. This was a boat meant for fairly long journeys. Ingrid closed her mind against the idea of how long a journey she had just embarked on. She reclaimed the lantern and returned to the deck.

Avanasy stood in the bow waiting for her. As she emerged he smiled, but still managed to look grave. “Now there is one last thing I must require of you for this journey.”

“And that is?” Ingrid tried to keep her voice light, but was not sure how well she succeeded. This night had already asked a great deal from her, and she was beginning to feel weary with all her trying.

He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “The Land of Death and Spirit is a dangerous place, especially for those with divided souls, those with no magic in them. There are dangerous and jealous powers in that place, and there are some who are just mischievous. They will be attracted by the strength of your soul. They will try to lead you astray. You will see many things which are untrue.”

“Then I will have to keep my eyes closed,” said Ingrid simply.

Avanasy fumbled for a moment in the pocket of his beautiful black coat. “That will not be enough. They will still find ways to reach you, and I will not be able to protect you, for I must concentrate on keeping us on course.” He brought out a small, stoppered vial. “This will send you to sleep. That way, all you encounter will be as dreams, and will have no more power to hurt you than ordinary dreams do.”

Ingrid took the bottle from him, pulled out the stopper and inhaled the scent. It was sharp, clean and medicinal, a strong smell of laudanum and alcohol, and things she could not name.

“If that’s how it must be.” She tucked the vial into the pocket of her skirt. “But let me stay awake as long as possible.”

“As long as possible,” agreed Avanasy. “Now, we must away.”

Avanasy hopped down onto the pier and cast the ropes off. Ingrid coiled then stowed them as he did. They were away. Avanasy climbed back onto the deck, grasped the mainsheet, and raised the canvas. The wind caught the dark sail a moment later, and they were off. Ingrid faced the shore as they pulled away. The docks remained empty and still. Papa had not come to fetch her back; neither had Grace.

Angry, although she could not have clearly said why, Ingrid stalked to the bow and faced the wind. It blew hard and cold in her face, setting her eyes stinging with tears. She welcomed it. This way she would not have to explain why she was crying. Behind her, she heard Avanasy working the ropes. A second sail rose over the first, and below her the deck creaked as they picked up speed.

She would not look back. Sand Island was not her home anymore. She stood steadily on the gently swaying deck and wrapped her arms around herself. She would not look back.

“Ingrid!” called Avanasy over the wind. “I fear it is time.”

Ingrid took one last look at the gray waters of Lake Superior, which had cradled her since her birth. Then, she turned on her heel and, with the rocking gait of an experienced sailor, she strode to the stern. Avanasy stood at the tiller, one hand keeping it steady, the other feeling the tension in the mainsheet. She took his face in both hands and kissed him, drinking in the promise as he returned her kiss and embraced her with one arm.

“When you wake, it will be to see the land of my birth,” he said.

“I look forward to the sight.” Ingrid smiled at him, and went below.

Neither of the bunks seemed to be claimed, so Ingrid sat herself down on the right-hand bed. She pulled the little bottle from her apron pocket and stared at it for a moment, ashamed of the nervousness that fluttered in her breast.

Then, she pulled out the stopper and swallowed the thick liquid in one draft.

She had time enough to taste sweet honey and strong brandy before a wave of dizziness swept over her. She managed to lie back and swing her legs up, but a second wave overcame her and all the strength left her limbs. She was distantly aware of the clatter as the vial fell from her fingers to the deck, but she could do nothing about it. Sleep already wrapped her in an embrace as warm as any Avanasy could offer and it pulled her close into its comforting darkness.

She lay oblivious for a time. Then, it seemed to her that she sat up, wide awake, although she did not know why.

“Come out,” called a stranger’s voice. “Come out. You are summoned.”

The Land of Death and Spirit bloomed around Avanasy like a dream. Lake Superior and its wide gray waters were gone without a trace. Instead, he sailed up a broad brown river. The sails bellied full in a wind his skin did not feel. No sound came from his boat’s timbers, nor did any come from the flowing waters, or the dark pines that towered on the mossy banks. These were the Silent Lands, the Shifting Lands, the homes of ghosts, the unborn, the never born, and the eternal. No sorcerer crossed them in the flesh unless he was desperate. No sorcerer carried an unprotected, ordinary human through them unless they were insane.

Avanasy could not afford to think of that now. He had to keep all his mind fixed on his destination. In the mortal world, a sorcerer had to reach for their magic and use their will to shape it. Here, the magic reached for the sorcerer and tried to shape him. Here, the need was to hold one’s soul steady, to be a rock in the stream of the Shifting Lands. A divided soul would feel the yearning, lonely tug of the half of itself that resided here and would travel far to ease that ache.

Small memories
, his master had told him.
It is the tiniest
,
most intimate details of life that will make the links in the chain to pull you through the Silent Lands
.

So, Avanasy remembered. He remembered the smell of the coal fire in his master Valerii’s house late at night as Avanasy took down his instruction in the great vellum book. He remembered the taste of broth and dumplings in winter when he was a boy and had come back in from helping his father supervise the brewing sheds, and how the warmth of the good soup could be felt through and through. He remembered the day the
zhagravor
, the telling sorcerer, had wrapped the red sash around his waist and looked hard in his eyes and declared him sorcerer.

He remembered walking into the great hall at Vyshtavos, and how the keeper of the emperor’s god house had barred his way, ceremonially challenging him, until Master Valerii gave his name and the keeper stood aside so that Avanasy might kneel before the emperor and hear his charge.