Yvgenie (36 page)

She said,
‘
Why is Yvgenie off with his daughter somewhere? ''

He piled kindling onto the burning piece and answered her without quite looking her in the eye,
‘
He thinks we're upset with him. So does she.
’

‘
Are you?
’

‘
No. Not with him.
’
God, he thought, she must see us as liars at the least—and how do we tell her the truth? Forgive me, but a dead wizard's possessed your young man, and he's confused about who h
e's with?—Because Yvgenie Pavlo
vitch, with so many dark spots in his memory, must be confused. The resemblance was so clear from some angles
it
upset one's stomach.

He had the fire going. She had finished one of the cakes no knowing when she had last eaten, although the leshy would surely have left her in better health than they had fou
nd
her. He opened the tea packet as Pyetr set the water on
the
fire, Pyetr muttering under
his breath,
‘
She looks like
Ilyana
. At least the hair. And about the same age, give or ta
ke.
I think Misighi must have heard us, and made a mistak
e.
They
don't
tell one of us from the other very well.''

The girl's eyes went from one to the other of them, doub
t
ing their sanity, Sasha was sure. He
saw another tiny mors
el
of cake go down dry and wished her not to choke. .

‘
There'll be tea in a moment,
’
he promised her, while Pyetr unstopped the vodka jug, thinking shadowy thoughts. Pyetr poured a small dose of vodka, and said,
‘
Here, Babi
.
’

Babi turned up. The pan clanged to the ground, the
rest
of the cakes in the girl's lap.

She made not a sound. Or a move. Thank the god. Sash said quickly, as she gulped down a bite of cake.
‘
He's a dvorovoi. Don't be afraid. He might go after the cakes—
’

She picked one out of her lap and offered it hastily—tossed it as Babi came her direction. Babi swallowed the whole cake at a gulp.

‘
Behave,
’
Pyetr said sternly, and poured another dollop of vodka that never hit the leaves.

‘
It's not everyone he likes,'' Sasha said, fluttery about the stomach himself, considering Babi's other shapes, while the girl drew small anxious breaths.
‘
I don't think he'd really hurt you. It's absolutely only the cakes he wants—and he thinks you're all right, or he'd let you know it.
’
He reached after the tea and burned his hand on the pan. Sucked a finger.
‘
Why don't you pour a bit of vodka in the tea, Pyetr? And some honey. I think honey would be nice, don't you?
’

Volkhi and Missy made a leisurely appearance through the trees, interested in the spring. The girl looked worriedly at that, at Babi, at them—

He
poured the tea, sloshing it badly. Pyetr added vodka, milled honey and Sasha offered it to her.
‘
There. We've only
the t
wo cups—Pyetr and I don't mind sharing.
’

‘
Pyetr,
’
she echoed faintly, and looked
at Pyetr with—
as
seemed—an unwarrantably troubled look.

Pyetr lifted a brow and took a sip of tea-and-vodka.
‘
Pyetr
Il
itch Kochevikov. Notorious in Kiev and various other places, I gather. I'm flattered if my reputation's gotten to
such
lovely ears.
’

That
was the old Pyetr. Rain would not fall on him, aunt
Ilenka
had used to say—meaning he was far too slippery. And far too false and angry to deal with a frightened girl.
— Slop it, Sasha wished him. Can't you see you're scaring her?

Pyetr shut up. Sasha said gently,
‘
Drink your tea. It's gelling cold. We need to be moving as soon as we can.
’

She sipped at it, holding the cup in both hands. Winced,
s
wallowing, and blinked tears. Too much v
odka for a young gir
l, Sasha thought, and took a sip of the cup Pyetr passed him. There certainly was. His own eyes watered. He thought
of
the mouse at the table, the last night she had been home, he looked at the girl and thought
—

Something's wrong. Something's very wrong here—While
P
yetr asked, in a dreadful hush,
‘
Where are you from, miss? Kiev?
’

A shake of her head. The tears had kept running. She was
sta
ring at Pyetr.

‘
Where?
’
Pyetr asked sharply.

‘
Pyetr,
’
Sasha objected, suffocating in that silence. And
st
opped, because the girl had taken on a scowl that—god, he knew in a way that made his stomach turn over. The match for it was sitting beside him.

The girl said, with that hawk's look, through a film of tears,
‘
You
are
my father, aren't you?
’

Sasha drew in a breath, it seemed forever, and said, the
i
nstant he had wind enough,
‘
More tea, actually—I think we could do with more tea, here
…
’

Pyetr said faintly,
‘
Who's your mother?
’

‘
Who's my
mother?
You—
’

Silence! Sasha wished, so abruptly the girl winced. He got up and hauled Pyetr to his feet.
‘
We could
use
some more water, Pyetr.
’

Pyetr was damnably hard to move when he wanted otherwise.
‘
What's your name?
’
Pyetr demanded, a question so absolute his own curiosity slipped, and the girl said, in a hard voice.

‘
Nadya Yurisheva.''

Pyetr sank slowly to his heels, stared his firstborn daughter in the face while she stared back at him, then stood up and without a word took the pan back to the spring
—

In a silence thick as the leaves.

Sasha whispered—one could only whisper,
‘
Excuse me, please,
’
and went after Pyetr. Anything might happen. Leshys were involved. One was still watching them, he was sure of it.

Pyetr leaned against the rock, put the pan against it to let clean water trickle in, while Volkhi and Missy blithely destroyed the little green that grew in that spot of sun.

Pyetr said,
‘
She's about eighteen, nineteen, do you think?
’

Vojvoda, a stable, Pyetr run through and bleeding, Pyetr having left the Yurishev's second story window very precipitately not an hour before—

‘
—Did you and Irina—?
’

‘
Sufficiently, I assure you. Not that night—but certainly others.
’

‘
God.
’

‘
The leshys have a damned dark sense of humor, friend.''

‘
I—don't think they're altogether to blame—
’

‘
I
know
who's to blame! It's quite
clear
who's to blame! Nothing's an accident, isn't that it? Nothing's ever an accident: her being here is no accident, her looking for that boy is no accident—She's no damn substitute for the mouse, Sasha! I don't know what's going on, but she's
not
what I'm taking home, I don't care what the leshys intend!
’

‘
Hush! She'll hear you!
’

P
yetr sank down on his heels and dumped the water from
the
pan.
‘
God, Sasha.
’

What did one say? What did one do?
Or
wish?

Pyetr said faintly,
‘
I don't know this girl. The daughter I k
n
ow's off in trouble somewhere, not being reasonable, and I honestly don't think this is going to help, Sasha!
’

‘
We don't know that. We—
’

‘
Magic strikes at the weakest point, doesn't it? Things go wrong at the weakest point, and our weakest point's my own damned—
‘

'' You said yourself the mouse is no hazard.''

‘
Yes, and you've been making wishes
all
these years to protect my daughter, haven't you, and something
certainly
h
as, clear from Vojvoda! You wanted the leshys to bring my
d
aughter to us, and they certainly did! Something's satisfied
all
your wishes,
if it had to start eighteen damned years ago to do it
!
''

Pyetr was uncannily good at magic for a man who had never believed in vodyaniye until one all but took his hand
off
. Sasha sank down on his heels by the water's edge, trying now Pyetr said it, to think exactly how he had framed his wishes for the mouse or how he had thought of her all these
yea
rs—whether he had left a way for disaster. He could not pull order out of his ideas about the mouse,
could
not determine how he thought of her, and that was frightening.

He said to Pyetr.
‘
I was getting too damned cocky. We're
not
giving up on the mouse. We're
not
letting her go. The world's protecting itself, that's all.'' He recollected last night,
recollected how
easy—how dreadfully easy magic could be—

‘
You're not making sense, the world protecting itself—
’

‘
The world does. Nature's far harder to wish than you are. What you see makes you doubt what you know. For the god's
sa
ke don't make this girl hate you.
’

'' Make her hate me? God, what's she got to thank me for? The same my father left to
me? Gossip behind my back and d
oors slammed in my face? Why don't you
wish
her to be
grateful, Sasha? It's a damned sight easier than waiting it.
’

That bitterness went deep; but he knew Pyetr's heart,
at
moments too delicate to eavesdrop.
‘
You don't mean
that
any more than you
really
want me to send her away into
the
woods.
’

Pyetr shook his head, looking at the water, the rock, the god only knew. Not at him. Not at anything present.

Sasha said,
‘
I think you'd better talk to her.''

Pyetr whispered, furiously:
‘
I
think
we'd better get moving. We're not stopping for any damn cup of tea, Sasha. Magic's switched the dice on us. I'm not sitting here. No
t
now.
’

‘
Pyetr, magic's brought her. Deal with her. Be fair with her. Always at the weakest point, you just said it. You can't make her your enemy!''

‘
What am I going to say, for the god's sake? All of
Vojvoda
thinks I
killed
Yurishev—and you and I both know who gained from it!
’

Irina's relatives. No questi
on. With Irina very likely in on
the deed. He said to Pyetr,
‘
I think you'd better find ou
t
what she does think.
’

‘
You.
’

He blinked, looked Pyetr straight in the eyes.

Pyetr whispered,
‘
Dammit, are you wishing me?
’