Yvgenie (51 page)

Babi scrambled onto his shoulder. They were close, god, close enough to the mouse and Eveshka that he could feel presence through the silence. And a gulf dropping away into somewhere dark, deadly and deathly. He could not think of the mouse in that place. He could not think of Pyetr and Eveshka t
h
ere. They would not be. No!

He thought, while Patches found her own way along a spring-fed thread of water, Mouse, listen to me.
Listen!

For a moment then he had her, clear and true and very, very, very scared. There was open sky and the smell of the earth and river. He
knew
that place, he knew the feeling of it—the hollowness beneath—

God
—

The mouse caught at him, the mouse was frightened,
wanted him the way she had in the yard—and came around
him, enfolded his wishes
—

No, he had said then. Now he said yes. And did a more
frightening thing, and wanted Eveshka to know he was there.

Now.

Beyond the doorway was starlight and river chill and a grassy edge along the shore—beyond the door was a dream, a very sinister one—as calm and as tranquil a place as the ghosts had been horrid, the water glistening beneath the stars and a fat old willow whispering in the dark. But the heart of this place was hollow and cold, one could feel the falseness of safety here. And one remembered that it was still the palace of bone, and that what one saw was not the truth—or the palace was not. The mouse was very scared, and very quiet, and very determined to have the way out—please the god. And grandfather might have wished her to be born and to be here, but she wished to do things her uncle would approve— that was the wisest thing she could think of.

Make up your own mind, a ghost said, and startled her when she saw it drift from the willow-shade. Mother, she thought, with a cold seizure of fear. But the ghost said:

Your grandmother, dear. Is the old fool telling you lies again? Or can't he tell you?

The bear came out of the shadow, and ambled to her grandmother's side, seeming far less fierce than she had thought. Her grandmother said:

Listen
to me—

I
t was a wish. And it scared her. There was something in this place, something that
made
her want to listen, even knowing her grandmother had been wicked—

No such thing, the ghost said. Do you want Kavi alive again? From here it's easy. Everything is easy
—

Uncle would say, Magic is always easy. But is it wise?

Don't you have any thoughts to yourself, child? What do
you
want?

She wanted—

Kavi. And knew it was foolish and selfish and wrong. She turned away, toward the dark rim of the woods at the end of the grass. She wanted to leave.

But something drew her to look back—and her grandmother was not there. There were wolves—and other things that spun in confusion, faces screaming, hands grasping—it wanted, and wanted and wanted, and she wanted it to stop changing! Now!

It did. It became a shriveled old woman and a pack of wolves, and it wanted her youth and her life and her heart. Come here, it bade her.
Listen
to me
…
and the thing under the earth echoed it and echoed it until she was confused.

No, she said, and told it No again, and it said:

What do you want, wizard?

And she thought, I want—

—and stopped herself at the brink, thinking: You don't catch me twice, on. Go away!

It broke apart. The wolves did. The bits scattered in light and fire.

Not so dreadful, she thought, letting go a breath she had forgotten. I'm all right. I can wish them—

‘
Ilyana,
’
a voice said behind her back. And she
had
to turn to it—had to—before the echoes of it died in the earth under her feet. It was her mother, white and tattered and dreadful, with shadowed eyes and bloody scratches on her arms, her mother wanting her with more strength than she had ever felt in her life.

No! she ba
de her mother, and took a step backward.

Look
out
! her mother wished her. Her mother wanted her to look behind her, and the hair prickled on her neck. She thought—it's a trick, it's a trick like the others. She's making that cold feeling
…

‘
No!
’
her mother said, and started for her, wanting her
as she spun about to escape. Wanted her to stop, warned he of death under the willow's branches and for a moment the very earth underfoot seemed to tremble.

Another lie, she thoug
ht, and cast a look back at her
mother.
‘
Don't come close to me!
’

‘
Ilyana!
’

Look, her mother wished her. And wanted what was there into the starlight. Coils rolled out, glistening wet, a head as large as a horse's rose up and grinned at her with white, white teeth.

Something hit her breast and seized her about the neck, familiar arms, a desperate and frightened Babi: she hugged him without any thought but imminent destruction. She wanted Babi safe. That was all she could think of—could muster no conviction against that Thing her mother conjured—

Her
mother
wanted it here.

Her mother said, at her back,
‘
Ilyana, Ilyana, comeback, right now. You don't belong here.
’

She could not move. Perhaps it was wishes. Perhaps it was terror. Babi growled and shivered in her arms.

‘
Ilyana!'' her mother cried, and fear and feeling that never had been, for her, not once, not ever, came flooding up, with anger, and desire that was shattering as Kavi's touch and tender as her father's. Her mother wanted her safe at home, her mother wanted her away from this dreadful place that
she
belonged to.

‘
Bonesss,
’
the snake said. Hwiuur. She had no doubt. And Babi ducked his head beneath her chin and hissed. So did the vodyanoi, and the air shivered with river cold.
‘
Your mother's bones are still mine. She wants you safe. But you never should have existed, little mouse. She can be my pretty bones again. And what will you be, I wonder? Supper?
’

‘
Hwiuur!
’
her mother said, forbidding him.

Hwiuur said,
‘
One or the other is mine. One or the other; and I
own
you, pretty pretty bones, I only haven't pressed matters—I only let the old man think he was clever, sending
a mouse to catch a creature far-, far cleverer than he was. And ever so patient.
’
More coils poured out of the shadows, glistening wet and black.
‘
On the other hand—you could give me the mouse. And I'd give you—oh, Kiev. Or whatever. Anything you like, pretty bones.
’

‘
No,
’
her mother said. And of a sudden someone else was there, god, her
father
was there, and Kavi, and Yvgenie—

The vodyanoi hissed and lunged and Babi jumped from her arms, ran hissing and barking into Hwiuur's face. She wished at the creature—hurt and harm and pain—and only got its sudden attention. It reared up and lunged for her and she furiously wished it no! as thunder rolled down on her from behind and hit her in the back.

The world jolted. An arm was around her waist, she was wholly off her feet and against the side of a white horse.

And her father—oh,
god—

Volkhi shied off and Pyetr left the saddle, not—not his best dismount, no. He landed on one foot and lost his balance, fell and saw the creature coming down on him, a vast shadow with breath like the grave and there was no time for aim—he shoved his arm at
Hwiuur’s
face and dumped the whole damned herb-pot, salt and sulfur, in the jaws that closed on it—

—and opened again, with a hiss and a fetid breath that he knew in his nightmares. It hurt, god—it hurt, he all but dropped the sword in his good hand, and a coil whipped over him in its wounded frenzy. He hit it. He kept wondering where help was and got his feet under him and hit it again and kept hitting it, with everything he had, while Babi lunged at it and hissed and snarled.

It grew smaller, and smaller, and its struggles never ceased. Neither did his hitting it, until it was a shriveled black thing, with arms like a man, hiding its face with its hands and wailing,
‘
No more, no more, man, oh, the bitter salt—
’

‘
Let my wife and my daughter go! Let them alone! Do you hear me?
’
Another whack with the sword.
‘
Do you swear?
’

‘
Yes,
’
it cried,
‘
yes, yes, no more.
’

Eveshka was with him, Eveshka stayed his arm and hugged his shoulder, saying,
‘
It won't die. It can't die. They don't.
’

‘
Ilyana—
’

The pain stopped. The fear for the mouse did. The mouse was very well, give or take bruises, with the boy's arm about her, and she was safe right now, no matter the quality of her suitors—Yvgenie Kurov was a damned fine rider, thank the god: wizardry might keep a man on a horse—but never guide a catch like that.

Hwiuur made a move to slither away. Pyetr hit him. What Eveshka wished he could not tell, but the air felt heavy. And Hwiuur shrank and shrank until he was like a withered, glistening serpent again.

‘
Make him swear by the sun,
’
the boy said—but that was Chernevog.
‘
He's afraid of that, at least. Make him swear.''

‘
I swear by the sun!
’
it cried in a faint, high voice.
‘
I'll never, ever, ever do harm to you. I'll be your friend. You'll see, I'll bring you such nice gifts—I'll never harm anyone in your house—
’

‘
Nor our children or their children,'' Eveshka said,
‘
forever! Nor our friends or theirs!''

‘
I swear, I swear to everything you say!
’

‘
Hit him,
’
Chernevog said. Pyetr hit him, and Hwiuur added,
‘
By the sun, by the terrible sun! I swear! Let me go.
’

‘
We have to be away ourselves,
’
Chernevog said.
‘
This place itself is a ghost. And it won't outlast the sun.
’

He had greatest misgivings. But he lifted his sword and stood back, and let the creature slither away toward the willow.

Babi was faster. Babi po
unced and swallo
wed, and sat up with his small hands folded
across his belly

And licked his lips.

The stars were gone. In a
while more there would be sun,
but Sasha refused to dwell
on that thought.
He said, aloud or not he did not clearly no
tice, More wood. And thought, Mouse. Pyetr. Eveshka. Time you were moving.

One did not know clear
ly that everything was well. But
there had been a mome
nt that he felt he could breathe
again.

In a bit more Missy m
ade a soft, worried sound, and
horses arrived out of the
dark. They trotted up to Missy
and Patches, trailing reins
, glad to find friends. There had
been snakes. Volkhi's rid
er had ridden him straight at a
snake and fallen off in fro
nt of it. Volkhi was never going
near any snakes again, n
ever, ever. Even if his favorite
person wanted to be, he
would not. No. and Bielitsa
thought the same.

Worrisome. Exceedingl
y
worrisome. He looked at Nadya
across the fire they had ma
de on this barren, windy hilltop,
and she looked back at him
, scared and staunchly not saying
a word. For a moment he
did not know what more he could
do than he had done.

But he wanted his famil
y back. He wanted them to meet
Nadya. To have evenings
together. By a nice fire. Hundreds
and hundreds of thousand
s of
evenings. One would not accept otherwise.