The Ring of the Queen (The Lost Tsar Trilogy Book 1)

by Terri Dixon

  Part XXXII

  Sometimes when you're overwhelmed by a situation - when you're in the darkest of darkness - that's when your priorities are reordered.

  -Phoebe Snow

  I was dreaming of riding horses at my cousin’s house in , when I went crashing onto the floor of my cabin. The train had come to a quick stop. I pulled myself up, as best I could, and looked out the window.,

  It was as dark as a cave outside. I had no idea what was going on. There was no moon. It was snowing like crazy to white out conditions, but that seemed to be common in the Motherland. I hoped it wasn't affecting us. I was getting paranoid, and I knew it but couldn’t help it. All of the cloak and dagger stuff was making me nuts.

  Tania was awake. She’d been thrown pretty hard into the wall on her side. She joined me, looking out the window, wondering what was going on. We heard people talking outside in the hall. Everyone was wondering what was going on. I decided that I wasn’t going out of the cabin. I didn’t want to cause any more incidents. I had already been surprised how many people recognized how much I looked like a Tsar from over two hundred years ago. I wanted to stay hidden until I could go home. I knew it was cowardly to some degree, but I wanted to slink away and forget that any of it had happened.

  There were all kinds of noises coming from the hall. Most of the noise was from people moving around. The train had a way of amplifying every little sound that was made. I think it was the fact that most trains are little more than rolling aluminum sheds. After several minutes, there was a knock on the door. After checking through what looked like a keyhole, we discovered that it was Boris. Tania unlocked the door and let him in.

  Boris sat down on the edge of the bed next to me. “We’re stuck.”

  I waited for an answer. “What do you mean, we’re stuck?”

  “I mean that there’s a snowstorm going on, and we’re stuck,” he replied.

  “This is a train, right?” Tania said, already starting to sound upset. I knew that the stress was getting to her. It didn’t take much to set her off at this point. “How can a snowstorm hold up a train?”

  Boris thought about his answer before he spoke. I could hear the stress in Tania’s voice, so I presumed he did as well. “In , a normal snowstorm can be like the blizzard of the century in other places. We get a lot of snow here.”Northern Russia

  “What do you call a lot of snow?” I asked. I knew I didn’t want to hear the answer.

  “According the attendant, there is a drift on the tracks in front of us. The storm that we are in has already dropped about a meter of snow. It is not supposed to stop for several more hours. The drift itself has been estimated at about four meters in height. It is also almost a kilometer long. We have to wait for the equipment to arrive and take care of the drift before the train can go ahead.” Boris waited for our reactions. I could tell by the look on his face that he didn’t really want to hear them.

  “There was no problem in Tver,” Tania noted. “I mean, how much snow could have dropped in a few hours? How much is a meter, anyway? Where are we? Can’t we just get a ride back to Tver and try it again tomorrow night?”

  “It is tomorrow,” Boris informed her. “We are almost to . That is where they are trying to send the plow equipment from. A meter is a little more than three feet. I am sorry, girls, but we are going to have to wait. Hopefully we will get there tonight. Once they plow the tracks, it will only take about two hours to get there.”

  “How long have we been on this train?” I asked.

  “It has been a long hard trip with a lot of stops,” Boris explained. “It has been about eleven hours so far. As I said, we are getting very close. Hopefully tonight.”

  I looked out the window into the darkness. “Do you mean to tell me that it’s ?”11:00 am

  “Damn, it’s never daytime around here,” Tania said.

  I couldn’t have agreed more. I wondered about it all. Why was it that it was always night time, and I could never get any sleep? I gave up and decided to try something new. “Boris, give us a few minutes to change and we’ll meet you in the bar car.”

  “You want to go drinking?” Boris and Tania both asked, surprised. They’d never seen me drink alcohol or even mention it.

  “I’ve had quite a trip so far. All I want to do is sleep, but since that’s not happening, I need a drink,” I commented. “Boris, I hope you have money. I made need more than one drink.”

  “It’s only 11:00 am,” Boris noted.

  “So?” I asked, getting annoyed.

  “So, drinking is normally a night time activity,” he explained.

  I got up and opened the door to the hallway. I motioned to Boris to leave so that we could change into some fresh clothes. He went to the hall and turned to me.

  “Are you sure you want to start drinking so early?” he asked me again.

  “I don’t have a watch,” I snapped. “It’s dark out. It’s night time enough for me. Now, quit judging and go get your wallet.” I shut the door in his face. I turned to Tania. “Well, now I understand how they got the highest rate of alcoholism in the world.”

  Tania glanced out the window. “No shit.”

  I left my compartment with Tania in tow. We had to walk through two cars to get to the bar car. I wore my hat. I was hoping that before I left the country I could die my hair back to its natural blond. I didn’t want to keep being spotted as some dead ringer for Catherine the Great everywhere I went. I was certain that since the Tsars had lived primarily in that my recognition problem would only worsen as I got closer to that city. I was too tense at that moment.

  When I entered the bar car, I thought for a brief moment that I’d stepped back in time. The car was immaculate. There were beautiful drapes on the windows and linens on the tables. There were waiters in uniforms and bartenders with moustaches. I’d seen the old westerns on old movie channels, and that was exactly what it reminded me of, only in a less brothel, more royal way. I felt underdressed for the room, but when I looked around and saw everyone sitting at tables in their wool and fleece clothing, I realized that in the winter, Russians only care about being warm.

  Tania followed me to a booth. There was a lovely large window to look out of, but there was nothing to see in the dark outside. The sun was somewhere, but it was covered up with snow and the white out conditions made it worse. I could see a little bit of a blue glow through the sheet of driving snow. I instinctively looked out the window as I sat down in my seat, fully aware that I could see nothing. I felt as though I would never get used to the fact that it was always dark in January in .

  After Boris’ comments about drinking at , I was a little surprised to see that the car was nearly full. I presumed that everyone was drinking, because what else would they be doing in a bar car? The waiter came by and put a candle on our table. He didn’t ask if we’d like to order, or if we needed anything. He just set the candle down and went on to the next table. I thought that the lack of enthusiasm on the part of the waiter must have come from the culture of Soviet times. 11:00 am

  I was used to the American way. I’d had it beaten into my head most of my life that the customer is always right. The customer deserves excellent service and quality products. If a customer doesn’t get satisfactory service, they will go elsewhere. I wondered if any Americans had ever been one of only two people in charge of all of the alcoholic beverages available on a train that was stranded in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard. I guessed not. It wasn't something that came up often in the U.S.

  Tania and I sat at our table; neither one of us was sure how we should behave. We were only 18, so neither one of us had a lot of experience with bars. Where we came from we were too young to go into one. I wondered if there were any bars anywhere in the world besides the one on this train that looked like a royal breakfast nook. Tania sniffed at the candle. We didn’t want to talk too much wher
e others could hear, because that would mean that we had to speak in Russian. I was tired and didn't want to practice my Russian any more. It's fun when you get to a country where you speak the language at first, but at that point, we both wanted to go home. We’d tired of both and Russian.

  A few minutes later, Boris came through the door of the bar car and joined us at our table. Once Boris was sitting next to Tania, the waiter came by and asked him if we were ready to order. I decided that instead of being insulted beyond my wildest dreams, I would chalk it up to a cultural difference. That was the only idea that I could come up with that would keep me from telling him off for being sexist.

  It was hard not to feel like a celebrity in the bar car surroundings, even with a sexist waiter. The room was so beautiful that it was impossible to feel like an average person. I couldn’t explain it, but it was the equivalent to spending the night in the Lincoln Bedroom at the White House. I felt like a princess, even though I did not want to be one.

  The waiter came by with three tea glasses. Russian tea glasses are some of the most unique cups in the world. The ones that were brought to us were silver, as most were. They had intricate designs on them and four short little silver feet to sit them down on. The only thing about them that was glass, were the small plain glasses that were sitting inside the tea glass holders. Boris told us that they were originally designed to be part of a bride’s dowry. The idea was that the metal would last forever and be a valuable part of the bride’s hope chest. The plain glasses were interchangeable and could be replaced at any time. It was one of the ways that the Russian folks created heirlooms. The tea glasses have always remained a part of Russian tradition, despite the fact that dowries have long since gone away.

  I sniffed at my tea glass. I smelled tea. I was starting to get a little bit miffed. I wanted to order my own drink in the first place, but the waiter apparently only served men. That was fine. Boris ordered drinks so that I couldn't even hear what he told the waiter. That was fine. The drink in my glass was tea. I thought that I’d been direct and clear when I’d told Boris that I wanted an alcoholic beverage. I was starting to have that reverse sexism feeling that made me want to hurt men. I missed Peter. He would never have treated me like a second class citizen.

  “I didn’t want tea,” I said. “I wanted alcohol. I thought I was unbearably clear about that.”

  “Yes you were,” Boris answered. “Drink your drink.”

  The Ring of the Queen

  Part XXXIII

  You find out who your real friends are when you're involved in a scandal.

  -Elizabeth Taylor