Citadels of Fire
Page 74
Chapter 35
The night turned frigid when the sun went down. Sometime after midnight, the snow began to fall. It didn’t take long for the large powdery flakes to cover the ground. After two hours of steady downfall, several inches of snow covered the landscape. Finally, it stopped. The cloud cover moved on, leaving the night clear, frozen, and silent. Stars could be glimpsed through the wispy remnants of the storm clouds, and Nikolai sat looking at them without seeing them.
Snow this early in the season, and for so short a time, especially over an army camped outside enemy gates, was an evil omen.
He had not been able to sleep. Nights following days like this always brought unrest. On nights like these, Nikolai couldn’t find peace, so he’d stopped trying long ago. Instead he sat up, staring at the stars and trying to distract himself to pass the hours. Tomorrow he would be tired, but knowing that would not bring sleep.
He took another sip of vodka. It kept him warm. He'd hoped he might drink enough to dim his mind so he could rest, but he neared his limit now—it would not do to be drunk in the morning—and unconsciousness didn't feel close.
The crunch of footsteps in the frozen snow caught his attention. He wondered who it could be, walking around camp at this ungodly hour. Not the guarding sentries. These steps were too light and quick. The sentries moved slowly, deliberately on their watches. Perhaps a courier, but that could mean trouble. A courier would only be sent in the middle of the night if the message were urgent.
The footsteps grew louder, closer. They headed this way. Nikolai wondered why. Not much filled this side of camp except a hastily dug well a few hundred yards out, and the breathtaking view of the snow-covered plains of Kazan.
A figure emerged a few feet from Nikolai, and he recognized it instantly. He would know her anywhere.
She stopped, taking in the scenery. The tsar’s camp had been built on a natural plateau. This side of the camp came directly to the edge of a sharp drop off that ended sixty feet below in rocky ground. One must circle around toward the back of the camp to find a way down. The well, dug for water collection, squatted down there, but not much else.
A short retaining wall of rocks and sandbags had been built to keep animals and sleepy midnight wanderers seeking to relieve themselves from inadvertently venturing too close to the edge.
“Beautiful night.”
Yehvah jumped as high as the retaining wall, sucking in a violent breath. Nikolai chuckled softly, the first time he’d smiled in days. Not that it was funny; it simply made him smile.
“Nikolai Petrov! You always could make a good woman swear.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Did you swear?”
She turned to him. The moon shone behind her, and he couldn’t see her eyes. “It was a silent curse.” She threw an index finger up. “But that’s no excuse.”
He chuckled again.
“And what are you doing up at this hour?”
He drained the rest of his vodka before answering. “Can’t sleep.”
She half leaned, half sat on the short wall. “You never did sleep well after a battle.”
“Not all battles bother me, but some days are harder than others.”
“I remember.”
He would’ve thought talking of such things with her after so many years, would be difficult, even awkward. It wasn’t. “And what about you? You have given up on sleep entirely?”
She laughed softly. “No. There is so much work to do. I can’t sleep yet.”
“This is a battle campaign, Yehvah. There will always be ‘so much’ to do. You have to sleep sometime.”
“I know. We are sleeping in shifts. When it’s my turn to sleep, I will.”
Silence stretched between them and Nikolai could think of nothing to fill it.
“It’s been a long time.” Her voice came out quiet.
“Since what?”
“Since we talked like this. Since I’ve heard you speak my name.”
“Perhaps it means we’ve both moved on.” It wasn’t true, at least not for him.
“Perhaps.”
So, it wasn’t true for her either.
“Well,” she rose, “I should be going.”
“Out there?”
She held up a bucket he hadn’t noticed before. “I need water for the hospital, for the wounded.”
“The well may be frozen. You’ll have to break through the surface with a stick.” He stared down into his empty glass for a few seconds. “Would you like some help?”
She stared at him for a long time, but her eyes were hooded and he couldn’t read them.
“I think I can manage.”
He nodded. He should have expected as much. Yehvah crunched a few steps away from him, then stopped. He didn’t register it until she said his name.
“Nikolai.”
He looked up.
“Thank you. For offering. I’m glad you’re . . . well.”
Nikolai leaned back against the tent canvas, watching her walk away. She’d walked the same way for twenty years. It was true, then, what Inga told him earlier.
For the first time in many years, Nikolai dared to hope. He didn’t think she would ever take him back. Now . . . between watching Taras and what Inga him, and now this . . . could it be possible? After so much time?
Setting down his empty mug, Nikolai got to his feet. She said she didn’t need help, but Yehvah had always been a stubborn woman. He would help her anyway.