by E. P. Clark
“Tomorrow I’ll come straight to the stable, instead of sitting around by myself all morning,” Dasha said, jumping aside as one of the stable girls slid down a ladder from the hayloft and almost fell into Dasha’s arms.
“Can’t bear to sit around with your arms folded, can you?” said Aunty Olga, giving her a buffet on the shoulder that caused her to stumble and almost fall into the arms of the stable girl who had just almost fallen into hers. The girl laughed and twisted away to climb up the ladder on the other side of the barn, into the other hayloft. “You could spend the night with them up there, you know,” Aunty Olga told her, pointing her chin at the hayloft. “You might find it a bit jollier than your current companions. Not getting along so well, are you?”
“Of course we are!” Dasha said stoutly, and went over to Pyatnyshki’s stall before Aunty Olga could see her face.
“Of course you are,” Aunty Olga repeated, joining her. “By all the gods, my girl, that’s an ugly horse. Whatever’d you do to deserve her?”
“I bought her,” Dasha told her. “Myself. With my own money. Well, money I had in my own purse, anyway. She carried me for versts and versts! I wouldn’t have made it here without her.”
“Is that so,” said Aunty Olga, giving her a sharp look. Aunty Olga was always so bluff and simple that it was easy to forget that she wasn’t a fool, even though she wasn’t clever like Dasha’s mother. She had a different kind of cleverness, one that was sometimes much cleverer than that of clever people. It had seemed to Dasha when she had been little that it would be easy to deceive her, but it wasn’t, not at all: in her own way she could see the truth nearly as well as Dasha’s mother, when she wanted to. And right now she was giving Dasha the same kind of piercing look that her mother tended to give people, except that unlike Dasha’s mother, she wasn’t making any effort to disguise it.
“Well,” said Dasha, “I wouldn’t have made it as far or as fast…or, well, well…she was good company. She was good company on the road, and it was better traveling with her than without her.”
Aunty Olga nodded. “The best kind of traveling companion,” she said. “But your sister, this Svetochka now, she’s not that kind of traveling companion, is she?”
“Svetochka’s good too,” Dasha said.
“I’m sure she is,” Aunty Olga said. Dasha thought she was going to say more, but she just stood there, contemplating Pyatnyshki’s rump.
“Svetochka’s had a hard life,” Dasha found herself saying. She hated the defensive sound of her voice, as if Aunty Olga had called her words into question, but she sounded just as defensive as she continued, “It’s not her fault that she doesn’t know how to do anything.”
“Is that so,” said Aunty Olga, still looking at Pyatnyshki’s rump.
“Well, no…she does know how to do laundry, that’s true…and she made it all the way from Ozyorsk to Krasnograd by herself…”
“That’s more than most could do,” Aunty Olga said.
“Yes, but I don’t know how! I mean, I don’t know how she did it. She’s just so…” Dasha trailed off, not wanting to say the words she was thinking.
“Stupid?” Aunty Olga supplied for her. “Whiny? Difficult to love?”
“No! I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to,” Aunty Olga told her. “It was written all over your face, clear as a new-illuminated scroll. Besides, I knew her when she was a little girl, remember? I would go to visit her sometimes. I remember what she was like. And…and…” Aunty Olga gripped the bars of Pyatnyshki’s stall, “I remember what Lisochka was like, too. Those two always had more in common than you might think. Those two…” She shook her head and swallowed. “Those two,” she went on after a moment, her voice tight, “were always more like sisters than any of you other girls. You and I, we’re not really like sisters, are we? Even though we are, funny as it is to think it. You’re more like,” Aunty Olga squinted and looked at her sideways, “you put me in mind of Milochka, you know, Milochka the singer, to tell the truth. There’s just something about you two that’s…you can see the gift, the gift of words, stamped on your faces somehow. Even you and Vladya—you’re nothing alike, not in your faces, but in your minds…you can see the cleverness, the, the,” she waved her hand, “the ruler inside of you, waiting to come out. Something I’ve never had, much as I like to shout,” she grinned briefly, “and you and I, we’re not really like sisters, and it’s not just because I’m old enough to be your grandmother. And there’s a funny thought too.” Aunty Olga flashed her a tight little smile, before looking back at Pyatnyshki and continuing. “You never think you’re going to become a grandmother, and then one day you do. Only I’m never going to be a grandmother, am I?”
Dasha wanted to say something to that, to tell Aunty Olga that it wasn’t true, but it was, and all the words in the world wouldn’t make it untrue, and when Dasha tried to open her mouth to say something comforting, her throat closed up so that she couldn’t speak.
“I had a daughter, which is more than many women can say, but I threw her away,” Aunty Olga was saying, gripping the stall bars so hard her knuckles had turned white. “I never loved her when I had her, and I”—she had let go of the stall bars and was now clutching at her arm as if it pained her—“threw her away.”
“That’s not true!” Dasha cried, her tongue loosening enough to let that protest burst out.
“Isn’t it?” Aunty Olga tried to smile, but the corners of her mouth twisted down, not up. “It seems awfully true to me. And it seemed true to Lisochka too. And Svetochka…” She sighed and bit her lip. “And Svetochka,” she continued, shaking her head, “when I look at her, it’s like looking at Lisochka all over again. Not so much in face, but…when I hear her voice, it’s like hearing Lisochka’s voice, and, and…I always begged Lisochka to come with me, you know. Well, that’s not quite true. Not when she was little. But when she was a woman grown…it was your mother who gave me the idea, it was when your mother was here—and maybe you were already growing inside of her—funny thought, isn’t it? Maybe it was already you, your influence, working on us, or maybe it was her all along—it was when your mother was here that I first asked her, and she agreed, Lisochka agreed, the only time she ever agreed to anything I asked, but I asked her to come with me, go somewhere with me, anywhere but here, and she agreed, but…every time I’d say, ‘Let’s go, Lisochka, the road is calling,’ she’d always find a reason to stay home. She’d always find a reason not to go, and all the reasons were good, but…she’d always stay, and I’d always go, and every time she’d get even angrier at me than the time before, because I’d gone off and left her again, even though it was her choice to stay behind, and in the end…in the end…in the end…”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Dasha found herself saying.
“No?” Aunty Olga looked over at her, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Whose fault was it, then?”
“I don’t know,” Dasha said. “The gods’. No one’s. It just…it just…”
“It just happened,” Aunty Olga finished. “But it shouldn’t have! It shouldn’t have happened! I should have done something to stop it! And your little Dasha…that was…she didn’t deserve that, she didn’t deserve that, she didn’t…”
“She died a hero,” Dasha said. “She died saving your life, and that’s…it’s what a dog like her would have wanted.”
“Maybe,” said Aunty Olga. “But she shouldn’t have…well, anyway...and when I look at your Svetochka, when I hear her voice, it’s like, it’s like Lisochka is standing right beside me again, and, and, and I’m so angry with her! She always was an irritating girl, always acting as contrary as she could towards everyone around her, and, and I just want to slap her face!”
“I feel the same way,” Dasha confessed. “About Svetochka, that is.”
“Well then,” said Aunty Olga, nodding. “Sisters, the pair of them. But…”
“Maybe this is your chance,” Dasha said. “Our chance. To do
things over again. To make things right.”
“Too late for that, my girl. I can’t ever make things right for Lisochka, any more than my own mother can make things right for me. You can’t trade one life for another, and I can’t trade Svetochka’s life for Lisochka’s, even if I wanted to, which…which to be honest, I…I…”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dasha said. “I meant it like…like maybe…I don’t know…this time the same mistakes don’t have to happen.”
“That’s a nice thought, my girl,” said Aunty Olga, sounding like she didn’t believe it. She smiled a tiny smile. “But you tell me: is it possible? Can anyone love Svetochka? Can anyone avoid slapping her face twice a day?”
“Of course,” said Dasha.
“Don’t lie to me, my girl! I can tell when you’re lying to me,” Aunty Olga said, smiling a little bit wider.
“I’m not lying! I just…think that maybe someone else would be better at it than me.”
“Doubtful,” said Aunty Olga, now with a proper smile, even as she shook her head. “Doubtful. Annoying people annoy everyone, and Svetochka, well…anyone can tell she’s annoying, poor girl, and she doesn’t know how to stop. Taking her with me will be a trial, but it’ll be a trial I’ve earned, and who better to go through it than me? Who better…no one’s earned this trial more than I have, and someone has to take her on. I’ll do worse than most, my head for beheading I’ll do about as badly as a person can do with her, but there isn’t anyone else, is there, anyone more fitting, and it has to be done, doesn’t it? And maybe we’ll muddle through it all somehow or another, and maybe the gods will be on our side, and then…who knows? Maybe it will all turn out right in the end.”
“I’m sure it will,” Dasha said.
“You don’t sound sure,” said Aunty Olga, giving her another sharp look. “But what choice do we have? And you’re right: she made it all the way down to Krasnograd, and all the way back up here, which is more than most can say, so maybe there’s hope for all of us, after all. Come on. I’m hungry and I’m tired of watching horses eat while going hungry myself. Let’s go wake the others up and get some breakfast.” She took Dasha by the arm and marched her out of the stable and back into the kremlin, where the others, if not exactly awake, were gathered downstairs in readiness for breakfast, which was laid on the table waiting for them.
***
Over breakfast it was decided that Dasha, Susanna, and Svetochka would be given a tour of Lesnograd.
“Vladya, why don’t you take them,” Aunty Olga suggested. “You girls have fun together.”
“I can’t,” said Vladya, looking over at them with her mouth pursed tight. “I have business. Duties to attend to.”
“What kind of business?” asked Aunty Olga, giving her the same kind of sharp look she’d given Dasha earlier in the stable.
“Lesnograd…”
“Will survive half a day without you sitting in judgment over it,” said Aunty Olga. “Lesnograd’s made it this far, Vladenka, and I think it can make it a little farther.”
“I need to…”
“No you don’t,” Aunty Olga interrupted her. “Whatever it is, it isn’t as important as showing your sister around.”
“She’s not my sister.”
“It’s not as important as showing the Tsarinovna around Lesnograd,” said Aunty Olga. “When the Tsarinovna comes to Lesnograd, the Imperial ward should show her around. Show her your business, Vladenka. Show the Tsarinovna what Lesnograd is like. How many chances do you think you’ll have? How often do you think Lesnograd will have an Imperial guest?”
“We’ve already had two Tsarinovnas come visit,” Vladya said.
“Yes, one every ten years,” Aunty Olga retorted. “They’re not exactly making a habit of it, even though we’re close kin—no, don’t argue! We’re all close kin, as you know very well. And before that, when was the last time Lesnograd had an Imperial visitor? Before any of us were born, that’s when. So don’t make excuses and find silly little tasks so that you can pretend to be busy. Show the Tsarinovna around, Vladya, and her two esteemed companions, her sister and a princess from Avkhazovskoye, our new allies, Vladya.”
Vladya gave Susanna a look that said she didn’t think much of these new allies, and didn’t really consider them to be allies at all. Susanna returned the glare. Svetochka’s face was so sullen Dasha thought the fresh cream on the table should have long since curdled into yoghurt.
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing Lesnograd ever since I set off—no, since long before then,” Dasha said. “I heard so much about it when you lived with us, Vladya, and I couldn’t wait to see it! Of course it was the first place I thought of when the idea of this journey first came up. It would be an honor to have you show it to me yourself. Do you remember all the jolly times we had, running around Krasnograd?”
“We didn’t run around Krasnograd very much,” Vladya said. “You were just a little girl, and neither of us were allowed anywhere without an escort.”
“Yes, but do you remember the park? We used to go riding there all the time. And sometimes we would go to the markets, and…” That was pretty much it, since, as Vladya had said, Dasha had been just a little girl at the time, and both of them had had their movements strictly controlled, but it had been jolly, so Dasha gave Vladya a bright smile, while racking her brains for more examples of the fun times they had had and could have again, if only Vladya would stop being so sour and unpleasant. “And we used to train together, do you remember?” she went on.
“We never took lessons together,” Vladya corrected her. “You were much too young to take lessons with me.”
“But do you remember, we used to go down to the square, to the barracks, and train together with Boleslav Vlasiyevich?”
“No we didn’t.”
“We did!” said Dasha, her patience beginning to slip. “We did! I remember it.”
“Well you remember it wrong then. Not all of us were trained in swordplay by the captain of the Imperial Guard from childhood,” said Vladya waspishly. “Not all of us were allowed to hone our skills with a blade from the time we could walk. Some of us weren’t allowed to train with swords, or anything else that smacked of war, at all, because we couldn’t be trusted. Some of us were kept weak and ignorant on purpose, so as not to frighten the Southern princesses. Some of us had to be reminded every day that we weren’t wanted, that we weren’t special, that we were just an afterthought.”
“My mother loved you!” cried Dasha, stung. “She loved you as her first-born daughter! She never would have done anything to hurt you!”
“Maybe not.” Vladya bit out the words grudgingly. “But she still listened to her princesses, all those Southern princesses who looked at me and saw the spawn of a curse-worker and a traitor, and I spent my days learning etiquette and genealogies and dancing, not what was my gift, not what was my right: magical and martial skills. I should have trained as a sorceress and a swordswoman, just as you have. The gods know I would have been better at it!”
“Well…well…” Dasha wanted to point out that Vladya had been given lessons in magic, as well as the swordfighting that she remembered perfectly clearly, but she’d given them up herself. Only she could see that if she said that, Vladya would just tell her that she’d been driven to give up the lessons by the other princesses, and maybe that was even true. “Have you been training since you returned to Lesnograd?” Dasha asked instead.
“I haven’t had the time! And whom would I train with, anyway?”
“You can train with me,” Dasha offered. “Since I’m here now. We can train together.”
“With a little girl like you! I think not. I have better things to do.”
Dasha very much wanted to argue against that, to tell Vladya she was wrong on all counts, but when she saw herself training with Vladya, she saw herself defeating her, and that would do no good at all. Vladya hadn’t been training in magic and war for years, just as she had said, and now it was, well,
not too late, but if she were to start now, she would be embarrassed by her awkwardness and lack of skill, especially if she were to be shown up by Dasha, whom she remembered as a baby and as a little girl, not as the Tsarinovna who stood a head or more taller than her and was stronger, faster, and better with a blade and a spell (the latter was very likely not true, as Dasha suspected that there were trees who were better with a spell than she was, but Vladya didn’t know that), and Vladya couldn’t stand the idea of being shown up by this little girl, this little girl who had had everything she, Vladya, had wanted but had been denied, and, and…Dasha could see, with the clarity that told her it was a true vision, even if it was of past certainties rather than of future possibilities, all the hours of resentment and sorrow, all the times Vladya had wished she were someone else, anyone else other than who she was, wished she were Dasha, instead of being herself, a transplanted Northern princess who wasn’t at home in her native land but wasn’t at home in Krasnograd either, who always had to face the suspicion of being a traitor, and rightly so, whose life had been broken (so she thought) before it had ever begun, who, who…
“I’m sorry,” Dasha said out loud.
“You’re sorry?” Vladya repeated, her lip curling.
“I’m sorry you weren’t happier in Krasnograd, and that you weren’t allowed to train in the things that really interested you as much as you wished. But we did train together with swords: I remember it clearly. We each had a wooden blade, and Boleslav Vlasiyevich laughed and laughed at me because I kept dropping mine and falling over. He said you had promise, though. I remember because I was so envious! I wanted to be you so badly! I wanted to be big and strong, and have promise, too!”
“Oh.” Vladya gave her a look like she had gone mad, and then got up from the table. “I have to go,” she said. “I’ll be in the Great Hall, if anyone needs me. Don’t interrupt me unless it’s important. I have petitioners coming about the situation with the Westerners. That needs my attention a little more than showing visitors around, I’m sure we can all agree.”
