The Breathing Sea II - Drowning

by E. P. Clark

  “Zarema Krasimirovna, gracious princess,” said the woman standing (reluctantly) at the front of the huddle, with a deep bow. She was tall and stately, and her headdress was twice the size of her head, and decorated with gold and precious gems. Even so, she looked unhappy about being there. Dasha wondered what kind of reputation Vladya’s justice had. She doubted she would be unfair, but Dasha wouldn’t want her to be sitting in judgment over her, either. “We, ah, we come seeking aid,” continued Zarema Krasimirovna.

  “On what grounds?” Vladya snapped out, her mouth tightening even further.

  “It was the foreigners, gracious Vladislava Vasilisovna, the barbarians!”

  “Go on,” said Vladya. She bit her lip and twisted her hands together, and then forced herself to stop, but not before Dasha realized she was frightened and angry, and didn’t know how to stop these incursions.

  “They came rampaging in, gracious Vladislava Vasilisovna, they came rampaging in, they stole our things, set our homes on fire, raped two of our girls, and killed those who tried to stand up to them! There wasn’t anything we could do, gracious Vladislava Vasilisovna, they were armed, and worse than that, they were mad, in a fit of madness, and none of us could stand against them! We’re all simple merchants and farmers, gracious Vladislava Vasilisovna; most of our houses don’t have a single sword between them. What would be the point? There hasn’t been a war here for, oh, many generations. Even the Hordes never made it this far. But now these Westerners, these foreigners…we couldn’t stop them! They destroyed our town, and there wasn’t anything we could do about it except run! And we’ve heard reports of others suffering the same.”

  “You are correct,” said Vladya. “You are not the only ones. Which is why I am raising an army.”

  “Thank the gods!” cried Zarema Krasimirovna, while the rest of her delegation smiled and nodded to each other in relief.

  “I will send guards to help protect you while you rebuild, but you will provide recruits in exchange. Mstislav Mayevich!”

  A man who had been standing against the wall behind the dais stepped smartly forward. “Here is my captain of the guard,” Vladya told Zarema Krasimirovna. “I’ve placed him in charge of building and training my army. You can speak with him about what will be required.” She stood. “Petitions are done for the day,” she announced. “Anyone with any further business can return tomorrow. Come, Dasha.” She stepped off the dais and strode briskly out the Great Hall, with Dasha trailing behind her.

  “Does my mother know?” Dasha asked as soon as they were in the corridor and away from the others.

  “Know what?” asked Vladya.

  “About the army. Did she tell you to do it? She said at the Princess Council before I left that she was going to call on all the princesses to send men to Krasnograd to raise an army, but the command could only just have reached you, unless she wrote to you of her decision beforehand. And anyway, the army was supposed to be based in Krasnograd, not out in the provinces.”

  “I am capable of making my own decisions about how to defend my own people,” said Vladya. “It’s part of not being a little girl any more.”

  “No, I meant…you should tell her! She needs to know if you’re raising an army! Otherwise it will…look bad,” Dasha finished uncertainly.

  “Look bad? How would it look bad? Surely no one could blame me, or suspect me of having ulterior motives.”

  “No, but…she should know. The order should have come from her.”

  “If I waited for an order to come from Krasnograd before I did any little thing, nothing would ever get done here at all.”

  “No, but…raising an army is different.”

  “Why? And didn’t you just say she had ordered her princesses—other princesses, that is—to do the same?”

  “All the more reason to tell her,” said Dasha. “So that you can coordinate this with the other princesses, and with Krasnograd. Severnolesnoye isn’t the only province affected! Belovskoye…”

  “Yes-yes, I know. I already told you. I’ve been in correspondence with Princess Belova.”

  “Apparently not enough!” cried Dasha, irritated. “What I’ve been trying to tell you is that my mother is coming out to the border, to Pristanograd, to meet with envoys about this.”

  “Envoys? From whom?”

  “From them! From the Westerners invading us! And from the Southerners too, the Southern Empire. She wants to make an arrangement with them, a treaty.”

  “There are no arrangements to be made with barbarians,” said Vladya.

  “Well what else are we going to do? We can’t fight them!”

  Vladya’s brows drew together in a single, angry line. “We can,” she said.

  “Not both of them at once!”

  “The Southerners aren’t bothering us,” Vladya said.

  “Not yet,” Dasha told her. “But my mother thinks they might have designs on Zem’, and why not? They’ve conquered everyone else!”

  “Barbarians,” said Vladya. “They’ve conquered barbarians.”

  “Barbarians whom we can’t defeat, apparently!”

  “We will once we raise an army!”

  “Yes, and then what? War within our own borders? That’s not a very good outcome!”

  “We have no choice!”

  “We do! My mother…”

  “Is afraid to stand up and fight,” said Vladya, before Dasha could finish.

  “She is not!”

  “She always has been,” Vladya told her coolly. “She’s always looked for ways to weasel out of fighting, of standing up and doing what’s right. This is no different. What treaty could we possibly make with these barbarians? You heard what they did!”

  “They’re just running away,” Dasha said. “From the war in their own lands. That’s why they’re here: they’re not trying to invade us, well, not exactly, they’re just running away from their own war.”

  “That’s no excuse! That’s even worse! If this is how they are when they’re fleeing, imagine what they’d be like if they were actually at war! And like as not that’s what they’ll end up doing: making war, real war, on us, in order to gain back some land for themselves after losing their homeland. The worst kind of invaders, because they’ll be desperate.”

  “Which is why my mother thinks we need a treaty with the Southerners.”

  “Them!” Vladya sniffed. “They’re even worse! Pretending to be civilized when the only part of civilization they’ve grasped is conquest! I’ve…those stories we heard today, Dasha, that wasn’t even the half of it. I’ve visited some of the villages that have been attacked, I’ve spoken with some of the victims, seen firsthand what was done to them, what was done to us, and I will never agree to a treaty with those, those animals who did that, who could do that to, to nursing mothers and little children! I’ll never agree to a treaty with them or any other foreigner, and neither will the rest of Zem’! We won’t stand for it, no matter what your mother thinks!”

  “Yes, well, what else are we going to do!” Dasha was aware that she had taken her mother’s part, and was arguing against all the things that she had thought and said before, the things that Vladya was thinking and saying now, but hearing those words come out of Vladya’s mouth made her see just how wrong they were, even though they had seemed so right when she had been thinking and saying them herself, and it was easy to see the sense in them. But just because they were sensible didn’t mean they could solve any problems. “You should speak with my mother,” she said. “You should…maybe you could go to Pristanograd, and meet with her there? Then she could hear what you have to say, and you could help her with the negotiations…”

  “Seva, is it?” said Vladya, turning away from Dasha. “Your mistress is tired, and I don’t want her to have another…was it fits she suffers from? She mustn’t put herself in danger of another fit. Please take her back to her chambers, and make sure that she does not exert herself.”

  “Sending me away won’t change anything!�
� cried Dasha. Unfortunately, she burst into tears as she said it. Vladya sniffed and turned away, leaving Seva to lead her back to her chamber.

  “Don’t worry about her, Tsarinovna,” he told her, as he opened the door for her. “You just sit in here and rest for a bit, let the healers take care of you, and let your mother take care of her.”

  “My mother doesn’t know!” cried Dasha in frustration. “She doesn’t know what Vladya is planning!”

  “And is it so bad, Tsarinovna?” asked Seva. “Raising an army to fight off these foreigners? That’s what your mother wanted anyway, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, but…she should know. And something’s wrong here, I can tell. And besides…would you want to fight? Would you want to be called up to fight them?”

  “You heard those stories, and what Vladislava Vasilisovna said,” Seva told her, his face uncharacteristically grim. “My hands are itching to fight them already.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “You get plenty of rest, Tsarinovna,” Seva told her, gently pushing her through the door. “And leave the worry about all the other stuff to the rest of us. You get plenty of rest, and I’ll knock if the healer comes back, or when they bring you supper.”

  “Bring me supper! Am I going to be locked away here for meals as well!?”

  “You get plenty of rest, Tsarinovna,” Seva repeated, and shut the door behind her. Dasha could hear the bolt being thrown on the other side.

  ***

  After pacing and clenching her fists in order to stop herself from screaming and throwing herself at the door, which she desperately, reflexively wanted to do even though she knew it would do no good, Dasha flopped down on the bed, only to jump back up and pace some more. She did give into the temptation to kick at the bedframe, which she thought would bring her relief from her pent-up outrage, but mainly it caused her to hop about in agony and even more rage, this time directed at herself and the blameless bed.

  Sometime in late afternoon, judging by the angle of the sun coming in through the window, which was much too narrow and high for her to climb out of—she had checked—there was a knock at the door. Hoping it was a visitor, or possibly even someone coming to free her, Dasha rushed over, but it was only a serving girl bringing her a tray of food.

  “Seva!” Dasha shouted, pushing past the serving girl, who was just as blameless as the bed but for whom Dasha currently felt an astonishing depth of hatred. “Seva!” she shouted again, jumping past the serving girl’s grasping hands and slipping through the half-open door.

  “Whoa, Tsarinovna, where are you going!” Strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and, before she knew what was happening, whirled her around and marched her back into her chamber. By the time Dasha thought to fight back, the door had already been slammed shut behind them, and she had been sat down on the bed, which limited her options for fighting.

  “You should be resting, Tsarinovna, not running about,” Alik told her reproachfully.

  “I thought you were Seva,” Dasha told him, as if that made any difference. She considered kicking him in the shins. That would hurt! Only—her toe twinged—it would likely hurt her as much as it hurt him, and looking up at him she had to admit to grave doubts at her ability to defeat him in hand-to-hand grappling. He was, after all, trained in that sort of thing, while she, despite her practicing, was still a softhanded girl of seventeen. Probably she would just embarrass herself, and then be angry at him forever for that embarrassment, even though it wouldn’t really be his fault. He had been told to keep her there for her own good, and probably thought he was doing the right thing. A part of her whispered that maybe he was doing the right thing, and maybe she really did need to be locked up, not only for her own good, but for that of everyone around her, too.

  “I don’t see why I have to be locked up!” said Dasha, speaking loudly in order to shut up the whispering in her head. A tear trickled down from her right eye, making her even angrier. “Nothing’s changed since yesterday! Everything’s exactly the same, except that Aunty Olga found out about my fits! But I haven’t changed. The only thing that’s changed is what she knows!”

  “Yes, I know, but…you’re not going to try to kick me, are you, Tsarinovna?” Alik gave her a cajoling smile, and, to her horror, Dasha found herself giving him a tiny smile in return.

  “No,” she said. “Well, maybe not.”

  “Good. I would hate for you to break your foot on me.” Which made Dasha so angry she almost did kick him, but settled for folding her arms and glaring at him instead.

  The corners of his mouth twitched. She should kick him! He let go of her shoulders and stepped back to sit on the chair by the writing desk.

  “I know nothing’s changed, and you know nothing’s changed, Tsarinovna, but Olga Vasilisovna—think about her,” he said. “My older sister…maybe you don’t know this, but she, she did the same thing as Olga Vasilisovna’s daughter.”

  “Oh.” Another tear trickled out of Dasha’s eye. “I…I didn’t know, Alik. I didn’t know any of that. I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “It happens. And after what happened to her…” His fingers flexed, and only relaxed when he looked down at them and made them unclench. “Lots do the same thing, after what happened to her,” he said softly. “And not that I blame ‘em. I can’t say I wouldn’t do the same, myself. But…my mother was never the same after that, Tsarinovna. After our Nezhenka…after they hurt her like that, and even more after she…she hanged herself, Tsarinovna, she hanged herself and I found her like that, I’ll never forget, my beautiful sister, her face…” He shook his head and swallowed. “My mother’s never been the same since, Tsarinovna,” he told her. “She can’t bear to let my other sisters out of her sight now, not even for an instant.”

  “What about you?” Dasha asked.

  “Me? Well…” He shifted in his seat. “I ran away,” he admitted. “I couldn’t stand it any more, and I ran away. But I’m sorry about it now!” he added quickly. “My mother…I don’t know how she stood it, but…but what I’m trying to tell you is that someone like that, someone who’s suffered like that, isn’t in her right mind, and she needs to be…soothed. Olga Vasilisovna, she isn’t doing this for you, she’s doing it for her, and maybe you need to do it for her too. For her peace of mind.”

  “But you ran away,” Dasha said.

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time,” he told her. “Now I’m not so sure.”

  “Where would you be now if you hadn’t run away?” she asked.

  He smiled and shook his head at the same time. “That’s not fair,” he said.

  “But where would you be?” she pressed.

  “Back home,” he admitted slowly. “Locked up, watching my mother die a little bit more each day, and unable to stop her, because as long as she had me locked up, she wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “So you were right to run away,” Dasha stated.

  “I don’t know.” He stared off at the wall for a moment. “I just don’t know,” he repeated. “My mother—she screamed and beat her head against the wall and wouldn’t eat or sleep or rest for days afterwards, or so say my sisters, and they had to bear the brunt of it. So I don’t know. But I do know that if you ran away, Tsarinovna, it would be much worse. It wouldn’t just be your mother who suffered, it would be so many more people.” He flashed a grin at her. “Including me. And Olga Vasilisovna—maybe she’ll come around. Maybe if you stay here and keep from frightening her, keep her from suffering, she’ll come around. Maybe if you soothe her, make her see that you’re not going to run off and leave her like her own daughter did, she’ll come around, and everything will be fine, and without any fuss at all.”

  “Do you think so?” asked Dasha.

  He shrugged. “It’s worth a try,” he said. “It would set my mind at ease, for sure, if you could keep yourself from getting into trouble while you’re under my charge.”

  “I don’t see how I have much choice,” said Dasha. “I haven’t figured out
how to get out the door yet.”

  “Don’t think of it like that, Tsarinovna, don’t think of it like that.”

  “And how should I think of it, then? How should I think of it, to make it so that I’m not locked up like a criminal, just because other people are afraid I might be sick?”

  “Think of it as…doing them a favor, Tsarinovna. You’d be doing us all a favor if you just sit here quietly for a day or two, till Olga Vasilisovna calms down.”

  “I’ll think about it,” said Dasha.

  “Good girl.” He grinned at her again. “The gods alone know what Oleg Svetoslavovich would do to me if you were to go missing on my watch. All my mother’s worst fears would come true. So just eat your supper and…I don’t know. Occupy yourself somehow.”

  “It won’t be so lonely when Susanna and Svetochka arrive,” said Dasha, and then wanted to kick herself for trying to help him out when she was still angry with him and with everyone else responsible for her predicament.

  “Ah, well…”

  “They’re not coming?!” cried Dasha. “The falling sickness isn’t contagious, you know!”

  “It’s not that,” said Alik, looking embarrassed. “It’s that…that…”

  “You thought they might help me escape,” Dasha finished for him.

  “No, it’s not that…”

  “It is! So now I’m to be locked up without even a companion, or any way of passing the time! For something that isn’t even my fault!”

  “Oh, well…we’ll find you some way of passing the time, of not getting bored. Do you like to sew?”

  “No,” said Dasha. “I hate it.”

  “Really? I thought all girls liked to sew. My sisters are all mad for it. It’s all they do, whenever they can. Do you like games?”

  “No,” said Dasha.

  “You are a difficult one, aren’t you? What do you like to do?”

  “I like to read,” Dasha told him.

  “Really?” He mulled over that unexpected piece of information for a moment. “Well, I’ll…maybe someone can send up some books for you. They must have a library somewhere or another in this rabbit warren of a kremlin. What kind of thing do you like to read?”