The Breathing Sea II - Drowning

by E. P. Clark

  “Of course you do not, Tsarinovna.” Vlastomila Serafimiyevna paused. “When I first came here,” she said, “I found prayer difficult too. I would sit and look into the candleflame, or close my eyes, and instead of finding peace, every wrong thing I had ever said, every wrong deed I had ever done, would rise up before me, a hundred times crueler or more foolish than in real life, until I could scarcely keep from crying out in shame and horror at my own wretchedness. And then, once that passed, all the cruel things that others had said and done to me, all the misery in my own life, would well up inside of me, bringing with it freshets of tears, so that I would sniffle and cry, sometimes for half a day or more, at the memories. And after that, just when I thought I was becoming wiser, stronger, calmer, I began to be afraid. This time there were no memories: I would simply begin to shake and sweat, and my heart would race like that of a frightened rabbit, for no reason at all. Except that I had all this fear inside of me, so much fear I had never even guessed at, and it all had to come out. And eventually it did. Eventually I found the peace, and strength, and wisdom I had hoped to find, but first I had to go through those trials, first I had to face the things I was afraid to face, and refuse to fight them. I had to let them pass, so that I could let go of them.”

  “How long did that take?” Dasha asked.

  “Many months, Tsarinovna.”

  “I don’t have many months!”

  “Why not, Tsarinovna?”

  “Because…because I have to be ready now!”

  “And how will you do that? What have you done thus far, Tsarinovna, that would make you think you will be ready right now, when you have failed to be ready, whatever you mean by that, for so long? What magic will you summon that will enable you to pass by all the trials and training that every other woman in your situation has had to undergo?”

  “I…I don’t know.”

  “Of course you don’t, Tsarinovna,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, speaking kindly, even though her words were harsh. “Nobody does. Everyone thinks they can just skip over all hard parts, jump directly from where they are to where they want to be, and not plod along tediously like all the women who have gone before them. And perhaps that is good, for if we knew just how long and tedious a plod it would be, most of us would quit before taking a single step. There is nothing you are not saying, or thinking, that a thousand women before you have not said or thought as well. Take comfort from this fact, and light the candle.”

  Dasha wanted to argue against this as well, and say that if they were going to sit here all afternoon and make very little progress, at least they could make very little progress at controlling her fire-magic, which had a practical use…the candle lit.

  “I lit the candle!” she exclaimed.

  “So you did, Tsarinovna.”

  “And I didn’t even catch anything else on fire! And my hands aren’t burning!”

  “So they are not, Tsarinovna.”

  “Was it the prayer? Is it helping already?”

  “Perhaps, Tsarinovna. It is certainly giving you something else to think on, which is always helpful. Now look at the candleflame, and count.”

  Dasha obeyed. This time, instead of having a terrifying vision, she dozed off, coming to with a jerk and apologizing to Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, who told her it was normal, as normal as anything else, and that she should start again. So she did. The black cliff began to loom in her mind, but she turned her thoughts back to the flame, and the cliff receded.

  This is easy! she thought. I don’t know why everyone makes such a fuss about how difficult it is. Why was I complaining earlier! This is easy! All I have to do is keep following my thoughts like I follow this deer trail. Closer, closer…coming closer…I’m so hungry. So hungry. But I’ll eat soon. Just…closer, closer. Crouch down. Wait, wait, wait…SPRING!

  “AKH!” Dasha jerked, and the candleflame winked out.

  “I had another fit,” she explained as she righted herself.

  “I noticed, Tsarinovna. What brought it on?”

  “I think I was…” She shivered. “I think I was a wolf. Or in a wolf’s head, while he was hunting. I could feel him, feel all his thoughts. He was”—she gulped—“hunting deer. He was hunting deer! And I could feel it! I wanted him to win! I wanted him to kill the deer, because that was what he wanted himself!”

  “It is the way of things, Tsarinovna,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna.

  “Not my way!”

  “Then it is even better that you followed it, at least for a moment, Tsarinovna. Otherwise, how would you ever know what it was like?”

  “The wolves are hungry,” Dasha said. “Very hungry, even though it’s almost summer. I think this one was even hungrier than wolves normally are. I think…” She closed her eyes, trying, unpleasant a prospect as it was, to go back inside the wolf’s head. At first she tried to push herself back to where she had been. When that availed her nothing, she tried to remember exactly how it had felt, exactly what it had been like…So hungry. Everyone was so hungry. Two litters, ten cubs each. A good year. Better than ever before. But too many cubs. The neighboring pack too. A good year for everyone, but now everyone was so hungry…

  “They had too many cubs,” Dasha said. She had managed to return to herself without a fit this time, she noted with pride. “It’s been a good year, and the packs had more litters and more cubs than usual, and now everyone’s starving.”

  “It is the way of things,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “Some of the cubs will have to die.”

  “That’s so sad!”

  “If they survive, they will grow up to become killers. Of deer, if not of humans.”

  “It’s still sad. But now we know why they were coming here after the deer.”

  “That we do. Perhaps that means they will be more easily appeased. Or perhaps not. Few have the fury of the starving. Now once more, Tsarinovna. Light the candle one more time, and pray until your mind grows calm, and you are in a frame of mind to leave this cell and go about your business in peace.”

  Dasha held out her hand. The flame leaped to life on the candlewick, eagerly stretching to its twin within her. She sat back and began to count. She had a brief flicker of fear, reflected in the flickering of the candleflame, that she would have another unpleasant vision, but instead she grew drowsier and drowsier, until Vlastomila Serafimiyevna surprised her by telling her that the afternoon had passed, and it was time for supper.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The cold wind was still blowing when Dasha stepped outside the main building after supper. The moon was already up, even though the sky was still bright and blue.

  “I don’t know how we’ll know if they’re coming,” Dasha said, wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to protect herself against the cold wind. Her head was already aching from its knifey chill.

  There was a howl, off in the distance, followed shortly by another one that was noticeably closer.

  “Like that, most like, Tsarinovna,” said Sister Yeseniya, who was standing beside her. The cold had not seemed to affect her, but now she shivered. When another howl pierced the air, sounding so close Dasha half-expected to see wolf forms lurking in the bottom of the garden, impossible as she knew that to be, Sister Yeseniya jumped and swore.

  “I apologize, Tsarinovna,” she said, embarrassed. “It’s just…nasty things, wolves!”

  “Mmm,” said Dasha. “Perhaps we should go to the front gate.”

  “The front gate! Why would we do that?”

  “How else are we going to speak to them? They can’t get in here.”

  “And thank the gods for that,” said Sister Yeseniya, but Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, who must have already had the same thought as Dasha, was already going to the front gate, and the rest of them followed her, some more willingly than others.

  Vlastomila Serafimiyevna was already opening the little window in the gate in order to look out, when another howl, ten times as loud as the previous ones, resounded right outside
the gate. Half the sisters dropped to their knees, their hands over their ears.

  “Gray Wolf!” cried Dasha.

  Hello, little Tsarinovna. Hello, Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. Open the gate, if you please.

  “Don’t!” cried Sister Yeseniya, backed by half a dozen other sisters, as Vlastomila Serafimiyevna began to unbar the gate.

  We mean you no harm, said Gray Wolf, and Dasha could tell by the way everyone shuddered that his words had been heard in all their heads. For the moment.

  “You can’t trust a wolf!” cried Sister Yeseniya. “Attack anything, they will!”

  That is true, said Gray Wolf, sounding pleased.

  “Tsarinovna,” said Vlastomila Serafimiyevna. “Help me with the gate, if you will.”

  Dasha stepped forward and helped her lift the heavy bars and pull open the stiff, heavy gate. Once they had it open wide enough for a single person to pass through, Dasha slipped outside, ignoring the cries of protest from inside the compound. Gray Wolf was standing there, just on the other side of the gate, with a dozen wolves ranged in a half-circle behind him.

  You are not afraid? he asked.

  “No,” she told him. “I know you won’t let them hurt me.”

  You are far too trusting, little Tsarinovna.

  “But I’m right, aren’t I?”

  To my irritation, yes. Where is Vlastomila Serafimiyevna?

  “Here.” Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, ignoring the cries of protest from the other sisters, stepped out through the gate to join Dasha.

  And another sister. Everyone should have a voice.

  There was some muttering and balking over that, until Sister Bronislava and Sister Bozheslava both stepped out through the gate and arranged themselves behind Vlastomila Serafimiyevna.

  “We know that you are hungry,” Dasha said. Vlastomila Serafimiyevna gave her a sideways look, as if trying to tell her that she, Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, should be the one to speak, not Dasha, but Dasha pressed on. “I saw it in a vision. We understand that you did not mean anyone any harm”—Except the deer, put in Gray Wolf, with a grin—“when you first began coming in here. You were just hunting. We understand this. We would like for the relations between wolves and women to return to their former harmonious state.”

  They were never very harmonious, said Gray Wolf, while Vlastomila Serafimiyevna muttered something that sounded very similar under her breath.

  “We would like them to be better than they are now,” Dasha said. “We would like to come to an agreement so that neither side has to walk in fear of the other.”

  Gray Wolf turned to a large female in the center of the half-circle. She and he appeared to speak for a long time, before he turned back to Dasha and the other women.

  Everyone walks in fear of wolves, he said. And of the world of women. We wolves are bad, if what you fear is death, but the world of women is worse, much worse. How many die because of you? We cull the old and the sick, preventing the deer and elk from overrunning the forest and starving; you keep them in pens, not sharing them with others, overrunning the forest yourself so that none may live and graze and hunt there. We may be cruel and pitiless towards our prey, but you are selfish. Not the selfishness of survival, but the selfishness of a wolf who lies on top of his kill and refuses it to others, even pups and nursing mothers, until it spoils, leaving others to starve while surrounded by rotting meat.

  “We have never…” began Vlastomila Serafimiyevna.

  We do not just speak of you, although you are of the world of women, and share in their selfishness. We speak of those who are moving into our lands, building cabins and roads, hunting our prey, hunting us, and yet object when we hunt them. This year has been a fat year, yes, but now we are starving, starving because of you, and you refuse to share in our hunger, just as you refused to share your bounty. You act as if there is one law for you and another for us, even as you flout your own laws and force us to follow them. You kill nursing mothers and leave cubs to starve, and count yourselves as doing right, even as you refuse to allow us to feed on the sweet meat of your cubs.

  “We will not allow you to eat our children!” cried Vlastomila Serafimiyevna, stepping forward to stand in front of Dasha.

  No? Why not? You kill and eat ours, and wear their skins.

  “If that is your bargain, we will not accept it!”

  No? What will you do, then? Kill us all? Perhaps you could do that. But then where would you be? Where we are now, or perhaps worse. If you wish to live as wolves, then you must accept the harsh life of wolves. It was a fat year and we had many cubs, but now most of those cubs will die, because we are going hungry. If you wish to kill, then you must accept that others may kill you. Otherwise there will be too many of you. If you wish to be part of this living and dying, this killing in order to live, then you must be food for others when your turn comes. Break out of that cycle, and you will be a monster, a destroyer who must be destroyed, and we will be forced to come destroy you, if you do not destroy yourselves. So what will it be?

  “You give us no choice!”

  There is always a choice. In this case there are many choices. But the question is: will you try to steal our lands and hunt our prey, like upstart wolves from another pack? Because then we must fight you back. The struggle for survival is cruel, and you cannot break free of it just because you think you are above it. You are part of it whether you wish it or no. And if you wish to live as wolves, then you must live as wolves, which means that most of you will die, just as we do. If you wish to live as we do, then you must keep your numbers thin, just as we do. Do not let your packmates have cubs, and let your cubs die, if they are weak or times are thin. The life of a wolf is harsh and cruel, and if you wish to live it, you must be harsh and cruel as well.

  “We do not have to live like that!”

  No. You do not. But if you wish to live as we do, then you must.

  Dasha stepped around Vlastomila Serafimiyevna to stand in front again. “What if we wish to live differently?” she asked. “What if we wish to live not as wolves, but as women?”

  And what would that mean, little Tsarinovna? For thus far the two have been far too similar. One group will have to give way.

  “Then let it be us,” said Dasha. “Let it be us who gives way, who turns away from killing in order to live, and taking more than we give.”

  We do not take more than we give. That is the point.

  “I know. But we do. And that is wrong. The world should be a better place because we women are in it, not worse. So let it be us who gives way.”

  And how will you do that, little Tsarinovna?

  “I…I don’t know.”

  Gray Wolf laughed silently. Of course you do not, little Tsarinovna. Nobody does. It would mean changing not just yourself, but everyone around you. Most women cannot manage even to change one little thing about themselves. Changing your neighbors as well is beyond what almost any woman can do, even the Tsarina.

  “But what if I tried? Would that be enough?”

  Enough for what, little Tsarinovna?

  “Enough for the wolves to stop haunting and harassing us.”

  Then you would have to do the same. And leave us prey to hunt, so that we will not starve.

  Dasha turned to Vlastomila Serafimiyevna.

  “I could agree for us,” she said, frowning. “But I cannot speak for those outside of our sanctuary.”

  “Vladya could,” Dasha said. “Ah—Vladislava Vasilisovna. The Severnolesniye could.”

  I think you will find it more difficult than you think it is to convince people to change their ways, Tsarinovna, said Gray Wolf.

  “But what if…” Dasha’s words were interrupted by a gust of wind, so icy-cold on her head it felt as if she had been stabbed by a knife. “What if we tried? If I tried? That would be better than not trying, would it not?”

  Yes. But not good enough.

  “What could I offer that would be good enough?”

  Another gust of wind str
uck her, followed by another. The treetops were lashing from side to side in the rising wind, and there was movement on the ground as well. Movement that resolved itself into the figures of animals, all different kinds of animals. As they emerged from the trees, they all turned to look at Dasha, and their eyes glowed gold.

  What could you offer that would be good enough? Gray Wolf repeated. His eyes were glowing gold too. He turned to the other animals that were joining them. What could she offer that would be good enough? he asked them. What could the Tsarinovna give that we would accept?

  A bear stepped forward. It was, Dasha thought, the same bear she had freed, only a few days before. Do not torment us, he said. Do not capture and torment us.

  “I can promise that for myself,” said Dasha. “I can…I can encourage others to do the same. I can make laws punishing those who do to others what was done to you.”

  That is not enough! roared the bear, rearing up on his hind legs, his scarred muzzle crying out at the sky at the injustice of it.

  It is as good as you are likely to get, said Gray Wolf. Humans are cruel and stupid, and change slowly. Even trying is more than most are likely to do. I would take it.

  Very well, said the bear, settling back down on all fours. He eyed Dasha sharply with one golden eye. I have not forgotten what you did for me, he said. It was not enough, but it was more than anyone else. I cannot forgive humans, not even you, for what was done to me, but I can turn away from them. I will not hunt them or harry them as long as they do not hunt or harry me—or come into my lands. Those who trespass will be dealt with harshly.

  Dasha looked over at Gray Wolf. It is as good as you are likely to get, he told her.

  “In that case, very well. It is agreed. I will have a warning issued that people should not harry or capture or torment bears.”

  Or others, said Gray Wolf.

  “Or others,” agreed Dasha.

  An elk and a deer stepped forward together.

  “I cannot stop them from hunting you,” Dasha said. “I cannot stop the wolves and bears from hunting you. I doubt I can even stop humans from hunting you. I am sorry. I would if I could.”