The Breathing Sea II - Drowning

by E. P. Clark

“AKH!”

  Dasha looked around guiltily. Had anyone noticed that she had just had a little fit? They were coming back! She swallowed back the rising nausea that thought elicited. She had been cured! Only she hadn’t been. Both Sister Galina and Apraksiya Bozhenovna had told her the falling sickness could come back at any time, if she over-excited or over-tired herself. If Oleg or Aunty Olga found out…Aunty Olga was off scouting ahead, and Oleg was riding just in front of her, talking to Svetochka, and appeared not to be paying any attention to her at all. Only Sister Asya was looking at her.

  “What did you see, Tsarinovna?” she asked.

  “The sea…” Dasha tried to describe her vision, but every time she came to the black cliff, her words failed her, and all she was left with was fumbling and silence.

  “I see.” Sister Asya was regarding her with an interest that was both keen and mild. “A vision, do you think?”

  “Perhaps…it’s not exactly like a normal vision. I don’t think it’s a warning, precisely, or something that could happen, not like a real vision. It’s more like…a dream, but a dream that has meaning.”

  “Like as not you are correct, Tsarinovna.”

  “So what does it mean?”

  Sister Asya shrugged. “That is for you to determine, Tsarinovna.”

  “How do I do that?”

  Sister Asya shrugged again. “That is also for you to determine, Tsarinovna. Return to clearing your mind, and perhaps the answer will reveal itself to you.”

  “And my fits? What if I bring them back? What if doing this is bringing them back?”

  “Then you must keep practicing, Tsarinovna, in order to learn to send them away.”

  That was not a very satisfying answer, but it was the only one Dasha could get from her, so, with some trepidation, she returned to clearing her mind, just as Sister Asya had directed her. The vision/dream never returned, however, and Dasha ended the day feeling just as confused as she had when she had begun it. Sister Asya told her this was the normal way of things, and it took days or weeks of practice to even begin clearing your mind properly, and then months and years of practice after that to become good at allowing the magic to flow through you so that you could use it. Which was just what Vlastomila Serafimiyevna had told her. It was just so frustrating! Learning should feel like learning, not like this fruitless circling around, getting more and more confused.

  “Did your limbs not get sore when you were learning to ride, or wield a sword, Tsarinovna?” Sister Asya asked her, when she complained of it.

  “Well…yes. Quite a lot, actually.”

  “This is the same. It feels like you are making things worse, but you need some pain in order to grow stronger. This is just your mind growing tired and sore as you begin to train it, just as your muscles do when you train them. Now cease worrying about it, and be ready to begin again in the morning.”

  The next morning was the same, and the next and the next. All Dasha did (she thought self-pityingly) was ride slowly and get more and more confused. Twice more she had the same dream/vision, and once the one about being chased and jumping into the river. Each time it ended in her having a little fit. They were not as bad as before, but she didn’t want to have them at all. And the last time Oleg saw it, and had his own fit of sorts, and said Dasha should stop her training immediately. Which she refused to do, even though that was what she had thought she wanted herself until the moment he told her to do it. So the journey was not very much fun, just as Oleg had predicted. The weather was cold and rainy, and the landscape was dreary, nothing but forest as far as they could see. They stopped at waystations, at least, although the soldiers they had brought with them had to camp out by the road. Dasha felt bad for them, even though they seemed to expect nothing better, but she didn’t have a lot of room for pity for them, since she was also consumed with sorrow for herself, as every meal was turning into a fight between her and everyone else with her. No matter how many times she explained—and she had to explain it again every time they stopped somewhere new—that she had taken an oath to the gods that forbade her to eat flesh, since eating flesh involved harming and killing, no one other than Sister Asya would allow themselves to be convinced.

  At least Oleg stayed out of it, other than to say when asked that yes, everything she was saying was true, but the others, including the waystation mistresses, which was to be expected, and also her companions, which was much more hurtful, tried to convince her that she was wrong and did not understand the meaning of her own oath. And of course, her own distress at their behavior was inconsequential, and all her own fantasy, as well, and as for her suggestion (which she made, timidly, a couple of times) that they all join her in her oath, to show solidarity with her and give her peace of mind, it was simply ridiculous! How could she even have the temerity to ask it? Surely, they told her, her oath and her own convictions meant that she couldn’t do the killing herself, but it was fine if someone else did it for her. Or that only meant hunting and eating the meat of deer and elk, not that of pigs and cows and sheep and chickens. Surely she was wrong and hadn’t understood what she had sworn to, or she was misunderstanding it now, and being willfully finicky and difficult, and she should stop causing everyone so much trouble and making them feel bad about themselves for sticking to her oath, even though she had sworn it to the gods, on behalf of all of Zem’, as a pledge with her own body for everyone else’s continued ease and well-being. But that couldn’t possibly be true. She didn’t know what she was talking about. The gods would never go against the way of things, which they had created themselves. No, no, of course they wouldn’t change things, or rethink things, or anything of that nature. They were gods and never changed. Nothing ever changed, and Dasha should admit to her error and stop being so inconvenient to everyone else.

  “After all, what does it matter?” Susanna demanded of her one evening. “We kill for food every day. If you refuse, it will change little.”

  “But it will change some,” Dasha told her. “There is little I can do, that is true, but there is little I can do about most things. This will do more than anything else I can do.”

  “Stop it!” Svetochka finally burst out. She, unlike Aunty Olga, Vladya, Susanna, and all the waystation mistresses, had stopped harassing Dasha early on, and remained silent on the subject until now. “Leave her alone! Can’t you see she’s telling the truth! What business is it of yours, anyway?”

  Susanna and Vladya bridled at that, but Aunty Olga had the grace to look abashed, and the topic was dropped for the moment.

  “They shouldn’t be so mean to you,” Svetochka told Dasha later, when they had retired to their bedchamber. Susanna had gone off to the privy, leaving them alone. “It ain’t your fault the gods made you do that.”

  “Well, I did offer,” said Dasha.

  “It don’t matter. They shouldn’t be so mean to people for doing what they think’s right. They all think they’re so good, an’ then along comes someone who’s better, an’ they can’t stand it!”

  “They’re not bad people at heart,” Dasha said.

  “I know! I can see ‘em just as well as you. They just like to tease folks, an’ they think it’s harmless but it ain’t, an’ they don’t know it ‘cause no one’s ever teased any of them. Or they didn’t realize that’s what people was doing to ‘em when they was being mean. Susanna gets mad quick enough if you tease her about being a Southerner, or say anything mean about Avkhazovskoye, but she’ll turn on you just as quick if she thinks she can get away with it. Vladislava Vasilisovna hates being reminded she ain’t you. I understand ‘cause I used to feel the same way.”

  “And now?” Dasha asked.

  “It still ain’t fair that I went hungry when I was little an’ you never did, but it ain’t fair either that you have fits an’ have to give oaths to the gods an’ everywhere you go, people want stuff from you, an’ think they have the right to ask for it, an’ get mad at you for being born who you are. It just is how it is, an’ it ain’t your
fault no more ‘n it’s mine. ‘Sides, you’re helping me as best you can. An’ now things don’t look so bad. Olga Vasilisovna’s a bit funny, but she’s kind enough to me when she thinks of it, an’ it looks like I ain’t gonna starve with her, an’ who knows? Maybe I’ll even be able to help others. When I see others suffering an’ hurting, I want to help ‘em, just like you do, only I never had the chance. But now maybe I do. You saw. When I saw ‘em making fun of you, I got so mad, it were like they was doing it to me, an’ I told ‘em to stop, an’ they did! Made me feel queer all over, but in a good way. Now I know why you’re always helping people. I want to do the same now. I want to get that good feeling, like I’m strong an’ brave an’ doing the right thing, an’ now I can. An’ it makes me feel good that you needed me to help you for once, an’ I want to keep doing that if I can.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” said Dasha.

  “I know! It made me so happy, like I hain’t been in a long time, maybe never. So I’m gonna be looking out for more chances to do it, to do good, an’ help people as need helping. Whenever I think of these villages getting attacked…that could be Khladniye Vody, you know, or Ozyorsk, it could be my home being attacked, my people, my mother or my little sister even. It makes me so mad I want to fight ‘em, fight back an’ drive ‘em off, make ‘em pay for what they’ve done to us. I’m glad I’m traveling with you on this journey, an’ we’ll have the chance to stop ‘em, maybe forever.”

  “Yes,” said Dasha, and then Susanna came back, and it was time for bed.

  That night Dasha dreamed again that she was running, being chased (by what, she couldn’t say), running across the ravine, jumping into the river, only this time she made it to the far bank, and pulled herself to dry ground, only to have to start running again. A glow lit the twilight midnight sky, a glow that was not from the unsetting sun, but from a fire on the horizon. As she drew closer, she saw it was a burning village.

  “NO!” she screamed.

  “It’s them,” said Svetochka. “We gotta put a stop to ‘em.”

  “Yes,” agreed Dasha.

  Svetochka handed her a torch. “We’ll set ‘em on fire,” she said.

  “NO!”

  Dasha jerked upright. Her nightgown was soaked in sweat, and she thought she might have just had a fit. She looked around. The midnight twilight of near-Midsummer had filled the chamber, causing long shadows to fall across the floor and the bed. One of the shadows in the corner appeared to move. When she looked over at it, she thought a small figure looked up from the shadow, and winked.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The rain, which had dogged them since they had set off from Lesnograd, finally cleared the next morning, and they started out under a brilliant blue sky, with a gentle breeze that was neither too cold nor too hot blowing in their faces.

  As she had every morning previous, Sister Asya set Dasha to clearing her mind as they rode. Only this time, finally, it felt to Dasha as if she actually were clearing her mind, and instead of it being cluttered up with all kinds of nonsense that kept rising to the surface every time she tried to clear it, making her even more distracted than before, her mind now felt calm and smooth, like a pond on a still day. The sensation kept being interrupted by people talking, bumps in the road, gusts of wind, and every other kind of distraction, but now that she had found that state of clarity, she could (sometimes, painfully, with difficulty) bring herself back to it every time she lost it.

  By the afternoon it was, while not easy, coming more and more easily. Dasha had no doubt that Sister Asya was correct (unfortunately!) in saying that it would take years of practice before she could enter the state at will and spend as much time in it as she wished or needed, but it was there, at long last she had learned to touch it. It was, she thought, not unakin to what Gray Wolf had been trying to teach her about living through the senses and paying attention to what she was sensing right at that moment. When she told this to Sister Asya, she nodded and said, “You are not wrong, Tsarinovna.”

  “I could try to combine them.”

  “You could, Tsarinovna. Try it and see what happens.”

  Dasha allowed her mind to settle into its clarity, and then tried to let her senses spread out as well. Which promptly caused her to become distracted. She had to try three more times before she was able to maintain that clarity while letting her senses go beyond the sound and feel of Poloska’s footfalls. The ground was soft and warm, with grass growing thickly along the roadside, and trees growing beyond that. The trees stretched unbroken out at least another five versts, and then—“Fire!” cried Dasha.

  Everyone looked around. “Where?” demanded Oleg.

  Dasha looked around too. “I don’t know!” She sniffed. “Smoke! That way.” She pointed in the direction the road was taking them.

  Oleg was sniffing, and so were the others. “I can’t smell anything,” he said.

  Dasha tried sniffing again. “Now I can’t either,” she admitted. “But I did before, I swear it.”

  Oleg and Aunty Olga shared a glance. “Let’s keep going,” said Oleg. “But cautiously. The Tsarinovna in the middle, with her guards around her. We don’t know what we might find.”

  Dasha found herself in the middle of their column, right next to the cart where Birgit sat chained to a bench by the ankle. Dasha wanted to say something to her, commiserate on how uncomfortable that must be, but she had no words that Birgit would understand, so she settled for smiling at her sympathetically, which made Birgit look at her in confusion and then look away in fear.

  They rode on for another verst or so, and then turned a corner. The forest opened up into a broad field that ended in a high bank above a river. On the far side of the river was another field, in which sat a village. Smoke was rising from the village.

  “I don’t like this,” said Oleg. “There’s too much smoke there.”

  “If we ride to the edge of the bank we should be able to look on it without too much risk,” said Aunty Olga. “Let’s you and I and Dima go forward and scout. Vadim! Keep everyone else here under your watch. Don’t let them go anywhere. That goes doubly for you girls,” she said, giving Dasha and Susanna a sharp look.

  Susanna huffed. Dasha smiled in what she hoped was a meek and acquiescent fashion. She also misliked the smoke very much, and her curiosity was tempered by her desire not to have to look at what she was sure they would find there. She looked back over at Birgit. Birgit was biting at her fingernails, as if she had the same bad feeling as Dasha.

  “Clear your mind, Tsarinovna,” said Sister Asya. “Don’t look so shocked! Your agitation will serve them nothing, but if you clear your mind, you may be able to see something, think of something, that will be of use. Or not, but at least you will not add to the panic.”

  “Do you think there’s something bad down there too?” asked Dasha.

  Sister Asya sniffed. “The smoke has a bad smell,” she said. “Not like a simple hearth fire. Yes, I think there’s something very bad down there. Which is why we must clear our minds, so as not to add to the evil.”

  Dasha tried, but she found that, even though her mind felt clear, almost blank, her body was trembling slightly. What if she had a fit? What if she had a fit in front of everyone, a really bad fit, one that dumped her off of Poloska and made her hit her head…Poloska might kick her or step on her by accident…she could be injured or killed in a stupid accident, just like that…

  “Clear your mind, Tsarinovna,” said Sister Asya, just as Aunty Olga came riding back, her face grim.

  “They’ve been raided,” she announced. “They must have been. We don’t know how bad it was, or where the villagers are, or if the raiders are still there. It looks empty from up here, but like as not it’s not. We’ll need to send a scouting party down. Which is easier said than done. The only way there is down the riverbank, where anyone can see you, and then across on the rope ferry, which anyone could cut and send you adrift. If the raiders are still there, we’d be exposed and
helpless.”

  “We could wait until nightfall,” suggested Vadim Sofiyevich.

  “And if people are there needing our help?” said Aunty Olga.

  “We won’t be much help to them if we all get killed,” countered Vadim Sofiyevich.

  In the end it was decided that he, Oleg, Dima, and Aunty Olga would watch from the top of the bank for a while, and see if they saw any signs of life, or conversely, signs of raiders. Everyone else was given strict orders to remain on the edge of the woods, and to flee back into the cover of the trees at the first sign of trouble.

  “This is boring,” complained Susanna, once they had drawn off the road and formed up into a circle, with the carts and Dasha, Susanna, and Svetochka in the middle.

  “Better than exciting,” Dasha told her.

  “I do not think so,” grumbled Susanna, and went off to fiddle with Chernets’s saddle, as a way of occupying her nervous hands.

  “Come, Tsarinovna,” said Sister Asya, taking Dasha’s hand. “Let your sister hold your horses. Unless she wishes to join us, of course.” She smiled at Svetochka. “You would be welcome to join us in our prayers,” she told her.

  Svetochka shook her head. Her round face was tight, and her broad shoulders were hunched. “I don’t hold much with praying,” she said. “Never did me much good.”

  “Then you can serve us by holding the horses,” Sister Asya told her. “Come, Tsarinovna.” She led Dasha off to the side of Birgit’s cart, and had her sit on the grass. Birgit looked down at them with worried curiosity.

  “She is welcome to join us too,” Sister Asya called up to Yuliya.

  “She wouldn’t know what praying was,” said Yuliya.

  “Nonsense! Everyone knows what praying is.” Sister Asya flashed a warm smile at Birgit, and then arranged herself across from Dasha. “Let us close our eyes, Tsarinovna,” she said. “Sometimes that allows us to clear our minds more completely. Allow yourself to count your breath, just as you did Poloska’s footfalls. Allow yourself to feel the air on your skin, and the grass beneath you. Simply allow it to be felt.”