by E. P. Clark
“SHHH!” hissed Olga and Dima, even more loudly than Vladislava had screamed.
“This is Zhenya,” said Dunya, nodding towards Slava.
“And this is Masha,” said Slava, nodding towards Dunya. She felt an urge to laugh again, and quelled it only with difficulty.
“Very wise,” said Olga, catching on immediately. “In that case, I’m Liza, this,” she nodded towards Vladislava, “is Varya, and he,” she nodded at Dima, “can be…” she thought for a moment, “Kiryusha.”
“Whom should we be?” asked Slanik and Olik together.
“Whomever you want,” Olga told them. “No one knows who you are anyway.”
Slanik and Olik looked a little put out about this, until Grisha whispered to them that it was for the best, since that meant they could serve “Liza” and “Zhenya” much better than if they were known in the kremlin and about Krasnograd.
“Now that we’re all here, and have our new names, let’s turn to the important business,” said Olga. “Where to go?”
“Or should we go to ground in Krasnograd itself?” suggested Dima. “It’s the easiest city in all of Zem’ to hide in.”
“Yes…” said Olga uncertainly. “Very true, but the Ts…but Zhenya’s face is well-known here. I would feel safer somewhere farther from her sister’s long arm.”
“Getting out of the city will be dangerous,” warned Dima.
“Yes…” said Olga. “And then we will have to choose a direction to travel in, too. But I’d still leave, if we think there’s any chance at all of us making it out of here.”
“We could return to Naberezhnoye,” suggested Dunya hopefully.
“We’re all too well known there too,” said Olga. “All it would take would be one loyal subject sending word, and we’d find ourselves right back in the kremlin, only in rather less comfortable accommodations. The same goes for Lesnograd and Vostochnoye Selo. Besides, the roads will still be well-nigh impassible to the North for another week at least.”
“Princess Malogornaya is no friend to the Empress,” said Dima speculatively.
“But she’s no friend to us, either,” said Olga. “I don’t trust her any farther than I can see her, and even then I’d rather not have anything to do with her.”
“Princess Malolesnaya was very kind,” Vladislava put in.
“Yes, but I don’t think we should test her loyalty like that,” said Slava. “I don’t think she should be tried too hard.”
“I’m afraid you’re right,” agreed Olga.
“We could always disappear into the woods,” said Dunya.
“Correction: you could disappear into the woods, and so could I, and Dima and Grisha, and Slanik and Olik and Sasha would probably be able to make it too, but the Ts…but Zhenya and Varya would never survive.”
“We will if we have to,” said Slava.
“Not in your condition, not if I can help it,” said Olga. “We need some sanctuary…A sanctuary! Perhaps…By all the gods!” She stopped and stared at her own inspiration for a moment.
“Zhenya!” she said, once she had recovered herself and collected her thoughts sufficiently. “Your mother lives in a sanctuary! We must go to your mother immediately!”
“My mother?” repeated Slava foolishly.
“Sl…Zhenya! Who is the one person who has the power to protect you? Who is the one person who has the authority to overrule your sister? Your mother. We must enlist her aid!”
“I suppose…” said Slava, who was so startled by the idea that she was unable to form a clear response.
“Could we write to her, do you think?” suggested Dima. “It might be easier to smuggle a letter out of the city than the Ts…than Zhenya.”
“We should write to her, that’s true,” said Olga, staring off at the wall again for more inspiration. “But I don’t think it’s safe to remain here. No doubt there’ll be a search for us.”
“We could hear the soldiers forming up outside the barracks as we escaped,” said Slava.
“So you took the barracks way out, then? Varya and I slipped out behind the laundry, and the maids were abuzz with the story of your treason. Sorry, Zhenya, but it’s true.”
“They were in the kitchen as well,” said Slava. “I’m afraid all of Krasnograd will be abuzz with it by tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, and so I fear it’s too dangerous to remain. But you’re right, ah, Kiryusha, in suggesting we send her mother a letter. If we can’t make it out, perhaps the letter will still reach her, and perhaps she’ll even still be able to rescue us. Zhenya, you should write the letter right now. Sasha can try to smuggle it out, and see what the lay of the land is, so to speak, as well.”
And so, unexpectedly, Slava found herself perched on the narrow and uncomfortable bed, trying to write a letter to her mother that would explain her situation without putting them in any danger, should the letter be intercepted. This proved to be a challenging task, and so Slava was unable to participate in the argument over whether they should stay where they were or move on before night came, and when and how they should make their attempt to escape the city. She was only able to rejoin the rest of the party, sealed letter in hand, once they had decided to sent Sasha out, to scout and to attempt to deliver the letter to any caravan that might be heading East. It was early yet for travel, but the road East tended to dry up the soonest, so some enterprising caravan-mistresses might already be heading out. In good weather Slava’s mother’s sanctuary was no more than a week’s ride away, which always before had seemed quite close, but now seemed like an impassable distance, especially the journey from their current position to beyond the city walls.
Sasha went off to the Haymarket with the letter, leaving the rest of them to wait anxiously for his return in their tiny uncomfortable room. Olga suggested that they try to pass the time more pleasantly by eating some of the provisions with which Grisha had provided them when he had taken the room for them, but only Vladislava, Olik, and Slanik had any appetite, and even they put down their food after a few bites. So the provisions were packed away again, and Olga, Dunya, and Dima turned back to trying to make plans in low voices, while the rest of them tried to keep quiet and find a more tolerable position to sit in. Slava and Vladya were given the bed, but Olik, Slanik, and Grisha all had to sit on the floor, which was dirty and cold. At one point Slava offered them her place on the bed, but they all turned her down in horror.
Olga, Dunya, and Dima debated for what seemed like—and probably was—hours on the relative merits and risks of staying where they were, trying to hide out in a different inn, attempting to find shelter with some princess friendly with the Tsarinovna or the Severnolesnaya family, or making a break for it that very night. The longer that they debated, and the longer that Sasha failed to reappear, the more heated the discussion became, and the less clear it became to all of them what they should. Slava could see that Olga was on the verge of some disastrous explosion, and tried to deflect as much of her ill humor as possible from the others, but with limited success. She tried to convince herself that this was not the most miserable afternoon of her entire life, that she had experienced worse and survived, but her assurances rang hollow, even in the privacy of her own mind.
Having very little to contribute to this discussion, and unwilling to be drawn into the arguing even if she did, Slava had nothing to do that whole long dreadful afternoon but think about the curse and her own role in bringing it about. She remembered her vision of the sleigh sliding through the forest, bearing evil inside it, and that evil had been herself…she had been cursed already, cursed maybe from birth…And nonetheless she had agreed to the gods’ and the leshiye’s mad plan, and born the curse right back to Krasnograd…She remembered what Princess Severnolesnaya had told her, that stopping the birth of the child she was carrying inside of her would do nothing to prevent the curse from being carried out, but she was unable to believe it…Her impending motherhood had certainly been the cause of Vladya’s madness, and even if it had al
ready been lurking there inside of her, waiting for an opportunity to come out, Slava’s news had been that opportunity, she and her impending motherhood were the ultimate reason…Whatever happened, however this turned out, Slava knew that she would always have to know that she had chosen the leshiye and their offer over her own sister…her only sister, who was so frightened…Who was probably plotting her death this very instant…they must escape, they had to, they had to, where was Sasha…
It was well after dark when Sasha finally returned. “The whole town is alight with the news of the Tsarinovna’s treason,” he announced as soon as the door had been closed behind him. “And there are soldiers everywhere with torches, searching. The Haymarket was crawling with them, and they even came up to everyone in the line for letters, wanting to know who we were writing to. I said my aunt in the sanctuary, and they told me to watch out for, for…” he nodded in Slava’s direction, “and then went on their way.”
“So the letter went off, then,” said Olga.
“The first caravan of the spring heading East took it,” said Sasha. “They don’t set off until tomorrow, so who knows what will happen to it by then.”
“Don’t say such things,” Olga told him severely.
“We have to be ready,” said Sasha with a shrug.
“Sasha is right,” said Slava, before Olga and Sasha, who were both on edge—although no more than the rest of them—could start quarreling. “We cannot count solely on that letter, pleasant as such a thought might be. We have to have other plans.”
“What do you say, Sasha?” asked Olga. “Do we attempt to escape Krasnograd tonight, or wait? You were the one most recently out on the streets: is it possible, do you think, for us to make our way to the gates unnoticed, or do we run too great a risk by being out of doors?”
“The risk would be great either way,” Sasha told them. “They’re patrolling every street they can go down, like I said, but I also heard they were going to start going through all the inns, so I wouldn’t give much for our chances if we stay here, either.”
“We should split up,” put in Dunya. “A large group like us will surely draw attention, and if we try to go out in pairs or threes, then we have a better chance of getting at least some people through the gates. Even if only one person gets through, she should try to make it to the sanctuary at all speed—perhaps her”—she nodded at Slava—“mother will still be able to save the rest of us. At least she will be informed of what has happened.”
And so, after surprisingly little further debate, considering the hours they had spent agonizing over it before, it was decided that they would go out in groups of two or three, each to a different gate, and meet up outside the city.
“But what if they shut the gates?” asked Slava. She was loath to restart the debate, but this seemed an important point. “The Krasnograd gates have never been shut in my lifetime, but for something such as this, they very well could be.”
“They hadn’t shut them when I was out,” said Sasha.
“It would be very bad if we were to arrive there, and discover that they had been shut,” said Dima. “Very bad. We would have left our shelter here, and have nowhere to go all night—if they even reopen them in the morning at all, that is.”
“From what I heard, it sounded as if the Tsarina didn’t expect her”—Sasha nodded at Slava—“to flee. She thinks she’s going to try to take her throne, and for that she needs to be in Krasnograd. From what I overheard, everyone assumed she had taken refuge with one of her princess-accomplices.”
“Well, that rules out taking refuge with a princess, then,” said Olga with a certain grim relief at having their path simplified by at least one choice. “And it sounds like our way out won’t be as difficult as we feared.”
“Let us hope so,” said Slava, trying to quell a ridiculous feeling of annoyance with her sister for being so foolish. If Sasha really was telling the truth—for a moment Slava was overcome with the panicked thought that perhaps he had been caught and turned to her sister’s service while he was out there, and he was now leading them straight into a trap, but she stifled the thought as quickly as possible—then Slava’s sister was behaving in a truly irrational fashion. Slava knew that it would be better for her, and that she should take advantage of this as much as she could, but she still couldn’t help but feel a tiny spark of irritation with her sister’s stupidity. For some reason, her sister’s failure to close the city gates seemed much worse than her declaration of Slava as a traitor. It was only then that Slava realized with shock just how badly her sister’s mind had been affected by the curse. Even if they escaped and were able to reach the sanctuary and enlist her mother’s aid and have everything turn out all right, Slava thought, her sister might never be fit to rule again. Someone, probably Slava, would have to step in and rule in her place…
“Let’s leave now,” Olga said, interrupting Slava’s unpleasant thoughts. “There’s no point in standing around like bulls for the chop if we could be making our escape right now. The longer we wait here, the more likely we are to be found here. We’ll split up, as we planned, and each go out our separate gates. Dunya, you take Slava out of the East Gate”—she seemed to have forgotten their new names, or decided it was no longer worth keeping up the charade—“it’s the closest and, I hope, the safest. Dima, take Slanik and Olik out the South Gate. Grisha and Sasha, you’ll have the longest walk from the West Gate. I’ll take Vladya and test our luck at the North Gate. We’ll meet at that big oak tree on the East Road—it’s the only landmark around for versts and versts.”
And so, once again much more quickly than Slava would have expected, given all the talking they had been doing up to that moment, she found herself slipping out of the room as secretly as possible. They all left the room at once and walked as quickly and quietly as they could down the corridor and out a back door without, as best they could tell, drawing anyone’s attention, even that of the tavern mistress.
Sasha, as the last to have been outside and therefore suddenly the most knowledgeable of them (a position he was not used to having, as was evident by his hesitancy when Olga sent him out), went out first onto the street, and summoned the rest of them once he saw that everything was clear. Then they all went their separate ways, Olga and Vladislava in one group; Dima, Slanik, and Olik in another; Grisha and Sasha together; and Dunya and Slava as the final pair. Dunya took Slava by the arm and set off towards their gate without a backwards glance at the others, and Slava tried to copy her calm as they disappeared around the corner.
“I have an idea, Zhenya,” said Dunya in a low voice, once they were several streets away. “We’re supposed to go out the East Gate, but there’s a way out one street down from it.”
“Really?” Slava whispered back doubtfully. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“You know how the wall makes a little jog where Malaya Vostochnaya street deadends into it?”
“Yes…” Slava whispered hesitantly, as she didn’t actually know the streets of Krasnograd very well at all. “I think they rebuilt the wall there a generation or so back,” she added. “After the last invasion by the Hordes. The wall was smaller, and Malaya Vostochnaya used to be the main road.” She fell silent and looked determinedly at the ground as a patrol of soldiers passed by. One of them tried to hang back and make highly improper—what would his mother think!—remarks to Dunya, but his leader called him on, and they all hurried off, the other soldiers consoling Dunya’s potential suitor with promises to find him some proper-looking women, not “some little wisp of a girl and a dried-up old aunty.”
“Soldiers,” said Dunya when they were out of earshot and she and Slava could breathe again. “Ruined for ever, all of them. What woman would ever marry the likes of that?”
“Some do,” said Slava.
“And live to regret it,” said Dunya, sounding as if she were thinking of many particular instances.
“Many live to regret marrying non-soldiers, as well,” said Slava, thinking of Se
rafimiya Svetlanovna.
“Well, once we’re out of here, we’ll have plenty of time to worry about that sort of thing,” said Dunya, shaking her head and turning back to the matter at hand. “I slipped out of the city at Malaya Vostochnaya last week—there’s a little unguarded gate at the jog, where the wall was mended when they made it bigger, I suppose. They must have left it there as a back way out, but hardly anyone ever seems to use it. It’s barely big enough for you or me to slide through it, so I guess they don’t think it’s worth guarding—you’d never fit a horse down it, or even an armed soldier. But it’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
“What if it is guarded now, and we’re caught trying to go through it?” objected Slava. “Surely there’s no good reason for people to be lurking about there, and there probably isn’t a good way to escape.”
“We’ll say…We’ll say you’re my nanny, smuggling me away from my cruel mother and into the arms of my lover,” said Dunya. It was hard for Slava to tell in the dark, but she thought Dunya might have been grinning a little. She was glad someone was enjoying this.
“It’s worth a try,” Dunya repeated. “We’ll be able to see the East Gate before we make the last turn, and we can make up our minds then, but the little gate will be the best choice, I’m sure of it.”
“Very well,” she agreed, and she and Dunya hurried on arm-in-arm, past flocks of excited people and patrols of enthusiastic soldiers, none of whom paid the slightest attention to “a wisp of a girl and a dried-up aunty.”
They came in sight of the East Gate and saw that there was a great crowd gathered there, all shouting and complaining to each other and to the soldiers who were trying to stop everyone and search them. Many were people who lived in outer Krasnograd, on the other side of the wall, and were afraid of being trapped inside the city for days.
“Madness,” whispered Slava. “They should have shut the gate hours ago.”
