The Midnight Land: Part Two: The Gift (The Zemnian Trilogy Book 2)

by E. P. Clark

  “Resting. Dima and Dunya and the others almost collapsed on our ride—they must have been up all night last night, and then that long cold wait outside while we were down…there...So we came back, but Vladislava wouldn’t go to bed without seeing you. But if we’re in your way, we’ll leave.”

  “Oh no, certainly not,” Slava assured them. “It will be good to have some friendly faces around me before bed. Otherwise who knows what I’d dream.”

  “I rode the best pony!” Vladislava told her eagerly. “Do you think I could go riding with her tomorrow? It’s too bad that our ride was cut so short like that!”

  “Of course,” said Slava. “She’s yours now. What’s her name?”

  The rest of the dinner was consumed with Vladislava’s descriptions of the excellent pony that Slava had just given her, and her plans for daily rides starting tomorrow, despite the bad weather. Sometimes Olga tried to hush her, but Slava always told her to let Vladislava keep talking, as Vladislava’s conversation was more refreshing to her than anything else she could imagine.

  As soon as they had finished eating, Vladislava started yawning broadly, and Olga and Slava soon began copying her, which caused Olga to announce that it was bedtime for all of them, and to take Vladislava away and leave Slava to the mercy of her maids.

  There was a good deal of fuss over getting Slava dressed for bed, but eventually it was over and Slava was left to rest as she saw fit.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next day her first order of business was visiting her sister. Prasha sulked, and Vladya stared vaguely at the ceiling and made nonsensical remarks.

  “It is to be expected, Tsarina,” said the healer.

  “I suppose so,” said Slava.

  “When do you wish them to be sent to Deep Pond, Tsarina?” asked Anna Avdotyevna, who had, as Slava had guessed, spent the night with them. It was a shame that neither Vladya nor Prasha appeared particularly grateful for her exertions on their behalf, although that, too, was to be expected, Slava supposed.

  “As soon as it is safe to move them,” said Slava.

  “It is safe to move them now, Tsarina,” said the healer.

  “I will make the arrangements myself, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna.

  “And will you travel with them?” Slava asked.

  “Do you wish it, Tsarina?” asked Anna Avdotyevna, looking, unusually enough, taken aback by Slava’s question.

  “You should act as you think best,” said Slava. “I will have need of you here, but they will have need of you there. You should act as you think best.”

  “Then I will stay here, Tsarina,” said Anna Avdotyevna unhesitatingly.

  “You will?” asked Slava, surprised.

  “My place is by the side of the Empress,” said Anna Avdotyevna. “I have no need of sanctuaries, nor they of me.”

  “Then you will be welcome,” said Slava, and left Anna Avdotyevna and the healer to the business of preparing Vladya and Prasha for the journey. Slava could hear Prasha’s angry complaints all the way down the hall. She wished there were something she could do not only to make Prasha see the truth but to reconcile her to it, but if that were possible, then, Slava knew, she would not be sending Prasha away in the first place.

  The next order of business was to see that Vladislava, Olga, and the others were being properly cared for. When Slava entered the chambers where they were being housed, Vladislava threw herself at Slava with squeals of unrestrained joy, as if they had been separated for years instead of a single night.

  “You came! You came! You came!” she shrieked in Slava’s ear. “They said you wouldn’t, but you came!”

  “Vladislava!” said Olga sharply. “Leave the Tsarina alone!”

  “She is not bothering me,” said Slava, letting Vladislava cling to her as she made her way into the center of the room. “I am always glad to see her.”

  “She needs to learn how to comport herself around a Tsarina,” said Olga.

  “Says the person who mocked my efforts to civilize her on the journey down,” said Slava with a smile.

  For a moment everyone in the room (except Vladislava, of course) looked nervous, but then Olga realized it was a joke and broke into laughter, and so did the others after her.

  “You are being well treated?” Slava asked.

  “Very well,” Olga assured her.

  “Will you go riding with us today?” Vladislava asked.

  “If I have time,” Slava promised. “First I believe the Princess Council must be called.”

  Olga shuddered.

  “Which you must attend,” Slava told her.

  Olga shuddered even more.

  “It might be exciting,” Slava told her. “I have, after all, just usurped my sister’s throne.”

  “You have not!” cried Olga indignantly. “You saved an Imperial ward and our entire land from certain destruction!”

  “You see why you must attend,” said Slava.

  “Oh, I suppose,” said Olga. She tried to groan, but it came out as more of a grin instead.

  “It will be in the afternoon,” said Slava. “To give everyone time to gather their strength for quarreling.”

  Olga made a face.

  “It will be over shortly,” Slava promised. “I won’t let it last past nightfall.”

  “Well in that case…” said Olga, sighing and smiling at the same time.

  “Can I come?” asked Vladislava. “I’m a princess too. Well, sort of a princess.”

  “No, definitely not,” said Olga.

  “She should come,” said Slava.

  “Why would you torment a child like that?” asked Olga. “What has she done to deserve such a cruel punishment?”

  “She is a princess, as she said,” said Slava. “She should see what it means to be a princess. Someday she will have to sit at the Princess Council in her own right.”

  Olga allowed, after more groaning and grumbling, that this was, unfortunately, the case, and that both she and Vladislava would be there at the appointed time, providing that Vladislava promised to be quiet and still, and Slava promised to wrap the whole thing up before suppertime, because the only thing worse than sitting on the Princess Council would be sitting on the Princess Council on an empty stomach.

  Slava promised that all those conditions would be met, and left Olga’s chambers in high good humor. This lasted all through the rest of the morning, which Masha and Manya spent dressing her while Yarmila Kseniyevna told her all the latest news about the princesses and how they had reacted to this sudden turn in events.

  “But most of them were there yesterday when you…did what you did, Tsarina,” she concluded. “They say that most of them are pretty well cowed, so I doubt you’ll have any trouble with them.”

  “Oh good,” said Slava, and let herself be led to the Hall of Council.

  The princesses were all already assembled when she arrived. They rose from their chairs and bowed in a mixture of confusion and fear as she made her way to the dais. It took them a long time to settle back down into their chairs, as if they feared that the honor Miroslava Praskovyevna had granted so long ago, of allowing her princesses to sit in her presence during the Princess Council, would suddenly be revoked.

  It seemed to take a long time for the Princess Council to do its business, although there was nothing unusual about that. What was unusual was the almost complete absence of quarreling or feuding. There was a brief round of self-congratulatory speeches by some of the princesses, apparently perfectly sincere and fueled by a deep belief in the truth of their statements, on how much they had always loved Slava, how they had always been her staunch allies, and how they had always treated her with the upmost kindness and respect, but Slava was so caught off guard by these sentiments that she was unable to prevent herself from staring at the princesses in blank astonishment, and almost laughing out loud. After that, Slava didn’t think she’d ever seen a Princess Council so quiet. She was almost tempted to remark on that fact, but she gue
ssed by the terrified expressions on most of her princesses’ faces that such a remark would not go over well, and so held her tongue. She could tell that the silence was the silence of terror and confusion—because in the princesses’ minds, they had been her staunch allies and benevolent protectors all along—not consideration and contemplation, and so anything she said would most likely just throw them into an even deeper panic. And so she did her best to soothe their hurt feelings as they would never have soothed hers, and cajole and curry them into a frame of mind in which they could do business.

  In the end it was decided that, because of her sister’s serious and most likely long-lasting indisposition, no one had any opposition to Slava’s rule—at least none that they dared express by so much as an eye-twitch—nor to fixing the succession onto Slava’s line, rather than Vladya’s, nor to sending Vladya and Prasha to Gluboky Prud. If Slava had not been so dazed from the events of the past few days, and so tired from the effects of what the princesses referred to, guardedly, as her “hopes,” she would have been surprised at how quickly and easily such monumental decisions were made, and how little attention she paid to the process, and how little she felt about the outcome. But as she was so dazed, she felt very little at all.

  The issue of the Stepnaya lands came up in relation to all these questions of succession, but as there had been no decisive outcome to the Stepnaya succession itself, nothing could be decided on Slava’s end either, other than her unwillingness to take the lands while the possibility of a legitimate heir still existed. And with that, the Princess Council was dismissed, and Slava made her grateful way back to her chambers.

  A maid was waiting for her there on her return, with the message that “Vladislava Vasilisovna had requested the honor of an audience.”

  “Show her in,” said Slava.

  Vladislava came bursting impetuously in as soon as the permission had been given. “So that was a Princess Council?” she demanded as soon as she was through the doors. “It was very boring, wasn’t it? Aunty Olga and I were very glad to leave. I thought there was going to be more quarreling and fighting.”

  “So did I,” said Slava. “Usually there is.”

  “Well, that’s good. I’d hate for them all to be so boring, especially if I have to come to them all the time when I’m a woman grown.”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  “So are you going to go riding with me?”

  “It will be dark soon, little princess,” objected Masha, and then looked abashed at her boldness.

  “Oh,” said Vladislava, looking terribly disappointed.

  “We can still go riding,” Slava promised. “We can take torches, and ride out into the park to watch the sun set in the trees. Give the command for horses to be saddled, Masha. Go change, Vladislava, and I will meet you in the stables shortly.”

  Vladislava skipped off to change into riding clothes, and Slava let Manya remove her heavy golden gown and replace it with riding clothes.

  “It will be dark very soon, Tsarina, and the weather is still cold and raw,” objected Manya at one point.

  “I know, I just…it seems fitting. I began this adventure with a ride in the park, and I feel I must finish it that way, too.”

  “Will they be going with you, Tsarina?” asked Manya, nodding at the snow fox and the snow hare, who were curled up on her bed.

  Not a chance, said the snow fox.

  I have spent more than my fair share of time in the cold, said the snow hare.

  “It seems not,” said Slava. “Besides, they might hold us back.”

  !!! said the snow fox, but despite her indignation, she failed even to open her eyes, let alone get off the bed to join Slava as she left the room.

  It was indeed almost dark as Slava and Vladislava mounted their horses and made their way towards the park, followed by half-a-dozen unhappy and bewildered guards.

  “There’s not much of a sunset,” pointed out Vladislava, looking off to the West.

  “There never is, in Krasnograd,” said Slava. “All the buildings get in the way.”

  “And the clouds,” said Vladislava, wrinkling her nose at the sky.

  “And the clouds,” agreed Slava. “But look at how they move! They will blow away soon enough.”

  “It’s cold,” said Vladislava. “It’s springtime in the South, and I’m still cold.”

  “It will warm up soon enough, too,” Slava promised.

  “Can we trot, now that we’re in the park?” asked Vladislava.

  “Yes,” said Slava, and they picked up a trot, making the torches the guards were carrying flicker and bob.

  “Where are we going?” asked Vladislava.

  “To the gods,” Slava told her.

  “In the center of the park? Where the prayer trees are?”

  “Yes,” said Slava.

  It was soon very dark, and the cold wind blowing away the clouds blew Slava’s cloak, making it swirl around her and frightening Rozochka, so that she had to stroke her neck and tell her there was nothing to fear as they rode along. Suddenly the torches in front of them came to a stop.

  “The prayer trees, Tsarina,” called the guard.

  “Take Rozochka,” Slava told Vladislava, dismounting and trying to hand her the reins, but a guard intervened before Vladislava could take them, taking charge of Slava’s reins himself.

  “I’ll only be a short while,” Slava told Vladislava.

  “Good, because I don’t like it here,” said Vladislava. “It’s all dark, and the prayer trees look strange. I don’t like the way their ribbons flutter in the wind. It’s like they’re talking to us or something.”

  “Look, the clouds have broken and the moon has come out,” said Slava. “And the stars.” She walked away from the others, over to the largest and oldest prayer tree. The wind and the ribbons made it look like a living thing.

  I am a living thing, it said.

  I know, said Slava. She reached out and took the tip of a long thin branch, and brought it to her lips.

  A kiss from the god-mother, said the tree.

  I carry no god, of that I am certain, said Slava. My daughter, should she have the good fortune to be born, will be of the world of women, just as I am.

  Yes, but you are blessed by them nonetheless, said the tree.

  And yet they failed to come to my aid when I needed it most, said Slava.

  But you did not need it, said the tree. Others came to your aid instead. It is unwise to question the gods too closely, or demand too much from them.

  True, said Slava.

  The cold wind rose up even more strongly, whipping the branches back and forth so that they lashed Slava’s face and tore at her clothing.

  You are a wise daughter, it said. We will be watching you.

  The wind suddenly died. Moonlight was pouring down on Slava.

  You have passed many tests, it seems, said the tree. Are your trials done, do you think?

  No, said Slava. I think many more await me.

  But perhaps the worst is over, said the tree.

  I think there is still much suffering to come, said Slava. I cannot avoid it.

  And how will you face it, Krasnoslava? asked the tree. You gave up your chance for armor, for the ice of the Midnight Land.

  The Midnight Land will always be with me, said Slava. It is in all of us. And I have gained its icy armor in the end. That, I think, I will never lose. After all, I forged it on the anvil of my own abandoned dreams. And every time the links start to weaken, I can reforge it anew, for I will always have more dreams that I must deny. The supply seems inexhaustible.

  Yes, said the tree.

  I must go now, said Slava. But I will return.

  I know, said the tree. For a moment its long thin branches curled around Slava, and then it released her, and she turned and walked away.

  “Were you praying?” asked Vladislava curiously, once Slava had rejoined the others.

  “Yes,” said Slava. She took Rozochka’s reins, and looked
into her eyes. Rozochka looked wisely back at her. Slava could feel her life, and the life of all her companions, and the great swarm of life and death that was Krasnograd, and the chill thin life of the fields and forests beyond the city, and the great expanse that opened all around them, all the way to the Midnight Land and its eternal ice. The ice looked back at her.

  “Look!” cried Vladislava. “A shooting star!”

  A great star was flying across the sky, breaking into pieces as it fell.

  “Is it an omen?” asked Vladislava anxiously.

  “It is if we think it is,” said Slava. “Look at the stars! The sky is full of omens, Vladislava. The world is full of omens. Let us go back to the kremlin. I’m cold.”

  “Me too,” said Vladislava. “Did the gods speak to you when you were praying?”

  “They did,” said Slava.

  “They did! What did they say?”

  “They said the sky is full of omens. The world is full of omens. And wonder, Vladislava, let us not forget that. Breathe in the night air, Vladislava!”

  “It reeks of the city,” complained Vladislava.

  “But beyond that is the steppe! And the taiga! And beyond that is the tundra, and great mountains, and the sea! The world is a vast and wondrous place, Vladislava!”

  “Good,” said Vladislava. “Because I’m bored here. I want some supper, and then I want to go on a journey. But a better journey, with less cold rain than our journey down from Lesnograd. That was awful. I want a sunny journey.”

  “Someday,” promised Slava. She thought of the dark path the gods had promised for Vladislava. Perhaps she had already passed through the darkest part of it. Perhaps not. “But now let us return to the kremlin and supper.”

  “Can we gallop in the dark?” asked Vladislava. “I’ve never been allowed to gallop in the dark!”

  “No!” said all the guards simultaneously.

  “Let’s just trot,” said Slava. “It will give us more time to see the stars.”