He was slowly climbing to his feet, and I had no intention of staying around to find out if he could change again. I ran up the path, taking the steps upward as quickly as I could.
By the time I reached the halfway point, Harvest had taken the bottom, the whole structure rattling beneath his bulk.
His pursuit whipped my flagging endurance and I pushed harder, though my thighs burned with effort and my skull was still recovering from the use of magic and the explosive blast of the Empty Man.
When I reached the top, I was covered in a cold sweat. Franklin was waiting for me.
"Blow it up," I said. "Destroy the stairs."
"I would if I could," he said. "I used the last one in the village."
"More running then," I said.
He helped me down the tunnel. We passed the arch and returned to Philadelphia. Painful morning light greeted us through the parlor window.
We didn't have long to rest before we heard Harvest grunting up the stairs. We fled into the snowy street. The cold attacked my damp flesh.
Standing outside shivering, we heard roars of frustration from inside. Harvest hadn't realized we'd left the estate.
One of Franklin's neighbors was outside moving snow from his doorway and gave us curious looks, as we weren't dressed for the frigid weather.
"What now?" I asked, rubbing my arms furiously.
Franklin leaned against a lamppost. "Catching my breath. But we cannot allow him to stay in the estate. I have many secrets he cannot discover."
"We'll lure him out," I said, to which Ben gave a reluctant nod.
"It never ends," he said.
"At least we foiled Rowan's plot with the Gamayun," I said.
As I waited for Harvest to appear, I noticed a familiar sheet of paper affixed to the post. I looked down the street and noticed other missives attached to the cast iron poles.
Franklin's neighbor seemed to have noticed as well and moved to collect one.
Curious, I pulled the pamphlet from the nail. The parchment had been made by the Bradford store—I recognized its chunky make.
But I had not written a pamphlet in quite some time since I'd been busy with the prophecy. A feeling of dread overtook me as I turned the sheet over to read, recognizing the familiar type set. The text was incomplete, starting midsentence.
remains the reason I have stayed apart.
The bird-women, Gamayun they are called, have the power of prophecy. They live in the woods west of Philadelphia near the glass workshop. I tell you this in strict confidence, the Gamayun are dangerous. Do not visit them yourself, no matter what the reasons. I give you the location only that you might keep others away, or find some way to drive them from the woods without encountering them.
When I visited them, I received a prophecy, one that has proven thus far to be true. I will explain it only so you might understand my actions. As I was told, the
Reading the pamphlet left me numb from shock. It took only a brief glance to see papers hanging from lampposts in all directions.
Aught, my faithful companion, had mistaken the papers I’d left as my next missive. Possibly they'd been blown around the room and by chance, the most dangerous page had been printed and spread around the city. Everything so far had been undone by this twist of chance.
Or maybe it hadn't been bad luck, but the prophecy foretold by the Gamayun. That the three stanzas had been given to set up this very moment, so that the city would become aware of their presence, and they could draw its citizens like flies to honey. Rotten honey.
"By your expression, something must be terribly wrong," said Ben.
"The worst. I'm afraid I've turned the city into a house built on sand. Soon a tremor will come and knock the whole thing down," I said.
"What will you do?" asked Ben. "Can I help?"
At that moment, Harvest came stumbling into the snow covered street, steam billowing from his bare chest. He saw us at once and began jogging through the snow.
"No," I said at once. "You must deal with Harvest. I'll deal with the Gamayun."
He lifted a questioning eyebrow.
"I was given advice to defy them. I think I must attempt it, though I have no idea how," I said. "Do you need help?"
Harvest was closing the gap, quickly.
Franklin reached into his satchel and pulled out a glass globe the size of a fist. Inside, blue mist swirled hungrily.
Before Harvest got within twenty feet, Ben threw the globe. It broke at the manservant's feet and a viscous azure goo stuck to his legs like cottony webs, sticking him at his location.
"Trapped in the gluepot!" exclaimed Franklin, his eyes sparkling.
Harvest looked at his stuck legs with disdain. Then with his neck straining until the tendons were taut, he ripped one free.
"Not going to hold him much longer," I said.
"Away with you, Kat. You deal with your problem, I'll deal with mine. Afterwards, a cup of tea if you please," said Ben.
"It would much please me!"
Before I could sprint away, Ben grabbed me by the arm and placed a hungry kiss on my lips.
"What was that for?" I asked, stunned.
"In case this doesn't go as planned, I didn't want to die without having done that at least once," he said, then as Harvest ripped the other leg free, Ben hurriedly dug into his satchel.
I'd wasted too much time already, so I left Ben to his battle with Harvest. As I ran, I tried to collect every pamphlet I found on the gas lamps, but Aught had done his job too well, and the diversions drained needed energy.
By the time I reached the house, I was drenched in sweat, a recipe for disaster in the freezing cold. As I feared, the press was set up with my papers to Ben as the template.
I had no time to change, only to grab a furred cloak and climb into the cauldron. A risky daytime flight was the only way I could reach the Gamayun before anyone else.
Using one hand to hold the cloak around my shivering body while the other piloted the cauldron, I flew to the west, trying to stay high enough that I was not easily seen. From my vantage point, I could easily see that there was a general migration to the west in the city. Not a large amount, but there were numerous men on horseback headed to the bridges. I could only assume they'd seen my pamphlet and were going to investigate. Once a few people had been to the Gamayun, word would spread until the whole city was mired in deadly prophecies.
I landed the cauldron at the edge of the woods behind a copse of trees near the glass shop. I was only a few minutes ahead of the closest riders.
Climbing onto the roots and into the woods provided some comfort from the cold. The area had the warmth of vegetation, though the center of these woods was rotten.
Knowing that many folks couldn't be far behind, I hurried over the treacherous roots, moving from tree to tree using branches as hand holds, ignoring the slimy moss batting at me from hanging limbs.
Though I could not say how, I knew the direction of the Gamayun, felt it like a tugging on my breast, even as the forest seemed to bat me back. Maybe it was my haste that caused the branches to paw and clutch at my flesh and clothes, making me leave the furred cloak behind, or maybe the Gamayun had sensed my return and wished to bar me from their presence.
At one point, I paused to catch my breath and heard the calls of men in the woods somewhere behind me. I felt like a lone bird flying before a storm as the clouds threatened to envelope me.
But fly I did, scrambling over root and knot, under branch and limb, past moss and leaf. Until I came upon the woven dome of the Gamayun, the crimson leaves of its trees forming a bloody sky.
My knuckles were scraped and my palms were cut. The crust of wound was still on my neck. Bruises littered my thighs.
The wooden cage was empty, for the moment. I marched to the center.
Summoning my resolve, I placed my hands around my mouth and took in a full breath. The words that issued forth afterwards could have commanded soldiers on a battlefield.
"I am Ye
katerina Romanovna Vorontsova-Dashkova. Daughter to Roman Vorontsova. Princess and Exile. The Traveler and Thief," I said, echoing the greeting they'd given me.
Through some hidden means, the bird-women appeared on their perches, yellowed segmented claws gripping the thick branches. Hideous visages stared down at me with distaste, a primal dismissal held on their feathered breasts.
"Begone, Prophecy Eater, Teller of Tales," they said in sickening unison. "You have heard your prophecy. Now begone!"
Their combined voices made me nauseous.
I turned in a desperate circle, feeling time down to the grains.
"It is you that should leave! You are a cancer on the city, on this plane. Nothing good comes from you. Your prophecies are lies!" I shouted.
"Truth," they said in unison, "truth in every one. It is you who are the liar. It is you who failed. You were the catalyst for this moment. We saw, saw, saw them coming, climbing over each other to hear our wisdom! They will hear it and spread the word. You did this for us! This is our moment, our moment, our moment!"
The Gamayun danced on their perches with exuberance, wings spread wide, heads leaning back in ecstasy. They cackled and cawed, their cries a bane to my soul.
Despair set in. A crippling, soul-sucking despair. I fell to my knees at the center of the dome, burying my face in my hands.
I'd come all this way, fought through so many obstacles, to fail by the whims of chance.
It couldn't be long before the first Philadelphian stepped into the dome to hear prophecy. Once that happened, the chain of events would spin out of control until the city was destroyed. I imagined the foul words the Gamayun would speak, to turn neighbor against neighbor, as their prophecy had done to me, until the city was a smoking ruin.
Their broken laughter was like broken glass to my ears. As they said, they told the truth in every way. Nothing I'd done had avoided the prophecy coming true.
I hadn't even brought a weapon with me. Not that I imagined a simple pistol would damage these hideous creatures.
I had nothing to use except my bare hands.
With tears streaking down my cheeks, I remembered the raven's words.
Defy them.
"Ha," I muttered.
How could I defy them now? They had everything. Like a fool, I'd led the city to their door. It would only take the first person to tear the flesh of the pale fruits, to hear the prophecy.
Staring through the woven roots, I spied a pale fruit within reach, like an unnamed organ growing on a surrogate vine.
Defy them.
I reached through and plucked it, feeling its warmth as if it were a living thing.
I paused, until I realized the Gamayun had gone silent. Peering up through the waterfall of my black hair, I felt the eyes of the bird-women upon me.
The name with which they had greeted me reverberated through my ears as if it were a struck gong.
Prophecy Eater.
Defy them.
I whipped my hair out of my face, posed my fingernails above the pale flesh of the fruit, and waited. The Gamayun seemed ready to fall off their perches in anticipation, but not the maniacal cackling anticipation of ecstasy. They watched, enraptured, concerned, worried.
Ripping the flesh released a vile stench. The Gamayun reacted as if I had torched the dome with a massive conflagration. They jumped back and forth on their perches, crying out in horrible voices that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
I tore at it until I could count the seeds.
"Three!" I shouted.
The Gamayun called out my prophecy, but I wasn't paying attention.
...when the double from the throne kills the peacemaker...
I tossed the spent fruit and hunted for the next one. I found another a few steps away, yanking it from the vine and tearing it open before the Gamayun had finished with the previous prophecies.
"One!"
...the night of eyes cannot see the day, a rider will come bearing unwanted gifts...
They howled in pain, gnashing at their words as they spoke in unison, speaking the words in a trance.
...in the city of yew trees will first mirror meet...
But once again, they failed to finish before I broke open another. Except at this location, I found three fruits on the same vine.
"Two!"
...the hundred-throated songbird will curse abled men to dance until their death...
"One!"
"Two!"
...when the last game can only be won by losing...
As their horror deepened, my glee rose until I was an ungrateful child opening presents on my birth day: collecting fruits, ripping them open, and throwing them back beneath the woven roots to rot.
Defy them.
How could they spread their prophecies if no one else could receive one?
As I moved through the dome, picking fruits and yelling out the number of seeds, I began to notice that the prophecies, though not always spoken, were finding their way into my subconsciousness, worming their way inside.
They were a tablature of etched stone in a field of my memory. Each fruit was another pushed through the soil. I had no idea what this would do to me, but continued, for fear of someone else entering the dome and breaking open a pale fruit.
I hoped the obscene caterwauling of the Gamayun had driven off any curious prophecy seekers.
Soon, I had to hunt longer and longer to find the next fruit. A few times, one of the Gamayun would scream in frustration and swoop down at me, but I knew it for a bluff, as if they killed me they would lose all the prophecies with which they had imbued me.
My hands were coated in the sickening juice, fingers cramped from the act of tearing, but I endured, fighting through the pain to destroy every last one.
As I neared the end, or what I assumed to be the end, a vibration formed in the trees. Crimson leaves began to fall from the roof, like clumped hair from an old hag's head.
The prophecies from the Gamayun were spoken with a palatable exhaustion. We were all wearing down in this mad dance.
When I tore open the last fruit, I was stunned by an enormous seed. The whole inside was a seed, with a mere sliver of flesh surrounding it.
I didn't even call out the number of seeds. The three Gamayun screamed in unison, a high wailing that sounded like the rending of their souls. The scream went on until I had to place my sticky hands against my ears, hair clinging to my palms and fingers.
"Prophecy Eater! You are the crux, the keystone, the twist of fate! On your words, the multiverse turns. Beware! Beware! Beware! On you, hangs the doom of all worlds! When the Three relinquish the One then you must make a choice! Choose wisely or the void captures us all!"
When the first tree fell, I knew it was time to leave. I stumbled across the uneven roots as crimson leaves rained down upon me. The Gamayun shrieked with glee and terror, as if the last prophecy had been born of a painful rending.
Stumbling out of the dome, I heard more crashes behind me, but dared not pause to watch or be caught in the ensuing destruction.
Though exhaustion tried to claim me, I pushed on. A hundred feet past the dome, a great ripping sound filled the air, as if time and space itself was tearing.
I couldn't move any further, so I leaned against a misshapen trunk and watched the destruction. A shimmering light formed through the trees where the dome was located, growing brighter by the moment, until it was a painful flash and then it was gone.
The image of that light stayed on my eyes long after it was absent. When I dared move again, I moved back to where I thought the dome should be, only to find more trees.
I spied a man across the way, leaning on a trunk, looking confused. I gave him a little wave and he startled, just now seeing me, before returning my gesture with an unsure one of his own. Afterwards, the man shook his head and wandered back the way he'd come.
Content that I'd done all I could, I moved in the direction I hoped was the edge of the woods. Along the way, i
n a stroke of luck, I found my discarded furred cloak, which warmed me as I stumbled out into the afternoon sun on this frigid day.
I wasn't the only one leaving the forest. I saw others, looking dazed and clearly wondering why they'd bothered to make the journey. I had no idea what they'd seen or experienced, but gathered this event would not go unnoticed by the city at large.
Rather than risk another flight in the cauldron, I entered the glass shop and imposed on the proprietor of the establishment, claiming my carriage had broken down on the other side of the woods and I needed a place to stay for the night.
The glassblowing master obliged, as he seemed a solitary man who appreciated the company. He let me stay in a guest room, which he reserved for family when they came to visit.
That night my dreams seemed as numerous as the stars in the sky. When I woke, early in the morning before the sun or the master of the house had risen, it felt as if I'd slept a thousand thousand lifetimes and my head was full of that mass of dreams.
In the predawn, as a pale blue nimbus stretched across the horizon on the day after the Winter Solstice, I flew back to my home to find Ben Franklin sitting in my living room chatting with the automaton pangolin, Aught.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The papers and type set had been put away. The press had been rearranged to clear room for the table, upon which sat a porcelain tea set, a gentle steam rising from the slender neck of the pot.
I inhaled deeply, enjoying the aroma. Ben gave me a wistful smile and poured a cup of Bohea tea while Aught perched on the back of the divan.
"Kat, sorry," said Aught.
"For what, my little bogatyr?" I asked.
The little creature sprung to the other side of the room and placed its paw on the printing press, looking back to me with shame.
"Oh, Aught," I said, "that wasn't your fault. It was foolish of me to leave those papers unorganized. If I’d placed them in a letter and addressed it to Ben, they wouldn't have gotten mixed up. I wasn't thinking clearly in the chaos."
Aught climbed over the couch and nestled its head in my lap.
Birds of Prophecy (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 3) Page 17
