by K L Conger
Finally, Bodgan looked up, and dropped the plate in his hands. He stared at Inga, wide-eyed, for several seconds before coming around the counter to them.
Inga cleared her throat, which hurt, and forced her voice out. It came out in a low, strained whisper. “Sergei hit Anton. In the face.” Bogdan’s eyes remained on Inga. “He’s upset.”
The cook nodded and bent to pick up Anton, who buried his face in Bogdan’s shoulder. Bogdan was a grandfather to everyone. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. The room spun. “I think. It may. Be broken.”
Bogdan nodded, putting a hand at the small of Inga’s back to guide her forward. “Vitaly! Go get Yehvah! Now boy! Run!” A skinny, dark-haired boy of a height with Inga sprinted from the kitchen.
Chapter 2
“ANYTHING YOU COULD tell me about that day would be a blessing,” Taras said.
Standing outside a small servant’s entrance, a dark-haired woman called Liliya gazed up at him from beneath long, dark lashes. She struck him as the kind of woman who had a plain appearance because she’d been a servant all her life. If she'd lived a life of luxury, she would be stunning. Plump and roughly Nikolai’s age, gray streaks peppered her dark hair. It made her look distinguished. Matronly, even. Her nose was crooked, as though it had been broken at some point—common among servants—but it didn’t mar her beauty.
Liliya chewed her bottom lip in thought. “And what makes you think, my Lords, that I would know anything of this?”
Taras shared a look with Nikolai. She sounded nervous, and had every right to.
“It’s complicated, I’m afraid,” Taras said, making his voice as gentle as possible. “An old woman who remembered the incident said you were on duty at the palace when it happened, only she couldn’t remember your name. She said she would ask her daughter. Then she died before she telling us.” Taras left out the fact that the old woman's brutal murder most likely happened because she spoke with him in the first place. “We had to track down her daughter—no easy task, I assure you—” He smiled in what he hoped was a friendly fashion. Liliya didn’t smile back. “And she told us where to find you.”
Lily’s expression didn’t change. If anything, she appeared more worried.
After several seconds of silence, Nikolai stepped forward. He took the fox fur shapka off his head and ran a hand through his white-blond hair. The wrinkles around his eyes softened as his face took on a compassionate look. “Please lady,” he said gently. “You are in no trouble. This is a personal matter for my friend Lord Taras, here.” He motioned to Taras without looking at him.
Liliya glanced up at Nikolai warily. She hadn’t wanted to speak to Taras and Nikolai, and cast terrified looks about like a frightened animal when she realized they were looking for her. A pang of guilt lanced through Taras's chest at frightening the woman so, but he desperately needed the information she had.
“No one need know we spoke with you,” Nikolai said quietly. “We have no reason to tell anyone.”
Another moment passed before Liliya nodded, slowly at first and then more quickly. Taras marveled. Nikolai possessed a power of persuasion he admired, an easy compassion that made people trust him.
Liliya addressed Taras when she spoke. “I can see, my Lord, that you crave answers. I do not think I can give them. I remember the incident you speak of—your mother. I was on duty in the palace when it happened, but did not see the injury myself. An old woman came upon the accident and hurried to the palace for aid. She took some men to your mother's location. The men brought her back. I ministered to her condition when she arrived. By then, it was too late to save her.”
Taras nodded, suppressing a sigh. Liliya appeared to be another dead end. “This old woman, do you know who she was?”
Liliya hesitated. “I...do, my lord, but I don’t think you will get any more information from her than you’ve gotten from me.”
“Let us worry about that,” Nikolai said.
Liliya’s eyes flew open wide and she ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where to find her.”
She said it so quickly, the lie was obvious. She must have imagined some threat in Nikolai’s statement. Nikolai opened his mouth to speak again. Taras put a hand on his friend’s arm and stepped forward himself, taking Liliya’s hand. Her gaze jerked up to his face, eyes wide with shock. Boyars did not often take the hands of serving women.
“Please,” he said quietly, looking her straight in the eye. “This is very important to me. This woman, we won’t cause her any trouble. You have my word.”
Liliya swallowed, looking down at where he held her hand. “All she’s had is trouble, my lord. All her life.”
“What do you mean?”
Liliya glanced nervously from side to side, then jerked her head toward the servant's entrance, silently bidding them to come with her. Taras released her hand and she led them into the estate. Narrow corridors—obviously used by the estate’s servants—led to a tiny room with only a curtain for a door. A supply closet of some kind. Wooden shelves brimming with various materials Taras couldn’t identify lined the walls. Not a free cranny was visible anywhere. He, Nikolai and Liliya barely fit inside, practically toe to toe with one another.
Taras wore a shapka made of wolf hide, with flaps that covered his ears and neck, brushing his shoulders and the collar of his coat. He pulled it off, now, in the warmth of the indoors.
Once they all shuffled in, Liliya closed the curtain and dropped her voice. She studied her hands for several moments. Taras didn’t push her, instead letting her gather her thoughts before speaking.
“My lord,” she finally ventured. “What I wish to say is something that is not spoken of. Especially not by women of my station to nobles, like yourselves.”
Taras opened his mouth to answer, but Nikolai spoke first. “Then why tell us?” Nikolai asked with clear suspicion.
Liliya's head came up, looking at Taras, rather than Nikolai. “My mother used to say a person’s eyes can tell you everything important about them. Words can lie. The eyes show everything, from honesty to duplicity, if you can learn how to recognize it. I’ve never met a noble like you, my Lord. Someone of your station who’s taken my hands and looked into my eyes. I find you to be honest. If I err, God help me, but I don’t believe I do.”
Taras locked eyes with Liliya as she spoke, and didn’t break the gaze when she’d finished. He nodded. “Go on, then.”
Liliya studied the ground briefly again, taking a deep breath.
“You believe your mother was murdered.” It wasn’t a question, and he didn’t answer. Liliya raised her eyes to his. “I can tell you you're right. I’m sure of it.”
Nikolai’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline, a reaction Taras mirrored. No one had said anything of that nature to him before. He opened his mouth. Liliya threw up a hand to forestall him.
“My lord, it’s not something I can prove.”
“I don’t need you to prove it,” Taras said, his voice urgent. “I need to know what happened. For my own peace of mind.”
She smiled softly, sadly. Something he couldn't identify entered her eyes. Compassion, perhaps.
“How do you know she was murdered?” Taras pressed.
“When the old woman came, saying she’d come upon an overturned sledge, something in my gut clenched down tight. Something...felt so wrong about it. When they brought your mother back to the palace...I don’t know. I thought serdechniki were on the loose. Or something devil-sent that caused her accident. I had no evidence, but the feeling never left me.
Taras nodded. Serdechniki. Evil spirits that supposedly flew about causing mischief. A superstition held by many Russians. Taras didn't believe in the spirits himself. He did believe in evil, though, and the traces it left behind. He thought that was Liliya's point. She’d sensed something evil that day. Taras felt it himself, though as a child he'd been unable to define it. Surely his father sensed it as well. Liliya
's information was less than he’d hoped for, but he found relief in having someone corroborate his feeling. “And the old woman?”
“If she hadn’t found your mother...it snowed that morning. She might have been buried, and no one would have found any trace of her until spring. By then she would have been a frozen skeleton.”
Taras frowned, considering the notion. How much worse would his childhood have been if his mother had simply disappeared without a trace, without leaving him any idea of what happened to her? He'd left Russia the next day. He shuddered, feeling the cold of that winter so long ago, despite the current season.
“Perhaps the killer intended that.” Nikolai’s voice intruded into Taras’s memories. “Maybe he hoped she wouldn’t be found for many months.”
“Perhaps,” Liliya nodded. “She died anyway, so it didn’t matter. In truth, my lord, I can’t be certain the old woman is still alive. She was frail even then. I’m surprised she came to your mother’s aid at all.”
Taras frowned. “Why wouldn’t she?”
“I knew her, my lord, as a young woman. Or rather, I knew of her. She was a young woman when I was a child. I remember seeing her around town and the estate from time to time. She had a pretty face and never lacked for male suitors. She was...ill-used, my lord.”
“In what way?” Taras asked, though he already suspected the answer.
Spots of color bloomed in Liliya’s leathery cheeks and she studied her hands again. “By...by men, if you’ll forgive me, my lord. They used her up in...horrible ways.”
Images of Sergei snarling flashed through Taras’s head. “I understand, Lilia,” he said gently. “Please go on.”
Liliya nodded, not lifting her eyes. “She became a hermit, living out in the wilderness a few miles from town on her own. No one ever saw her. That she came to the aid of a noble is surprising. She hated nobles. Though she had a good heart, her fear generally overcame her compassion.”
“Why did she approach you this time? What made her less afraid?” Nikolai asked.
Liliya hesitated a moment before answering. “I am...uncertain, my lord. I asked myself that at the time, but found no answers. I won’t say she trusted me. She didn’t trust anyone. Perhaps it was because she knew me? Remembered me from years before, and found it a better option than approaching a stranger.”
“What did she say, when she came?” Taras asked.
“Little, my lord. She told me a noble woman had a terrible accident and lay dying in the snow. She told me where to send the soldiers to help her. Then she left. Despite whatever helped her overcome her fear and come tell me, she still didn’t want to be here. She relayed the message with her head down, then disappeared. I never saw her again.”
“No one thought to question her further?” Nikolia asked.
Liliya shrugged. “Of course, my lord, but no one could find her. I had an idea of the general area she could be found in, but not where her home actually stood. I didn’t believe her to have evil intentions, my lord. I didn’t want her questioned and made to be afraid, if you’ll forgive me, so I kept silent.”
“Why would she be made to be afraid?” Taras asked.
Liliya hesitated again, swallowing. “Some whispered that she may have caused the accident, my lord. But,” she added quickly, “I don’t think it's true. She was old and frail and...even if she got in the way, the chances of something of this nature happening accidental—” She clamped her mouth shut, as though she’d said too much.
Taras finished her sentence mentally. “You don’t believe the sledge could have flipped by accident,” he said quietly.
Liliya wrung her hands. “Oh, who’s to say, my lord? Could? It was winter, after all. Things happen. But...most boyars are quite skilled at driving sledges. They do it all the time. The paths around Moscow are well-travelled, so they are kept cleared. It’s not as though a boulder would suddenly be in her path, if you’ll forgive me.”
Frowning, Taras turned at Nikolai. “Was the cause of the accident ever determined?”
“No,” Nikolai shook his head. “Plenty of animal tracks covered the stretch of woods. It was believed one of them may have run in front of the horses and spooked them.”
Taras arched an eyebrow at Liliya. She nodded. “It’s rare, my lord, but I have heard of people being thrown out of sledges in such cases...”
"Yet you believe there was more to it?” Taras prodded.
Liliya swallowed yet again before plowing on. “After she was thrown, the horses, pulling the empty sledge, circled around in a narrow stretch of path and ran straight over her.” She dropped her eyes, as well as her voice. “I’ve never seen a team of horses act like that, my lord. Especially those trained to pull the boyars’ sledges.”
Taras stayed silent a few minutes, absorbing all he’d learned. He’d never thought of it like that before. It changed nothing, but the evidence for maliciousness had been there the entire time. Surely those around his mother when she died saw it. Yet nothing was done. No questions were asked—not enough of them, at least. For the thousandth time, Taras wondered why.
“Forgive me, my lords, if I’ve over-stepped.” Her voice trembled, her gaze lowered.
Taras already stood as close to the cowering woman as possible without treading on her toes. He leaned down and took her hands again. “Not at all, Liliya. I am most grateful for your thoughts. What was this old woman’s name?”
“Darya. As I said, my lord, I can’t be sure she still lives. If you wish to look for her, ask around town. If she is still alive, she can’t be living alone at her age.”
“Thank you, Liliya. You’ve been most helpful.” Taras glanced at Nikolai to see if the older man had more questions. A subtle shake of Nikolai’s head gave Taras his answer. “We’ll leave you to your work,” he told Liliya, then turned to go, peeking out of the curtain to be sure no one watched the three of them. The corridor stood empty and silent.
“One more thing, my lord?”
Taras turned back.
“Darya had a daughter. Born to her when she claimed thirty winters. Even if the old woman is dead, the daughter would be younger than I. She may yet live. Alas, my lord. I don’t know where to find her. Do you know the place, where your mother’s sledge overturned?”
Taras frowned. Since arriving in Russia, he’d never thought to visit the scene of his mother’s accident. What would be the point? Years had passed. The spot would be overgrown. Unrecognizable. Besides, Taras had his mother's grave to visit—where her body lay. He’d never felt any need to visit anywhere else.
He nodded. “I think I can find it. I know the general region.”
“The old woman kept a small cottage less than a mile from there. I don’t know in which direction. She'd wandered out, maybe heading toward town for supplies, when she found your mother. Again, I don’t know what she saw. Perhaps nothing.”
“But perhaps something,” Taras nodded.
Liliya studied the ground. “I am sorry I cannot tell you anything more absolute, my lord.”
Taras shook his head. “You’ve given me more than anyone else I’ve talked to, Liliya. Thank you.”
“What do you think?” Nikolai asked, when they'd reached their horses.
Taras took Jasper's reins in hand. “If this woman did see something—if she can identify my mother’s murderer—she might have confided it to her daughter.” The wind tousled Taras’s white-blond hair and he pushed it back from his face. It nearly reached the collar of his coat now. He jammed the shapka back into place on his head, as much to keep his hair in place as to protect his ears from the cold.
Nikolai nodded as they mounted. “I need to send couriers to some of my contacts in this area. They may know more of this Darya woman. Or her daughter.” He threw a sidelong glance at Taras. “And I think you made a favorable impression.”
“What do you mean?”
“While you checked the hallway for listeners, I watched Liliya’s face. She wasn’t going to tell us about the daughte
r. She wants to protect both these women for some reason. Probably out of respect. Or pity. After you showed her such kindness, she felt guilty not telling you the rest. I saw it. She probably wouldn’t have volunteered that last bit to most lords.”
Taras nodded, not sure how to answer. “Do you need to talk with these contacts today? Will it take long?”
Nikolai glanced at Taras as they walked their horses through the estate’s main gate. “In a hurry to get back?”
Taras shrugged. “We’ve been gone for days, already. I don’t like being away so long.”
Nikolai gave Taras an amused, knowing smile.
“What?” Taras asked.
“You can’t seem to stay away from the palace since Kazan.”
Taras rolled his eyes, though his cheeks heated. Nikolai knew entirely too much of his and Inga’s relationship. “Yes, Inga’s at the palace. I’m not, but Sergei is.”
The smug look slid off Nikolai’s face. He knew about Sergei’s obsession with Inga, and Taras told him of Sergei’s savagery at Kazan. “I don’t like to meet my contacts in public,” Nikolai said. “Better to send them a courier and let them come to me. We can head back.”
Taras nodded. Once they passed the perimeter of the estate, he heeled jasper into a lope, eager to be back inside the Kremlin wall.
Chapter 3
THE RIDE BACK TO THE Terem Palace would take well over a day, so Taras and Nikolai rode until full dark, then bought rooms at a local inn. They might have travelled through the night, except a cold drizzle began, blocking out the sunset, and neither of them wanted to take ill or risk the horses. They trotted their horses through the gates of the Kremlin the following afternoon under cover of dark clouds, their cloaks whipping back and forth in the cold wind. Taras guided Jasper toward the stables, eager to see Inga and stomach growling because they hadn’t bothered to stop for lunch.
The grounds sprawled across miles, populated with lavish structures, including three large cathedrals and several small ones. The palace, of course, dominated the landscape. As big as any structure Taras had ever come across, it stretched along across the Kremlin, full of windows with a cathedral on either end. The stables were a ten-minute walk behind it, so horse smell never entered the royal chambers.
