Nevertell

by Katharine Orton

  When she opened her eyes, the clouds had turned to a thin mist and then curled away behind them, Lina’s pale breath riding out to meet the clear sky. They were lower to the ground now, and a sprawl of lights — yellow, orange, pale green — glowed against the brightening sunrise. Lina gasped. The lights could have been a field of spring flowers. That was the feeling they gave her.

  Lina and the others sank into the city lights, down past high-rise buildings and houses, tram rails and street lamps, until their feet touched down on a road peppered with fresh snow.

  In front of them stood a building the size of a palace, painted turquoise and white. It was the one she’d seen in her vision. Vast pillars stood on either side of an enormous central window, arched at the top, with a pale orange glow coming from inside. Across the top, written in Russian, large letters that stuck up like placards spelled the name of the town.

  When Lina turned to thank her shadow friend, she could no longer see her there.

  Whoa. I mean, let me just . . .” Bogdan sat down in the middle of the road and rocked a little, with his eyes bulging and his jaw slack. Lina thought he might be sick. She felt weird too. Raging hot and cold — all at once. Maybe she needed to worry about being sick herself.

  She tucked the scrap of cape into her pocket, sank onto the pavement, and sprawled out, stomach down. With her head resting against her arms, she breathed deeply. She breathed in the coldness of the snow-dusted road.

  “Lina,” said Bogdan. “That was amazing. Terrifying but amazing. I’ve never seen the world like that before. Your magical abilities are unbelievable. Just imagine, you might be as powerful as Svetlana one day! It’s no wonder she keeps on after us.”

  Lina lifted her head to look at him. He seemed to be staring at something far away, his eyes flickering with the kind of fire they got whenever he talked about ships or airplanes or his father’s work. “When we were flying, the world looked just like a map, Lina. But not just any map. The best I’ve ever seen. And it was real. Imagine how quickly we’ll get to Moscow if you can do that!”

  Lina took a huge breath and let it out slowly, her mouth in a little “ooh” shape. “I can’t do that again, Bogey,” she said. “It’s too dangerous. I lost control. I knew I should take us down to that first town, just like you said, but I really wanted to keep going — all the way to Moscow. It seems like it was too much, though. Because I couldn’t see Moscow clearly, I couldn’t take us there. And, Bogey, the other worlds were close — but especially that ‘nothing’ world. It’s hard to explain, but I’m sure it tried to catch us. I’m sure, if we’d ended up there, the nothing world wouldn’t have let us leave. We’d have been lost — forever.”

  Bogdan shuddered. Maybe, like Lina, he was remembering the terror he’d felt when they were lost in the mist that surrounded Svetlana’s tower.

  “We’ve got Natalya to thank for our lives,” Lina said.

  Bogdan climbed to his feet and stretched his arms to the sky. “Thank you, Natalya! Wherever you are!”

  “Nevertell,” came the familiar whisper next to them.

  Lina smiled. She didn’t know if it was the half-light of sunrise, or because she’d seen Natalya in her true form during their journey, but she could see her outline a lot better now. She was sure of it.

  “If it helps, I think you can do it.” Bogdan’s eyes twinkled. “Get us to Moscow with the cape, I mean. You sure you don’t want to try? Compared to getting the train, it would be much faster.”

  “I wish I could,” said Lina. Every time she thought of the way the mists of the nothing world had surged after them — chased them — she felt sick.

  The journey had also done something to her. The ground didn’t feel solid anymore, but as if it kept on melting and reforming beneath her. It was happening to her body too. It felt like small creatures kept wriggling under her skin. She could barely think straight with that going on or focus on one thing for more than a few seconds.

  Bogdan frowned. “What if we take it in small jumps, a bit at a time?”

  If Lina thought about the scrap of cape hard enough, she could feel the coolness of it seeping through her pocket. Spreading. She shook her head quickly. “I nearly got us killed. If it hadn’t been for Natalya, the nothing world would’ve closed in on us, and we’d never have gotten out.”

  Bogdan’s shoulders sagged. She hated to see him so disappointed.

  But she knew she could never control the cloak. In her heart, she wanted two things, neither of which she could let go of: Moscow and her mother. But both were too far away. Not to mention in opposite directions. She couldn’t guide them to either. The nothing world would claim them first.

  Lina heaved herself up slowly, but the ground shifted under her again, seeming to open up like a chasm. She stumbled into Bogdan.

  “Lina, you OK? Lina, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize . . .” He looked so concerned when he frowned that it made Lina laugh — but that started off another violent wobble.

  She gripped his collar to pull herself up. “Train?” she managed.

  Bogdan nodded. “Train.”

  Bogdan ran off ahead. He must’ve been feeling better. He paced up and down with his back to her, studying the giant turquoise palace, and Lina imagined she could see his brain fizzing and popping with excitement as he surveyed the building.

  She loved seeing him so full of energy. And he clearly felt at home in this kind of place. Now that she’d recovered somewhat from the journey, Lina couldn’t stop looking around her in fascination. It was all so vast: the enormous buildings, the stretching roads, the wide, deserted sidewalks. Everything. She could barely believe the world was big enough to contain it.

  Lina took a few steps to test her balance — slowly, so she didn’t sway and fall with dizziness — and took the scrap of cape out of her pocket to study it.

  She hadn’t even been aware of holding it while they were up in the sky. What if she’d let it go? Would they have been lost among the other worlds, with no way back? Would they have dropped to the ground like stones? Best not to think about all that now. She stuffed the scrap back into her pocket.

  Her fingertips grazed something cold and gritty in there. She remembered the whisper of the stars. The vow she’d made when they were riding with Tuyaara — that she would find her grandmother so she could save her mother. How was it possible that it hadn’t melted while they stayed in Babushka’s cabin?

  “Know what this is?” Bogdan said when she arrived beside him, opening his palms out toward the turquoise palace. He sounded smug.

  “No. Never seen anything like it before, have I? They don’t build labor camps like this, Bogey.”

  Bogdan winced. “Sorry,” he said. “But I do know. It’s the train station.”

  A train station. Who knew getting the train was such a grand thing to do that it required a palace? Did they all look like this? Lina zinged with excitement at the thought of going inside — then had to rest her hands on her knees to steady herself again.

  “Thing is,” said Bogdan, “it won’t be open to the public yet. It’s too early. And we’ll need a ticket — or we’ll get caught.”

  Lina chewed her lip. “Svetlana could turn up at any moment. We’ll have to be careful she doesn’t find us first. Better lay low for a bit while we work out what to do.”

  “Agreed,” said Bogdan.

  They found a doorway to shelter in while Lina rested, and from where they could also keep an eye on the station. First came people in uniforms with keys to let themselves in through side doors. Then the commuters arrived.

  A steady stream of people headed into the station — some walking, a few running. Often they carried cases and wore smart, long coats and hats. Lina had seen this many people before, but not so well-dressed, and never without armed guards as chaperones. She gazed at them all in their gorgeous clean clothes, with their proud, straight backs, milling around in what looked like chaos — as if they’d never once been ordered to do anything by a man with a gun.


  They were mostly adults — or sometimes an adult and a small child. So far, Lina couldn’t see any way of sneaking in. She bit her lip and paced in the confines of their doorway.

  An hour went by. And another. Despair played in Bogdan’s eyes and stuck in Lina’s throat. How would they get on board a train?

  A train must have arrived because a crowd of people came flooding out of the station and kept on coming. Out came a school group. And then another. And another.

  “I remember,” Bogdan said, “when we visited Novosibirsk once — Mama and Papa and me — there were loads of schoolkids on the train heading here too. Mama told me every school goes to visit at some point. The Monument to the Heroes of the Revolution is built here. It’s where some of the people who died overthrowing the czars are buried. Plus, there’s a massive statue of Lenin somewhere around here, as well.”

  Lina grabbed Bogdan by the arm. “I’ve got it, Bogey,” she said. “We’ll tag along with a school group. Maybe that way . . .”

  “We can sneak on board the train,” finished Bogdan. “To Moscow. Come on, Lina. If we listen in, we might be able to find out where some of them have come from.”

  Bogdan sidled up to a group of schoolchildren wearing black and white, while Lina stalked a group in navy-blue button-down coats and jackets. Their clothes, the way they had their hair — they reminded Lina of how Natalya had looked.

  She was just a schoolgirl, thought Lina, a child, when Svetlana took her. Lina had been wondering if there was a way to reverse what had been done to her — the same thing that was happening to Gleb and the others. But once the transition was complete and their bodies were gone? Well. She guessed there was no coming back from that.

  The chatter of the group overwhelmed Lina. They all seemed to be talking at once: about what food they were going to have for lunch, gossip from the train, rumors of the hard justice of one particular teacher. She didn’t hear any of them mention Moscow, though.

  Bogdan shrugged and pointed at his group. From Novosibirsk, he mouthed.

  Lina turned back to her group and bumped into something round and squishy. It turned out to be one of the group leaders.

  “Pardon me,” said Lina, looking down to hide her face and feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. But before she scuttled away, she caught sight of the papers in his hands. Group train tickets — and printed on them clearly was: MOSCOW.

  Lina darted off in search of Bogdan. Bogdan grinned when she told him. “Now we follow — from a distance. It’s the best spy way. Espionage. We stay out of sight until the very last minute.”

  “One teacher’s already seen me,” said Lina, shrinking into her furs. “If he spots me hanging around again, he might tell someone. Maybe the secret police.”

  “Don’t worry, Lina,” said Bogdan. He winked at her and raised one corner of his mouth in his usual lopsided smile. “Just follow my lead.”

  “You? What do you know about espionage?”

  “Kept those maps a secret all the time I was at the camp, didn’t I?”

  Lina had to give him that one.

  They followed the group around the town until dusk. Lina started to panic that perhaps the school had booked lodgings for the night, and they weren’t getting the train back today at all. Svetlana could catch up with them any second. She’d found them at Tuyaara’s uncle’s cabin, and she’d find them again. Lina was impatient. The sooner they got on that train, the better.

  She grew tired, and her stomach cramped with hunger. They hadn’t eaten or drunk anything all day, and her head ached and her skin still crawled from the experience with the cape. Then again, she was starting to feel better. Would it really hurt to use the cape once more — even just to get onto the train?

  No. She couldn’t trust herself. Just getting them onto the train could so easily become “just” taking them all the way to Moscow — which is what she truly wanted, deep down. That, and to save her mother. What if she took them back to the camp by mistake and landed them both in worse trouble? Getting shot wouldn’t help anybody.

  Bogdan grabbed her arm. “We’re heading back to the square — look, we’ve been down this road before. Won’t be long now, Lina.”

  Lina was so tired she could’ve rested her head on his shoulder and slept standing up. But she slapped her own cheeks and vowed to wake up.

  “This is it,” said Bogdan as the school group neared the station doors. They walked arm in arm. Nothing would separate them. “Now!” he cried. They darted through the crowds and tagged onto the end of the group.

  It seemed to take forever to pass the men in hats at the doors of the station. Lina walked right under the nose of one. He watched her. She felt it. She and Bogdan looked so different from the other children, after all. Their clothes. Their hair. Everything. The station guard was probably still watching as they neared the platform. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck.

  Only when she dared to glance behind her did she see that he was busy, speaking with one of his colleagues. No one seemed to have noticed them. Not yet.

  The line of children snaked along in pairs. Lina stared at the train in front of them — a huge green metal beast with a gold star stuck on its nose. She could hardly take it all in — she’d never seen anything like it.

  “Now to get on board,” said Bogdan.

  A girl just in front turned and looked Bogdan up and down — and then Lina. She finally turned back and whispered something to her partner.

  The teachers stood by the train door, showing a guard in a smart uniform their group ticket. Lina felt sick with nerves. The girl in front had noticed them. She might tell someone. One of the group leaders might spot them. The guard by the train door might grab them.

  So many things could go wrong.

  The guard watched the children getting on board for a while before turning her attention to some of the other passengers. The teachers started chatting among themselves. The girl in front of them looked at Lina again — but this time she gave a half smile.

  Relief flooded Lina. The girl wasn’t going to tell. They were going to make it. They crossed the large gap between the platform and the train into a new world of warmth and bustling bodies, with suitcases and the smell of stale air and mint.

  They’d done it. They were on the train to Moscow.

  Lina and Bogdan split from the group of schoolchildren as soon as they heard attendance being called. They edged away from the school’s carriage and into the cramped walkway, working their way down the train until they found an empty compartment. It was snug, with a large window and two seats on either side that converted into four beds, top and bottom.

  “What do you think?” Bogdan whispered. “Try to get some sleep in here?”

  “We’ll have to take turns sleeping,” said Lina, “in case they come around checking tickets.” If they got caught, they’d be handed over to the authorities at the next station.

  Or worse.

  “Nevertell.”

  They both turned around at the same time. For a second, Lina saw the silhouette of a young girl flickering against the walkway windows. She understood and smiled. “It’s OK,” she said. “I think our friend is going to keep watch.”

  Nevertheless, they stayed awake into the night, trying to find out more about their shadow friend. It turned out she really couldn’t say anything more than “Nevertell.” But when Bogdan found out she could make their compartment’s light flicker, just as she had the candlelight in Babushka’s house, he thought up some more questions for her.

  Did she have brothers or sisters? No.

  Had she always lived in Moscow? Yes.

  Any pets? No.

  Every time they found out something new about their friend, they felt closer to her. But there was something Lina wanted to know more than anything. She couldn’t stop thinking about the memory Natalya had shown her in Babushka’s hut. What had Natalya seen out of the window that day?

  Lina and Bogdan talked in low mumbles about how the
y could find out. It would take a lot of yes-and-no questions to even start to get a clear picture. Perhaps if Lina could “connect” with Natalya’s memories again, she could see more?

  “Natalya, what do you think?” Lina asked. “Can you show me another memory somehow? If we both try together?” A pause — then a wavering yes. Perhaps Natalya wasn’t sure if she could.

  Even so, they’d give it a try. Lina held out a hand, and Bogdan held her other one. Maybe with all three of them focusing they would stand more of a chance. It couldn’t hurt, anyway. Almost immediately, Lina’s outstretched hand felt strange. A little numb — as if pushing against something. She wiggled her fingers. They felt slow and heavy. Natalya was trying to touch her.

  Lina slowly let out her breath and relaxed her shoulders. She felt a little dizzy, as though she were drifting. The tingling feeling built in her chest and traveled down her arm.

  The carriage lights went out. Small fingers grasped her hand. Natalya!

  Bogdan gasped. “Look, Lina.” The carriage window had previously shown nothing but nighttime darkness. Now daylight shone, and a city square, grass, and a fountain were reflected in the glass. The weather looked balmy. People strolled in the sun. Some were lying on the grass. At the center of it all, next to the fountain, a woman with long dark hair paced back and forth. Lina recognized Svetlana immediately. Despite the warmth of the sun, this Svetlana hugged herself as though she were freezing.

  Svetlana — or the memory of her — stopped pacing next to a budding rose. With her shoulders hunched and her bedraggled hair hanging down, she looked like someone ready to scream. But instead, she reached out a hand as fast as a viper and gripped the rosebush as if she wanted to strangle it.

  The roses on the bush all blossomed in seconds — great red petals peeling back as lips might over teeth, revealing more and more petals inside. The plant stretched out its branches. New leaves popped open like little green eyes. Bloodred petals began to fall around its base. They darkened and shriveled. The way they curled into themselves, so quickly, made them look like small creatures in pain. Now just the centers of the flowers remained, rotten-looking, and the plant bowed into the ground. The leaves folded and fell away until the whole thing crumbled back into earth.