Bogdan held Lina’s hand in both of his and muttered close to her ear. “Keep your wits, Lina. It could all still be a lie. She might have — I dunno — read our minds or something.” But even he didn’t sound that convinced.
On the other side of her, she heard: “Nevertell . . .”
The peach pit was doing something very strange: sending out strong, regular, sharp pulses of heat, in a way it never had before.
“Why didn’t you come, then?” Lina snapped. “If it’s true, and you’re my grandmother. With your power, you could’ve rescued us. You could even have saved their lives! Grandfather, and —” She broke off at the sight of Svetlana. Her forehead had furrowed and she stared into an apparent void just ahead of her. She barely seemed to breathe.
The earth creaked, and fine cracks appeared on the snow’s surface, radiating out from Svetlana. Much deeper cracks split the earth wide open. Lina and Bogdan wobbled on their feet as a chasm opened between them and Svetlana.
“What’s happening?” Bogdan squeezed Lina’s hand.
Chunks of snow tumbled down into the opening at their feet, scraping against the sides just like frantic, clawing fingers. Lina held her breath. The ice of the frozen river at their backs splintered and groaned.
As suddenly as it had begun, the ground grew still. Svetlana clenched her fists and scowled at her knuckles, which were bluish white. Her voice came out as a whisper. “So it’s true. After all this, he is already gone.” She looked up into Lina’s eyes. “And Valentin? Him too?”
Lina shifted under Svetlana’s gaze and didn’t answer. She didn’t know how to tell her that her son was dead.
“I see,” came Svetlana’s soft voice.
“Svetlana?” Lina tried to look into her eyes but found them black and fixed ahead of her again. “Svetlana.” She reached carefully across the chasm for Svetlana’s hand, to try to bring her around. She hesitated, then put her hand over Svetlana’s and felt an involuntary pulse of warmth flow out from her palms.
Svetlana snatched her hand away. Lina jumped and pulled her own hand back, as if stung. Svetlana glared at her. “You accuse me of doing nothing, and yet I have been searching! All these years, I’ve searched. But there are things you do not know, and we have no time to discuss them.” Svetlana stepped neatly across the deep split in the earth and marched past them to the frozen river’s edge.
“Come here.” She beckoned them over. Lina and Bogdan glanced at each other and then followed carefully down the slope, testing the ground to make sure it was safe.
“Do you remember what you heard in the water mirror at my hut?” As she spoke, Svetlana touched the ice of the river. It melted, enough to create a shallow, circular pool.
Lina choked back tears, remembering. “Mamochka.”
Svetlana squinted down at the pool she’d made. “What the water mirror reveals is spirits. Those of people, animals — even words. But”— she looked up at Lina —“it doesn’t always bring us the spirits of the dead. As I told you, sometimes, as with your fellow escapees, it will also show those who are alive but close to death.”
As Svetlana stirred the water, the surface began to wobble and writhe. Reflections bounced off in bright flashes. “Help me, Lina,” said Svetlana. “We must check on Katya. Think about your mother. I cannot summon her image myself; she is hidden from me by magic. But you can. You have clearly inherited some of my magic — both warm and cold.”
Lina could hardly believe what she’d heard. Svetlana was her grandmother. It didn’t seem possible. Lina had so many questions about her mother, her grandfather, and about her abilities, not to mention Natalya and the other shadows — and why Svetlana had created them. But she couldn’t think about that now. It wasn’t the right time. She took a deep breath and pictured her mother instantly. The water writhed and wobbled even more violently. She squinted at it, forcing herself to look. What would she see? Even if her mother was alive, she was still close to death. The thought squeezed at Lina’s throat so she could hardly breathe.
The movement stopped. In a second, the water’s surface became completely flat, and this time the figure of a seated woman rose out of it, as before. She looked like she was leaning against something — a wall, perhaps.
As Lina watched, an even darker shape rose out of the murky surface of the water but didn’t fully form. It sank back down like a wave. They heard shuffling and more coughing. Then: “Will you shut up in there, Katya? Your constant hacking is driving me mad.” It was a man’s voice, sounding exasperated. Lina recognized it as one of the guards’: Danill.
“Why don’t you try being in here, Danill?” retorted Lina’s mother, once she’d finished coughing. “It’s the air. It’s too damp. How long is Zima going to keep me in here?”
The guard sounded gentler when he next spoke. Lina thought Danill had always had a soft spot for her mother. “You know what Zima’s like, Katya. He’s angry about losing Lina. And about his greenhouse . . . He’s stringing it out, waiting for the officers to arrive. The ones he planned that ridiculous annual banquet for. He wants to make an example of you.” Danill sounded very sorry for her.
The little figure in front of them coughed again, then leaned over and spat. “And when will that be?” she said angrily.
“Oh, Katya, don’t grill me! Soon. Actually . . . I expect it will be the day after tomorrow, at first light. You know”— Danill lowered his voice before he carried on —“all you have to do is speak with him. Say sorry. You’re the only person he’d ever show mercy to.”
“Never,” came Katya’s instant reply.
Lina’s fear for her mother overwhelmed her, and the figure fell back into its vessel. The water rippled and went still. Lina and Bogdan were speechless. There was only one place her mother could be, and that was in the karker. It was a dank underground cell where prisoners were put for punishment. The rank, stifling air was already making her mother weaker — Lina could tell by her voice and her terrible cough. Zima had been true to his word, all right. And what would happen when the officers arrived? What would Commandant Zima do?
Lina fought back tears.
“Can you do it?” she asked, fixing her eyes on Svetlana. “Can you get us back there in time to save her?” Lina didn’t trust Svetlana yet. But if they were going to stand a chance of saving her mother, she’d have to try. Besides, Svetlana’s clenched jaw and fixed eyes betrayed her very great concern. Lina knew they wanted the same thing: to save Katya.
Svetlana’s bedraggled hair fell across her face as she seemed to contemplate the enormous task ahead. She narrowed her eyes. “I have never traveled such a great distance in one day, nor with anyone but myself to consider. But I will do anything for my daughter.”
“Good.” Lina could feel her own heart, thudding hard, sending fire through her body. She nodded and turned to Bogdan. “And, while we’re at it, let’s shut down the camp, once and for all. What do you reckon, Bogey?”
A beam spread across Bogdan’s face. He had fear in his eyes, though. Lina recognized it as the same fear that was inside her too. But fear wouldn’t stop them. Not now.
“What’s our plan?” asked Bogdan. “If we’re saving everyone and not only your mama, Lina, we need one. It’s not like we can just sneak in there. Or can we?” he said, glancing at Svetlana.
Svetlana shook her head. “I cannot use the cape to set foot inside the camp. For reasons Lina will, in part, understand.”
Svetlana looked at Lina as she said this, and Lina remembered how she’d nearly lost them in the nothing world, all because she couldn’t clearly picture Moscow.
Of course. Svetlana had never been to the camp. So she couldn’t picture it.
The ghost of a smile played across Svetlana’s lips. “But Lina can.”
“Can I?”
“As soon as we’re close enough, Lina, you can steal silently inside, beneath the cape. If it was just your mother who needed rescuing, you could spirit her away under the cloak with no one knowing.”
> The thought of using the cape sent a shudder through Lina. Could she do it? Even close up?
“However,” Svetlana went on, “if you do truly wish to liberate the entire prison, then we will need another approach.” She lifted her head and stared at them both, hard. “Bogdan and the shadow child and I will find the men you escaped with and lead them back to the camp, along with twenty or more of my wolves,” she said. “We will bring chaos with us, and with our chaos, the prisoners will have their chance to overpower the guards. I do not believe that these people deserve freedom — but I will do it for you, child, after what I’ve put you through. If this is truly what you want.”
Lina and Bogdan nodded in silent agreement. “No one deserves to live that way,” said Lina to Svetlana. “No one. Perhaps when you see the camp for yourself, Svetlana, you’ll understand.” Then she went on, “So you’ll all cause a scene and help the other prisoners escape while I sneak in and free Mamochka.” Lina looked at Bogdan. “The old ‘distract and attack’ technique.”
Bogdan nodded and grinned his one-sided grin. “Sounds good to me.”
“Nevertell,” said Natalya in agreement.
In one swift move, Svetlana was next to them, holding out her hand. It reminded Lina of the night they’d met: their first journey beneath Svetlana’s cape to her frozen tower. Svetlana’s palm, she noticed, which had been badly cut earlier, now looked almost healed. As Lina watched, the last sliver of a scratch knitted itself back together — the dried blood drifting away like dust.
Lina and Bogdan each slipped a hand into one of Svetlana’s. With the other hand, she flicked the cape, tattered at the corner where Lina had torn a piece off, and swirled it around them as it grew. Instead of blackness, they entered a rich royal blue, just like the color of the horizon on the night Lina had taken them on a bumpy ride to Novosibirsk. And, just like on that night, Natalya with her pigtails and her big, serious eyes was also holding on to her, tightly.
Lina breathed in the blue and felt hopeful and sad all at once. She was weightless. Lifted. The blue beneath their feet began to lighten until it was utterly white. A white globe pierced through the remaining blue and grew. Lina realized it was the sun rising.
Her weight settled. The white at her feet grew shadows and crags. Even through her boots, she felt the familiar sting of the cold.
They were standing on a mountaintop, overlooking a range of snowy peaks. Above them, and despite the cold, the sun blazed.
“We are in what humans call the Ural Mountains,” said Svetlana. “I tracked you through here as you traveled on the train. Except you were far lower down then.”
“You’re not joking,” said Bogdan, wobbling to keep his balance.
Lina laughed. There was a mix of fear and awe in his eyes as he took in the mountains — all laid out below them like a map. Up here, Lina felt exhilarated too, but for different reasons. With her head tilted toward the sun, she drank it in through her skin. It filled her up with energy — with what felt like magic.
A question came to her. “Svetlana, if I’m your granddaughter, does that mean I’ve inherited all your powers?”
“No,” said Svetlana. “You are part human, after all — though how much so, and the extent of your abilities, remains to be seen. You’ve already shown great talent, however. I feel you may surprise even yourself. My children never showed any sign of being anything but human — though Katya has always had an affinity with luck. An arcane skill in itself.”
Lina knitted her brows. “I used to think she was, but it doesn’t seem like she’s been that lucky to me now. Not overall, anyway.”
“It’s not as simple as that — and I remind you, she is part human.” Svetlana looked sideways at Lina with a faint smile. “She does like to gamble. You may have noticed that. Even as a child, she liked dice games.”
Every time Svetlana said something like this, Lina’s heart skipped. She could barely believe it still — but everything pointed to the same fact: Svetlana really was her grandmother.
“What about my uncle?” Lina asked. “What was he like?”
“Valentin? He was gentle and kind. As it should be.”
Lina said no more. She sensed Svetlana didn’t want to speak about the dead yet — but to stay focused on saving the living instead.
“Lina’s good with plants,” chipped in Bogdan. “Great with plants, actually. Go on. Tell her what you told me when we were in her hut.” He gave Lina a forceful nudge.
Svetlana raised an eyebrow. Lina felt herself blush. “I . . . There have been a couple of times when I felt like I could make plants grow. Like you did, with the peaches.” Her cheeks burned, but she went on, “I don’t understand it and I don’t know how to work it exactly, but I do want to learn. Can you teach me?” She blurted out the last part and wished she hadn’t when she saw Svetlana’s look of surprise. A pink flush even came over Svetlana’s pale face. Although Svetlana didn’t look entirely unhappy to be asked.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I can teach you.”
Lina looked away to hide her smile.
“We’ll fly, for now,” said Svetlana. “It will be slower but less exhausting. Slightly. This way we can see where we’re going, and we can use the cape again when we get closer. You’ll need to cling to my back.”
Bogdan stifled a cry as Svetlana became a giant falcon. Staring into those eyes was like looking into the depths of the silver-flecked lake. Lina felt she could be looking at Svetlana’s truest self. Or at least the truest form she’d yet seen.
They clung to her back, around the base of her broad wings, and Svetlana took off into the air. The mountains shrank away, and they could see for hundreds and hundreds of snowy miles. Bogdan screamed. So did Lina — and even Natalya cried out. Whether their screams came from fear or out of pure joy, not even Lina could tell. Far below them, howls echoed out from across the mountaintops and valleys: the invisible spirit wolves’ voices joining a chorus with theirs.
After hours of traveling, Svetlana’s falcon chest heaved, and wrinkled silver-gray eyelids pulled back and forth across her eyes. Lina knew she must be exhausted.
Svetlana could fly incredibly fast. How long she could keep it up for, though, Lina didn’t know. In truth, at that moment, Lina could only worry about the well-being of her mother. She knew she would push Svetlana on, no matter what — and that Svetlana would be doing the same to her.
Yet as time stretched on, all Lina could see were more mountains, more forests, more snow. It hit her just how far they had to travel. Even with Svetlana’s magic, there was every chance they might fail.
Lina kept thinking about her mother, down in that disgusting cell. Her mother, awaiting the arrival of those officers. To make it worse, the memory of Katya from that first water mirror kept coming back to her. The way she’d called out for Lina.
Her fingers went to the scrap of cape, still stuffed in the bottom of her coat pocket. It felt as fluid as water but much, much colder. What if she used it now? Could she make it back to the camp from here?
“Lina.” Bogdan touched her shoulder, making her jump. “If even Svetlana won’t use it from here . . .” Lina knew he was right. She pulled her hand out of her pocket and clutched Svetlana’s feathered back. Losing herself to the nothing world wouldn’t help save her mother — or free the other prisoners in the camp.
As the sun moved through the sky, they came to a place filled with towering flat-topped rocks. But Svetlana didn’t stop. They flew on, the relentless wind wrenching at Lina’s fur hood, freezing the water escaping from her eyes into rivulets of ice across her face. They went on until Lina felt so weak with hunger she could barely grip the giant bird’s feathers.
They plunged into a mist bank. Everything became eerily silent and still. The air Lina breathed felt heavy. Smothering. When the mist cleared, Svetlana’s tower stood there, right at the center of its mirrored lake, gleaming against the rays of a powerful sun. They hadn’t seen the tower in the daylight before.
; Bogdan and Lina shared a frightened glance. Why had Svetlana brought them back here? Had she tricked them?
Svetlana carried them over the top of the tower. Peering around her powerful back, they could see right down into the gaping split through its center. Svetlana pressed her wings flat against her body and dived down into it.
In her terror, Lina found new strength to cling on — hard. They plummeted past every exposed floor. Lina glimpsed the snaking gold staircase, which seemed to wind like a gleaming ribbon alongside them, the translucent walls and corridors flecked with precious metal, the dark-blue curtains with their golden frayed edges, which billowed as they rocketed by.
She felt like she was clinging to a knife as it sliced through the layers of a giant cake.
Svetlana opened her wings. Lina’s stomach lurched. They glided down into the very heart of the tower — a courtyard — and landed softly. It was large, enclosed on all sides by walls, with a small, round pond at the center. The whole thing was an indoor garden — and pristinely kept. Despite the open roof, it felt sheltered. Warm. It had vines, plants, and bushes of every kind. Trees too. Peach trees.
Before Lina could blink, Svetlana was a person again. “We must eat,” she said. “We need all our strength, physical and otherwise, for what is to come.”
Lina could relax. Svetlana had brought them here to feed them, not trap them.
Svetlana went on, “Lina, this is a chance for you to learn. We need nourishment. Will you grow our peaches for us?” She gestured toward the peach tree with an open palm.
“Um.” Lina gritted her teeth at Bogdan. He gave her an excited grin and nodded his encouragement. “Nevertell,” came Natalya’s voice, undoubtedly offering her support as well. Lina smiled weakly. “Suppose it doesn’t hurt to try, eh?”
Nevertell Page 17
