by E. P. Clark
“Until tomorrow,” she said, and went back to fanning herself as I went out the door.
***
When I arrived at back at Sera’s chambers for supper, the food was already laid out, the maids had left, and Vyacheslav Irinovich was nowhere to be found.
“I thought we should talk in private tonight, Valya,” Sera explained. “Sister to sister.”
I wanted to say something flippant, but the look on her face made me change my mind and say instead, very seriously, “Of course, Sera.”
“Whenever anyone else is around, even if it is only Slava, I must always be someone else,” she said. “Empress, first and foremost, but also a wife, a mother…someone who must support and protect others. But with you…even though you are so much younger than me, Valya, I don’t feel as if I have to support and protect you, or even make decisions for you. Perhaps it’s because you’re so wild. But I generally feel as if there’s no point in even trying to make decisions for you, since you’re going to do whatever you’re going to do anyway, and I know I should find it…annoying, or something, but really I find it restful. And you never seem to need my support, either. You probably need my protection, but I’ve never been able to make you accept it. So what I’m trying to say is that I find your company…restful.”
“I’m glad,” I said, not sure how else to respond to that.
“I know we didn’t spend as much time together when we were growing up as we should have,” she went on. “The foolish enmity between our mothers…promise me, Valya, promise me, that our children will not have that same problem. They will grow up together as true sisters and brothers, as we should have.”
“I made them that very same promise, just this afternoon,” I told her.
“Really?” Her face started to flush, and I could tell that tears were not far off. “Oh Valya! I’m so glad! But what prompted it?”
“The tsarinoviches were worried,” I said. “About what would happen to them should Mirochka or I inherit. They were afraid they and Vyacheslav Irinovich would be killed or exiled.”
“Oh! Oh Valya! I had no idea…where do you think they got such dreadful ideas?”
“Probably their history lessons. It’s not as if it hasn’t happened before. But Mirochka and I both promised that that wouldn’t happen. I think they are worried about you, Sera,” I added after a moment. “They know something is wrong with you, even if they don’t know what.”
“Of course they do.” The threatened tears were now standing out in her eyes. “They’re not stupid, and no doubt they can see that I’ve been unwell. And Ruslan is old enough to remember…the last time. He, at least, will figure it out soon enough.”
“You will have to tell them,” I said.
“I know, but…not yet! I don’t want to tell anyone yet!”
“I know,” I said. “But it’s not as if you’ll be able to hide it forever. And many will rejoice for you, Sera.”
“You think so?”
“Of course. For you and for Zem’. In just a few short months, you and Zem’ could have an heir. By the way—how many months, do you know?”
“The healer says probably another five. Which is what,” she pulled herself together, “I wanted to speak with you about, Valya.”
“How so?”
“Let’s…” She made an uncharacteristically nervous motion towards the food laid out on the small table. “While we talk. I’m sure you’re hungry. You always are.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Have you regained your appetite yet?”
“We’ll see,” she said, making a tight motion with her head that meant she was nervous and upset about the subject of our upcoming conversation.
“If it would make you feel better not to eat, or for me not to eat in front of you…”
“No-no, it will do me good to try something, and to see you eat as well. Have some cucumber salad: it’s delightfully cool and refreshing. And here’s a little cold sauerkraut soup, too. They’ve put the dill separately, in this dish over here, to keep it fresh and because…well, they probably know that sometimes I can’t face dill when I’m feeling unwell. But there’s lots, so do take some. And a nice cold bean stew. Here’s some cold plum compote, or some cool kvas if you prefer. You see I ordered everything cold. And a little bread. We have both rye and wheat. I hope you don’t mind that it’s such plain fare. I like this kind of food, you know, even though I know most of my princesses prefer fancier dishes. But I’ve always liked plain fare. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “You know I like plain fare too. And I think it’s noble of you, that you still keep the oath of Darya Krasnoslavovna to do no harm to any living thing, and that you eat as your people do. You don’t have to fuss over me, Sera: whatever has been set out is fine, you know that, and I can serve myself perfectly well.”
“Ah, but you see, I hardly ever get to do the serving,” she said with a hint of one of her better playful smiles. Just a hint, and then it was gone. I had a bad feeling about our discussion tonight. “Indulge me, Valya,” she added.
“Of course. Won’t you take anything other than a piece of white bread?”
“I’ll just try this, and see how it goes down first before I try anything else. I know I need to be building my strength, but…”
“I remember how it was myself. Don’t worry: you have plenty of strength.”
“Do I, Valya?” she asked, and looked up at me, her eyes once again full of unshed tears.
“You have all the strength you need for this,” I told her, with rather more conviction than I actually felt. I couldn’t help but notice the bruises under her eyes, and the way her face was both puffy and thin…Don’t think of it! I ordered myself sharply. She’ll be able to tell what you’re thinking!
“You’ve delivered three healthy children already,” I said instead. “That has to count for something!”
“Thank you, Valya,” she said after a pause. “You’re right, and thank you. But…we must face facts, and that is why I called you here tonight. We have to…we have to talk about what we will do, in the eventuality that I don’t…have a lot of time left. I may…I may only have another five months, Valya, at the most.” Her lips quivered as she said it, but she said it bravely nonetheless.
“Sera.” I took her hand. “None of us know how much time we have left. You may only have another five months, or five days, or five decades, and the same is true for me. Let us not go borrowing trouble if we don’t have to, but you are right: we should discuss our plans for the future, in the case of…various eventualities. For example, what if I step in a puddle of slops tomorrow, slip and fall on my head, and leave Mirochka without a mother? What will happen to her then?”
“I would take her as my own,” said Sera without hesitating. For a moment her whole face glowed at the thought of taking Mirochka as her daughter. I suddenly wondered if I should have offered it years ago. But could I turn Mirochka over to be raised by another woman? No, no I most certainly could not.
“My mother might have something to say about that,” I said instead.
“I’m sure she would, but you must understand, Valya: if…Mirochka became my only heir, I would have no choice but to foster her myself and prepare her for the duties she would be destined to assume. Is destined to assume, in fact. You should leave her here to be fostered with me this winter.”
“What!” I cried.
“I apologize: I hadn’t meant to break that upon you so suddenly, out of nowhere, but you know I’m right, Valya. She should spend at least one year here in Krasnograd as a child, and more as she grows to womanhood. You could stay here with her, of course; indeed, I would welcome your company at least as much as hers.”
“I couldn’t leave Stepnoye for a whole year or more,” I objected.
“Why not? Your parents are still both alive and healthy, and it is their province, not yours. Let them rule it while you and Mirochka stay here in Krasnograd, preparing for your eventual role as its ruler
.”
“My parents…” I said. “Yes, Stepnoye is their province, but I am not sure I could leave it to their rule…”
“I know they are not so…effective as you, Valya, not so decisive, not so…gifted at ruling, but they are unlikely to mess things up that badly, and Stepnoye is just one province. All of Zem’ may need you, Valya, and you will have to put that before Stepnoye, much as you may love your homeland. I know you think of yourself as of the steppe, Valya, and the steppe as your home, but this is your home too. Krasnograd, and the black earth district, and the taiga, and the mountains…all of it is your home, Valya, and all of it is your responsibility, or one day may be.”
“I know,” I said. “I just…let’s take one thing at a time, shall we? Let’s discuss this again in the fall. I haven’t even been here a week yet.”
“Very well: in the fall then. When you come back.”
“Come back from where?” I asked. “I thought you wanted me to stay here in Krasnograd.”
“Oh, I do, Valya, I do, and I think you will have to this winter, what with…one thing and another. But I have been thinking of what you told me about what is happening in the mountains. Someone must go to look into this.”
“Yes?” I said, starting to feel a flicker of hope that something positive would be done about the situation.
“I will call a session of the Princess Council in two days to discuss this, Valya, and I am going to propose that we send a delegation East immediately to investigate the matter, and I am going to propose that you be the delegation’s head. Ride out, with as much speed as possible, to Velikogornoye, find out what you can, decide what must be done about the situation, do it, and come back. Mirochka can stay here and begin her fostership. You’ve left her before, you know,” she added quickly, forestalling the objections I was about to make. “The last time you were here, you left her in your mother’s care for at least two months, and she was only five at the time. She will survive a few more months of your absence, and more importantly, so will you. I know you don’t want to leave her, but someone must head this delegation, and that someone should be you, and you cannot take a girl of eight on this mission, surely you must see that. And you will not be gone that long.”
“Why not?” I asked. “It could take all winter or more to sort something like this out, if we even manage to do it at all.”
“You have five months,” she told me. “Four, to be on the safe side. I want you back…you must be back before I…before I deliver. You will have at the most five months to sort all this out. If…if this is the last deed that I do as Empress, then I want it to be a good deed, done well, and I want it finished and you back at my side at…at the crucial moment.”
“I don’t want to leave you,” I said stupidly. “I don’t want to leave you like this, at a time like this.”
“And I don’t want you to leave me, but you have done your work too well, Valya. You have convinced me that we must stop this vile trade in Zemnian children, and stop it immediately. I…I may not have any more of my own children, Valya, but all those children who have been taken—they are my children too, you know. Or you may not know now, but you may…you may find this out for yourself before the year is out. You have five months.”
“And if the Princess Council doesn’t agree?”
“The Princess Council will agree,” she said, in a tone that suggested the Princess Council would agree if it knew what was good for it, and also if it didn’t.
“Very well. I will…I don’t want to leave you or Mirochka, but you are right: it must be done. I will go.”
“I knew you would,” she said, smiling and looking a little tearful once again. “I knew I could count on you, Valya. Don’t speak of this yet to anyone, not until the Princess Council has given its official approval, but start thinking of whom you would like to bring on the delegation. I want you to leave before the week is out.”
“It shall be done,” I told her, which prompted the tears to flow from her eyes, and she embraced me and said she wished I could stay with her all through this trying time, but even though she had no true gift for it she would try to follow me on my journey with her mind, and she was sure I’d be back before we both knew it, and all would turn out well, and we would have a wonderful winter together in Krasnograd, enjoying the winter festivities and doting on her children.
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said.
Chapter Fourteen
The next day dawned even hotter than before. Only, I thought as I lay in the bright light of what really was still night, four more days until Midsummer, which was when the real heat began. Which was when I would be riding back across the steppe and into the mountains on my mission to find out who was behind the trade in Zemnian children, and, the gods willing, put a stop to it, preferably in a very permanent fashion. I tried to decide which was worse: traveling in midsummer or midwinter.
“It’s so hot here, mama,” Mirochka complained from beside me. “Why is it so hot here?”
“The air is damper from the river,” I told her. “And all the buildings trap heat.” I thought about the last time I had ridden across the steppe in midwinter. Traveling in the summer definitely won, although it was still not a pleasant prospect. But it will be fall on the way back, I told myself. Traveling in fall is the best. You will have a good journey back.
“What did you say, mama?” asked Mirochka. “Where are you going?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I heard you,” she insisted. “Something about a journey. Are we going home already? I thought we were staying until fall.”
“How did you hear me?” I asked.
“I don’t know, mama, I just did. I was lying here asleep, and then I had a dream about you riding towards home and past it, and it was very cold and then very hot, and then I heard the word ‘journey,’ and I was awake.”
“I see,” I said.
“So are we going home already? I don’t want to go home!”
“No, my dove,” I told her. “Actually, there is something I must speak to you about. We may be staying here for a while. All winter, in fact. But I will have to go away for a bit first.”
“So you are going on a journey!”
“It is likely,” I told her. “For the Tsarina. But you will have to stay here. You can stay with your brothers and the Empress and Vyacheslav Irinovich, and then I will come back and we will stay the winter here, in Krasnograd.”
Mirochka spent a moment considering that. “I want to go with you,” she said eventually.
“I know you do, my dove, but it is a long journey.”
“I can go on a long journey! I just went on a long journey!”
“I know you did. Which is why you need to stay here. You’ve learned lots of things about riding, and tracking, and fighting, and many other useful skills, but you also need to learn how to be a princess, and the best place for you to do that is here, in Krasnograd.”
“You said I still have lots to learn!”
“Oh, you do, you do, but you have plenty of time to learn all that you need to know, and the Tsarina needs me to go do this thing now, and she needs you to stay here and learn to be a princess.”
“Oh.” Mirochka spent a little while longer digesting this piece of news, breaking the silence by asking anxiously, “Who will train me when you’re gone, mama?”
“The tsarinoviches’ tutors, no doubt.”
“No, I mean, who will train me in fighting, mama? I don’t want to fall behind, but there’s no one here in Krasnograd who can do the steppe fighting, is there?”
“I’ll see if I can find someone,” I promised her. “But if not, you can train in other styles of fighting until I get back.”
“But I’ll fall behind!”
“You’ll catch up quick enough,” I told her. “And it’s always good to have new teachers and learn new tricks. Maybe you can teach me something when I get back.”
This idea pleased her immensely, and she stopped arguing agai
nst my leaving, and spent a while detailing what she would do when I was gone and how she would prepare for my return, before suddenly falling back asleep and sleeping until breakfast was brought in, at which point she bounced up, ate heartily, and, after giving a promise not to tell anyone that I might be leaving in a way that gave me doubts about her ability to keep it, set off for another day of fun with her new brothers.
***
Ivan was grim-faced and distracted during our session that morning, and I was little better. After I knocked his sword from his hand and then nearly tripped and fell over my own feet in the process, I called a halt to our training and said we should go somewhere for a drink.
“A drink, Valeriya Dariyevna?” he said in surprise at my proposal. “What kind of a drink?”
“Well, I’ll be having beer,” I told him. “But they’ll probably have wine, kvas, kumys, and kefir as well. Come on. The tavern is this way.”
“Did I displease you, Valeriya Dariyevna?” he asked, following behind me as I set off in the direction of the tavern just outside the barracks. Normally I would never go there, as its offerings, aimed at the kremlin guards, were distinguished mainly by their cheapness, not their quality, while I had the run of the kremlin kitchens, but I didn’t want to bring Ivan back to my chambers or into the kitchen and excite a lot of talk, most of it salacious, and I didn’t feel like trekking to the other side of the city either.
“No, of course not,” I assured him. “But it’s hot and we’re both distracted, so our time could be better spent by drinking than by training. We can try again later, if you like.”
“As it pleases you, Valeriya Dariyevna,” he said uncertainly.
“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. Come with me, that is. I just thought you looked like you could use a drink and a friendly ear.”
“Oh.” He made no response to this, but followed behind me into the tavern, and allowed me to order two beers. When his came, he looked down at it in consternation for a moment, then picked it up and took an experimental sip, which caused him to make a face.
