The Dreaming Land I: The Challenge (The Zemnian Series Book 5)

by E. P. Clark

  I wondered if yurts would do something towards solving the problems of the indigent in Outer Krasnograd. Certainly they were easy to make, and there was space outside the city…And the roads there were in terrible disrepair; no doubt there were those who would be happy to work on them in exchange for a comfortable bed and a decent meal…although when I had said that to Sera once before, as part of the same argument, she had told me that I would probably find the black earth people more suspicious of my intentions and less eager to work in exchange for food and shelter than my sisters from the steppe, and also that many of them probably knew no useful trade and so it would be much more difficult to put them to work than it would be back home, where I could safely assume that anyone could at least take care of a few horses, and probably mend a bridle or knit a saddlecloth as well. Black earth people were so shiftless in comparison…but that avenue of thought was not productive.

  Part of me did question whether black earth people, especially Krasnograders, would consider a yurt a comfortable bed (that I had never discussed with Sera, but I could imagine her answer), but surely it was better than the street. And Sera had said they were used to being ruled with an iron fist, so I could always simply impose my will upon them…in fact, no doubt, I would have to no matter what I wanted to do with them…but I was getting ahead of myself. I had no right making plans for what I would do if the rule of Zem’ were to come to me, no matter how likely that was. Even thinking about it for a moment seemed like it would put Sera in even greater danger. I resolved to think of it no more. Unfortunately, that caused me to return to dwelling on my own unhappiness. My displeasure with myself at that moment was strong enough that if I could have just left and disappeared into the steppe forever with no ill consequences to my family, I might very well have.

  “Will there be dancing, mama?” asked Mirochka, looking around at the decorations with much simpler and more laudable emotions than mine. “Will we get to dance?”

  “Very likely,” I told her. “See where the musicians are setting up over there? But first there will be feasting and entertainments.”

  “The boys said there would be acrobats, mama!”

  “There probably will be. There normally are.”

  “When will we get to see them? I can’t wait!”

  “Not till after we have sat down,” I told her. This did not please her, nor did the news that she would have to sit at the Imperial table and behave herself for the better part of the evening. She became partially reconciled to it after I told her that we would have the best view of the acrobats and jugglers, and followed me with only a small amount of arguing as we made our way to our seats.

  Sera was not there yet, but Vyacheslav Irinovich, Ivan Marinovich, and the boys were already at their places, and said that we were to sit with them. Although he didn’t say it, I could see that our position between Vyacheslav Irinovich and the boys showed that we were unquestionably a part of the family, while also preventing anyone else from speaking with us. So much the better. Although I was sure I would tire of him very quickly if I were actually to marry him, Vyacheslav Irinovich was a perfectly pleasant companion for an evening, and was unlikely to do anything untoward or—more importantly—provoke me into a display of temper. I would rather have been seated next to Ivan Marinovich, who was on the far side of the group from me, next to Ruslan…no, I wouldn’t. I was still too confused in my mind over the revelations about Nika, about my own desire for Ivan, and so many other things, that it was probably for the best that we had been seated apart for the evening. In my present state, I doubted I would be able to advance my cause with him any further today, and a little mystery, a small retreat, was sometimes good in these matters. Or so they said; I had never actually tried it, such things not being my style. Perhaps it was time for me to try it. Accordingly, I nodded politely at Ivan and then turned my attention to Vyacheslav Irinovich and the children.

  Mirochka and the two younger boys immediately began giggling over something foolish and inconsequential. I thought about calling them to task on it and reminding them of their Imperial status and the decorum that went with it, but decided against it, both because I thought they might as well have fun, and because I doubted it would do any good. Ruslan was maintaining all his twelve-year-old dignity with strict composure, but the three younger children were in such a fever pitch of high spirits that I could only hope that they wouldn’t be sick on the table before the night was over.

  “I’m afraid you must forgive them, Valeriya Dariyevna,” said Vyacheslav Irinovich. “This is the first time Dariusz and Valery have been allowed to stay up all night.”

  “Mirochka too,” I told him. “I doubt we’ll get a word of sense out of them all night.”

  “What sense is there to be had at that age?” he said with a fond smile.

  “Precious little. As long as they don’t overset the table or set the hall on fire, I’ll consider it a successful evening.”

  “Wise words, Valeriya Dariyevna. And I can’t tell you,” he turned serious, “how glad I am that Miroslava Valeriyevna and the boys have become such fast friends, and that she will be staying with us for the next several months. Be assured that she will be the daughter that…we will treat her as our own daughter. And while I know that my own words carry little weight next to the Tsarina’s, allow me to second her invitation to overwinter with us. Our families spend far too little time together, and your presence will be most welcome when…during the winter.”

  “I know that Mirochka will be well cared-for while I’m away; I have no fears on that score. And it is very likely that we will over overwinter in Krasnograd, as much as it pains me to be absent from the steppe for that long.”

  “You miss it, then, Valeriya Dariyevna?”

  “I’m not a woman of the city,” I said. “But I also…it is my homeland, my charge, and I feel guilty leaving it for so long.”

  “Surely your esteemed parents are more than capable of ruling it in your absence, Valeriya Dariyevna. I know them less well than I would like, but your mother is known to be a woman of solid good sense, and your father is not lacking in intellect himself.”

  “It takes more than good sense and intellect to rule,” I said. “But no doubt you’re right: Stepnoye will survive the winter without me. After all, it had survived many, many winters before I came of age. My own intellect tells me that Mirochka should spend more time with her brothers and should be instructed in the ways of Krasnograd, and my instinct tells me that my place is here this winter. With things so unsettled in Zem’ right now…this vile trade in our own children…”

  “Yes,” agreed Vyacheslav Irinovich gravely. “I pray every day that you will be able to cleanse this stain from Zem’ this summer, but in truth, Valeriya Dariyevna,” lowering his voice, even though there was no one around other than the children, who were too engrossed in their own games to pay attention to us, “I fear that the evil goes too deep for it to be uprooted so easily. These trade networks must be of very long standing, and if—I hope you will not mind that the Tsarina shared this information with me as well, Valeriya Dariyevna—if the rumors are true and children are also being taken from Seumi and transported the entire length of Zem’ to be sold to the Hordes, which seems fantastic to me, when they could just be sold to their neighbors to the West—”

  “Yes, that is very odd,” I agreed.

  “Although I hear that Seumi slaves are of low value, Valeriya Dariyevna, being almost as independent-minded as Zemnians, which is why they will only take children of either race—teaching either of us the ways of a slave as adults is too much trouble. Which is some small comfort, I suppose. But what I was saying was that if children are being taken from Seumi and sold in the East, then the trade network must be broad and deep and will not be easily destroyed.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right,” I said. “But we have to start somewhere.”

  “We do, Valeriya Dariyevna, unquestionably we do, but…the gloomy thought haunts me that even if and w
hen we do rid Zem’ of this blight, it will still be with us, like poison spreading from a festering wound even after the affected limb has been removed.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if that doesn’t turn out to be the case. But I am still determined to amputate the limb and hope for the best. Doing nothing certainly won’t avail us.”

  “True enough, Valeriya Dariyevna, and at least we will have the joy of your company this winter. And…” he looked over at the boys, who were laughing uproariously—even Ruslan—at a funny face Mirochka was making, “I wanted to express my gratitude for what you said—what you promised our boys.”

  “And you,” I told him. “You are included in that promise. And Mirochka swore as well. If either of us should ever…well, you understand. But you and the boys never need fear for your futures.”

  “And we are very grateful, Valeriya Dariyevna,” he said soberly.

  “Well, let’s hope it won’t come to that, and certainly not anytime soon,” I said. “Oh look, the jugglers have arrived.”

  Conversation after that became impossible, as all the children in the hall were squealing loudly with delight as jugglers strolled from table to table and performed tricks. The leader of the troupe came over to our table and thrilled Mirochka and the boys to their very marrow by juggling nine balls at once before catching them all down her sleeve and then whisking them out of the children’s ears through some dexterous sleight of hand. Mirochka asked if she could keep the ball; I intervened and said she couldn’t take the woman’s tools of her trade, but the juggler, with the gracious smile of a professional entertainer performing at the Imperial table, said of course the tsarinovna could have the ball, at which point the boys started clamoring for some too. The juggler then waved her arms and at least a dozen balls came flying out onto the table, some of them bursting into bloom or exploding into a shower of rose petals.

  “You are too good,” I told the juggler, but she only bowed and said it was her pleasure, before going off to delight the next table, where the most important princesses were seated. I followed her with my eyes, but then jerked them away when I saw that Princess Velikokrasnova and Nika—and, by all the gods, Nika’s mother, the one woman who hated me even more than Princess Velikokrasnova, if such a thing were possible, and looking even more like a vulture than she had the last time I had seen her, nine years ago, I didn’t know how such an unpleasant-featured woman had birthed Nika, who whatever other flaws he might have, was not an ill-looking man—had come in and taken their seats there and were—the two women at least—giving me sideways looks of distaste and enmity

  “Considering what we paid for this, they can afford to give the children a few trinkets,” said Vyacheslav Irinovich dryly, jerking me from my thoughts, which were guaranteed to make me as vulture-faced as Nika’s mother if I kept indulging in them.

  “Well, the evening has been a success then, and it hasn’t even started yet,” I said. “What is Princess Vostochnokrasnova doing here? I thought,” I swallowed, “I thought she rarely comes to Krasnograd in the summer.”

  Vyacheslav Irinovich followed my gaze. “That is true, Valeriya Dariyevna,” he said compassionately. “But I heard that Princess Velikokrasnova called her in to help with…with Ivan Marinovich’s betrothal.”

  “Is that so.” My personal problems suddenly became much less interesting to me. “What else have you heard about this subject?”

  “Not much, Valeriya Dariyevna, but I would be happy to share my information with you. Perhaps it would be best to speak of it later in the evening, though, once everyone is distracted by the food and entertainments. Right now everyone’s eyes are turned to our table, waiting for the Tsarina’s arrival; even if they cannot hear us, I would rather not discuss sensitive issues when they are watching us.”

  I had to admit the sense of his proposal, and in truth, I was beginning to grow impatient for Sera’s appearance, and worried that she had suddenly fallen ill again, but just as the juggling troupe had finished making the rounds of all the tables, she was announced and we all rose and bowed as she came and took her place. She looked a little tired and pale, but not as if she were in any immediate danger of collapse. Vyacheslav Irinovich and I caught each other both examining her, and exchanged a meaningful glance, declaring that we would both watch over her all evening.

  Sera gave a short speech welcoming everyone to the festivities and wishing them a joyous Midsummer, and probably only Vyacheslav Irinovich and I found anything not to like in its brevity—everyone else in the hall appeared more than happy to turn to the feasting and merrymaking. The servants brought out even more food and began serving it, and once everyone had begun eating (and, more importantly, drinking), the jugglers came back, accompanied by a troupe of acrobats who turned flips and twisted themselves into impossible poses, to everyone’s great delight. The chief acrobat had a hoop that she could throw into the air and then leap through or catch with various parts of her body in the most astonishing fashion, bending and flexing as if she had no bones at all, and making Mirochka ask, her eyes shining, if she could be trained in acrobatics and become a performer.

  “Of course you can train,” I told her. “But not one woman in a hundred could twist her body like that, and you’re not going to become a performer, anyway. Princesses don’t become jugglers and acrobats.”

  “Why not, mama?”

  “Because they have to rule, my dove. You can’t do both things at once.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “It’s not,” I agreed with a sigh. “But we only have so much time for training.”

  Just then servants came through and poured everyone mead, distracting her from the conversation. Mirochka and the boys were given mead along with all the other children, and their spirits were soon intolerably high, so that Vyacheslav Irinovich and I spent the next part of the feast attempting to restrain them from making a spectacle of themselves.

  “Next time we must order the servants to hold off on the mead until after they’ve had some food,” I said to Vyacheslav Irinovich through gritted teeth, as I stopped Mirochka for the third time from climbing up onto the table.

  “Perhaps, Valeriya Dariyevna, but it will soon wear off,” he said patiently, fishing Valery out from under the table, where he was crawling around pretending to be a dog snapping at our ankles. “And in the general gaiety, I doubt anyone is noticing.”

  This was true enough, as the noise in the hall had risen to a level that no sober person could find pleasant. Both beer and vodka had been poured for me, but I only sipped at the beer and ignored the vodka completely. Drowning my sorrows in them, and drowning out the din around me, was an attractive thought, but I would regret it when it came time to set off the next morning.

  There was a brief break in the noise when the next troupe of acrobats appeared, but the squealing of the children and the shouts of the adults soon became even louder than before. And then once the acrobats had finished performing, the musicians came out and began to play, and soon half the hall was dancing wildly. On the far side from me, but it was still a very raucous spectacle, and my head was beginning to ache fiercely.

  “Can we go dance, mama? Can we?” demanded Mirochka.

  “Why don’t you take your sister to dance, boys,” suggested Vyacheslav Irinovich to the tsarinoviches. “Ivan Marinovich can escort you.”

  All the children other than Ruslan were delighted with this plan, and even Ruslan was won over after a few entreaties from Mirochka. Ivan said he would be happy to escort them; whether this was true or not was debatable, but Vyacheslav Irinovich was ready to accept it as true enough, and sent off all the young people to that end of the hall.

  “Let us go take some air, Valeriya Dariyevna,” he proposed.

  “And Sera?” I asked.

  Vyacheslav Irinovich looked over in her direction. “She will stay here a little longer, but we are not needed,” he said, after she and he had exchanged a series of nods that only they could understand. “And I think now i
s the time for us to slip out and speak unnoticed.”

  We rose and began making our way to the door at the back of the hall. Despite Vyacheslav Irinovich’s belief that no one would pay us any attention, Princess Velikokrasnova and Princess Vostochnokrasnova, who were still sitting at their table and still relatively sober, both followed us with their eyes out of the room, half-spiteful, half-puzzled expressions on their faces.

  “We had best be prepared for some malicious gossip tomorrow,” I told Vyacheslav Irinovich as soon as we were in the corridor behind the Hall of Celebration.

  He turned in the direction of the balcony that overlooked the main square. “Why is that, Valeriya Dariyevna?”

  “My two greatest admirers were observing us with deep suspicion as we left together,” I told him. “Your reputation…”

  “Is of little concern, Valeriya Dariyevna,” he said firmly. “After all”—he grinned in the half-light of the corridor in a most un-Vyacheslav Irinovich-like way—“I’ve already made a good match for myself, and what else do I need a spotless reputation for?”

  “Sera might be made uncomfortable.”

  “I flatter myself that her faith in me and her hold over the princesses…” He reached to open the door to the balcony, but it suddenly opened and disgorged two figures, who stumbled into us, apologized hurriedly, and rushed off down the corridor before we could detain them.