Chernevog (17 page)

“
We're going. Right now. Come inside, help me get the packs sorted out.
”

“
There's a bannik!
”
Pyetr said; and Sasha:

“
Let it be!
”

Perhaps he was entirely muddled from lack of sleep, perhaps he expected Sasha to make clearer sense than he was making. Sasha held him painfully hard by a slack arm and drew him back
to Volkhi's pen, Babi growling as they went.
“
Just let it be! Don't ask me anything, don't argue, just get Volkhi around front.
”

“
What's wrong, for the god's sake? What did you find out?
”

“
Hush. Just bring Volkhi. Now!
”

“
Sasha, for the god's sake—
”
Pyetr stopped and made a furious gesture back toward the bathhouse.
“
Did you even hear me? Are you listening? It wants something. It's been trying to talk to me and I was waiting for you, before I did anything— Why are we suddenly scared of it?
”

“
Never mind! Just do it. Come on!
”

There were times the boy showed a disturbing tendency to Uulamets' habits—or it was wizardry that made one sit for hours and then, of course, immediately, the moment an ordinary man just momentarily began to believe the last piece of advice was gone—it was face-about in the other direction, and hurry about it -even though he had a gnawing feeling now that he truly
wanted
to open that door yonder, and he truly
wanted
to know what was in there and hear what it had to tell him. Eveshka was in trouble and that Thing in the bathhouse was the only creature in the world who knew precisely what was going on—it
wanted
to
tell them—

“
Come on!
”
Sasha hissed at him, and pulled at his arm. He hesitated, looking back—

But in any case of magic, he did exactly what Sasha asked.

The wind sang a steady song in the rigging, shifting only as the river turned, and Eveshka sat on the bench Pyetr had made beside the tiller, her arm over the bar, her eyes on the dark ahead. She distracted herself with recollections and precise reckonings, wished herself calm: Fear lends a certain strength to your wishes, papa had been wont to say, but does it ever make them wiser?

Papa's advice. Always. She said, coldly, to the rushing wind and the dark,
“
Does arrogance, papa?
”

And the dark said back,
“
You're right, of course. You couldn't possibly have that fault yourself.

The answer disturbed her. There were ghosts aplenty in these woods, ghosts mat haunted her solitary walks, ghosts she met in anguish and in guilt—but of all the ghosts that could exist, this one she had decided by now would never come back.

And it had no right to turn up now, god! he did not, slipping up on her quiet as a memory. She still was not sure the manifestation was not exactly that: overwrought imagination—and dammit, she refused to flinch. This ghost owed
her
an apology by the god he did!

It said, so faintly it might have been the wind, Do I owe one to a fool? Just what are you doing up here, daughter?

She tossed her head, shook the blowing hair out of her eyes-aware in the same instant that the wind was changing, the pitch of the deck decreasing, the sail about to slat, uncertainty in every motion, her wishes all overwhelmed.

“
Papa?
”
Fear struck her for a moment, her heart tottering unstable as the boat, but the wind came back to the sail, steadied the deck, carried the boat on its way, a wish as sure as the arms that had used to carry her. Her heart settled with a familiar, infuriating confidence—fluttered then, the whole world seeming to reel and pitch in the smothering silence and the humming o
f
the ropes and the hull. One could sleep in that sound.

Going north? that whisper said to her. The tiller rocked and swayed beneath her arm, and the water hissed under the thrumming hull. —Young fool. I expected this. Sleep now. I'll keep us steady.

She did not want to sleep. She hated her father taking things out of her hands, damn, he always did that to her; and she hated the quiet tone he took, as if she were a little girl again—god, she had even forgotten he could use that voice: papa tucking her in at night, kissing her on the forehead, walking away to bank the fire and blow out the light, in the single room the house had been in those years.

Good night, he would say then, out of the dark. Good night, mouseling.
Safe dreams.

She tried to keep her eyes open. But the hiss and the hum ran through her bones, made her eyes heavy. Her head began to
droop, the motion of the tiller rocking her to sleep.

The voice said, more substantial now, rough as she remembered him: Shut your eyes. You've taken on far too much this time. You need help. If you've not discovered it yet, young fool, that's my grandchild you're carrying.

10

One could wish a wound to heal, one could wish strain and heat to leave tired joints—but unless one did something both reckless and foolish, that wish had no resources but the body in question—and a body had only so much to spend: it always paid afterward, in profound, watery-kneed exhaustion.

But Volkhi had to stay sound at least to get them away, please the god, and Sasha rubbed Volkhi's legs down, wishing up new strength in himself and in Pyetr, too, while Pyetr was shutting the door and bringing his packs down. Volkhi, evidently inspired to appetite, ducked his head and unconcernedly cropped a mouthful of something that interested him.

“
You ride,
”
Pyetr said, carrying their several packs off the walk-up, Babi trotting at his heels. Pyetr set everything on the ground and offered Sasha a quick hand up to Volkhi's back, insisting,
“
I'll take second.
”

Pyetr was doing very well at the moment, Pyetr was not asking questions and Pyetr wanted no arguments. Sasha took the lift up, settled astride and took the packs Pyetr handed up to him, his own bags of books and breakables, the grain and the blanket-rolls.
“
I think we should take the old path,
”
Sasha said. ‘‘It's longer, but you're right, at least the river can keep us going
right, no matter if something tries to confuse us—and there's at least a chance of spotting the boat that way.
”

“
The wind's been out of t
he south since noon,
”
Pyetr mut
tered, shouldering his own packs.
”
It's a damned long start she's had already. —Can't you do anything? Stop the wind, maybe?
”

There had come a sighing in the trees just after the sun had passed its height—just when, while they were walking home, Eveshka must have taken to the river and wished herself up a wind that
...
he was not sure
...
might be blowing a little less for his
efforts
.

“
I've tried. Weather takes—
”

“
Time,
”
Pyetr finished glumly. And then looked alarmed.
“
She
planned
this ahead of time? Is that what you're saying?
”

“
We don't know she raised it.
”
He was pushed to say that. He did not want to say anything else. He wished Volkhi to move, so that Pyetr had to go ahead quickly and open the gate.

‘‘You're saying—
”
Pyetr began.

“
Don't,
”
he said.
“
Pyetr. Later. Please. Later.
”

No need to lead Volkhi, Pyetr had found that out: the boy just wanted, and Volkhi had as well have no rein on him.

Wizards wanted this, they wanted that, and everything moved, horses, people, friends—Eveshka was off to the god knew what, and Sasha first insisted they stay and then insisted immediately, now, in the next few moments, they be off into the dark with a wizard's clattering pharmacopeia and a load of
books—

Which told him nothing except that Sasha had found something in the house that scared him out of good sense, something he did not want to talk about in earshot of the yard or even in the house—whatever banniks had to do with it. And the wind that carried Eveshka away from them had gotten itself together in whatever time it took a wind to gather.

‘‘What's going on?
”
Pyetr asked once they were on the downward pitch of the road, beside the dock.
“
For the god's sake, what are we running from? What did you find out?
”

Sasha said, from Volkhi's height beside him:

“
She did leave us a note. I found it in my book. It should have been the first place I looked.
”

Pyetr looked up at him, but against the night sky Sasha was
shadow, and out of the dark Sasha's voice was hoarse and thin, telling him less than it might have.

“
She wanted to go looking for you, right off,
”
Sasha said.
“
But I didn't think we should: I was afraid we might be calling you back into something, and she was going to stay and try here while I went looking—
”

“
You said that already. What else did the note say, dammit? What's she up to?
”

“
Finding the leshys. She was worried, the way things were going.
”

“
Worried about the leshys?
”

“
About the quiet. So she was going to try from the house
...”

“
What? Try what? Sasha, don't make me ask every damn question: spit it out! What did she write? What did she say she was doing?
”

“
She didn't say. If she knew, herself, which I'm not sure of.
”

“
God! Wizards! Then
guess,
is that so damned hard? Tell me what goes on between you two! I live in the dark!
”

“
Things don't go on between us.
”

“
The hell!
”
He never wanted to shout at the boy, he never wanted to be unreasonable. He was losing his mind.
“
Dammit, just give me a guess, give me anything, I don't care! Tell me what goes on in my wife's head. And what's the bannik got to do with it?
”

“
It showed up just after you left. She called you to come back—but this quiet—
”

“
You said that! What about the bannik?
”

“
We both asked it, and it showed us thorns and branches. She didn't trust it.
”

“
Showed you thorns.
”
One resisted the urge to drag Sasha off the horse and shake him. One just kept asking, reasonably, patiently, shivering with the chill of wet weeds soaking one's legs as they left the empty dock behind and started along the trail,
“
What do you mean, showed you thorns?
”

“
It doesn't really talk when it answers. You see things.
”

“
So why in hell didn't we ask it a question? Are we afraid of it? Maybe it showed her something you don't know about, maybe—
”

“
It wasn't the same bannik that used to live there. She didn't
trust it; but you're right, that's not saying she might not have gone back in there after I left. She could have asked it something on her own.
”

She certainly would, Pyetr thought desperately. Nothing was ever right unless Eveshka did it herself.

“
—Or maybe she got an answer from the leshys,
”
Sasha said.
“
That's just as likely. She packed, we do know that. She left around noon, we can guess that by the wind and the bread and all, and I really think she might have heard me last night telling her I'd found you. That'd certainly make her feel better about leaving.
”

“
Fine! That's really fine, Sasha!
”

“
Not because she wanted to.
”

“
Is that what the note says?
”

“
It just says she knew we'd follow her and she didn't want us to—which is saying she knew she couldn't wish us not to, because she wasn't that sure she was right.
”