Enchantment (44 page)

“I was never so silly about it. And besides, they’ve been married since before they got here.”

Esther kissed him. “They’ve been sleeping in separate rooms, Piotr.”

“Well, some people do.”

“But last night they slept in the
same
room.”

It finally dawned on him. “You mean—they
haven’t
been sleeping together?”

“The marriage wasn’t consummated until last night. And, judging from the spring in Katerina’s step, this morning as well.”

“Esther,” Piotr said sternly. “You shouldn’t be thinking that way about your own son.”

“What, I’m supposed to think he found a better way to make babies?”

Piotr sighed. “So they’re going to be honeymooning all day?”

“That and blowing things up. Which isn’t a bad combination. You’re supposed to have fireworks.”

“I thought it was violins. I thought the fireworks were last night at dinner.”

“Last night was two people who were fed up with not being fully committed to each other. Vanya declared his commitment to her, and she didn’t answer. But I imagine she gave her answer a few hours later. Perhaps it was after Katerina and I went out in the back yard to make a few spells that she didn’t know, that she might need. We were in the shed when Vanya came out in his bathrobe. I decided I wasn’t needed there anymore, so I went back in the house and left them alone. Apparently she had brains enough to stay out there with him.”

Piotr looked at her suspiciously. “So now I’m not supposed to think you cast some spell on them? To help them get past their . . . shyness, or whatever it was?”

“I don’t do love potions,” said Esther. “Those are never about love, they’re about coercion. And besides, they already loved each other, they were just too stupid to know it.”

“But you didn’t do
nothing
,” said Piotr.

“I cast a spell of Truth on the house,” said Esther. “It’s very simple, really. It makes people willing to act according to what they believe. To say what’s in their hearts, regardless of shame. It doesn’t change what they feel, what they want. It just helps . . . loosen them up.”

“You needed magic for that? Wine has been around for centuries.
In vino veritas.
”

Esther laughed. “The amount of wine that it would have taken to get Vanya to forget his pride and speak his heart—well, let’s just say that it might not have helped him later, when they finally understood each other.”

“I married a Pandarus,” said Piotr.

“I don’t manipulate people, Piotr. I just help them achieve their good desires.”

“Not Pandarus, then. The tooth fairy?”

She kissed him, then slapped him playfully. “Let’s go out and blow things up, shall we?”

After the coolness of the night, the day was already turning muggy. They got out the Molotov cocktails and the gunpowder crackers. Ivan let his father throw the first cocktail, lighting the fuse and heaving it at the piled-up logs. It worked much better than they expected—or wanted. Burning alcohol splattered all over the logs, yes, but also onto the weeds five yards beyond. They had to turn the hose on all the little fires to put them out, and for a few moments they were afraid the whole thing would get out of hand. They didn’t relish explaining to the police why they had a dozen Molotov cocktails—not the traditional fireworks for the Fourth. And when they tried the first of the crackers, it was even more disastrous. For one thing, the fuse, made out of homespun string, burned about ten times faster than they expected—Ivan barely got it out of his hand before it blew up. And then it exploded with more force than they imagined possible for such a small amount of gunpowder. Logs that were still burning from the Molotov cocktail were thrown thirty feet across the yard; one of them hit Piotr in the chest, knocking him down, though fortunately it didn’t catch him on fire. And the window over the sink in the kitchen broke—when the bomblet boomed, the glass collapsed in shards all over the sink inside and the patio outside.

It was an insane five minutes, running around after burning logs, picking them up with garden tools and carrying them back to the bonfire. Checking Piotr for serious injuries—nothing broken, though, just a bruise. Cleaning up glass inside and out and then discovering that all the glaziers in town had taken the Fourth as a holiday. They spent hours then, reducing the charges in the firecrackers and pouring out alcohol from the cocktails.

And all the while, they had to keep answering the phone, telling neighbors that they had bought inferior fireworks and nobody was injured and no, they wouldn’t be setting off any more like that. Then Terrel came over with his kite and sadly reported that there wasn’t a breath of wind today. “The only way to fly a kite is to take it out in a convertible,” he said.

But Ivan wanted to show Katerina what a kite was anyway, so he and Terrel took turns a couple of times, running up and down the yard, trailing the kite behind them. Ivan tried to explain to her that when there was a wind, it rose even higher, and you didn’t have to keep running. Finally, after Terrel went home, Ivan explained to his parents and Katerina what he had in mind. “A book on hang gliding. If we can make a hang glider out of materials there in Taina, it gives us a way to fly over the walls.”

Katerina kept her doubts to herself—if big metal buildings could fly without even flapping their wings, then maybe a man could fly by wearing a kite. Though it was hard to believe even the kite could fly, considering that it kept crashing to the ground whenever they stopped running. Add the weight of a man with a sword and buckler, and . . . well, what did she know?

As for the Molotov cocktails and the firecrackers—those were impressive. She had heard of Greek fire, but had never seen it. And as for the firecracker, it made her ears ring for hours afterward, and she knew that these things had the power to terrify an enemy—especially one that was only motivated by fear. Like Baba Yaga’s army.

Only after dark, when the fireworks began over the lake, did they dare to try again. The little bombs made a lot less noise, with their reduced charges—but they were able to time the fuses better. Ivan and Katerina also became rather adept at throwing the cocktails. “You’re learning this much faster than I learned the sword,” said Ivan.

“You couldn’t even lift the sword at first,” said Katerina. “It takes practice. This is easy.”

Piotr laughed at that. “That’s how we got so many people involved in waging war—it used to be a skilled profession, but now it’s within the grasp of unskilled labor.”

The bonfire was too hot to enjoy on a muggy summer night like this. But they burned some marshmallows and made Polish-sausage hot dogs and ate them as far from the fire as they could get, right under the cardboard covering the kitchen window. “I think,” said Ivan, “that the experiment is definitely a success. Everything works. And we know that if we had really wanted to, we could have blown up the house.”

“Almost did anyway,” said Esther.

“And the best news of all,” said Ivan. “Tomorrow we fly.”

“No,” said Esther. “That isn’t good news.” Then she burst into tears and fled into the house, Piotr following close behind her.

“My mother worries about us,” said Ivan.

“So do I,” said Katerina.

They walked out beyond the fire and watched the fireworks bursting in the air over the lake. The boom of each explosion was carried over the water—it was deafening. Katerina covered her ears for a little while, but it didn’t help, and she finally gave up and enjoyed the show. “Can you do
that
in Taina?” she asked.

“Theoretically, yes,” said Ivan. “But people get killed sometimes setting off those rockets—I don’t want to run the risk of having our weapons do more damage to us than to them.”

“I can imagine the Hag working herself to death trying to duplicate those lights in the sky.”

“But not running from them.”

“She isn’t much for running away,” said Katerina. “She doesn’t give up.”

“Yes, well, you aren’t a quitter either,” said Ivan. “Nor am I.”

“Maybe these firecrackers can make her army run away. Maybe the Molotov cocktails will burn out her fortress. Maybe the spells I’ve learned will get me face-to-face with her—”

“Get
us
face-to-face.”

“I’m the one who has to match her, spell for spell. I’m the one who has the power of my people inside me. Their love for me. It gives me great strength.”

“So you’ll win. No one could possibly love
her
.”

“Cousin Marek tried to explain it to us, Ivan. She isn’t relying on the power that comes from her own people. It’s the power of a god she’s got under her control—the love of the people for
him
.”

“The bear.”

“Bear. The savage cold of winter. All the people have respect for
him
. Not just the people of one kingdom. Many kingdoms, Ivan. And he’s a god by nature. Even if she can only use a fraction of his power, it’s more than my people can give to me.”

“Why does he let her?”

“Why do you think he has a choice? Spells of binding, that’s what she does best. That’s how she got her first husband to marry her. How she got the people of her kingdom to accept the idea of widow-right instead of electing a new king when her first husband died without an heir.”

“But she can’t coerce people against their will,” said Ivan.

“It’s not that simple,” said Katerina. “She can find desires inside you that you didn’t even know you had.”

“Well, thanks,” said Ivan. “For a little while there, I had some hope.”

“There
is
hope, Ivan.”

“Oh? You didn’t mention any just now.”

“You didn’t find me just by chance, Ivan. Some force, some fate, wanted you to find me, brought us together, brought you to Taina, brought me here. Whatever that power is, if it wants us to win, then we’ll have the victory.”

“So why are we working so hard?”

“Why did you have to hit the Bear with a stone? Why didn’t you just fly over the moat?”

Ivan shook his head. “I can’t put my trust in some unidentified fate that’s pushing us around. It wasn’t fate that brought me back to you. It was my own desire.”

“Yes,” said Katerina. “And your goodness, and your purity. The very reasons you were chosen.”

“And now?” said Ivan. “Are we weaker because we’re not so pure?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way. We’re married, so our coupling isn’t impure. In fact, it strengthens us. Makes each of us as strong as if we contained both souls within us. And . . . if we’ve made a baby, if I have a child inside me when I face her, then I have a power she’s never had. Well, she’s conceived babies, the people say, but the children were always born monsters who died at once, and now her husband isn’t the kind who’s likely to give her a baby.”

“You never know, with gods,” said Ivan. “There are tales of swans and bulls.”

“If we’ve made a child,” said Katerina, “there will be magic in it. Power.”

He was silent for a while.

She understood the silence. “No, Ivan. That’s not why I came to you last night.”

He pretended that wasn’t what he was thinking. “It would be all right if you did.”

“No,” said Katerina. “It would not be all right. A child shouldn’t be conceived as a strategy in war. What do you think of me?”

He took her in his arms and kissed her, long and hard. “That’s what I think of you.”

“Is that what you call thinking?” Then she kissed him back, even harder.

“So,” he said, when he could breathe again. “Even though we’d never do it as a strategic move in war, would you like to try again? Just in case we don’t already have a baby started?”

“And miss the rest of the fireworks?” she said.

He grinned and dutifully turned back to look at the fireworks. A big one went off, red, white, and blue.

“All right,” she said. “I’m done now.”

“See one rocket go off, you’ve seen them all,” said Ivan.

She almost dragged him back to the house. Piotr and Esther had to come out later to put the bonfire out. They didn’t mind. They knew their son had finally moved on beyond them. Even if he made it back from Taina somehow, he would never again live as a child in this house. It was just the two of them now. But they were comfortable with each other. The prospect of sharing the rest of their lives held no dread for them. And the things they did dread—losing their only child, for instance—they did not need to talk about, at least not now, for every word and movement between them carried their history and their future, like background movement, shaping each moment even when they weren’t aware of it.

Baba Yaga

She might not be able to get past their defenses, but she could still listen to their conversations, and so she knew they had a ticket scheduled for the next day’s flight. Within a couple of hours she was at the airport, and a helpful clerk stayed late to arrange her own reservation on the same flight, though afterward he had a terrible time trying to explain to his wife why he was so late getting home from work, having no memory of the time he spent with Baba Yaga.

She spent the rest of the night at the airport, preparing the spells and charms for the next day’s work. Ivan and Katerina were going back to Taina, yes, but on her terms, not theirs. Baba Yaga would not come home empty-handed. She’d get the princess because she had the scholar—for now that Ruthie had uttered his true name in front of her familiar, he would not be able to resist her when she put a binding on that name.

Not only that, but she was determined to bring back one of the huge flying houses that moved on chicken legs. All the kings of the earth would bow down to her when she had a castle that carried her wherever she wanted to go, even into the heart of their kingdoms.

15

Hijacking

Ivan and Katerina didn’t pack much for the return trip. Katerina had quite a lot of American clothes now, but she wasn’t going to be wearing them long. They knew they had to get back to the bridge as soon as possible. Once they left the protection of Mother’s house, Baba Yaga could make a run at them anywhere. Yet there was no way to avoid the exposure. As Mother put it, “She found out that you were in America. She got here somehow. She found out about Ruthie and got to
her
. We’re not going to keep many secrets from her. All you can do is try to move fast enough that she can’t get ahead of you and lay traps.”

So they made the reservation and paid for first-class seats even though it cost ten thousand dollars—because those were the only seats they could find on the fifth of July. Ivan was cautious to please even his mother: He wrote a note on a napkin explaining to Katerina and his parents that they would fly out of Rochester instead of Syracuse even though it was an hour farther away. Then he soaked the note in water and ran it down the garbage disposal. Then he made the reservation over the Internet so no one ever said “Rochester” out loud. With any luck, Baba Yaga would never realize that they didn’t have to depart from the same airport they arrived at.

Mother and Father drove them, and on the way, Mother sat in the back with Katerina, explaining the charms and talismans, spells and wards she had prepared. “I can’t take any of these across the bridge,” said Katerina.

“I know,” Mother replied, “but I’d like you to live to
reach
the bridge.”

She had made two of almost everything, so each was wearing one. The most important was the one she called Aware.

“I thought of making Suspicion for you both, but that just makes you jumpy and it would weaken your trust in each other. Also, she can nullify it if she has a strong enough Friend charm. So this is best. It’s not very specific, but that’s good, because we never know what she’s going to throw at you.”

Katerina held the little woven mat to her forehead and closed her eyes. “This is very strong,” she said. “Very clever.”

“Put it on,” said Mother.

They hung the strings around their necks, letting the charms fall inside their clothing. “I hope I’m not allergic to any of the materials,” said Ivan.

“I practice hypoallergenic magic,” said Mother—in English, because she had no clue how to say it in proto-Slavonic. Of course, that only meant that Ivan had to spend a few frustrating minutes explaining the whole concept of allergies to Katerina so she wouldn’t feel left out of the joke.

The last charm was one for Katerina alone. “I know this one,” she said.

“It’s called Little One,” said Mother.

“Do I need it?” asked Katerina.

“Are you sure that you don’t?” asked Mother.

Katerina put it on.

“What?” asked Ivan. “What is it and why don’t I have one?”

Katerina laughed. “Is there a chance that you’re pregnant?”

“You tell
me
,” said Ivan. “I don’t know which rules apply anymore.”

“Magic has never improved on
that
,” said Katerina.

“Nor on the method of conception,” said Father. “Though I think we can safely say that science has done a better job of reducing the hazards of bearing children than magic ever did.”

“Though science presents its own set of hazards,” said Mother. It was an old argument between them, and it was settled this time with a wink and a grin.

Everything went smoothly at the airport. They weren’t as familiar with Rochester, only using its airport occasionally to meet visitors who couldn’t easily connect through Syracuse. So Ivan wasn’t sure he’d recognize if Baba Yaga had altered anything. He was wearing Aware, but it didn’t make him feel any sharper-witted than usual. Maybe that meant nothing unusual had happened; maybe it meant he was always so alert that magic couldn’t improve on his normal abilities; or maybe it meant Baba Yaga was smarter than Mother. Ivan preferred to think that Baba Yaga was off in Syracuse, watching for them.

They checked in, but then waited in another gate area until their plane had been mostly boarded. Then they kissed and hugged and the women cried a little and Father held on to Ivan a little more than usual. They all knew this might be the last time they ever saw each other. They knew that if Ivan and Katerina got back to Taina and died there, the only hint of it would be when Mother failed to find Ivan’s image in the blackwater bowl.

Ivan watched everything, even glancing into the pilots’ cabin for a moment, though he had no clue how he’d know if anything were wrong. What did he expect to see, Baba Yaga herself, sitting in the pilot’s seat and cackling madly, “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!” Come to think of it, she
had
gotten the little dog, even if it wasn’t theirs.

They flew from Rochester to Kennedy without a hitch. Not even the turbulence that had marred the transatlantic flight before. Katerina already knew the rules about seatbelts and when to stow luggage. “You’re getting to be an old hand at this,” he said.

“I hope I get to use the skill many times in the future,” she replied.

Ivan thought about this for a moment. “You mean you want to come back?”

“Don’t you think our children should know your parents as well as they know mine?”

“If they can,” said Ivan. “I didn’t know you’d want to.”

“Not like this,” said Katerina. “Not watching out for the Widow all the time. But yes, they should fly through the air.”

Kennedy was its normal nightmarish self, probably the worst airport Ivan ever flew through. It wasn’t as bad leaving as it was arriving, which is rather like saying tuberculosis doesn’t kill you as fast as pneumonia. There was the normal chaos and tumult at the gate, and the six-mile walk down tubes and ramps before they got to the airplanes, which apparently parked in Sag Harbor. Through it all, Ivan and Katerina watched everyone and everything that happened; but Ivan knew that it was primarily his responsibility, since he was the more experienced flyer and would be more likely to know if something was wrong.

The maddening thing was that they had no idea what they were looking for. Baba Yaga herself? She could look like anybody, or make herself unnoticeable. Some sabotage to the plane? As if either of them could tell! A passenger or crew member under Baba Yaga’s spell? Maybe they could detect that. Or maybe not. They certainly hadn’t guessed about Ruthie, and Ivan knew her well. He did notice that she was acting strange—in retrospect, the picnic was an absurd idea even if nothing had been booby-trapped. But Ivan had made allowances for her because he felt guilty. With strangers, guilt wouldn’t be clouding the issue.

Ivan had thought first class was nice on the plane from Rochester—roomy seats, a better variety of snacks. As they settled into their places on the international flight, everything was so cushy Ivan began to wonder if the flight attendant planned to sing them to sleep. There were bags for their shoes, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and all kinds of completely useless amenities, including strange aromatherapy soaps and lotions. Katerina looked at them with suspicion, but after opening each one she pronounced them safe. “Except that they all smell as bad as a skunk,” she said. Apparently perfume would be a tough sell in Taina.

“Look,” said Ivan. “You push a button, and a thing comes out for you to rest your feet on.”

Katerina loved it. But then she grew serious. “Look at us,” she said. “How alert are we being now?”

“She’s still in Tantalus or Syracuse,” said Ivan. “We’ve lost her.”

“No,” said Katerina. “It’s not that easy. Not with her.” She unfastened her seatbelt and started to sidle past him to the aisle.

“Where are you going?” asked Ivan.

“To walk through the plane,” she said. “To see if I notice anything.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” she said. “One of us stays here to guard our place. So she can’t leave a curse for us here.”

“Then I’ll walk the plane,” said Ivan. “I’m more likely to notice if something is wrong.”

She agreed. Ivan got up and walked back into coach. People were still boarding, but the crowd was thinner—most people were in their seats. At the back, Ivan scanned the lavatories. He even thought of lifting the toilet lids, and then laughed at himself for such an absurd idea—and then had to go in and lift every last one of them, because once he had thought of it, he had to do it, in case it was Aware that had caused him to pick up on some subliminal clue. Naturally, the toilets were normal—stained with blue fluid, in rooms so tiny that you had to be a ballet dancer to turn around. There was nothing wrong with them that hadn’t started at the design phase.

“Is something wrong?” asked the flight attendant behind him.

“No,” said Ivan. He came out of the bathroom.

“It’s a good time to take your seat, sir,” she said.

He was a little embarrassed, but now it felt all the more urgent to him that he check every toilet. Yet he had already checked every one of them, hadn’t he?

On impulse, he asked the flight attendant, “How many lavatories are there back here?”

“Just here in the back?” she asked. “Six.”

“That’s funny,” said Ivan. “I only counted five.”

“You only need one at a time, anyway,” she said with a smile.

“Really? Six?”

Humoring him, she pointed to them all in turn. “One, two, three, four, five. See?”

“OK,” he said. It was clear she had no idea what she had just said.

He needed to get her out of the way. “Do I have time to use one?” he asked.

“If you’re quick.” She smiled her official smile—the one that said “You’re an idiot but I’m paid to be nice to you”—and went back up the aisle, helping people settle in.

Ivan thought about what had just happened. Or tried to. His brain was a muddle, suddenly. She
had
said there were six bathrooms, hadn’t she? He tried to count them. He placed a hand on each door and said the number. And he got to six, all right. But had he counted one of them twice? Had he touched every door?

And then he realized. It didn’t matter where the missing bathroom was, or even if there was a bathroom missing. The flight attendant had said six and then counted five. He himself was confused about what was before his eyes. Maybe it was just nerves or carelessness. But maybe it wasn’t. And Ivan wasn’t taking any chances.

He walked briskly to the front of the plane. The flight attendant was about to close the door. “Wait,” he said to her. “We’re getting off.”

“What? Why?” she demanded.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We’ve decided not to go.”

“You’re going to delay the whole flight,” she said. “We can’t take off until we’ve found your luggage underneath and removed it.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’re getting off.”

He took a step toward first class to get Katerina, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the flight attendant resume closing the door. He whirled around. “If you close that door I’ll sue the airline and you for kidnapping!”

“What are you talking about?” she said.

“I asked you not to close the door.”

“I have to close the door. We can’t take off unless we close the door.”

Another flight attendant came up to him. “Sir, please take your seat now.”

“I’m not flying on this plane! I’m getting off! I told her not to close the door, I have to get my wife. She doesn’t speak English. We’re not taking this flight.”

“Of course, sir. Even though that will be an inconvenience to everyone else, since we have to wait while your luggage is unloaded, and—”

“The other flight attendant already explained that,” said Ivan.

“Honestly,” the first one said, “he never said a word about it to me.”

To Ivan, the confusion, the forgetfulness—they were proof that he was absolutely right. There was magic on this plane, and he was not going to be in it when it took off. He couldn’t walk away from the door of the plane or they would forget that he was leaving and close it—and he knew that once it closed, they would cite FAA regulations or some such nonsense and refuse to open it again. Yet he also was quite sure that if he sent one of them to get Katerina, she’d forget what she was doing before she got to Katerina’s seat, or screw it up in some other way.

So he called out. Not Katerina’s name, because there was a chance Baba Yaga, who was almost certainly hiding in a bathroom stall, could hear him. So he called, “Ruthie!” And again. And a third time, until finally Katerina turned around. He beckoned to her. She unfastened her seatbelt and came toward him. “Bring your things,” he said, when she was close enough to hear a whisper. “Hurry.”

She rushed back to their places, pulled everything out from under the seats, and came back. The whole time, Ivan had to keep saying, “My wife is coming, she’s getting our things, please be patient, don’t close the door.” As long as he kept talking, they remembered that he was leaving. If he left a pause, they forgot everything and he had to start all over.

Only when they were physically off the plane, standing at the entrance, did the flight attendants finally recover their short-term memory. Now they were quite cold to him and Katerina. But despite all the folderol, the baggage compartment hadn’t even been closed yet, and it took only a couple of minutes for one of the baggage handlers to return with the two small suitcases they had checked. Bags in hand, Ivan and Katerina hurried back along the ramp and the tunnel just far enough for the flight attendants to stop glaring at them and get back to business. There the two of them waited until the door of the plane closed. Then they quickly made their way back to the gate, where the clerk at the desk demanded an explanation of why they had changed their minds about the flight.

“I’m superstitious,” Ivan finally said. “This didn’t feel like a lucky plane to me.”

“You realize that a report will be filed on this,” said the clerk.

“I’m counting on it,” said Ivan. “And now, would you be kind enough to book us on the next flight?”

“How will I know if it’s lucky?” he said sarcastically.

“I’ll tell you before takeoff,” said Ivan.