Chernevog (24 page)

“
That's what I mean! I'm not—not like you.
”

“
Thank the god. What do you want? The boyars after you for a hanging?
”

“
I'm not as brave as you are. In a lot of ways.
”

“
God, what does that mean? —Because I said I walked faster?
”

“
You take chances. Chances don't scare you.
”

Walking a balcony railing. Irina's upstairs window. An icy porch and a prodigious icicle.
“
They scared hell out of me! I was a gambler, I knew the odds. I wasn't brave. I was broke.
”

“
But you did it. You always knew what you were doing.
”

“
I guessed.
”

“
I wouldn't have had the nerve.
”

‘‘You're a wizard. You wouldn't have to.
”

“
No. I could cheat.
”

“
Ridiculous. Fedya Misurov was the cheat. And you wouldn't even dump him in the horse trough.
”

“
I was afraid of him.
”

“
No.
”
Pyetr lifted his head off his arms and looked at Sasha, who lay with Babi sleeping on his chest.
““
You were afraid of
yourself,
friend. You were afraid when you did dump him, it wouldn't be a horse trough.
”

A sigh. ‘‘You're right about that.
”

“
Better damn well do something, hadn't you? You can't do worse than nothing.
”

“
But that's it, Pyetr, that's exactly it—if somebody's wishing me into mistakes.
”

Pyetr leaned on his elbow.
“
Maybe doing nothing's a mistake. You think of that?
”

Sasha turned his head and looked at him.
“
If you were a wizard,
”
he said, ‘‘I think you'd be a good one.
”

“
God, no, I wouldn't.
”
The thought appalled him.
“
Not me.
”

‘‘What would you do?
“

“
I'd wish him dead! I'd wish the woods safe and 'Veshka back home. That first.
”

Sasha scratched Babi's head.
“
How?
”

“
What do you mean, how?
”

“
That's too general. How are we going to make that happen?
”

“
You tell me.
”

“
I'm asking you. —I'm serious, Pyetr, you've a good head for right wishes. You think of things. Think of getting around what somebody else might have wished—think of something he won't have thought of. You always were good at that.
”

That was a hard one. Pyetr rolled onto his back and looked up at the dark branches.

‘‘I wish—I wish 'Veshka to make right decisions, for a start.
”

“
Not bad, but too general. Specific things win out.
”

“
What, then?
”

“
I'm asking you. You're good at getting around things.
”

“
Tavern keepers. Creditors.
”

“
Are wizards smarter? —What would you wish?
”

“
I want 'Veshka safe! Can't you wish that, with no equivocation?
”

“
Safe could mean—
”

One lived with wizards, one learned such simple truths.
“
God,
”
Pyetr sighed and put both arms over his eyes.
“
Get some sleep, boy, just for the god's sake, get some sleep.
”
He thought a moment more. The idea would not turn him loose.

The f
ac
t was, what he truly wished was embarrassing—but he thought it might help if Sasha threw it in. ‘‘I wish her still to love me.
”

“
Is that fair?
”

“
To protect her—absolutely it's
he
r!
”

Sasha said nothing to that. Pyetr thought about it, and worried over it, and Eveshka's damnable independence, and said, finally, thinking that by morning he was going to be embarrassed about this:
“
Then wish me to be someone she'd rely on.
”

'
“
That's already true,
”
Sasha said.

“
Wish it anyway. I do. —And while you're about it, wish us smarter than our enemies.
”

“
I don't think you can do that. You either are or you aren't. That's how you win and lose.
“
You have to be specific.
”

“
Then—
”
He thought of Vojvoda's upstairs windows, of balconies, latches and shutters.
“
Wish us not to forget the little things. Wish us—
”
He thought about the years of his boyhood, that he had gambled his way up from tavern cellars to the fellowship of young gentlemen—and deluded himself about their
loyalties
.
“
—to see through our most cherished self-deceptions.
”

“
That's good,
”
Sasha said.
“
What else? What about Chernevog?
”

Pyetr shook his head slowly.
“
I don't know.
”
God, he found himself don't-knowing, the same as Sasha. But there was so damned much to keep track of.
”
Wish a snake to bite him. Wish a bear to eat him.
”

“
Awake or asleep? Now or later? You can't put much complication in a wish. There might not be a bear in the neighborhood.
”

“
Well, find one! God, what can you predict? What use is the damn bannik, if it doesn't give you that? —Get some sleep, for the god's sake. We're crazed, we're getting nowhere closer, talking all night.
”

‘‘Uulamets used to say, Never ill-wish.
”

“
Well, it never damn well stopped Uulamets. Did it?
”

“
No,
”
Sasha admitted, and then said, on another sigh,
“
A bear isn't really such a bad idea.
”

12

Slow thump of hooves on earth, quicker and quicker—an ominous sensation of presence behind him
—

Sasha looked over his shoulder. Eyes shone out of the dark. Babi hissed, or something did.

White mane flew in his face, dead branches rushed past him. He was riding he had no idea where with something clinging to his back, riding double on the horse
—

Volkhi made an odd noise, and Sasha waked with a start in fogbound daylight—with the pale horse of his dream leaning over him.

A white and brown spotted horse, actually, looking at him down a very familiar bowed nose.

He scrambled up, sending the horse shying back in offense; he asked, wobbling on his feet,
“
Missy?
”

Ears pricked forward to his voice—and switched back again as Pyetr staggered upright,
“
God, boy, where are you getting them?
”

“
I didn't intend to. I honestly didn't intend to—
”

“
Isn't that the carter's horse?
”

“
It's Missy, yes.
”

“
Well, god, don't let her get away! —Here, Missy. Good

Missy, here, girl, Volkhi's a gentleman, I swear to his behavior.
”

Missy shied back from Pyetr's enticements, even from Babi; but Sasha cheated, afraid she might indeed bolt back into the woods. He wished and whistled softly, stood with his hands held out as Missy took one cautious step and another, until he had her soft nose smelling over his fingers.

Old friends, old memories, in the midst of troubles—god, it was good to see her. It was wonderful to put his arms around her neck.
“
Poor old girl,
”
he said against her warm, broad cheek.
“
Poor old girl, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have brought you here. This is a dreadful place.
”

Missy distractedly butted him with her head, cracking
hi
s teeth, looked up and surveyed Volkhi and Pyetr and Babi with a worried eye, doubtless asking herself what this odd gathering was, or what an honest working horse might possibly have to do with present company.

But that something had gone right suddenly began to seem too improbable. Missy's presence, however loved, became a threat. He had dreamed about a white horse: he had never thought of white-maned, white-rumped Missy.

“
I wished for her the night Volkhi came,
”
he said dazedly, holding Missy's cheek-strap while Pyetr was busy throwing the packs together.
“
I knew I'd done it. I thought I'd stopped it. That was why I was up writing, when the shelf fell. I wished other things—god!—about my uncle—
”

'
“
The black god take your uncle. And I doubt Missy had much to do with the shelf.
”

“
It doesn't. But she had to have come straight up from town— to where we were
going
to be this morning
...”

“
Well, damn little use her coming to the house today, is it? Your wish just took care of us, friend, it crossed a flood getting here—
”

‘‘But that's just it. She didn't go the way we did. There wasn't time. The only way she could have gotten here since I wished is straight across from
Vojvoda
, not even
by
the road, no path, nothing—since that night.
”

“
So maybe she got a head start. Maybe for your wish to work she had to.
”

“
You don't do things like that. Things don't happen before they happen.
”

Pyetr looked at him under one brow.
“
Good. I'm glad. The world should work like that.
”

“
I mean I honestly don't know. Pyetr, I don't like it, I don't like any of this. I'm telling you I don't think it was my wish that got her here.
”

“
Maybe it was 'Veshka wished it.
”

'‘‘Veshka didn't even want Volkhi!
”

‘‘Which means you did it. I damn well don't think Kavi Cher-nevog did.
”
Pyetr gathered up two of their packs and flung them over Volkhi's back, shaking his head.
“
Just let's get moving this morning. Whatever it came from, whyever it came here, isn't it what we
do
with it that counts? Let's just wish not to be fools.
”

“
Wishing's never helped that,
”
Sasha muttered.
“
Babi? — God, where's Babi?
”

“
There,
”
Pyetr said, indicating about head-high. Sasha looked over his shoulder, ready for disasters, and found Babi perched comfortably on Missy's rump, a ball of black fur for all the world like a slit-eyed and comfortable stable cat.

It made him feel better about Missy being Missy.

But not about the other things.

Andrei Andreyevitch's mare having had the decency to run off wearing a halter, it was only a spare bit of rope she needed for a rein—if she even needed that, Pyetr thought, considering Sasha's peculiar talents.
“
Hauling turnips may be safer,
”
he murmured into the mare's white ear while he knotted the rope to the ring.
“
But the lad's all right. Do what he tells you. He's not all crazed. Now and again he's even right.
”