Enchantment (46 page)

Baba Yaga finally found their reservation—but not till they had already taken off from Rochester. As it was, she had to scramble to catch a Syracuse flight that would get her to Kennedy before they embarked on the transatlantic leg of their journey. She was angry that they had tricked her—not just that they had succeeded, but that they had dared to try—but they hadn’t eluded her for long. It was the big transatlantic plane that she wanted, anyway.

Now to find that they had gotten off the flight was almost unbearable. She screamed and ranted all the way up and down the plane, spewing nauseating, annoying little curses between screeches. Nobody noticed her, of course, and all the spell-casting left her exhausted. She could barely sustain Shadow by the time she was done. But it didn’t matter. In a few minutes she and the plane would be back in her own world—the world where Bear could replenish her strength whenever she needed. And casting the spell to bring it all home would be easy enough. She had the cloth already prepared, hadn’t she? And sooner or later, Ivan and Katerina would return to Taina. It would have been nice to destroy them in Ivan’s world, but in the end, destroying them in Taina would have the added benefit of demoralizing the entire population of Taina. It was really better this way. They had escaped one trap, but inevitably they would walk into another, sooner rather than later. And in Taina, there’d be no more interference from the mousy little witch Ivan called Mother.

When the seatbelt light went dark and people started moving around again, Baba Yaga began following one of the flight attendants around, filling her with wordless curiosity, along with images of the pilot as the man with the answers. And when the flight attendant finally went to the cockpit, Baba Yaga didn’t have to understand English to know what was being said, for she was feeding the girl questions below the level of language.

“What is the head of the plane?” asked the flight attendant.

The pilot looked at her as if she were insane.

Baba Yaga cast Understanding on him, which in her weakened state didn’t confer actual comprehension, but did make him listen attentively, setting aside biases and expectations that would have interfered. In the end, the pilot told her, “The thing that leads the plane is me, and the tool I use to do it is this.” He pointed to the thing that looked something like a car steering wheel.

At once the flight attendant relaxed, then looked confused. “What am I doing up here? Did you want something?”

“No,” said the pilot, laughing. “We didn’t want anything.”

“Then you shouldn’t have called me,” she said. She rushed out of the cockpit, embarrassed.

The pilot only had time to say “I think somebody’s been hitting the bottle” before Baba Yaga, unnoticeable as ever, leaned over his shoulder and draped a small cloth over the control that he had indicated. Baba Yaga herself might be weak here, but the cloth had been given its power at a time when she had her full strength. It would do its work. The plane and everything in it would follow where the cloth took them.

Home.

One moment they were flying over the Atlantic, still not quite out of the sight of land. The next moment, they were in the air over the deep forest of western Rus’. The panic in the cockpit lasted only until Baba Yaga cast off Shadow and revealed herself. For in the transition from one world to the other, the power of Bear had flooded back into her. She felt like a girl again; all the weariness was gone. And now it was a simple matter to impose Understanding on the pilot, the crew, and all the passengers—not just openness, but real comprehension of every word she spoke, though not one of them spoke her language.

“I have brought you here. Take me to my kingdom!”

They seemed reluctant at first. Not until the copilot and several flight attendants were vomiting or dancing around insanely did the pilot really understand the kind of power he was dealing with. And the pilot didn’t actually get cooperative until she had given him a crippling rectal itch, which he had no choice but to scratch at savagely, until finally he persuaded Baba Yaga that yes, he would take her wherever she wanted to go, and no, he would not make any more foolish demands about taking them back to Kennedy at once.

This was the primeval forest of Mother Russia. They circled around for many hours in search of a stretch of flat, treeless ground where a 747 could land. Finally the coming darkness of night forced a decision—a meadow that wasn’t really long enough or level enough, but it was their only chance. Baba Yaga helped with the landing, making it smoother than they had any right to expect, and then stopping it quite abruptly before they ran into the forest edge. She was in her strength again, her powers filling her, her spells as potent as ever, and she rather enjoyed the pain and panic and injuries suffered by the passengers because of the sudden stop. What she cared about was keeping the flying house from being damaged by a collision. The people were here only because they happened to be in the airplane when she took it. Though the sound of shrieking and weeping was music to her ears.

As the sounds of pain and panic died down, Baba Yaga seized the microphone and, with the help of a vigorous new spell of Understanding, she announced to the entire plane, “You have reached your final destination.”

After the meaning of her announcement had a chance to sink in, the crying and screaming started up again in earnest.

16

Restoration

Every morning Sergei arose at dawn and walked to the door of his hut to see if Ivan and the princess had returned. Every day, all he saw was the chasm, the empty pedestal, and no future at all for him and poor Father Lukas.

Who could have guessed that within days of Princess Katerina’s departure, Dimitri would revolt? And who could have guessed that the moment he had power, Dimitri would declare Christianity to be a false religion and forbid its teaching in all of Taina? Father Lukas was all for becoming a martyr, and tried to persuade Sergei to do the same, but in the end it was Sergei who carried the day by asking which Christ would rather have, two dead clerics or two living missionaries who might someday restore Christianity in this benighted place?

Ever since then, they had been living in the one place Sergei knew that no man of Taina had ever succeeded in finding, at least not when the princess was lying here in enchanted slumber. Of course he was not so foolish as to tell Father Lukas of the significance of the place, just as he did not tell Father Lukas of the precious parchments hidden in a sack inside a box under a stone just inside the woods. To the priest, this was a place of penance and prayer. To Sergei, it was a rendezvous. Katerina and Ivan would come back, and when that happened, Dimitri’s support would melt away. It was only with the princess gone that the people despaired and listened to his claim that they needed a strong warrior to save them from Baba Yaga. When Katerina returned, the people would flock to her again; indeed, they were already deeply ashamed of having followed Dimitri, especially after he used some hideous magic to strike old King Matfei dumb, and longed for—prayed for—her safe return.

So disgusted were they with Dimitri’s strutting and boasting and bossing and bullying that they even prayed for Ivan to come with her, for they realized now that having a king meant more than leadership in battle. King Matfei’s hand had rested lightly upon them. Dimitri’s hand was not so deft.

And yet even he was better than Baba Yaga. So they did not revolt, not yet. And when Sergei crept back to the village to hear news and gossip, he heard more and more resignation in the voices of those he spoke to. They were still faithful Christians, they assured him. But how could they shrug off Dimitri’s kingship when Baba Yaga might return at any time?

For even those who did not believe in Katerina’s return had no doubt of Baba Yaga’s. That’s the way of the world: The princess can disappear, but the witch is forever.

So it was that the two clerics dwelt in the hut that Sergei built, living on whatever herbs and berries, roots and mushrooms Sergei could find in the forest. Neither of them was much of a cook, either, so the only seasoning that made the food palatable was starvation. They both grew thinner; Father Lukas lost the rest of his hair; and Sergei had dreams of naked women coming to him in the night, so that he hardly slept at all, what with Father Lukas shaking him and demanding that he stop having dreams of pleasure at a time like this. It was hard for Sergei to figure out how hell might be worse.

This morning, like so many others, Sergei staggered out of the hut at first light, looked to see if by any chance Katerina and Ivan were back, then walked over to the edge of the chasm, lifted his robe, and relieved himself of the night’s urine. That’s what he was doing when Ivan and Katerina suddenly appeared out of nowhere, stepping onto the pedestal from an invisible bridge.

“Sergei,” said Ivan.

Startled, Sergei dropped his robe, which meant he peed all over the inside of it. Inadvertently he cursed, and then forgot all about it, because they were back. Even before they crossed over another invisible bridge to the side Sergei was standing on, he was shouting to them the story of all that had happened. The tumult brought Father Lukas out of his hut, and to Sergei’s surprise the priest looked happy—no, ecstatic. He almost danced he was so happy. It almost made Sergei wish he had told Father Lukas of Katerina’s promise to return—it would have given him hope. But it also would have given Father Lukas something more to berate Sergei about. As if Sergei needed Father Lukas to tell him that if only he had told the truth to King Matfei about where Katerina and Ivan had gone, Dimitri might not have been able to win support and take over.

What Father Lukas didn’t understand was that if Sergei had told, Dimitri would have been standing here with a sword when Ivan and Katerina arrived, and Ivan’s head would have rolled into the chasm within moments.

For half an hour they all talked—or rather, Sergei and Father Lukas talked while Katerina and Ivan listened, saying little, but looking more sorrowful and more grimly determined as each tale unfolded. Finally, Katerina turned to Ivan and said, “You see? Maybe it’s Christ who has been helping us all along, for unless we defeat the Pretender, Christianity is lost in this part of the world.”

“Baba Yaga isn’t the problem of the moment,” said Father Lukas. “There’s plenty of time to drive out the servants of the devil from other kingdoms, once we rid ourselves of the devil in our midst.”

“Dimitri,” Sergei explained.

“Poor man,” said Ivan.

“You pity him?” said Katerina. “After what he did to my father?”

“And you would be wise to pity him, too,” said Ivan. “He isn’t the first person that the Widow has deceived into acting in a way that he never would have on his own.”

“He shriveled my father’s tongue in his mouth,” said Katerina.

“Did he know the spell would do that?” said Ivan. “Or was he like Ruthie, who never knew what she was doing?”

Clearly Ivan and Katerina had had experiences of their own since leaving Taina. But this discussion was leading nowhere. “The story is that the Pretender returned yesterday, with more magic than ever,” said Sergei.

“Only yesterday?” asked Katerina. “That’s good.”

“Good?”

“She left the land where Ivan’s family lives more than a week ago. We were afraid she would strike before we could get back.”

“They say she has a huge new house that walks around on chicken legs. It’s as white as snow and as hard as a sword’s blade. So they say,” said Sergei.

“Gossip spreads fast,” said Ivan.

“She wanted everyone to know,” said Katerina. “She probably spread the stories herself.”

“The question is,” said Ivan, “will we have time to prepare before she attacks?”

“Who knows?” said Katerina. “All we can do is work as quickly as we can and hope that it’s enough time.”

“But that’s all the more reason to be merciful to Dimitri,” said Ivan. “We don’t have time to deal with putting down a revolt. Pardon him, forgive all who followed him, and then concentrate on finding the materials we need.”

“If only we could have made them there and brought them with us,” said Katerina.

“In what pockets?” asked Ivan. The two of them laughed ruefully.

Sergei was surprised at how many words the two of them used that he had never heard before. What happened to them while they were gone? Whatever it was, one thing was plain: They liked each other now. No, they loved each other. Sergei could see it in the way Katerina looked at Ivan, in the way Ivan oriented himself around her at every moment. It was as if she was now included within his protective circle—though a look at Ivan’s arms showed that he hadn’t acquired the muscles of a swordsman.

“You’re wearing that robe I burned on your wedding day,” said Father Lukas. “I thought Brother Sergei had it last.”

“Well, nobody wants
this
robe,” said Sergei, hoping that joking about his peed-on clothing would distract Father Lukas from the nastiness that Sergei could see coming.

It didn’t work. Father Lukas simply ignored him. “It seems that Sergei kept
secrets
from me.”

“If he did,” said Katerina, “it was at my command, Father Lukas.”

“You have no authority over a scribe’s truthfulness to his priest,” said Father Lukas mildly.

Ivan made as if to answer then, but Katerina raised a hand, just slightly, and Ivan immediately fell silent, deferring to her. “Father Lukas, when a subject gives obedience to his sovereign, yet in doing so commits no sin, does he have anything to confess?”

“The sin was in not telling me,” said Father Lukas, growing grumpier.

“Then perhaps you don’t wish to have me rule as a Christian sovereign in Taina,” said Katerina. “For I could never rule if I thought my subjects owed obedience to the priest before me.”

“Sergei is a cleric,” said Father Lukas.

“Tell me now,” said Katerina. “Are clerics subject to my rule or not? If not, then I won’t bother trying to restore Christianity to Taina. It would be a seditious influence, for everyone who took holy orders would believe himself to owe no further obedience to the king.”

Father Lukas realized the dilemma he had placed himself in.

“Either priests are subject to kings in whatever land you visit, or you are not, and if you are not, then God and his angels had better help you, for no mortal force can do it.”

“I beg your forgiveness, Princess,” said Father Lukas. “I spoke in the midst of annoyance at having been kept in the dark. Of course Sergei acted properly in obeying you.”

Katerina said nothing, merely waited. He had apparently left something out.

In a few moments he figured out what it was. “And I, of course. I am also your good subject while I dwell in Taina.”

Katerina immediately smiled and took his hands. “Ah, my dear confessor, it will be the great joy of my life to be the instrument of the Lord in restoring the gospel of Jesus Christ to its rightful primacy in the land God has given my family to rule.”

Sergei had never seen Father Lukas openly humbled before. It was refreshing. It filled Sergei with optimism for the future. Katerina did know how to rule. If both her husband and Father Lukas deferred to her, then there was hope that Dimitri and Baba Yaga might also someday bow.

Baba Yaga? I’m a fool, thought Sergei.

And yet, was God not more powerful than kings or wizards? And was it not embedded somewhere in natural law that goodness must ultimately prevail over evil? If not, then natural law was poorly planned, in Sergei’s opinion. A second-rate creation. If even he, a poor fool of a scribe, could imagine a better universe, then any Creator who was worth worshiping must be able to do as well. Therefore, God must have so ordained this world, and that gave hope to the righteous no matter how bleak their cause.

If, in fact, we are the righteous.

But Sergei quickly put
that
doubt out of his mind. Between the people of Taina, with all their sins and pride and weakness and fear, and Baba Yaga, there was no question about which was on God’s side.

“May I ask,” said Sergei to Katerina, “what we are to call you now? With your father muted by the Pretender’s spell, who will be the king that leads us into war?”

“My father is still the king,” said Katerina. “He may have lost his speech, but he can read and write, and so can I, and so can Ivan. We will learn his will and obey him.”

“But in battle, who will lead?”

Katerina did not so much as glance at Ivan. “Whoever is most fit to fulfil my father’s will.”

Yes, she was already queen, for she had mastered the art of answering honestly without answering at all.

When Ivan saw Sergei there waiting for them, he was just as glad that he and Katerina had clothes on both sides of the bridge now. Let someone else be humiliated—Ivan had had his fill of it. He was coming back now to the place he had fled to save his life, a place where he was despised, resented, or pitied, but not respected. And somehow he had to lead these people in creating new technologies, learning to use them, and then deploying them in battle.

At least this time he’d have Katerina solidly on his side. It was such a relief, not to be alone. He hoped she felt the same, that having him beside her was a strength, and not a burden. There was no point in asking her—she would say he was a help to her, and would even mean it. Whether it was true would be revealed by events.

Baba Yaga knew they were back, but they weren’t in Taina yet, not in the village, and Ivan and Katerina had already planned that they would not return until they had some of their new weapons ready. Otherwise, they would have to face Dimitri with nothing but Katerina’s will and the people’s love for her. Both were strong—but Dimitri would claim to be the only one who could stand against Baba Yaga, and fear of the witch might well prevail over love for Katerina. Especially with Ivan standing beside Katerina, reminding everyone of his weakness. No, they had to have something more.

Now they had Sergei and Father Lukas to help them, at least by tending fires and keeping watch over pots. Instead of searching for saltpeter first, Ivan began by constructing a distillery. There were items Sergei had to sneak into town to obtain, and some that he had to ask the smith to make for him, but the smith served the king and only obeyed Dimitri out of fear for his family—he was glad to help, especially when Sergei, following instructions, let slip the news that Katerina and Ivan were back.

“Where?” asked the smith.

“In the forest, biding their time,” said Sergei. “Dimitri’s days are numbered. Those who are wise would do well to prepare to follow Katerina when she returns.”

The smith had his doubts, though. Until Sergei laughed. “Do you think Dimitri’s sword will stand against the Widow’s curses? Already he has been deceived by the witch and doesn’t even know it. No, it takes a woman of power to stand against the wicked one.”

There it was, the seed planted. When Sergei reported on the conversation, Ivan and Katerina were well satisfied. Word would spread. Many people would stop believing that Dimitri was their only hope. How could a soldier stand against a witch?

Running a still wasn’t easy, but Father Lukas took to it naturally, even after he realized that the result would be an extremely potent beverage. The problem was supplying the still with fermentable foodstuffs. After a couple of days, Katerina authorized Sergei to bring a couple of teenage boys from the village, enlisting them as the first of her own druzhina, though their labor was pilfering grain sacks and toting them miles through the forest, rather than swordplay. “Whatever my people need, I do,” she said, “and my druzhina will not be too good to do the same.” They knew that she spoke the truth, and so they obeyed her and felt noble for doing it—as they should.