Yvgenie (24 page)

Read Yvgenie Online

Authors: CJ Cherryh

BOOK: Yvgenie
7.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

You
knew
better, she wanted Sasha to know, while Pyetr was staggering from the bedstead to the wall to the door, with every intention of riding after Ilyana, immediately, this instant.

She followed Pyetr into the kitchen, watched him gather supplies in an achingly random, confused way, while the
blood traced a thin trail down his cheek. He was not upset with Ilyana, that was the hurtful thing. He believed it was his fault: Ilyana was only an innocent misled by a scoundrel—maybe not even a thorough-going scoundrel, at that, only a most desperate and unhappy ghost. Pyetr's capacity for forgiveness outraged her sense of justice and was such gentle sanity when she borrowed from him—

But that borrowing was like the other borrowing, the killing one; and it reminded her that she could have the strength to stop her daughter. She could have it at any moment she wanted to take it...

While in the same reckless way Pyetr forgave Ilyana and Kavi, Pyetr forgave her, too, for things that, dammit, were not even true; and never had been. But how could one possibly refuse forgiveness for sins one had not done, when there were so many worse she contemplated?

He said, glancing around at her in shock,

God
,
where's Sasha?


On his way.

A tear spilled down her cheek, all unexpected. His innocent dread made a complete wreck of her calm constructions. She wished not. She wished the whole business
not,
but that was mortally dangerous, oh, god, it was—

He flung his arms about her, hugged the breath out of her and said,

'Veshka, 'Veshka, they're just young fools. I scared her. It's all my fault. She thinks she's protecting the boy, that's all. Don't panic. We'll get her back.


She's protecting
him
? Don't! Don't argue with me! You don't know what they're thinking, and I don't want to wonder. Please—
pleasel

He caught her face between his hands, wanting her to look at him.

Wife,
I
was a handful. I know what she's thinking. We locked her in and we locked her out, and she couldn't breathe, that's all.
I
would have run, in her place—and dumped my father on his head, too, if he was trying to stop me—but she didn't mean to hurt anybody,

Veshka. You know she could have done much worse—


Pyetr, dammit, she's not all your daughter!
Wishes
are her mother and her father, and we even don't know whose! I never knew why I had her!''


She wanted to be born, that's all, the same way she wanted the filly. Two fools like us hadn't a chance.

She caught his hands.

Don't joke, Pyetr! God, don't joke, you don't understand what you're saying, you never have understood me! She
shouldn't have been born…
She shouldn't
exist,
Pyetr, I don't know how I ended up carrying her, to this day I don't know!


You don't mean that.


Pyetr, you don't feel it, you don't
feel
the silence out there. She's pulled a curtain around her, she's invisible, she's the whole damned
woods.
Pyetr! God, I
love
her, but love's not enough!—I should never have left you with her!

He took her wrong. She hurt him. He turned away to his packing, saying,

I'll get her back.

And, god—she all but
wanted
to want him to understand her, but he already blamed himself for losing her, and she was too confused to know what was right to want of him—

Meanwhile Sasha was on his way up to the porch, a very sore and repentant Sasha, who opened the door and said, cheerfully,

Well, she certainly did it, didn't she?''

She restrained what she thought. She bit her lips on what she thought of Sasha's damnable levity and Sasha's choices thus far, until she tasted blood.

And thought of thorns.

Sasha said,

They've taken the filly, that's all. We can overtake them.

She said,

I'll take the boat. And I'm not a fool, Sasha. Let's have no arguments. You know my opinions. I'll allow you yours. But for the god's sake don't tell me nothing's wrong!

Pyetr said, desperately,

Let's not for the god's sake quarrel. You pack. I'll get after her. There's more than one horse, Sasha. His showed up.—

Veshka, do you have any clear idea where she's going?


North. And you're not going after her alone. She has no idea what she's going to do.
I
have no idea. She's never fought us like this.


Then she's damned scared, is all! Hell,

Veshka, maybe we should all just let her alone, let her think! If we all take off after her—


With
him,
let her alone?''


Hush,

Sasha said.

No. I agree with both of you. We shouldn't press her, but we shouldn't let her go off on her own either. There's too much come loose the last few days— more wishes than hers are involved here, and she doesn't know what she's going to do: she doesn't even realize what she
can
do—that's the worst danger. She could have killed you, Pyetr, with a less specific wish.


Then she's smarter than that. She
knows
what she's doing, she's doing exactly what you predicted she'd do—what anybody would do, who's cornered

For the god's sake, it's
Ilyana
we're talking about—


—in Kavi's company,'' Eveshka cried.

Is that what you want?

He looked at her in distress and she was sorry she had shouted at him, she was sorry for wanting him to listen to her opinions. She put her arms about him, wanted him well, wanted him to understand her fears, at least.

Love's no defense,

she whispered.

God, protect yourself.

He said, his chin against her hair,

Love's
not
a defense; that's the entire point, isn't it?

He terrified her. He went at fear the way he went at fences, headlong. And if what he loved had no concern for him—


Ilyana
's being selfish,

she said, as reasonably as she could.

She's scared, yes. We're so easily frightened. Ev
erything's so
unstable to us. When your feet are sliding—it's very hard to love anyone but yourself.''


She's your daughter,

he said.

And you do.


Don't trust me, dammit!

She pushed away from him, and realized Sasha's embarrassed presence.

God, you reason with him!

She ran for the door, ran down from the porch and across the yard.


'Veshka!

she heard Pyetr shouting after her, afraid for her, angry at her, she did not want to know. She wished she had kissed him goodbye. She wanted to run back now and do that, which would only make leaving him harder, and lead to arguments. She wished instead to welcome him home, sometime yet to come, which was as close as she dared come to wishing
for their lives and this house—

But even that wish might have a darker side. Anything might. Everything might. Don't trust me, was the safest wish for them: don't love me, she had tried for years.

 


'Veshka!

Pyetr shouted furiously, and maybe it was a wish that anchored him to the porch, maybe it was his own knowledge that his effort was foredoomed—but he had a sure notion which when he felt Sasha's hand fall on his shoulder. Sasha said,

Let's get packed. She's had a good start.

He shook the hand off, and was sorry he had done that. Sasha knew more than he did about what had happened, probably knew more than he did about Eveshka's intentions at the moment and Sasha had made no attempt to stop her.

What's she up to? What's she going to do when she finds them? Reason with them? Not damned likely!

Sasha said,

Come on. Let's get what we need in the house.


She's
the one we ought to chase down! Why aren't we stopping her? Is it your idea? Or mine? Or hers?

He slammed his hand onto the rail.

God, I'm going crazy!

Sasha said,

I think it's because neither of us can keep her here. And she could be right. We don't know
who
wanted Ilyana to be born. It wasn't
'Veshka's idea.

Heat stung his face. Anger welled up.

Babies do happen without magic, Sasha, and once they're started, they do get born!


Not to wizards.

No damned time or place to argue
that
point. He muttered,


To wizards the same as anyone else, unless they wish not,

and started into the house to get his coat, his sword, provisions—


The point is,

Sasha pursued him at the door,

she's surrounded herself with protections for her life and her way. It shouldn't have just happened—


Protections against what?

He turned around, stopping Sasha short in the doorway.

Against the fact we love each other? Is that
safe,
Sasha? Is that even sane? She loves the mouse!

Sasha said faintly,

She knew the hazards, too.


The mouse isn't a damned hazard! She's the best thing that's ever happened to us!


There were others who could have wanted it. That's the
point,
Pyetr. That's what she's scared of.


All right, all right, let's say it, shall we? Her mother. Draga. Draga's influence is what she's afraid of. But Draga's dead!

He saw it coming, knew he had been the fool before Sasha even said the obvious:

So is Chernevog.

 

Babi had come with them, trotting along with a slight disturbance of dead leaves, upset and growling all the way.

Which might tell you something, mouse, her uncle would say to her. She had wanted Babi to stay with her father to be sure he was safe until her mother got home (and afterward) but Babi had turned up by Patches' feet as she led Patches out the gate—and now at the edge of dusk Owl joined them, too, flying ahead of them through the dark, a gliding wisp of white with black barring.


What's that?

Yvgenie asked anxiously.


Only Owl.


He's
not
a real owl,

Yvgenie objected, meaning, she
su
pposed, that he was not a live owl. She said, distractedly, wishing silence close about them:

He's real. Ghosts are real.

Yvgenie made her think of her father, so deaf to wishes, and so patient and
good-hearted despite his weari
ness. She wanted to help him, but worrying about him or her father was dangerously distracting to her right now, and she longed for Kavi to speak to her again, but that was not fair. It was even dangerous to Yvgenie—

She thought it and Yvgenie's head began to nod—perhaps that her wish had done it, perhaps that Yvgenie had grown too weak or too weary to care any longer about overhanging branches.

Stay on,

she wished him, riding Patches close where there was room among the trees. She pushed at his shoulder.

Please don't fall off.

She had had enough of bumps on undeserving heads for one day, please the god, when she dared not even wish her father well now, dared not reach back into the house where her mother's wishes hung so thick and so stiflingly strong.

Other books

The Secrets Women Keep by Fanny Blake
Her Healing Ways by Lyn Cote
The Aftershock Investor: A Crash Course in Staying Afloat in a Sinking Economy by Wiedemer, David, Wiedemer, Robert A., Spitzer, Cindy S.
Afterthoughts by Lynn Tincher
Born of War by Anderson Harp