Russian Amerika (10 page)

He pulled the insulting knife out of the death wound, wiped it absently on his dirty cotton pants, and dropped it in his small pouch.

“I'll gut every one of 'em for you, Wolverine!" he said with a lump in his throat. "I promise."

He ambled back down the trail toward the construction site. For a moment he entertained the thought of seeking out the third casualty, but decided not to waste the time. Bukowski had just been a Pole anyway.

"Well, I got one ear for the Czar," he said to the trail. The Indian at dawn. Too bad he couldn't get the scum to talk. In a way the Indian had outsmarted him.

As soon as Bear had begun to skin him to loosen his tongue, the Indian had screamed defiantly in their face and thrown himself on the blade. "You have to admire a man like that," he muttered, lengthening his stride.

14

Toklat on the Toklat River, September 1987

In the six days it took them to reach the village of Toklat on the Toklat River, Grisha gained weight. Nik tried incessantly to talk with Wing, which made Grisha resentful.

On the second day she had finally stopped and all but shouted, "What don't you understand about 'shut up and be quiet'? We have no idea if we are being followed or not. We all have to maintain discipline, even you."

Nik didn't open his mouth for the rest of the journey. Grisha felt embarrassed for him, as well as vindicated. Nik had been getting dangerously loud.

The first snow of the season dusted lightly through the trees as they entered the village. A few barking dogs and two men, standing silent as sentinels, constituted their welcoming committee.

"Wing, Claude, we're glad to see you," the older man said. "Who are your friends?"

Quickly Wing introduced them to Chandalar Roy and Nathan Roubitaux.

"Chan, here, is the grand old man of the movement," Wing said.

Chan's long, white hair hung down his back, tied in a ponytail; wrinkles of many decades crisscrossed his face. Sharp, intelligent eyes closely assessed the new arrivals. A spare and slightly stooped man, he stood half a head shorter than anyone else present.

Wing continued, "And Nathan is-"

"Let them learn for themselves," Nathan said.

Nathan's disturbing, piercing eyes glowed from his wide, pock-marked face. His dark, unruly hair stuck out in every direction. He stood half a head taller than Grisha, but probably weighed the same. The word
sinewy
came to mind as Grisha assessed him.

"Sure." Wing shrugged. "Any word from Slayer?"

"He is safe." Chandalar frowned. "Alex is-"

"I know. I heard him die."

"I mourn with you," Chan said.

She nodded. "These two are for you to train," she said briskly. "Claude and I must leave in the morning."

"To where?" Nik blurted. Grisha felt glad Nik asked the question; it spared him the impertinence.

"I'll be back in a month at most. You're still a prisoner suspected of Czarist leanings, so I can't tell you more than that."

"But what about-"

"That's all I can tell you." She stalked away in the failing afternoon light.

"She and Alex had been lovers for over a year," Chan said. "Come with me and we'll get you both settled."

Grisha snuck a glance at Nik. At first the man's face was stony, impossible to read, then it softened. He smiled and shrugged. They followed the gray-haired Chan.

Grisha felt Nathan staring at him. He brushed at a spot in front of his ear and turned to the tall, gaunt-featured man.

"What are you looking for, friend?"

Nathan gave him a frosty smile.

"You're very aware, Grigoriy. I meant no disrespect."

Chan opened the door of a cabin and motioned for them to enter. A castiron cook stove radiated heat, making Grisha aware he had been chilly for some time. Two oil lamps softly illuminated a pair of bunks built into the back wall, a small kitchen in one corner, and pegs and shelves in another. A sturdy wooden table and three chairs dominated the center of the room.

"I've stayed in much worse inns," Nik said absently as his gaze moved over the room.

"Four meters by four meters," Chan said. "Not exactly St. Petersburg but certainly adequate."

Grisha dropped onto one of the chairs and let his gear fall to the floor. "It's almost as beautiful as my boat. But right now some food would look even better. I am so tired."

Chan laughed. "No beating about the bush on your part. We have a meal waiting, come along."

Grisha threw his backpack on the bottom bunk and followed. Nik trailed him out the door.

"Thanks for giving me the top bunk."

Grisha glanced over his shoulder at him. "You'd have to fold double to fit into the bottom one. Besides, top bunks are always too warm at night."

"Well, I'm glad that our needs mesh," Nik said.

Chan led them to a large building.

"That's the biggest log structure I've ever seen," Grisha said.

"There are larger ones, but not close to Toklat," Nathan said beside him.

Large tables bisected the building. About twenty-five people stopped their noisy meal to look at them.

"This is Grigoriy Grigorievich, a Kolosh from Southeast, and Nikolai Rezanov, a former soldier of the Czar."

A few nods and a quick smile here and there made the best of it. Most of the men and a few of the women merely stared. Distrust emanated from the group and Grisha decided a meal wasn't worth sitting through this.

He turned toward the door and bumped into Nathan. The tall man smiled down at him, put his hand on Grisha's shoulder and carefully turned him around again.

“Come and break bread with me, killer of Cossacks," he said loudly. Nathan's eyes found Nik. "You too. We have much to discuss."

The mood in the room perceptively altered. Someone put a large wooden bowl of soup in front of Grisha. He thanked the server.

"You're welcome," Cora said, smiling back.

"How did you get here before us?" Nik asked.

"I cheated. I went by river."

"We needed the exercise anyway," Nik said, giving her a full smile.

"It's good to see you again, comrade," Grisha said.

"I'm glad to see both of you," Cora said. "We need all the help we can get." She moved away across the room.

"Does she have someone like Wing did?" Nik asked.

"Cora's very independent," Nathan said, "most Athabascan men don't like that."

"Then most Athabascan men are fools, she's quite lovely."

"While we agree with the second part, we'll take the first part under advisement." Chan leaned across the table toward Grisha. "Why is your name familiar to me?"

"Did you ever serve in the czar's army, or the Troika Guard?"

"No. But my two nephews did, one was killed in some wasted action in Algeria" Chan's eyes rounded as his voice abruptly stopped. "My God," he whispered. "You're that Grigorievich?"

"Da." Grisha pushed his empty bowl away. "Does that change anything between us?"

"You were in the Russian Army?" Nathan frowned, his eyes flicked back and forth between Chan and Grisha.

"You were a major and they cashiered you for disobeying orders," Chan said, staring at Grisha. "You had over ten years in uniform, yes?"

"You have an excellent memory, Chan."

"Moses, my surviving nephew, still talks about what you did."

Grisha smiled. "I wasn't aware my men knew what happened. I would like to talk with Moses some time."

"No time like the present." Chan left the table.

Nik gestured at Grisha with his spoon. "You people welcome him like a brother, yet he was in the army for ten years and I was only in for two"

"That's right," Nathan interrupted. "And you are suspect."

Nik's eyes narrowed as he stared back at Nathan.

Why was Nik so tense? Grisha wondered. Hadn't he come with them in search of a better life? Didn't he hate the Russian Army? Was he so indoctrinated that he wouldn't be able to do this?

"Where are you from, Nikolai?" Chan asked as he sat down with a platter of meat. "Here, fellows, try some moose."

"I was raised in St. Nicholas Redoubt."

"What schools did you attend there?" Chan pressed.

"Primary, secondary, university, and military." He sounded nettled.

"What else do you wish to know?"

"Why you are so defensive," Nathan said.

"I just deserted my life and family as well as the army. I tried to establish some rapport, but I really don't feel welcome here." He shut his mouth, jaw muscles worked under his skin.

"Look at the situation from our viewpoint. You're still an unknown to us, you could even be a spy."

Nik laughed. "Perhaps you're taking yourselves a bit too seriously?"

"Perhaps," Chan said. "But I'm afraid there are more questions I have to ask."

"The answers to which could help us a lot," Nathan said.

"What were you trained to do in the army?" Chan asked.

"To kill. To instantly obey any and every order given me by anyone with more stripes than I had on my arm, no matter how stupid the order or the person giving it."

"With your education I am surprised they did not offer you a commission."

"They did. I refused."

"Why?" Chan asked.

"A conscription lasts only three years. To obtain a commission one must commit to six. I had no desire to stay in the army for six years, even as an officer."

Chan smiled. "The military must have been hell for you."

"I'm here, aren't I?" Nik said. "They gave me every shit detail they could find and showed no sign of stopping. So I decided to desert. You people made it easy for me."

Chan and Nathan looked at each other. Nathan nodded.

Chan said, "With your military training we would like to have you in the Dená Army. Or you can help maintain the camp."

Nik glanced around at the three men. His eyes fastened on Nathan. "Is Cora in the army?"

Nathan nodded.

"She's a lieutenant," Chan said. "One of our best."

"I can believe that." Nik frowned. "I'll join your army."

"Enlistments are for the duration," Nathan said.

"Are you joining to fight or to be with Cora?" Chan asked.

"Does it matter?" Nik's voice carried an edge.

"Not really," Nathan said. He stared into Grisha's face. "And you, Major?"

First French Algeria, then all the wrongs visited on him since that last day on
Pravda
had filled him with a determined anger to hit back at the Czar and his corrupt machinery. These people not only had rescued him from certain death, they now offered him an avenue for revenge.

Before Grisha could respond, Chan said, "Oh, here's Moses now."

Grisha turned and immediately recognized Corporal Danilov. The extrooper stopped in his tracks, came to attention, and saluted. "Major, it's so good to see you."

"You're looking good, Moses." He held out his hand. "But call me Grisha, I haven't been a major for quite some time."

Moses shook his hand and smiled. "You're here in Toklat. Are you joining us?"

"Yes, yes I am."

"Then you'll probably be a major again, real soon."

15

On the Toklat River, October 1987

Grisha panted to a stop. Hiking in snowshoes proved as pleasant as whipsawing planks and reminded him of running through the desert in heavy boots. However, his speed and endurance showed improvement.

Nik stood on the crest of the small ridge ahead of him. The man's long legs made snowshoeing an easy exercise. Grisha tried to feel envious but couldn't; he'd always been comfortable with his compact size.

Nik was having a hard time of it. Not that he couldn't keep up with the physical training. In fact he'd started out in much better form than Grisha and was at least a decade younger.

Grisha knew the man's tight-lipped boorishness of the past few days was due to his frustration with Cora's continued evasiveness.

"I'm a deserted deserter!" he'd wailed in their cabin the night before.

"First Wing told me how wonderful it was that I was going to be part of the movement and what an asset I would be with all the knowledge I had. Then she starts talking about Cora, her deep mind and her big heart.

"She even told me that Cora had commented on my preoccupation with books, that she liked intelligent men. Since then Cora has all but shunned me and Wing told me to shut up after one day on the trail."

"My God, you whine a lot. What, you need the help of one woman to win another?" Grisha laughed. "Maybe Cora is waiting to see if you can complete this little training course, maybe she wants to make sure you're all you're supposed to be."

Suddenly Nik fixed him with a hard stare. "What do you mean by that?"

Grisha frowned, shrugged. "What part of that didn't you understand? She probably just wants to see you become a fully accepted member of the DA before she loosens her heart to you.

"Hell, I don't know. I used to think I knew women and what they wanted, but over the past year I've been brutally disabused of that notion. Maybe you should follow my example and concentrate on what they're teaching us, forget about women."

"That'll be the day," Nik said with a grunt.

In the five weeks since their arrival in Toklat they and twelve other trainees met and conquered every challenge thrown at them by the DA. Most of them related to physical fitness and arctic survival skills. Grisha's body filled out and the convict pallor faded. He had regained his old Troika Guard physique.

"Think of this as a refresher course, Captain-Major Grigorievich," Chan had said, then laughed. "I'm sure it won't be long before you're in command."

Grisha had laughed with him.

But there was no way to lengthen legs. Finally, breathing heavily, he trudged up next to Nik, his training partner.

"There has to . . ." he gasped, ". . . be a better way to move around."

"They're quite functional," Nik said with exaggerated pomposity.

"There's approximately a meter-point-five to two meters of snow beneath us. Think how far you'd sink if not for those fat webs hooked to your feet."

"True, they've kept me from sinking completely out of sight every time I fall over."