Authors: CJ Cherryh
Branches cracked against the hull. The old ferry jolted and
scra
ped along the shore.
The forest that shut out her magic could not shut her
o
ut—kill her if it could—but not stop her short of killing
her
.
Sasha would talk about morality. Sasha would talk about
t
he safety of people she had never met, and children she
had
never seen, and beg her to have pity on them, remembering that magic sought a way into the world—which wizards must never, give. But
Pyetr
was her right and wrong.
P
yetr was her world outside the woods, and the world
inside her heart. Without him, if anything should ha
ve
happened to him—
Sasha had warned her against killing and against dying
— You know what you'd become…
Oh, absolutely she did.
8
The horses had not
the strength now for hard going. No more did Pyetr—small
wonder that Pyetr seemed thinner an
d
paler than yesterday: he noticed it especially when the
y had come to a small in
and let the horses rest and dr
ink. Pyetr stripped off
his b
loody shirt and splashed water
over
him, sending a trail
of
st
ained water curling away over the moss-but of the wound there remained nothing but a white scar on his back
and
another on his chest
.
Pyetr touched the one he could
r
each
,
examined it, awkwardly situated as it was, and looked up with worry in his eyes that Sasha did not want to read
—re
alization how close he had come t
o
dying last night, certainly; and perhaps of the magic it
m
ight have cost to call him back.
‘
I didn't borrow,
’
Sasha
said.
‘
If that s
what you’
re wondering. You're
white as a ghost and
so
me bit thinner to prove
it
—
That shirt's beyond washing. God
,
don't put it back on.''
H
e pulled Pyetr's spare one from Missy's baggage. Pyetr shook the water out of his hair, dried it with the dirty shirt and put the clean one on.
After which they took the chance t
o
wash and shave, filled
their water-flasks and left the brook behind at a pa
ce
Missy and Volkhi could keep.
In the white sunlight, without dirt and stubble looked paler still, the fine lin
es on his face smoothed away
. He seemed—
Drawn thin, the way he had been in the days master Uul
a
mets had first snared them, and used Pyetr for bait for
his
ghostly daughter. The go
d help them, he had snatched after
an image last night, that very moment a youn
g fool had
worked his best magic—
they had been young, they had been
on an adventure that wou
ld end well—but time had glossed
the fear and the weariness and
Pyetr's sure attraction for what
he knew would kill him—the very destruction Pyetr had been
,
one feared with the clarity of hindsight, courting all his you
ng
life—
Because Pyetr had
had
that inclination in his youth: Py
etr
the gambler's son, who valued his life less than his freedom and his own way. Old Uulamets had wanted a wizard lad, had wished for one for a hundred years, till a certain stable boy had been shaken out of Vojvoda—to rescue Pyetr from an unpleasantness occasioned by a lady's window and an irate husband who had dropped dead in the street.
They rode a narrow space between the hills, with noon sun slanting through the leaves. Babi was off somewhere, but Babi would do that—sometimes there and sometimes not, as Babi pleased.
Sasha murmured, out of his own thoughts:
‘
When we first came to this woods, Pyetr, do you remember, master Uulamets wanted
me
to meet 'Veshka. You were an accident. He wanted
me
out of Vojvoda.
’
‘
I
wanted the hell out
of town
. There was a rope involved. I call that a reason.—
W
hat are you talking about?
’
‘
He wanted
me.
He wanted a wizard to attract Eveshka back to him. And after a hundred years of his wanting someone like me—and after my being born and growing up, and all, just to satisfy his wish—what did Eveshka do but fall in love with you instead?
’
‘
Love
, hell! The old goat meant you to die, friend. You
weren’t su
pposed to survive the honor.
’
‘
But
he didn't need a wizard for that. He cert
ainly didn't
need one fif
teen years old—
’
‘
She
was sixteen a hundr
ed years. She was still sixteen then. It
wasn't that unreasonable.
’
‘
But—
’
The train of thought was getting more and more
uncomforta
ble, now it had started.
‘
She'd have been sixteen
another
year or so. I'd have been older. It might have worked then.
’
‘
Tha
nk the god not. By then,
I'd
have been hanged.
’
Chi
lling thought.
‘
But his wish worked too soon, didn't
it? Or
didn't get me born soon enough. Maybe something
pu
lled his wish off a year or so. Maybe it was mine for my
ow
n welfare. Or 'Veshka's for help. —Or maybe it wasn't
even
me that was going to work: you were his answer, and
he wo
uldn't see it. He had his mind made up how everything
was going
to be, just like 'Veshka: it was me he still wanted,
after
you were right under his nose; and why, with you at
hand
, did he still want a wizard, when we all know the
doub
ly-born are so dangerous? Did
he
want Ilyana?
’
P
yetr frowned at him, thinking thoughts he most definitely
did
not want to overhear. Then Pyetr said:
‘
Does a rusalka
want
anything but its own way? M
aybe 'Veshka did it. Maybe her f
ather wanted you and she wished me up to spite him.
’
A ridge loomed in front of them. The horses took it at a brisker pace, and after that it was a climb down again, through
thin
new growth, past a fallen tree. Since the forest's re
-gr
owth, young trees had grown old and massive; and some had died.
He said, had been waiting to say, when they came side by side again,
‘
But
all along we've said wizards shouldn't marry wizards. You were ever so much—
’
Pyetr arched an eyebrow.
—safer? Hardly
fl
attering, to the rascal Pyetr had so studiously been. His face went hot and he mumbled instead,
‘
I just don't know why he was furious that she went for you.
’
‘
What in hell are we really talking about?
’
Impossible to explain. They were coming to another ro
ugh
spot.
‘
I don't know.
’
Their course took them apart agai
n, around a tree, along a
hillside, Missy dropping behind. He overtook Pyetr at
the
end of a stand of trees an
d a thorn thicket and Pyetr said,
‘
By everything you say, 'Veshka herself being born was no accident. The old scoundrel must have loved Draga on
ce
, I'll suppose he did—why else marry her? Or maybe—
’
Missy had to drop back again, and Sasha started to eaves drop for the rest of it, but it felt too private, something about Eveshka; and when they were side by side again, Pyetr asked:
‘
What are you trying to say?
’
‘
That Draga couldn't have carried 'Veshka without wanting her—or stayed near Uulamets if Uulamets hadn't been willing for her to—a baby's just too fragile. He
knew
his wife was trying to kill him. He knew his wife wanted that baby, but
he
wanted Eveshka, too—not just after she was born. He had to—if a wizard-wife can wish not to have a child—so can her husband, granted he's thinking in those terms.''
‘
Not a sure thing,'' Pyetr muttered,
‘
granted wizards are like the rest of us.
’
‘
Eveshka's told me she wasn't even thinking about having a child, herself, before she conceived Ilyana, which—
’
He was sure his face was red.
‘
—considering you both, was incredibly forgetful on her part.''
‘
She didn't exactly have a mother's kindly advice.
’
A hill intervened. He rode it, trying
not
to overhear Pyetr's thoughts, and Missy picked her way down at Volkhi's tail. Babi turned up again and left by the time he overtook Pyetr on flat ground.
Pyetr said:
‘
She's getting more and more like her father, if you want my opinion: scared to death of magic and using as little as she can.
’
‘
But why did Uulamets w
ant a wizard to marry his daugh
ter?
’
‘
Forget 'marry.
He wanted to kill us!
’
‘
You were the one he specifically didn't want and it hap
pened a
nyway.
’
‘
What are you saying? I was
Draga
's
choice?''
‘
No,
’
he said in consternation.
‘
No, I don't believe that.
I’m sa
ying I don't know what he wanted me for. Unless
he was su
re I could attract his daughter into his reach, and that
I could
help him—
’
‘
—
Be his damn servant,
’
Pyetr corrected him.
‘
B
ut the point is, if it's so terrible to have a child that
gifted
—what in the world did he want with me?
’
‘
Be
tter not to ask.
’
‘
No, it's important to ask. Why was he so upset that she
wanted
you instead?
’
‘
What are you getting at?
’
‘
I
don't know. I absolutely don't know. I wish I—
’
He
checked himself short of that precipice. He hit the
saddle
bow in frustration and looked at the trees, the leaves in
th
e sunlight—anything but wish. God!
Pyetr
said:
‘
Nobody could know she was a wizard until
she
was born. We didn't know—
’
‘
But Patches' spots were a good possibility—considering Missy. And if Uulamets di
dn't argue with having a grand-child
—which I don't get the impression he did, he was for
it
.
’
‘
Get to a point, for the god's sake.''