Enchantment

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 fulfill 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.

And in the process, they began to get to know Ivan. He made it a point never to command anyone, but always to ask; nor did he teach imperiously, but rather couched everything in phrases like, "The way I was taught..." or "I think it might work better if..." And then he got along with the young men, never pretending to be one of them, but enjoying their humor and refusing to become impatient with their playfulness.

So when it was time to pour alcohol into brittle pots and put in the fuses, the young men already liked Ivan. He showed them how to light the fuses and then throw the pots into the chasm. They were impressed, of course. But Ivan pointed out that they wouldn't be throwing them at rocks. "Imagine the old hag's knights receiving a dose of this."

The boys' eyes widened. And for the first time they realized that with weapons like these, boys might bring down mounted warriors. "We are her druzhina," said one of them. "I'd like to use this on Dimitri," said another.

"No," Ivan said. "Dimitri is one of our own."

"Not after what he did to King Matfei."

"Nevertheless, these weapons don't replace swords. We need his strength on our side."

Grudgingly they agreed. And then began to practice throwing stones of about the same weight as the Molotov cocktails, working on improving their aim.

Ivan had done a good job of learning the location of historically known mineral deposits in the area, and it took very little fumbling to get what he needed for gunpowder. Now that they had seen the Molotov cocktails, they took Ivan seriously when he warned them to handle the gunpowder carefully. Soon they were loading serious quantities of gunpowder into little bronze canisters with fuses. The smith couldn't spare any iron, for Dimitri would have noticed if it went missing, but bronze grenades would do well enough, Ivan figured. What mattered was shrapnel, to turn them from cherry bombs into legitimate weapons.

Since the fuse material was different, they had to practice to get the timing right. Soon, though, the boys were learning to throw grenades as well as cocktails, though they only practiced with tiny charges of gunpowder that went off with no more than a pop, and didn't damage the canisters. To everyone's surprise, Sergei emerged as one of the better throwers, and on some days the best.

"Time to return to Taina," Katerina announced, when their supply was adequate. "We must all return together, so let's close down the still." When the fires were out, they hid the unused gunpowder and the materials used to make it, then shouldered their bags of cocktails and grenades and made their way along Sergei's path through the woods.

Sergei had been careful never to follow the same route twice, so he couldn't easily be followed, but the boys had not been so careful. Clearly the only reason they had not been found was that some of the enchantment lingered, protecting their hiding place by the chasm. Now there would be no protection. And Ivan knew that Dimitri, having tasted power, would not surrender it easily. Especially if he feared that he would be punished for his treason. Katerina was still not fully persuaded that Dimitri should be pardoned, if he gave his word. "He has no honor now," she insisted. "His word will mean nothing, to him or to the people or to me."

"Maybe you're right," said Ivan. "But if he's a good man, then he'll take this opportunity to begin to restore his honor. And if he's not, then no one can say you didn't give him every chance."

"Every chance to do what? To stab us in the back?"

"Yes," said Ivan. "But we take that risk with anyone we trust."

"I don't trust Dimitri."

"Then do as you will," said Ivan. He could say that because he knew that she was still considering what he said. If she decided otherwise, he would never criticize her; if she agreed with him, it would be because she had come to believe he was right, and not because she wanted to please Ivan. She was the one whom the people followed, Ivan knew. It was not his place to tell her how to do her work. It was the career she was born for and trained for. He was a novice. And yet, novice or not, she listened to his counsel, which was all he could ask for, when it came to leading the kingdom.

At the edge of the wood, they contemplated stopping and waiting till morning, but Katerina decided against it. "The Widow knows we're here. She's probably warned him already. So we must go on."

Ivan remembered well the first time he came with her into Taina. The people cheered her then, and only looked at Ivan with mild curiosity, as a naked stranger tagging along with their beloved Katerina. Now it was different. They were uncertain, and while a few people waved to her and called out her name, and all came out of their huts to watch, there was no cheering.

This was not good, and while Katerina could not ask for cheering, Ivan could. To the boys nearest him, he said, "Go into the crowd and raise a cheer for the princess, and then come back." They understood at once—public relations is one of the inborn human skills—and within moments there were loud cries and cheers and clapping of hands for the princess. All it took was for a few to raise their voices, and then the others took courage and joined in.

Now it was a triumphal march through the village to the king's house. But Dimitri was not there to greet them—nor was King Matfei. The house was empty.

"They're at the fortress," said Katerina. "It's a good sign. Dimitri didn't have confidence that the people would stay with him."

Katerina and Ivan led the way, Father Lukas after them, and the young druzhinniks close behind. Sergei could not keep up, but he had given the match—a lanternlike container alight with slow-burning fuel—to one of the boys, so they'd be able to light their fuses, if the need arose.

Dimitri met them standing at the gate, with King Matfei held between two strong men. Other soldiers waited inside the gate of the fort.

"I have come," Katerina said, "to report to the king my father and receive his instructions."

Dimitri shook his head. "King Matfei has been struck dumb by the gods because he allowed Christians to interfere with the ways of the people."

"If the gods have struck down my father the king, why do you need to keep him under guard?" asked Katerina. "The gods need no swords. Father Lukas carries none."

"We face a terrible enemy," said Dimitri. "Do you think Father Lukas can stand against the army of the witch?"

"I know that he would stand more bravely than one who strikes a cowardly blow against his own king," said Katerina.

Ivan did not like the way things were shaping up. Words of defiance would lead to a showdown, not to reconciliation. It was for Katerina to decide, but Ivan did not like their chances against Baba Yaga, if blood were spilled here today. "Dimitri," said Ivan.

"Ah," said Dimitri. "My pupil. Apprentice swordsman."

"And I'll never be master of that weapon, as you are," said Ivan. "I beseech you to turn your sword against the enemy, and stand beside your king as you have always done before."

"I stood beside my king until the king's daughter married a man who wears women's clothing." Some of the soldiers with Dimitri snickered at that.

"I have never dressed as a woman," said Ivan. "But I tell you I would rather wear a hoose every day of my life than bear the shame of taking up arms against my king."

A murmur from the crowd made it clear that Ivan's words had struck a responsive chord.

"You will never be my king," said Dimitri.

"But Dimitri," said Katerina, "if you remove my father as king, then by law my husband will be king, and it will be you who gave the crown to him."

"It's not his if he can't keep it," said Dimitri.

"The crown," said Katerina, "is only a symbol of the love and honor of the people. You can put it on, but it doesn't mean the people will follow you."

"When the Widow comes," Dimitri said, "they will follow me because I will stand against her."

"How long did you stand against her when she came to you with her lies? I can feel her magic on you, Dimitri. You already serve her will." Katerina turned and addressed the people. "Whom does it serve, to have our kingdom divided like this? Only the Pretender. So whose servant is Dimitri, and the soldiers who stand with him? The Widow's servants."

"You lie!" said Dimitri.

Katerina whirled back to face him. But it was to the soldiers behind him that she spoke now. "You are men of Taina, aren't you? Sworn to your king as his druzhina. I know that you meant only to serve the kingdom, and so I promise pardon to every man who lays down his sword, or puts it in my service now."

"Any man who moves to obey her dies!" cried Dimitri.

"How will that strengthen Taina," shouted Ivan, "if you begin to kill our soldiers!" It was Ivan's turn to address the people. "You heard him! He threatened to kill your sons and husbands and brothers! And for what crime? For daring to obey the king they swore an oath to!"

"Enough of this!" said Dimitri. "Enough talk! Surrender now, and I keep your father alive until the war is over. Then I will return the crown to him. But that one"—he pointed at Ivan with his sword—"that one must leave! Go back to where he came from! Annul the marriage, and I'll spare his life."

Before Katerina could answer, Ivan sprang forward. "When I fought the bear and freed Katerina from her enchantment, where were you?"

"Ivan!" cried Katerina. "Come back!"

Ivan pointed at one, then another of the boys with Molotov cocktails. He made the handsign they had agreed on—light the fuses.

"Dimitri!" he shouted. "You stand alone! For Katerina's true husband is the one who commands the gate of this fort!"

"You spoke truly!" said Dimitri. "The man who rules this gate is the one who should be Katerina's husband!"

"Agreed!" shouted Ivan. "Set this gate ablaze with Katerina's fire!" He gave the signal to throw. The boys had heard and understood. It was not at Dimitri that they threw the cocktails, but at the gate itself. Both pots flew true and broke against the lintel. Fire blazed all up and down the wooden gate.

"Pass through that gate if you dare!" cried Ivan.

"No man can!" Dimitri shouted back.

"I can!" Ivan cried, and he ran headlong at the gap between Dimitri and Matfei.

For a moment he feared that Dimitri would seize the opportunity to skewer him on his sword. But no—the fire had unnerved him, and he only watched as Ivan ran past him, past Matfei, straight into the flames.

He knew, of course, that the fire wouldn't have time even to singe his hair; and because it was an alcohol fire, it would quickly die back to nothing. Once inside the gate, however, the real challenge came. He turned quickly, looking every soldier there in the eye, if they dared to meet his gaze. "I passed through fire for the princess Katerina. What will you do? Who stands with her? All loyal men, to the walls, and cry the name of Katerina!"

With no weapon other than his voice, his courage, and his love for the princess whom they also loved, Ivan faced them and prevailed. First one, then two, then a dozen, then all the soldiers ran to the wall, climbed it, and stood there with swords raised. "Katerina!" they cried. And again, and again. "Katerina!" Ivan could hear the chant being taken up by the people outside. He sauntered to the gate and passed through it, with only a few flames on the wooden posts to frame him. "Katerina," he shouted, out of the rhythm of the chant, so she could hear him. He raised his hands for silence, and the chant subsided. "Katerina, princess of Taina, I give this fort to you!"

The soldiers and the people erupted in cheers.

The action had played out the way Katerina and Ivan had hoped. Ivan now stood as the man who had taken the fort away from Dimitri, who had helplessly watched him do it.

But Dimitri still had his sword, and Katerina's father, and the two soldiers who held the king between them. It was Katerina, now, who had to control the final scene of this dangerous play.

She stepped forward, putting herself almost within reach of a lunge from Dimitri's sword. "This is your last chance," said Katerina. "I only offer it to you because Ivan pleaded with me that we needed you beside us in the war against the witch. Command these last two soldiers to release my father, and then all three of you lay down your swords and pledge yourselves again to his service. Do this, and I will plead with my father to pardon you."

Before Dimitri could begin to obey, the two soldiers, who were not fools, let go of Matfei, knelt, and laid down their swords at the king's feet.

Dimitri was absolutely alone. He had his sword, and no doubt he could kill several, could kill the king himself, and Katerina, before other swords brought him down. But he would die if he did such a thing, for no one was likely to follow him now, still less if he had the blood of Matfei and Katerina on his hands.

He knelt. He laid his sword at Matfei's feet.

Ivan walked around this tableau of kneeling men and took his place at Katerina's side.

The face of King Matfei was filled with rage when he looked down at Dimitri kneeling at his feet. The king bent down and picked up Dimitri's own sword. He raised it over his head.

"Father," said Katerina. "I beseech you to spare the life of this man. His crime was grave indeed, and no one here has the power to restore the power of speech that he took away from you. He diminished you at a time when we needed you whole. And yet I plead with you—do not weaken Taina by one sword arm, not even his. Accept his vow of loyalty again, though he has broken that selfsame vow before. I beg you, Father, for the sake of your daughter, and of the grandchild that grows in your daughter's womb."

It was the first that Ivan had heard that Katerina might be pregnant. And even now he wasn't sure, for she hadn't actually said that she had conceived a child—she might have been speaking of a child that would someday grow within her.

But her words had the desired effect. Matfei's rage turned to thoughts of his daughter, of his grandchild. What she asked for, he would give her.

For a moment Ivan felt a stab of regret. Things would be much simpler if Dimitri died right now.

Then, ashamed of the bloodthirsty thought, he stepped forward. "Matfei, my father, my king, and my lord," said Ivan, "may I have Dimitri's sword?"

Matfei lowered the sword, then laid it across Ivan's hands. Ivan made no effort to put his hand on the hilt. Rather he kept the sword as he had received it, lying across his hands. Ivan turned back to face Katerina. "May I give this sword to the king's true servant?"

"You may," said Katerina. "When we hear his oath and his plea for pardon."

Dimitri did not hesitate. Weeping, he gave his fervent oath of loyalty to King Matfei, and to Katerina and Ivan too, for good measure. Then he begged for pardon for his dire offenses, and swore to be true to Christ as well, whose atoning sacrifice would make him clean again, if only the king would pardon him. King Matfei, speechless still, nodded gravely. "Let my husband, Ivan, return the sword of a true knight to you," said Katerina.

Ivan knelt before Dimitri, so their eyes were nearly level, though Ivan had the advantage of height, even kneeling. He held out the sword.

Dimitri took it from him. Tears flowed down his cheeks. He looked sincere. But beyond appearances, Ivan had no way of measuring Dimitri's heart. He had been humiliated here today. If he was a good man, he would now be the most fervently loyal soldier in Taina's army, the most faithful of King Matfei's druzhina. But if he was not a man of honor and goodness, he would already be plotting his revenge for this humiliation. Someone would die for this day's work. There'd be no more talk, if he betrayed the king again.

But for now, the appearance was all that counted. The king reached down and raised Dimitri up. Katerina did the same for Ivan. The four of them together turned to face the crowd. Only one more step was needed. Katerina reached out her hand to Father Lukas. The priest came forward and took his place between Katerina and her father, with Ivan on the other side of her, and Dimitri on the opposite end of the line, beside the king.

Katerina raised her voice and let it ring out across the crowd. "In the holy name of Christ our Savior, the kingdom of Taina is whole again!"

The cheers were deafening, as the people shouted. Taina! King Matfei! Katerina! Dimitri! Even the name of Ivan could be heard.

Their first victory together. And Katerina had chosen to heed his counsel. Now Ivan could only hope that his counsel had been wise, or, if he was wrong, that the price of Dimitri's pardon would not be too high.

Baba Yaga

"It's so good to be home, my love," she said to Bear. "Did you miss me?"

"I felt your absence every moment you were gone," said Bear.

"How ambiguous you are," said Baba Yaga. "But I'm content, for here you are, and here I am, and this is our happy home."

"I see a familiar thirst for blood in your eyes," said Bear.

"But not your blood, so you shouldn't mind," she said. "The pretty little princess and her husband have just defeated my puppet."

"You always said that he was just a toy to you," said Bear.

"Oh, I know. I didn't expect much. But I thought at least he'd go out with a splash of blood. That he'd kill the king, or at least that annoying Ivan, before he went down."

"It's always tragic when you don't get your way, my love," said Bear.

"Never mind. No loss. The fools haven't even killed him. They've given him back his sword—because he promised to be loyal. Don't they know that once I've won a man's heart, he's mine forever?"

"You know, you haven't actually tested that proposition," said Bear.

"Do you doubt it?" she asked. Her temper was ready to flare, for despite the unconcern that she affected, Bear knew that it bothered her very much to have been defeated in the first skirmish of the war.

"I merely point out that in order to know a man is yours forever, you would have to wait an infinitely long time."

"Not infinite," said Baba Yaga. "Only until the man is dead. That's forever as far as he's concerned."

"Ah," said Bear. "I see your point."

"And I see yours, don't think I missed it. Let me assure you, my dearest darling swatch of fur, that the spells that helped you discover your deep abiding love for me will never dim with time, and there is no one alive with the power to break what I have bound."

"Technically speaking," said Bear, "I have that power."

"But since I have bound your power to my will, and I don't will you to be free of my binding, I can't think how your power could ever be used to break those bonds of affection and devotion and humiliating servility that make us such a perfect couple. So the word forever seems to apply in your happy case, as well. Aren't you glad?"

"I am as happy as you wish me to be," said Bear.

She cackled with delight at the deftness of his answer. "Oh, Bear, the best thing I ever did was give you speech! Only you are worthy of me! I shall be entertained forever, because I have you!"

"No doubt you'll strive to keep me entertained as well."

"Why yes," she said. "For instance, I have all these useless people that came along with my flying house. I have no interest in feeding them. They're not good at any service I require. So you may sport with them however you like. In fact, I resolve not to feed you again until you've rid me of them all."

"I don't require food to live," Bear pointed out.

"But you like to eat. And winter will come, and you'll wish to be nice and fat, won't you? Be a dear, and kill at least a few of them tonight."

"Do you really, truly want me to?" asked Bear.

"Oh yes, I do."

"And may I really, truly choose whether to eat them now or not?"

"Of course! It wouldn't be entertaining otherwise."

"Then I choose to take a nap. If you want to eat them, go ahead, but I'm not interested in doing your bloody-handed work right now."

She almost said the words that would compel him to obey. But instead she laughed. "Play your games with me, my pet. There's one enemy I think you'll want to kill."

"Which one is that?" he asked.

"Why, the one who took your eye," she said.

And she was right. That one he would gladly tear to bits. "When will I have him?"

"As soon as their little army moves against us," said Baba Yaga. "Soon. Now take your nap, my dear."