Enchantment

18

Unbinding

Katerina did not like to fly. She had already discovered this on the airplane flight from Kiev. She liked it little better on her other commercial flights. But she did not discover the depth of her distaste for it until she inserted herself into the hang glider and soared out over open air. It filled her with bottomless fear; she clung to the handgrips, her body more rigid than the frame. And then, in each trial flight, forced herself to remember what Ivan had said, what he had shown her, what she had seen. She leaned, she pulled, and soon she learned to find the air currents, to stay level. Nothing fancy—no swoops, no sudden curves. Steady. So she wouldn't die. So the terror would end.

She spoke not a word about this to anyone, least of all to Ivan. For she already knew that the only mission to be accomplished with this contraption was to enter Baba Yaga's fortress, and the only one who had any hope of accomplishing anything there was she.

For even though they counted on Baba Yaga being with the army, Katerina knew she would not stay forever. She would be back, and there would be a showdown, and then it would be the strength of all of Katerina's kingdom against Baba Yaga and the power she had harnessed from a god.

So when Baba Yaga seduced Dimitri all those weeks—or was it months?—ago, she had more in mind than whatever mischief Dimitri might accomplish on his own. Whether he lived or died, one thing was certain: In her confrontation with the witch, Katerina would be weaker because her kingdom was less unified.

She had only one surprise: the child inside her. Mother Esther had taught her how to use that magic. "I used it when I had my son inside me," Mother said. "As he grew, his power was part of me. For those months, I felt like the goddess of creation. And then he was born, and became his own man, and I was just myself again. But for that time—I pray that it's enough to make a difference for you, Katerina, if you are pregnant by the time you face the Widow in her den."

Yes, well, I'm pregnant, all right. I only hope the power that the baby brings to me will compensate for the greater fear I have now, the fear of something happening to harm the child.

The day of battle. She had bound herself thrice over to her people, in ceremonies among the women before she left. So she could feel it, like a vague unease in the back of her mind, the fear of the men as they prepared for battle. She felt the sudden sharpening of alarm, the rush of anger and dismay as the enemy appeared.

"It's time," she said.

As they had practiced, the strong young men picked her up, glider and all, and ran together down the slope until the wind caught the wing and she rose above them, gliding away over the treetops. Behind them, she heard them wanly cheer.

Then it was just her, the fragile kite that held her aloft, and the space below her—a distance far too high, so a fall would kill her, and far too low, for she had little faith that she could glide as far as Baba Yaga's fortress.

At least she had no fear of the glider falling apart, however jury-rigged the thing might be. She had bound it together with spells, each knot and joint and seam and stitch, so that the natural forces that pried at things could not tear this thing apart, not as long as she was in it, gliding over the forests of Taina.

It was all Taina, for even the lands that Baba Yaga had long called her own had once been part of her father's kingdom, though it was before her father was ever king. If they defeated the witch, it would be Taina land again; if not, then Taina would cease to be. Some other name would come upon the place. As in fact it would no matter what. She thought of the history that Ivan had told her about, the names this land had borne. Great empires had washed across this land—the Golden Horde, Lithuania, Poland, Russia. And now in Ivan's time, Ukraine. But all were foreign names here, in the end. The land was Taina, underneath it all. The place of her people.

What would she do in Baba Yaga's stronghold? She did not know. Destroy, that's all the plan she had. Find the spells, the potions, the supplies she used, and utterly destroy them. Burn down the place, if it would burn, if she could counteract the protective spells. She had learned much from Mother Esther about the art of protecting a house, and by implication therefore the art of unprotecting one. She knew what to look for. She would find it. But would she find it soon enough?

And before she burned it down, she had to find the people from the airplane, and any other captives Baba Yaga might have. It wouldn't be right for the freedom of Taina to be bought at their expense, not without at least trying to free them first.

The updrafts that she needed were all there. She found them and circled slowly, rising, rising. She felt the progress of the battle. How much longer? Not long at all. Pain. Triumph. Terror. How could she make sense of this?

The walls of the hilltop fortress loomed. Earthen walls, with palisades on top, but not a soldier watching. There were other sentinels that never fell asleep. But none were looking up into the air. Katerina passed over the walls in silence.

Then there were the desperate moments of maneuvering to land within the narrow confines of the stronghold. If there had been archers on the walls, she would have been pierced a hundred times as she descended—no, plummeted—to a brutal landing in a rick of hay. The hang glider crumpled around her, but she had let go in time, and none of her limbs was broken. Or perhaps that was a testimony to the power of the charms she learned from Mother Esther.

She struggled from the hay, gasping, coughing, then stood in silence to get a feel for the magic around her. There would be few traps inside, she knew, because even Baba Yaga wouldn't want to be bothered with her slaves constantly getting caught in her defenses. Still, there might be talismans that betrayed her presence, calling out to Baba Yaga: Come. An intruder has passed this way.

Or perhaps Baba Yaga was so confident she didn't need such things. She would sense an intruder herself, would never be taken by surprise as long as she was home. And if she was away, then upon arrival she would sense that someone wrong was here.

No use speculating. If she had any traps or warning talismans, Katerina did not detect them. Either she would be caught or she would not.

What mattered now was to find the heart of the magic in this place. Even that was easy enough. There was nothing subtle about the layout of the place. Baba Yaga's house was the central building; her most precious places were below the ground.

The halls were lined with shelves of charms and amulets and talismans, stored to be able to equip an army—and these were only the extras, after the army had been equipped! So grandiose were Baba Yaga's dreams that she imagined someday she'd need all these devices.

Katerina was tempted to take some, to study them. But no, the artifact would always serve its maker, so if she tried to use one, it would work against her. These would burn when the house burned.

Where did she make these things? Where were her ingredients? And where were all her prisoners?

She found them together, in the most obvious place. A large round room, with a fire and a cauldron and many pots, for mixing what she mixed; tables, mirrors, and a large bed. Around the room, chained to the walls, the passengers of the hijacked flight, sleeping as best they could, though only those chained to the lowest rings on the wall could lie down to sleep, and many had to stand. Some of them eyed her incuriously as she came in. She could see that they had eaten little during their confinement.

She hurried to the nearest set of chains and tried to see how they were fastened. Soon enough she saw that powerful spells of binding had been used, so powerful that she could not see a way through them.

How were they made? The spells had to be constructed here. Some of it was done with voice and hands, and there was no hope of guessing the word of unbinding; but if she could see how the spell was made, she could figure out a way to unravel it, or at least could try.

Someone spoke to her, but she didn't understand him. It was English that he spoke. So she answered him in her own language, lacing it with every Ukrainian or Russian word that Ivan and his parents had taught her. It didn't work for the man who had spoken—apparently he knew only English—but several others understood and translated for her. "Watch out," they said, in Russian. "Watch out for the bear."

A bear? Ivan's bear from the chasm?

She turned to see the hulking animal shamble into the room on all fours. Seeing her, it rose to its feet, a huge beast that had to be at least twice the height of even as tall a man as Ivan.

So here she was, having accomplished nothing, already caught.

But the bear did not roar or threaten her, unless simply standing there was something of a threat.

"My wife is not at home," the bear said.

Said! In human speech! She had heard old tales, of course, but had never heard real language from an animal before.

"You'll have to come again later if you wish to kill her," he said. "You are here to kill her, aren't you? You didn't come all this way just to rattle these people's chains."

This was not at all the tone that she expected from Baba Yaga's husband.

"Speechless?" said Bear. "I understand. The sight of me can take a woman's breath away. Baba Yaga fell quite in love with me the first time we met. I was here to kill her; she thought I had come because she called me. I found, too late, that here was one human who knew spells that could bind even me, who had never been bound. So if you happen to fall in love with me as well, be sure to unbind me from Baba Yaga before you expect me to run away with you."

"I don't love you," Katerina said.

"Ah, she talks after all. I'm a bear, and I was talking more than you!"

"I'm not here for you. I'm here to free these people."

"Now, that's too bad. She's got them rather permanently fastened here. I expect she plans to keep them on display for years and years, until she sweeps away the bones and brings in a new set."

"She loves death so much?"

"It's not death she loves, my dear. It's victory. Power over the vanquished. She can get an amazing amount of gloating time out of each of these poor corpses."

"They aren't corpses yet," said Katerina.

"Well, they will be soon enough. She tried to get me to kill them for her, offered them to me for sport, but I don't kill for sport. Well, usually not."

"You're missing one eye."

He growled, turning the blind eye away from her. "Thanks for reminding me."

"You hate her, don't you?"

"I'm sure I would, if I were at liberty to do so. But you see how it is—I'm ecstatic with devotion for my beloved hag. No husband was ever more faithful. I only have eyes—or rather, eye—for her."

"How can I stop her? How can I undo her magic? How can I break her power and make my people safe from her?"

"If I knew, don't you think I would have slipped a hint to someone long before now? No, you're on your own. Fortunately, though, I won't be here to watch."

"Why not?"

"Because at this moment, my dear girl-wife has got an enemy of mine pent up in her house-that-flies. She promised me that I could kill him, and I rather think I will, since he cost me this eye."

"Ivan," she whispered.

"The very one. He kissed you once, I think. That was you, wasn't it? Did that develop into anything? A relationship?"

"You know it did."

"Oh, yes, I remember now, my crone mentioned it to me. She was entertained by it all. Young love. Anyway, she wants me to go there and kill your husband as repayment for this eye. And she wants to get back here to deal with you—because of course she knew you were here the moment you arrived. I, for one, planned to sleep through the whole business, but she made me get up to come and deal with you. In fact, she was quite specific, she wanted me in the room with you."

"Why?"

"I rather imagine it's because the fastest way to get me to your husband and get Baba Yaga here to you is for her to do that little trick she does where the two of us change places. It's almost instantaneous. For a moment or two, there's nothing. And then, there where Baba Yaga was standing, there'll be me. And where I was standing, there she is."

"So she'll be here, and you'll be there."

"What a bright girl you are."

"How can I prevent that?"

"You can't."

"Then why are you telling me this? What can I do about it?"

"I think it should be plain by now that I can't tell you anything directly. Nothing but what she wants me to say. Well, maybe I slip in a little more information than she wanted. But it's entirely up to you what you do with it. I'd do it quickly, though, if I were you."

What was she supposed to do? Run? There was no escape from this place, and that wasn't what she came for, anyway. Nor could she hide, not from Baba Yaga.

She looked at Bear, who was now standing in the middle of the room, motionless. In one place. Very still.

And then she understood. Bear and Baba Yaga would change places exactly. Where he was standing, she would be standing. So if Katerina did something to that space, and Baba Yaga arrived inside it...

She set to work at once, snatching up a stick from the fire and marking a pentagram in charcoal on the floor around Bear's feet. The beast stood very still while she drew it. He stood just as still as she carefully but quickly went through the spells of containment. From this place you shall not wander, of your own power these five walls are made, and so on, and so on.

And then she was done.

"Well?" she said. "Enough?"

"We'll see," he said. "I've been trying very hard not to know what you've been doing, and I think that I succeeded. You'll soon find out, though, won't you?"

And with those words, he disappeared.

For three infinite seconds, the pentagram was empty.

Then Baba Yaga stood there, looking even more hideous than Katerina remembered from the few times her father had taken her to the court of the high king in Kiev when Baba Yaga was also in attendance there. She turned immediately to face Katerina—the witch had arrived knowing where she was.

"How long do you think your husband will live?" she asked. "I think it will be a long time. Hours and hours. I wonder if he'll still be thinking of you, at the end. Or if he'll just be wishing Bear would finish up so he can die."

Katerina had expected some such boast; she barely listened. She was much more concerned about whether her binding would hold. "When you look in the mirror, old woman, do you like the face you see?"

"Of course," said Baba Yaga. "But I don't see the same face you do."

"I'm not surprised," said Katerina. "Won't you step over to the mirror and let me see you as you see yourself?"

Baba Yaga laughed. "You're hoping that I'll try to step outside this foolish pentagram and I'll be stopped and then I'll scream and rail against you and finally plead for you to release me, which you'll do only after all these nice people are free, and your husband is safely delivered from my husband's wrath, and I've renounced my claim on Taina, and... oh, what else is it you want?"

"I expected nothing of the kind," said Katerina.

"You drew this pentagram for exercise?" asked Baba Yaga. "This sort of thing is useless against me, you know. I unmake such spells a hundred times a day, and make others twenty times as strong that I can still unmake with a flick of my fingers."

"And yet," said Katerina, "you stay within the pentagram."

"Why not?" said Baba Yaga. "It's as good a place as any to stand and watch you writhe. I'm only deciding whether to make these good people tear you limb from limb and eat you raw, or make you watch while I dismember them. Which would be more fun to think back on? If only I had one of those marvelous little boxes from Ivan's country, that remember things for you so you can see them later, as often as you want to watch."

"You talk and talk," said Katerina, "and yet you continue to stay within the pentagram."

"It amuses me to stay here, so you can hope that the spell you cast might be working."

"You don't know what spell I cast."

"You think I can't smell a binding from a hundred miles away?"

"I'm sure you can."

"Well, here." Baba Yaga waved her hands and clapped. "The binding is undone."

"Well, that was easy, wasn't it," said Katerina.

"Everything you fret over and sweat over is easy for me."

"And yet there you are, within the pentagram."

Emboldened, Katerina walked over to Baba Yaga's mirror and looked in it. "It didn't turn me ugly," said Katerina. "So it can't be the mirror's fault you look the way you do."

"Get away from that table."

"Come and make me," said Katerina.

"Don't think I won't, if you provoke me."

In answer, Katerina began opening boxes and bottles, jars and bags. She took a few of them to the fire and emptied them over the flames.

"You shouldn't play with things you don't understand," said Baba Yaga.

"I'm sure you're right. Though I do recognize some of these things. This is what you used to make the cloth that brought the airplane here, right?"

"Oh, now look what you've done. It will take me minutes and minutes to get more of that."

But Katerina knew otherwise. These things were rare and hard to get, dearly bought when they could be found, and treasured by those who had them. Soon all of them were empty.

"Let these people out of their chains," said Katerina.

"Not likely," said Baba Yaga.

"If you do, and give us safe passage out of here, I won't burn your house down over your head."

"But, foolish girl, that's precisely the only time you could. For as long as I leave them chained here, you won't do anything to harm my house."

"I would be sad to see them die," said Katerina, "but everyone dies eventually."

"Even your husband," said Baba Yaga. "I wonder if Bear has taken his eyes yet, or if he's saving them for last."

"And still you stand within the pentagram."

Katerina dashed a chair against the mirror. The glass shattered.

"No!" cried Baba Yaga. "What kind of monster are you! Don't you know how many slaves I had to kill to give that thing its power?"

"If only you could step outside the pentagram, you could stop me." She set the ornate chair onto the fire.

"Don't burn that chair! It has so many spells of comfort on it that—"

"Set these people free, and I'll let you out." Katerina was opening larger boxes now, and found one that was filled with books. She walked to the fire, ripped a page from somewhere in the middle of the book, and dropped it into the flames.

Baba Yaga shrieked. But she did not move.

And then she calmed down. "I see," she said. "I see. You didn't just cast a spell of binding. You cast a spell of desire. Very clever."

"So if you'll just release the captives—"

"I must be tired, for it to have taken me so long to see it. I can't want to leave this space, which holds me far more firmly than if there was more physical restraint."

"Very good," said Katerina.

"Clever of you."

"And yet you stand within the pentagram. Will you release the captives? Start with one, just to show you're paying attention."

Baba Yaga glared at her. "No, no, that's too easy. There's more to it than that. Perhaps a spell to make it so I can't even desire to break the spell that keeps me from desiring to leave the pentagram. That's very circular, isn't it? But then there might be a spell making me forget how to break such spells, and on and on, when there's a simple thing you just don't understand."

"And what is that?" asked Katerina.

"This is my house," said Baba Yaga. And with that, the whole section of floor with the pentagram on it dropped out from under her. The witch fell through the trap door, but rose again almost at once, climbing up a ladder. "Oops," she said. "No pentagram. Even though I never wanted to leave it, now that I'm outside, I can't understand why I ever wanted to stay. Or why Bear stood still for you while you drew it on the floor. But that's between him and me, later. Now your precious captives start to die, one for each box of precious powders and each bottle of precious liquors that you ruined. That should take us more than halfway through this crowd, don't you think?" Baba Yaga strolled over to where the pilot stood, half-dead from the beating she had given him. "For instance, I told poor Ivan a lie—I said I killed this one. I think it's just about time I made it true, don't you? We wouldn't want Ivan to die believing something that isn't so!"

On the airplane, Ivan did not wait to see where Bear would appear. The moment Baba Yaga was gone, he sprang for the door, tried to open it. But it wouldn't budge.

A voice behind him said, "Of course she bound them all closed before she switched with me."

Ivan turned. There was the bear on all fours, his head tilted to one side as he studied Ivan's face.

"That missing eye," said Ivan, "I didn't mean to do that."

"The eye's gone anyway, whatever you meant."

"But it was my job, to save the princess."

"From what? It seems to me she's in a lot more danger now than she ever was on that pedestal."

Ivan sidled away from the door, then began backing down the aisle. "On that pedestal she was as good as dead. Now even if she dies, at least she lived first."

The bear shambled easily after him. "Same goes for you."

Ivan slid along a row of seats, then ran headlong up the other aisle toward the front of the plane. Into business class. Into first class.

Bear was singing to himself as he meandered up the aisle. The song was one Ivan had never heard before, in a language that he didn't understand. "If the old hag thinks she gave you the gift of perfect pitch," said Ivan, "she was wrong."

"Singing goes along with speech. I tried it out, I learned a song or two."

"What language was that?"

"My language. The language of bears."

"But bears don't speak."

"That's why you never heard it before." Bear half-stood in the far doorway of the first-class section, his paws leaning on the backs of the last seats. "Baba Yaga thinks I'm going to torture you, but I'm not a cat. I'm just going to kill you, because it isn't right for someone to put out the eye of a god and walk away."

Ivan remembered something, trapped as he was. For he happened to be trapped in a particular place. Standing right where he had stood when he first boarded this plane, to put his carry-on bag of books in the overhead compartment.

He opened the compartment door. He pulled down the bag.

"Are you going to read to me?"

As he opened the bag, Ivan knew what he was looking for. What this whole business had been orchestrated in order to accomplish.

He had a message to deliver.

He pulled the slip of paper from the bag. It still said what it had said before. Ivan was disappointed. He had half-expected that when it was in the presence of the one who was supposed to receive it, new words would appear. But it didn't happen.

Still, this was his last chance. If it wasn't for Bear, Ivan wasn't going to live to deliver it to the intended recipient anyway.

"I think this is for you," he said.

Bear cocked his head to look at it. "I don't think so."

"I think it is," said Ivan. "A message from someone in my time to someone here. The old hag didn't know it, but she brought this plane here solely so that this note would travel back in time, eleven hundred years, so you could have it here today."

"What good is a note like that to me?"

"I don't know," said Ivan.

"Give it to me."

Ivan held it out toward one of Bear's huge paws.

"What, are you blind? Do you see thumbs on my paw? How exactly am I supposed to take that tiny piece of paper?"

"I don't know," said Ivan.

"My mouth," said Bear disgustedly.

Ivan raised his hand, offering the note to the open mouth of the bear, knowing that if he felt like it, Bear would take his hand as well.

Instead, Bear took it between his lips. Then a bit of his tongue came out, tasting the comer of it.

"Delicious," said Bear.

He sucked the paper into his mouth, chewed it slowly, and swallowed.

Now I'll never deliver the message, Ivan thought.

Then Bear stood up so suddenly he hit his head on the ceiling of the plane. He roared, and roared again. And again. And again.

Why didn't he speak?

Bear began slashing the upholstery of the chairs. He rampaged through first class, then back into business class, seemingly oblivious now to Ivan, who followed him, fascinated and appalled by what seemed to be rage. Yet through it all, though Bear roared again and again, he said not a word.

And then, suddenly, he turned toward Ivan and clambered deftly over the seat backs and in a moment he had Ivan pressed to the floor in the aisle, looming over him. He opened his mouth and lowered it toward Ivan's head.

Katerina, if only you survive, it's all been worth it. It was not teeth that touched him. Only a huge tongue lapping his cheek, almost pulling half his face up with it. And another lick.

He's saying thank you. He's thanking me because... because... the note wasn't a message at all. It was the spell of unbinding. It was the spell that set Bear free of Baba Yaga. That's why he wasn't speaking—he had lost her gifts as well as her chains.

"You're free, aren't you," Ivan said.

Bear roared triumphantly in response, then overleapt him on the floor and began pawing at the airplane door.

Ivan got up, wiping the bear slobber from his cheeks, and made his way to the door. The spell on it was gone. He opened it, but before it was even a quarter of the way up, Bear shimmied out through the opening and landed on the ground, rolling in the meadow.

The door opened the rest of the way. Ivan could see a campfire, then another. Dozens of them in the meadow.

Whose? Baba Yaga's army? Ivan had seen them run away.

Ivan lowered himself from the airplane and dropped to the ground. Just in time—the moment he got to his feet, he heard a rush of air and a clap of thunder, and the 747 was gone.

He walked across the meadow to the fires. As soon as people saw him, they began coming up to him, touching him, greeting him. We saw you go into the big white house with her. We thought you were dead. How did you get away? Is she still there? Where did it go?

"No, she's not there. She's back at her fortress now, and Katerina's there, and we have to go and finish the job, we have to rescue Katerina."

Now that Ivan had said it, it was the obvious thing to do, no time to waste. They searched for their weapons, picked them up.

"The day's work isn't done here yet," Ivan said, speaking louder and louder. "Not while Katerina is in the witch's fortress! We drove away the witch's army! Now let's have done with her ourselves! Her power is broken, Bear is free, her spells are coming apart—now is the time to strike!"

Then he realized that one of the bloodstained faces that was peering at him was King Matfei, holding Sergei in his arms.

"Look what he did for me," Matfei said. "It was the crippled one who saved my life!"

Ivan looked with grief on the body of his friend. "Oh, God, no. Sergei."

"He isn't dead," said King Matfei. "But he's dying."

"Then that's all the more reason for us to hurry to the fortress and bring back Katerina. She'll know how to heal him, if it can be done at all. Where's Father Lukas?"

"Dead," said King Matfei.

And then, in unison, because they both realized it at once, Ivan said, "You're talking!" and King Matfei said, "I can talk!"

That was the final proof, for any doubters, that when Bear was set free, all the spells the witch had created by his power were undone. King Matfei had his tongue. And therefore there was hope that somewhere in that stronghold, Katerina was alive.

They ran along the road, unhindered by any enemy. They all ran, casting away armor, clothing, bucklers, clinging only to their swords and bows and spears and axes. Yet for all their strength in battle, none of them came close to keeping up with Ivan. He approached the gate of the stronghold before any of the others were in sight.

Baba Yaga was in the midst of the spell that would doubtless kill the pilot in some gruesome way, when she was interrupted by a surprising sound. The thud of metal on wood. And then the clinking of metal on metal.

The links were falling from the chains that bound the prisoners, tumbling into piles on the floor.

The captives began rising to their feet, rubbing their wrists, watching warily. But before they could say much of anything, or take even a few steps, they began disappearing with a loud popping sound—the cracking of air rushing in to take the place of the person who had disappeared. Within a few moments, with a crackle like a string of firecrackers going off, the entire complement of passengers was gone.

Katerina looked at Baba Yaga and smiled. "Bear is dead," she said.

"Don't be an idiot," said Baba Yaga. "He's immortal. No, he's not dead."

"Then somehow Ivan set him free."

Above them, the great timbers of the house began to groan. In the distance, Katerina heard the sound of a beam cracking.

"Even the house is sustained by magic, isn't it?" asked Katerina. "By his power."

Was that fear on Baba Yaga's face?

"In fact, everything you've done for years depended on having him as your slave, didn't it? And so now all your vicious little works will be undone."

Baba Yaga raised her hands slowly. "Gloating is a great joy, isn't it?" she said. "To have your enemy in your power—there's nothing sweeter, is there?"

Her words stung Katerina to the heart. She had been gloating. In that, at least, she was no different from Baba Yaga. It was an unbearable thought.

"But you gloated just a little bit too soon," said Baba Yaga. "For I was a witch before I ever fell in love with Bear. And I was powerful enough on my own to capture him and use him as I wished."

"A dreadful power," said Katerina, suddenly humble again. "But haven't you learned anything today?"

"If I think of it before you're dead, I'll mention it," said Baba Yaga. "There'll be nothing refined about your death, I fear. A simple, ordinary one."

Katerina felt a pulsing of one of the amulets she wore.

Baba Yaga cursed. "Where did that woman learn these things?"

"I believe she said her teacher's name was Baba Tila."

"Never heard of her," said Baba Yaga. She walked to the fire, took out a longish piece of wood, about two inches thick, and came back toward Katerina. She raised the wood over her shoulder and swung it like a battleaxe at the princess.

The wood shattered and fell in shards and splinters to the floor.

Baba Yaga cursed again. She stood staring at Katerina. as if measuring her, searching her, probing her. And then, to Katerina's horror, she felt the strings that held the charms around her neck come loose. Baba Yaga lunged for her, tore the talismans away. Katerina clung to the last few of them, but by brute strength—no doubt augmented by magic—Baba Yaga got them all and tossed them in the fire.

"Now let's have at it," said Baba Yaga. "You without your helper, me without mine. Witch to witch."

Baba Yaga made a motion in the air.

Katerina tried desperately to interpret it, but then realized that it was futile, Baba Yaga wouldn't reveal herself so easily. Whatever it was, Katerina needed protection. No, deflection. She cast a Turn-Away, expecting it only to deflect the witch's spell a little, to weaken it. Instead, when Baba Yaga cast the spell, nothing happened to Katerina at all.

"What?" said Baba Yaga. "Nothing?"

She tried again, a different spell, and again Katerina cast a Turn-Away. This time, though, the Turn-Away was so powerful that it turned the spell back on Baba Yaga herself. The old witch bent double in pain and screamed in agony, then dropped writhing on the floor.

"Who is it!" she howled. "Whose power are you drawing on! Answer me! How are you so strong!"

But Katerina did not see why Baba Yaga deserved to have an answer of any kind. All that mattered now was to get out of Baba Yaga's house before the timbers gave way and the whole thing collapsed on top of her.

If there were other captives in the building, Katerina could only assume that they had been set free when the airplane passengers were loosed, and had made their own way out of the house. There was no time to search for them. Katerina cast only a couple of spells, to hold some roofs in place until she had had time to leave the room. Behind her, the building tore itself apart.

She came outside just as Ivan ran up to the gate. They saw each other, ran to each other and clung, laughing and crying, as Baba Yaga's house collapsed upon itself, burying the witch beneath it.

"We did it," said Katerina. "But how did you break her power over Bear?"

"I gave the message to him," Ivan said. "He ate it."

"And that was it?" She laughed. "That note was it? We accidentally left it on the plane, so it was there for you to find?"

"Accidentally," said Ivan wryly.

She understood, and asked the question that was also on his mind. "Who sent it?"

"I don't know," said Ivan. "But Sergei was injured badly, saving your father's life. Have you strength enough to come to him? Do you know how to heal him?"

"I know some healing arts," said Katerina. "Tetka Retiva and Tetka Moika taught me a little, before they stopped visiting. Whether it's enough, with all the power of Taina inside me, with the power of our child as well..."

"Let's go find out," said Ivan. And they set off at a weary run along the road.