Borund sat within the kapitan’s cabin, eying Atiana like a prisoner of war-like some Motherless wretch he was ready to drag before his father for questioning. On a silver perch fixed to the wall sat an old black rook with a chipped beak. Its eyes were not sharp, and it was preening its feathers, so Atiana did not think her mother or any of the other Matri were inhabiting its form. Considering what was happening on Khalakovo the possibility was even more remote. Still, she reminded herself to watch her tongue.
“Mother said you were glad to be there,” Borund said.
“I was not glad,” Atiana said.
“Then what were you?”
“Relieved to be out of the village.”
“And what were you doing there in the first place?”
“I told you. I had escaped from Radiskoye.”
“But why go to a Motherless village?”
“There were riots in the streets, Bora. You would rather I returned to Radiskoye?”
Borund shrugged his shoulders, which were not as round as she remembered them. No doubt he had not been eating well, rations being what they were. “You could have hidden in Izhny, or anywhere else for that matter. You could have stayed in one place until Mother found you.”
“You assume Mother was even looking for me. I practically tripped over her before she noticed me. I managed to get myself to a place where she could find me. That should be enough for you.” Borund opened his mouth to speak, but Atiana talked over him. “Enough, brother. You act like I wanted to be left there, when it was you and Father who abandoned me.”
“You were not abandoned.”
“Then what happened?” The feeling of betrayal she had felt on the eyrie-the ship pulling away, taking Borund and Father with it, while the barrel of a gun was being held to her head-all came back in a rush.“How could you have forgotten me?”
“I checked on the three of you before I left. Ishkyna said you had already boarded the yacht.”
“And you believed her?”
“Mileva said the same thing. Why would they lie?”
Atiana wanted to grab the brass seal sitting at the edge of Borund’s desk and throw it at him, but Borund had changed. He was harder, and she couldn’t act like she had years ago. He was being groomed to take Father’s place, and the last thing she could afford was to give him a reason to scrutinize her further. “Because it suits them, Bora. Do you even know what your sisters are like anymore?”
“Why were you gone?” he asked, ignoring her question. “Why did it suit them to lie for you?”
She knew she had to give him an element of the truth, but she did not trust him enough to give him the complete story. “I left to investigate the crossing of the suurahezhan.”
“When your father told everyone explicitly they were to do no such thing.”
Atiana shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I have? The Khalakovos had all but ceased their investigations.”
“I would think by now the reason for that was clear. They already had the ones who did it and were protecting them.”
“Perhaps, but if it were that cut-and-dry, why would they not simply hand them over?”
Borund smiled, the patronizing one he saved for his sisters when he thought they were being foolish. “Come, Tiana. You’re not so naive as that.”
“What? You still think they hired a Landless qiram and a witless boy to summon an elder spirit to kill Bolgravya? Nyet, Borund, it’s not so obvious as you think.”
He stared at her doubtfully.
“The spirits are not easily bound,” she continued. “It might as easily have attacked them.”
His face pinched into a look of annoyance. “There are things we will never know about the Aramahn. The man, Ashan, was arqesh, and the boy clearly had powers that can only be guessed at.”
“And what if they had summoned it? It is a dangerous thing to banish them once they’ve come. We know this. Why did it slip back through the aether if it had been consciously summoned?”
“Times change. In our lifetimes alone, the world has begun remaking itself. Who knows how the spirits might have changed in that same time or over the course of centuries?”
“You’re trying to give the crossing more meaning than it has.”
“Spoken like a true bride of Khalakovo.”
“They are the words of a woman who doesn’t like seeing lives wasted”-she pointed south, toward Volgorod’s eyrie-“which is exactly what’s happening now.”
“They brought it upon themselves.”
“ Nyet, Father brought it upon them.”
“And he was right to do so!” Borund’s face was turning red. “Khalakovo has been lording their gems and windwood over us for two decades. And for you-a daughter of Vostroma-they give us three windworn ships and a handful of gems? Did you know I told Father to throw their offer to the winds? He refused because we needed those ships, but then Iaros murders the Grand Duke himself so that he can have the mantle he’s been lusting after for years… It’s too much, Atiana. Too much. I don’t know how you can expect us to stand idly by when we were there to witness it. I thought your blood ran thicker than that.”
“Perhaps that’s the difference between us, Borund. I don’t look at the surface of a thing and make judgment.”
“ Nyet, you pitter and patter like your sisters, pretending to play at games where you hardly know the players much less the rules.” Borund waved a hand at the cabin door. “Go. I can’t stomach to look at you. Get belowdecks and stay there until we meet with the Fierga.”
The Fierga was an old warship that had been relegated to patrol duty around Vostroma. Atiana was surprised it had been sent, and even more surprised it had made the journey across the Neck. Still, it made it clear that Mother had ordered her home, and this was something she could not allow.
Summoning all the authority she could muster, Atiana stood and stared at Borund squarely. “I would stay, Borund. I wish to remain until the conflict is over.”
“And I might have allowed it if our Matra hadn’t already spoken. You will return home, Atiana.”
“Let me stay until I can speak with her.”
He shook his head.“Mother has been awake for nearly a week preparing for this day. Her hands are full, and as soon as the violence has eased-which should be soon-she will sleep.”
“A few days will matter little, Bora.”
“I have given my word.” Borund stood and pointed at the door again. “Now go.”
Atiana stood, her shoulders square, refusing to move.
“Go!”
She knew that to stay and argue would only harden his stance, so she bowed her head and left the cabin, hoping she could speak with him once more before she left, though she already knew that if she did his answer would be the same.
When Atiana reached the Fierga, the kapitan of the ship escorted her to an empty cabin, a spare place that smelled of garlic and windsmen. It was a room that was meant to sleep four, but with only a skeleton crew aboard, there was plenty of room to spare.
She sat there for a long while, wondering how she was going to escape, when she heard a scratching at the oval window. She opened it to find a black rook flapping its wings to remain standing on the narrow sill. It was Zoya, Mother’s favorite. It hopped down to the floor and then flapped its wings to sit upon one of the top bunks.
Atiana bowed her head. “Matra.”
The old rook cawed. “I see you made it back alive. Perhaps next time you won’t be so quick to ignore our warnings.”
After a moment of confusion, Atiana recognized Ishkyna’s biting tone, even through the raw voice of the rook.
“You said you’d never take the dark again.”
“And leave my poor sister alone in the world? Never.”
Atiana scoffed. “I should burn this old rook while you writhe inside it.”
The rook craned its neck and cawed. “Why, because we gave you more time to do what you needed to do?”
“You left me on Khalakovo.”
“A place you clearly wanted to remain.”
“The Duke nearly murdered me.”
“But he did not. It would have been an utterly foolish thing to do.”
“ Da, and men think so clearly when their blood has risen.”
“The Duke of Khalakovo, no matter how much you might admire him, dear sister, is nothing if not calm of heart. He might have tried to scare Father-he might have even meant in his heart to kill you-but his tender soul would not allow it.” By tender, she meant weak, something she had said while referring to Atiana, as if tenderness were a vice to be rooted out as quickly and efficiently as one could. The rook stretched its chipped beak wide, shook its head furiously, and continued. “Now that I think of it, it was a terribly apt union Mother had arranged. Too bad it will never happen now.”
Atiana reached up and grasped the body of the rook, pinning the wings tight. “If you’ve only come to chide me”-she moved toward the open window-“then I’d rather be alone.”
The bird pecked at her hand. Atiana ignored it until blood was drawn from her knuckle, at which point she flung the rook away. It flapped to the floor and hopped back up to its previous position on the uppermost bunk. “So defensive, sister. I’d have thought you’d be glad to have company aboard a ship like this.”
“Not if all you’re offering are barbs.”
The rook cawed. “Barbs aside, I did want to make sure you were healthy and hale. We were worried.”
Atiana laughed. It was as close to an apology as she was going to get from Ishkyna. “You can see well enough I’ve made it through the war alive.”
“War… This is hardly more than posturing, Tiana. A rustling of feathers.”
“Says the woman speaking from the depths of Galostina.”
“Well, since you’re in the thick of it, why don’t you share with your dear sister what you were about? Surely the need for secrecy has passed-or are those pretty lips still sealed?”
Atiana could ill afford to give her sister too much, so she gave bits and pieces: her time in Radiskoye, her escape through the sea, the mad dash through Volgorod and the explosion at the bridge-only enough of what really happened to appease her and only because she had to give information in order to get it.
“And what now?” Atiana asked when she was done. “What has happened to the eyrie?”
“If you couldn’t guess by my presence, the eyrie is ours.”
“And Radiskoye?”
“It has been left intact for the time being. The attack on the eyrie was largely symbolic. The true threats are the ships massing near Mirkotsk.”
“Then why take it now?”
“To pressure Khalakovo to step down peaceably. Father has said that he would accept a written declaration of fault, a ceding of his seat to Ranos, and a grant of a dozen ships.”
“Iaros will never agree to that.”
“Don’t be so sure. No one wants war, least of all the most remote of the Duchies. Rhavanki and Khazabyirsk have been even harder struck by the blight than we have, and Lhudansk practically begged Khalakovo to settle this before Father left. The only Duchy that has any strength of will and the canvas to back it up is Mirkotsk, but even they would stop beating the drums of war if an opportunity for peace presented itself. Khalakovo knows this, and even if he does urge for an attack, he knows it may push Lhudansk to step down, and if one goes, all will follow.”
“You underestimate Saphia. She is a persuasive woman.”
The rook bobbed its head up and down, releasing a ragged call. It sounded more than a little like Ishkyna’s grating laugh. “You have not seen much of her since the attack, Tiana. She is feeble now, both in heart and in mind. She can hardly take the dark for more than a few hours at a time.”
This was surprising and unsettling news. Atiana had thought Saphia a woman who would never weaken, never break. But perhaps her ordeal with Nasim had been more taxing than she would have guessed.
“Shkyna, I need your help.”
The bird flapped its wings, a small loss of control by the inexperienced Ishkyna at this sudden and perhaps unexpected request for help. “What could a young bride need from an old matron like me?”
“Do not jest. My need is great.”
The rook stared at her for a long time. Its eyes blinked, as if Ishkyna were trying to measure the truth in her words but was having difficulty through the foreign eyes of the rook. It reminded Atiana of Ishkyna so much that she felt suddenly homesick, and the cumulative weight of the events since she had arrived on Khalakovo threatened to bury her. She nearly cried, but this was not a time for such a thing. She needed now more than ever to keep her mind to the task at hand.
“I need you to speak with the kapitan. I need you to tell him that we are to return to Duzol and for him to leave me there.”
“And why would the kapitan believe…”
The rook stopped. Ishkyna had realized what Atiana meant for her to do. She wanted Ishkyna to present herself not as the daughter of the Matra, but as the Matra herself. The old kapitan had worn a soulstone around his neck, but he was a lesser officer, a man relegated not just to the rear of the blockade, but to transport duty-hardly a position of importance-and so the Matra would hardly know him and he would hardly know her.
“He will see through it,” Ishkyna said.
“You know better, Shkyna. Have you even heard of Kapitan Malorov?”
“I am not the Matra.”
Atiana was surprised. There was fear in her sister’s voice. She would have to be careful. “Mother keeps as much track of the military as you or I do. You have little to worry about there.”
“What if she touched stones with all of them before they left?”
“As quickly as the blockade was cobbled together? Unlikely, and I’m surprised at you. I thought you’d be eager to spread dissent in this-how did you put it? — farce of a war…”
“Farce or not, Mother would find out soon enough what I’d done.”
“And you’ll simply tell her the truth, that I asked to go.”
“For what purpose?” “Unfinished affairs.” “Nikandr?”
“I’ll reveal everything when I return to Vostroma.”
The rook flapped over to the open window and clucked. “I’m afraid, sister, that this is something I cannot do. I may like to pull at loose strings, but this is too much.”
“Shkyna, please! It will work.”
“I know it will work. I’m worried about my hide once it has.”
“Mother won’t do a thing.”
“ Nyet, but Father will. He has changed as much as Borund. It’s too much to ask. When you reach the island, we’ll play trump-you and I and Mileva, like we always have. You’ll be a world away from your troubles, and in no time you’ll forget Nikandr and his stubborn family.”
“Ishkyna!”
The rook had already flapped out of the window. Atiana watched it wing through the rigging and climb higher into the overcast sky until it was lost in the white canvas of the landward sails.