16. In Russia, the Church Domes Are Painted Gold, So God Takes Notice
16
IN RUSSIA, THE CHURCH DOMES ARE PAINTED GOLD, SO GOD TAKES NOTICE
Danik pressed forward to a stone wall that surrounded the church and reached up to find a hidden lever. Once they were inside the wall and had the gate secured behind them, the tall trees and the high wall blocked out a good deal of the wind. The two-story building was fairly large for such a small town and even appeared to be sporting not one, not three, but five domes.
Nik’s little church had only raised one dome. He wasn’t certain that more domes meant more faith in the membership or more importance to God or even a larger populace, but more domes certainly meant more cost in construction. Danik led them around the back end of the church to a smaller structure and opened the barn door, letting them inside.
Once the doors were shut, they all shook the snow off their bodies and found a clean, empty stall far away from the other animals. The few horses, milk cows, and nanny goats made a fuss at first when they smelled the large predators who entered their cozy little home, but luckily the church didn’t own too many farm animals, and they settled down quick enough when the tigers left them alone.
Danik thought this behavior very odd. Under normal circumstances, any prey animal should have driven themselves crazy, kicking the stall and screaming until the priests rose from their beds to find out the cause of the ruckus. He suspected the storm was the cause of their strange behavior, while Nik argued it was likely the magic.
Even if Veru or Stacia had an opinion on the matter, they either didn’t care overmuch, or realized they couldn’t communicate their thoughts on the subject regardless. Whichever was the case, the twins were exhausted from their long run and collapsed on the hay Danik and Nikolai spread out for them in the stall. Letting them rest, Danik set out to find a few supplies left in the barn for travelers. He returned with some blankets, a lantern, and a large metal can stuffed with kindling.
When the lantern was lit and the fire had been started, he filled a pot with water from an ice-crusted barrel outside, brewed them both some tea, and began cooking a pot of oats from the feed left for the horses. Then he filled the trough with water for the tigers. “I’ll have to hunt or trade furs for meat for the two of you in the morning,” he said. “For now you should rest. I know you’re hungry from that run. Let’s see if we can get those saddles off you.”
Veru and Stacia looked at one another. Both were weary to the bone. They stood again, shaking the last of the melting snow off themselves, and Veru took a step toward Danik. Then, before he could touch it, the saddle shifted, moving and shrinking. Stacia’s moved of its own accord as well. Soon they’d transformed once again into laces that slipped off their backs and drew in on themselves until they formed just one boot each. The tigers danced, backing up in the small stall, and the snow boots slipped off their paws, forming human-sized footwear once more.
Nik picked them up and placed them in his pack. After a long drink, Veru and Stacia slumped down in the straw on their sides and closed their eyes. “I’m worried about them,” Nik said. “Running with the boots takes a lot out of you. Eating is necessary after a long run.”
Danik stroked his cheek. “I could try to wake the rector. See if he has any meat. I’m not sure how he’d handle it if I tried to ask for a quantity large enough to feed them. I was hoping to disappear before I had to explain their presence. Or ours, for that matter.”
“There’s a goat back there. We could give them that.”
“I’m not sure the priest would take too kindly to the idea of losing his favorite cheesemaker.”
“Like you said, we’d disappear before he knew.”
Danik grew cross. “Perhaps you soldiers take what you want, but that’s not how it works out here in the hinterlands. The rule we abide by is to leave behind as much as you take or work it off. And if you can’t recompense those who give appropriately, then you leave double or even triple the next time around. If all of us took without giving, people would stop making a place for us, and then where would we be? Traveling is difficult enough as it is. All it takes is a few unscrupulous people to ruin it for the rest of us. I, for one, don’t want to be stuck out here without a safe haven. That’s as good as a death sentence. Isn’t it?”
Nik held up his hands. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But I’m warning you—if I think Veru is failing, I’ll cut off your arm and feed that to her before I let her die.”
“Believe me, I won’t let it get that far. I’m a trapper. I’ll keep them alive. Besides, you’re the city boy. You probably smell more like home cooking than I do. I’m sure she’d rather eat you first.”
“Shut up,” Nik said, kicking some straw, getting dust in Danik’s mouth, and making the fire spark.
“Stop acting like a soplyak,” Danik said, banging the cookpot with the metal spoon. “You’ll start a fire. An uncontrollable one, I mean.” Bending over to stir the meal and grunting in satisfaction, he scooped some oats into a dish and thrust it into Nik’s hands. “Here, eat and try to sleep.” Picking up his own bag, he took the pot with the remaining hot oats and stood up. “I’m going to set some traps. I’ll be back in a bit.”
Nik finished most of what was in his bowl quickly. Kneeling by Veru, he held out the bowl with the tiny remaining portion at the bottom. “You should eat something—try to lick it out.” She wouldn’t even open her eyes. But at least he could see that her chest was moving in a rhythmic pattern. Giving up, he tried with Stacia. “Are you hungry?”
The red tiger had a difficult time opening her eyes as well but managed a soft rumble in her chest. Her tongue darted out toward Nik’s bowl. A glob of sticky oats clung to her rough tongue. She swallowed it and went back for a second and third lick, keeping at it until no trace of the oats remained. He dipped the bowl in the water and brought it back to her. She downed three bowlfuls, splattering him in the process with a mixture of trough water and tiger spittle.
“Thanks a lot,” he said when she laid her head back down. He stayed long enough to see her exhale a long, weary breath, and then her body began moving like her sister’s in a steady sleeping rhythm. Nik placed a hand on her shoulder and said softly, “Seriously, Stacia, spasibo. Thank you for carrying me through the snow. You saved my life. I won’t forget it.”
Nik tried then to give some water to Veru, but she wasn’t interested. All he got from her was a very slight moan or growl. Either that meant she wanted to be left alone, or she was very bad off indeed. Still concerned, he laid down, fluffing the straw as best he could to make a pillow, and nearly the moment he shut his eyes he was fast asleep.
Nik didn’t stir at all until very late the next morning when he was awoken by the sound of movement and snuffling in the straw nearby. At first he couldn’t recall where he was, exactly. It was very dark in the barn, and he could hear the wind and sleet beating hard in fits and starts against the sides of the structure, sending freezing gusts of air through the cracks in the wood. Panic seized him for just a moment when he sensed the presence of another man nearby, but then he counted slowly, deliberately relaxing his muscles as he listened to the sounds around him, letting his dreams and nightmares fade and reality take over.
Slitting his eyes open at last, he could see that Danik had built up the little fire again and was alert and moving around. Nik wondered how long he’d been asleep or if the hunter had slept at all. The snuffling sound was coming from Veru. The hunter knelt beside her, his hand on her neck. Apparently, he’d just gotten her to drink. Yawning sleepily, attempting to appear at ease, and not at all bothered by the fact that the hunter had been able to coax Veru to drink but not himself, Nik asked, “How’s she doing?”
“A bit better,” Danik replied. “She’s eaten some. It revived her enough, I believe.”
Curious, Nik rose to a sitting position. He discovered then that hay stuck to every inch of him, including his hair, but Danik had somehow managed to end up hay-free. He tried swiping it off, only to find the little sticks had penetrated the fabric of his clothing. Grunting in irritation, he started plucking it free and tossing it aside. “What did you feed her?” he asked as he plucked.
“Mostly mice. A few rats.”
Nik’s mouth fell open.
Danik went on. “Look, I know it’s not preferred, but it’s what’s available. They’re nice and fat in the winter, so they’ve got a little bit of meat on them at least. It’s better than nothing. Don’t you think?”
Nik smacked his mouth in a distasteful way and gave the hunter a sour look. “Vermin? You fed the tsarevna of the Kievian Empire vermin?”
“Tsarevnas. Plural.” Danik turned and stared down his nose at Nikolai. “You seem to have a rather bad habit of forgetting Tsarevna Anastasia. Why is that, I wonder? I would think you’d be grateful to the lady who saved your life.”
“I am, of course...”
“Would you rather they starved?”
“No... but...”
They were interrupted by a banging on the barn door, which was then subsequently opened. A friendly voice called out, “Privet, puteshestvenniki. I saw your light and brought some food and blankets. It seems the storm is going to last a bit longer, so...” Though Danik had risen to his feet quickly and tried to head off the visitor, he hadn’t been quick enough.
The young man stood just outside the stall, looking in, with the open door pressed against his back. His face was as pale as if he’d just been visited by a heavenly messenger. As Danik approached, the frightened priest turned, allowing the door to nearly close on its squeaking hinge. He didn’t run, though, or drop the stack of blankets, which was something. Nik had to give him credit for that.
“Zakhar. Wait,” Danik said, holding up a hand. “Please let me explain.”
The priest swallowed, turned back, and then thrust the blankets into Danik’s hands and closed the stall door firmly, making certain he stood on the opposite side of his visitors. He made the sign of the cross and mumbled a prayer, then wet his lips and nodded to Danik. “Yes. Explain, but quickly, my friend.”
“Zakhar, this is Nikolai Novikov. Nik, this is Zakhar Balakin, the head student of seminary training here at the Saint Vladimir II Cathedral. He’s in his final year of study before entering the priesthood and taking the final vows.”
“Priyatna Poznakomit’sya,” Nik said politely.
“Yes, yes,” the young cleric said stonily with a barely perceptible nod, his eyes fixed on the large animals behind Nik. “It is lovely to meet you as well on such a beautiful day as this. God has blessed us, has He not?” He tried to smile, but it was a half-hearted effort, and it faded rapidly. After that, the priest crossed himself and mumbled a silent prayer again.
“Zakhar, calm down,” Nik said. “They’re not going to hurt you.”
Gripping the stall door, the priest gave Danik a look of panic and replied in a tone that was half irritation and half anger. Nik pressed his fingers over his lips to stop himself from laughing. He figured if Danik could make a priest angry, he shouldn’t feel so bad. “What is this you are saying, hunter?” the priest asked. “How can you mean they will not hurt me? Do you think I am as faithful as Daniil, who sat all night with the lions? No . I assure you. I am not. God knows I am no prophet. Every day I beat the wickedness from my breast as I prepare myself for my calling, and every day I know I fall short.”
The priest demonstrated the act by actually thumping his fist against his chest. When Nik heard the hollow sound coming from the priest, he actually did laugh, but quickly controlled himself when Danik gave him a glance that promised retaliation.
Not even noticing the laugh, Zakhar continued his litany of self-recrimination. Danik opened the stall door, standing with his own back to it to keep it open, while the priest clasped his hands behind his back and began pacing. “Surely, there is not a more ill-prepared student working under the illustrious Bishop Rudimov. I shall fail in my studies, and when I do, I’ll return to my hometown in shame.”
“No, Zakhar, you won’t,” Danik said. “You’re the smartest man I know. Bishop Rudimov must believe it too. Why else would he make you the top student of your class?”
The priest paused in his pacing. “Personally, I believe it’s due to his thinking I need to practice my leadership skills. I fear he finds them lacking.”
Danik took hold of the priest’s shoulders and shook him. “I need you to stop running down this mental road like you always do and put that big brain of yours to better use.”
“Yes, my friend, of course. How can I help?”
“See?” Danik put an arm around the priest’s shoulders, turning him toward the stall and guiding him inside while grinning at Nik. “That’s why I came here. It wasn’t just for shelter. If anyone can figure out how to help the tsarevnas, he can.”
Scowling, Nik jerked to his feet. “Hold on. We never agreed to bring more people into this. How do you know you can trust him?”
Danik looked at the priest and jerked his head toward Nik with a can-you-believe-what-he-just-said expression. “Uh, because of this?” Danik said sarcastically, yanking on Zakhar’s cassock.
“Hey. Stop that! Show some respect for the calling,” Zakhar chastened, pulling his black robes away from Danik’s fingers and smoothing out the wrinkles. When he wasn’t satisfied with his robe, he started tugging on the belt, attempting to adjust it, when the other two men suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking the view.
“How about we keep that thing knotted up properly?” Danik said. “We wouldn’t want to offend anyone of a... um... delicate nature.”
Zakhar frowned. “What are you two going on about? There’s no one else here.”
When he began removing his belt again, Danik grabbed it and cinched it tight. “Yes... there... are ,” he insisted. “We told you.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder and whispered, “The tsarevnas .”
Zakhar looked from Danik to Nik and then over their shoulders at the two cats behind them who sat still in the straw, watching the whole interaction. At that moment, Veru lifted a paw and gave it a long lick. Lifting an eyebrow, Zakhar straightened his shoulders, gave the two men a tight smile, and said, “I see the problem.”
“You do?” Nik asked hopefully.
“Yes,” he answered with a monkish mien. Slowly, he began backing out of the stall. “We do have some training in counseling for those who have been”—he fluttered his fingers together and wrinkled his nose—“ addled in their thinking for one reason or another. I’m certain we can set up some sessions that will help you?—”
Danik cut him off. “I don’t think you understand, Zakhar.”
“Oh, but I do, my friend,” the priest replied with a condescending sort of head bob. “Let me just find the right person who might understand your particular... affliction, and then I’ll introduce?—”
“Exactly,” Nik said, catching the priest by the arm before he could escape. “Allow me to make proper introductions.”
“No. That’s not necessary,” the priest said. The tranquil appearance he’d been momentarily displaying on the surface melted away like fat in a hot skillet. Now the man was crackling and sizzling with emotion as he attempted to wriggle out of Nik’s grasp.
Nikolai could sense the man’s fear escalating. He was nearly ready to bolt, and they couldn’t have that. “Stacia,” Nik said, “if you will kindly block the door, he might accept the fact that we’re not going to allow him to leave.”
The large red tiger rose, and the priest nearly clawed Nik’s face in an effort to move away from the big cat. Nik obliged him by stepping around him, placing his own body in front of the priest’s, allowing him to cower in the corner of the stall.
“There now,” Nik said. “You can see there’s no escape until you’ve heard us out. We mean you no harm, sir. I know it must feel difficult to set aside your fear, and yet you must. Until you do, your mind will not function as it should, and according to Danik, we need the knowledge you possess. At the very least we could do with some supplies and the certainty that you won’t cause a panic among the seminary trainees or the townspeople while we are in residence.”
After the priest had calmed himself somewhat and nodded mutely, Nik waited a beat and then, taking pity on him, added, “You might close your eyes and breathe in deeply. Hold it and count to five, then breathe out while counting to five again. Do this for a series of five to ten times until you feel yourself centering. Remember that you are alive, and while you are alive, no matter what trials life brings, you still have a chance to overcome them and attain your goals. If you wish to pray during this time, you may. Whatever helps you focus is a good thing.”
They waited while the priest did as Nik suggested, breathing in and out, in and out. After a few rounds of deep inhales and exhales, his body relaxed, and he seemed much calmer. “Better?” Nik asked.
“Yes, spasibo,” Zakhar admitted. “Where did you learn such techniques?”
Stacia was wondering the same thing at that moment. Nik didn’t answer the question though. Instead, he summoned her. “Tsarevna Stacia, will you come and greet young priest Zakhar?”
Uncertain as to how exactly she should “greet” someone formally as a tiger, Stacia walked over next to Nikolai and glanced up at him briefly, hoping for some kind of suggestion. When she didn’t get one, she then attempted what she would have done had she been asked to welcome someone of status in the grand ballroom while wearing a formal gown and a tiara. She extended a regal head nod coupled with a slight curtsy, but she suspected it ended up looking more like a tiger stretching its back.
“Veru?” Nik said next, turning to the golden tiger.
The golden tiger rose to her feet and walked over to Nik, then sat down next to him, looking as regal as a tsarina on a golden throne. To drive the point home, Nik placed his hand on top of Veru’s head and gave Stacia’s shoulder a brief pat, showing he was unafraid.
Clearing his throat, Nik began. “Several weeks ago, a dark sorcerer entered the royal palace with an undead army. His intention was to force one of the tsarevnas into wedlock.” Nikolai glanced at the tigers briefly but went on. “As you may have heard, their mother, the tsarina, has recently died, leaving them as the heirs to the empire. When weaving his magic spell, the sorcerer discovered they were in possession of two charms left to them by their mother. I was aware he had long been seeking these charms, but I did not know the sisters were in possession of them.”
Stacia and Veru wondered if Nik was purposely leaving out his role in inviting the sorcerer into the palace to make himself look better in the eyes of the others or because he desired or needed their trust or if he simply couldn’t admit it to himself.
“As far as I can tell,” Nik went on, “the charms have no monetary value but are magical in nature. Somehow the sorcerer became aware they had the charms and dropped the charade of a suitor, choosing to attack instead. This is when the sisters were transformed into the creatures you see before you.
“I was not a direct witness to this change, having taken a severe blow to the head. But their soldiers, such as survived, were. One of their men-at-arms roused me after the attack and bid me take them to his mother’s people on the far side of the mountains, where they have stories of such transformations occurring. He hoped they might know how we may be able to change them back.
“We... bumped into your hunter friend along the way. He, too, is hearing this story for the first time. As a priest, I do not know your views on magic. I am in possession of some magical gifts of my own, and I have seen such things used for both good and evil.
“As for me, I don’t care much about the morality of such things. In my experience, I judge most everything and everyone evil until they prove themselves otherwise. Trusting others is not easy for me. But I will do anything to help them. And if that means leaning on the two of you,” he concluded, glancing at the priest and Danik, “then I’ll suffer it. For their sakes.”
Zakhar said nothing for a beat, and then he stepped forward. To Nik’s surprise, he put a hand on his shoulder, offering him an understanding smile. “Someday, my new friend, you are welcome to share the history that led you to become the man you are today. I am more than happy to hear the tale. If you wish to invoke the seal of the confessional, you may. I am always at your disposal.”
Taking a step back, he straightened his cassock and bowed deeply. “My royal tsarevnas... no... tsarinas . I am deeply honored to welcome you to our humble cathedral and will endeavor to make your stay here as comfortable as possible. In addition, I will devote every mental faculty at my command to the resolution of your extremely interesting dilemma. Please grant me forgiveness for my awkward and most embarrassing display.”
He straightened abruptly. “You must be famished! Danik! You should have said something,” he hissed testily, punching his friend in the arm as he quickly exited the stall. “I’ll be right back. I just need to raid the larder.”
They heard his footsteps running to the barn door and then the sounds of him heaving it open. A moment later he returned. “Er... how do they feel about the preparation of the food? Should the meat be well done or partially cooked?”
Danik snorted. “Tigers usually prefer it raw.”
“Right, right.”
He ran off again, and Danik called out, “I just fed them rats and mice, so don’t overthink it. Just bring them something big .”
“Yes, of course,” Zakhar said as he pulled the barn door closed.
“And don’t forget to keep this to yourself!” Nik added.
True to his word, Zakhar brought them a huge roast for dinner that evening. It was cooked rare.
* * *
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the storm didn’t blow over for many days. Though Zakhar kept them fed, he wouldn’t be able to hide how much meat had gone missing from the kitchen stores for long. Danik promised he’d hunt some big game as soon as he was able to, after the weather broke.
Zakhar appeared one night, when they’d been there about a week, very eager to share a discovery he’d made.
“So what is it you want us to do, exactly?” Danik asked.
“It’s as I said. I have taken vows not to touch the sacred texts or enter our school of study after hours, but you have not.”
“But don’t you consider yourself breaking vows by having us do it for you?” Nik asked.
Zakhar paused and thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps this is why you are here. God’s laws should not be broken, this is true. But not all laws are God’s, though there are many who would make the unlearned believe otherwise. It is for this reason I decided to study the doctrines of the church. Don’t misunderstand me—I have a deep and abiding faith. But I have seen those in high positions abuse others and take monies, offering forgiveness to those who have no intention to change or display any feelings of penitence. I study because I wish to follow the Lord and His law, not necessarily laws instituted by men, especially those I deem unjust.
“Still, our bishop is a good man. And I honor my word. Yet I know the texts. Christ was able to save the woman taken in adultery while not breaking a law technically. He also paid a tax with a coin from a fish’s mouth. In this case, I feel I am not strictly breaking a law I have promised to obey, and yet I am still helping those who need my help. This is a charity and a kindness, is it not? I feel in my heart it is the right thing to do.”
“I like the way you think,” Nik said. “So what are we looking for?”
“I asked our bishop if he knew of any texts related to tigers. My expectation was that he would say no. However, when he took a day to consider it, he recalled one. It was not contained in a book, but it was an ancient scroll kept in a golden box. Not even he had ever read it, as it has always been handed down and kept secret. He has sworn to protect it and never to open it. The vault it’s contained in must be opened with a key he keeps on his person or on his bedside.”
“I can do it,” Nik said quickly. “With the boots, he won’t even see me.”
“But how will you know where to find the box?” Zakhar asked.
“Simple,” Nik said. “Draw me a map.”