20. The Eye May See It, but the Proof Is in the Tooth
20
THE EYE MAY SEE IT, BUT THE PROOF IS IN THE TOOTH
For a moment all was silent except for the crackle of the logs as they sunk deeper into the fire. Zakhar and Danik instinctively wanted to protect the older woman from the snarling young man. As for Nik, he felt frozen in place. It was as if he were watching a play in which another boy was speaking words he longed to say to his own mother.
He could almost see how the words cut her, and yet he could also see how the young man needed his mother to see him, to love him, despite the things he’d done. It was there, but it was buried so deep, he doubted anyone else but him would see it.
Veru and Stacia sat on opposite sides of the new arrival, their eyes trained on him. He was what they’d been looking for, and they hadn’t known it. They could feel the tiger clawing at his insides. It raged and paced, longing to emerge and greet them, but the young man had built up a very effective cage. His tiger spirit was trapped. Because of this, he was going mad. The tiger inside him foamed in fury, fuming and bellowing, leaking angry poisons that festered and boiled.
“You are not made of ice, Iriko. You are my son,” Matriova said. “I claimed you as mine the day you fluttered in my womb, and every day since my thoughts have been with you. Though we’ve been apart, I have not forgotten you.”
“You abandoned me!” Iriko shouted.
“No! The people rejected you. I had a duty?—”
“You had a duty to me!”
Iriko’s breaths came quickly, and his hands tightened into fists.
Matriova stepped closer and touched his broad shoulder. “You’re right, my son. You’re right. I should have left with you. Perhaps someday you can find a way to forgive a very old woman.”
She shifted closer to him, lifting her cloak once again and speaking to him comforting words in her native language. This time he allowed her to tie the cloak around his shoulders, but when she was done, he stiffened his body again and said, “Why have you come? Why now? Tell me quickly so I can refuse your request and return to my solitude.”
“Very well,” Matriova said and held up a hand to stop Zakhar when he was about to protest and suggest some manner of diplomacy or breaking camp first. “I am helping these people on their quest. They need to be guided to the Dreaming Mountain so they can meet with the White Shaman of the Tundra. At long last two of our tiger tokens have returned to us, but they need help. These men have vowed to assist them.”
“Help?” he spat. “ You never needed help.”
“This is different. They are not... of our people,” she said, glancing down at the tigers at her feet. “They were not prepared as we are for this responsibility. They wish to... to separate themselves from the tiger spirit.”
Iriko stepped forward and stretched out a hand until he took hold of his mother’s shoulders. “Is this possible? You never mentioned such a thing was an option.”
Saddened, Matriova said softly, “I didn’t know you hated it that much. To abandon the tiger spirit once it chooses you is not an easy thing.”
“Nor is it easy trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations and constantly failing,” Iriko said.
“I... I understand,” she said.
“Do you? How can you possibly? You always lived up to everyone’s expectations. You’ve never seen the people’s faces”—he paused—“or at least heard their voices fall in disappointment over your actions.”
“Perhaps not in the way you’re thinking. But yes, I’ve seen disappointment before, son.”
Iriko grunted. “Perhaps. But you were not responsible for the death of your sister. The one everyone depended on, were you?”
Matriova sighed. “No. But I have made my own mistakes over the years. Each one of us must learn from our own errors and walk our own path to knowledge, mustn’t we?” Biting her lip, Matriova turned and walked back to the campfire, thinking. At last she spoke. “Very well. If you also wish to disconnect yourself from the tiger spirit, then you will need to ascend the Dreaming Mountain as well. These two need your help,” she said, indicating the two tigers. “They don’t know our lands. And I am too old and feeble now to manage the climb. If you agree to take them and manage to either make peace with your tiger or break connection with it, returning the token so our people can select a new carrier, then I will send word you are to be reinstated as a member of the clan.”
“I’m not sure I want to be a member of the clan any longer.”
“Surely it’s better than living out here alone.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been doing fine on my own.”
Veru made a sound like a chuffing noise and rubbed her body along his leg. Stacia growled and stretched up, knocking her head against his hand. “Settle down now,” Iriko said with a rueful laugh. “Is it that you are worried about me, ladies, or do you like me that much already?” He paused. “I know what you’re saying, but you don’t understand what I’m capable of.” He cocked his head as he stroked Stacia’s head. “Are you doubting my hunting skills or the fact that I don’t have any footwear?”
“Wait a minute,” Nikolai said. “Can you... can you hear them?”
“Yes,” Iriko answered matter-of-factly as he ran a hand down Veru’s back. “It seems I can understand them, but they cannot hear one another except through me. Can’t any of you?”
“No,” Danik said.
“This is fascinating,” Zakhar said. “I need to document this immediately. Perhaps we can return to the fire? I have so many questions.”
“Of course,” Matriova agreed. “But first, Iriko. Will you take them?”
“I’ll... consider it.”
Veru yowled and pushed against him, which made him laugh. They all noticed the stern young man appeared very much different when he laughed. They could see the boy lurking behind the face of the angry man.
“I know. I heard them, Verusha,” Iriko said. “Fine, Veru . What kind of a name is that anyway?”
He put his hand on Veru’s back, and she guided him to camp, where he found a seat by the fire. The tigers sat down next to him on either side. When Danik brought them some raw fish, Veru nudged it over to Iriko, who snatched it up and took a large bite, not even caring that it was uncooked. “A tsarevna, you say? Wait, both of you?”
Nik raised a hand and then quickly lowered it. “Technically, they’re the tsarinas.”
“Is that right?” Iriko replied with a smirk, glancing in Nik’s direction. Veru looked at Nik at the same time, twisting her head and neck in the same way the young man did, as if looking Nik up and down and obviously finding him lacking. “And what are you to them, exactly? A footman?”
“No. I... I polish Veru’s armor and do other various... jobs.”
“Armor?”
“Er... yes. Can you please ask her?—”
Iriko held up a hand, ignoring Nik’s query. He cocked his head, clearly listening to something Veru was telling him, and then burst out laughing. Nikolai didn’t know if she was talking about him, but his face colored anyway.
Zakhar raised a hand, then realized what he was doing and added, “If I may, I have many questions I’d like to ask now that I have an interpreter of sorts.”
Matriova put her hand on his arm and said, “Hold off on that for now. The three of them are cementing their bond. There will be time for that later. If they are to truly form a Transcendent Troika as the legends say, they’ll need to work together in perfect harmony.”
“Troika. If I recall, I saw images of something like that on the scroll.” Zakhar became distracted, rummaging through his papers.
Nikolai stood and said, “Yeah, well, if we can’t talk, there isn’t much point in waiting around right now, is there?” He picked up a stick and thrust it into the fire and told Danik he was going to head out to look for more firewood.
When Danik pulled out his domra and asked if anyone had a musical request, this time being especially pleased that he could ask Veru or Stacia themselves, they answered that they would prefer to speak to Iriko just then. Danik said he understood and tucked his domra away, but he was disappointed at their answer. He’d always thought the tigers enjoyed his music. He climbed into his blankets and rolled away, trying to ignore the soft murmuring and laughter coming from the other side of the fire.
As for Matriova, she often glanced at her son but was more than thrilled at seeing him interacting with the other tigers. It warmed her heart to see flashes of the boy she’d once known appearing in the face of the sullen man he was now. She hoped that at least Iriko would not, in fact, choose to abandon the spirit that had chosen him. Of all people, she knew the power and responsibility that came with a tiger’s life, but she also knew the loneliness and abandonment of living without it.
She didn’t understand why it had stayed with her son instead of returning to her, but she had thought about it constantly over the years. Matriova had waited many decades to pass on the token. Her daughter had been the perfect host, a more excellent candidate she couldn’t have hoped to find among all her people. Everyone knew it and looked forward to Baikali ruling in her place. She’d been so perfect, in fact, that Baikali hadn’t hesitated when she saw the need to save someone else—her younger brother.
Matriova didn’t think she’d been nearly as prepared when she’d accepted the tiger token. In fact, she’d been more like Iriko—impulsive, quick-tempered, and selfish—but over the years and through the trials and experiences the tiger gave her, she’d been able to mature, become more than what she’d been. Perhaps the tiger was drawn to Iriko. It knew, somehow, that her son needed its guidance.
If she were being honest with herself, she’d confess that she missed the tiger. It had been a part of her for so long that the tiger had become a piece of her identity. It was her friend when she was alone. It protected her from the elements. It strengthened her in times of weakness. Were there things she gave up? Certainly. But in her view, there was so much more she’d gained by wearing the tiger token than she’d lost.
The real test for her now was about seeing the tigers of their people bond with outsiders. Did these two girls who’d been born with wealth, all the opportunities that power and an empire could give them, really need more? How could she learn to accept that the gift that meant so much to her people could fall into hands so soft and pampered? What did they know of loss? Of sacrifice? Of struggle? Of doing without? Did they even understand what the tiger tokens meant to the people who lived in this land? Could they possibly understand?
And worse. If she saw that great gift withdraw from her people, what would they have left? Could she ever reconcile the feeling that she had known the tokens were within her grasp and she had done nothing to reclaim them? Could she trust that the White Shaman of the Tundra would know what to do and that it would be the best thing for her people? Then again, what if she made a mistake and did something that protected her own people but caused the destruction of another? Could she live with that?
But what of the Transcendent Troika? Had the time finally come? Was it to be these three who formed the envisaged masterpiece? They were so unprepared, so unskilled, so... unwilling. But... if there was one thing the ancestors had taught her over the long, harsh winters, it was that the direction of a great stampeding herd could be impacted by something as simple as a blowing leaf. Perhaps there was more to them than what she could see on the surface. Matriova rubbed her temples, feeling an ache in her head as she thought of these weighty issues.
Of course, the young didn’t think of such things. They only considered where their next meal was coming from, how long they could sleep before their mama kicked their foot to make them rise to work in the morning, or who might be winking at them from across the fire. Not for the first time, she longed to join her people who had gone on before—the wise ones who sat at the open doors of their yurts watching them as they smoked pipes and laughed at the silly worries of the still living, their laughter and smoke twirling overhead to make the lovely colors of green, blue, pink, and purple in the winter sky.
Zakhar didn’t feel a bit sleepy. First, he documented all he could about meeting Iriko and how the newcomer had interacted with Veru and Stacia. When he felt their conversation had dwindled to more mundane topics, he decided to move on to more important things. He wanted to take advantage of the time he had with Matriova and pulled out the scroll so she could help him translate it.
After painstakingly copying her translation for the better part of an hour, Zakhar knew he’d need to share it with the others. It was quite obvious that the document had been meant for their eyes, but there were details included that were still a mystery to him, including how and when he recorded the document originally. He asked Matriova again and again what her thoughts were regarding certain passages of text, but she said she had no context or knowledge of such, even though she’d carried a piece of the tiger charm herself for a bit longer than four hundred years and had heard stories passed down for generations before herself.
Her best advice was to ask the White Shaman. Not even in her lifetime had she met him, though in her younger days she had attempted to ascend the mountain. She told Zakhar that though tigers were allowed to climb the mountain, they never encountered the White Shaman, at least as far as she was aware. Instead, they were sent a dream, one that helped them in their life journey. When they woke, they would find themselves back at the mountain’s base.
Those who persisted would find they became confused and turned around until they lost their way. Soon they were no longer allowed to climb, and some even lost the memory of the mountain completely. When Zakhar asked her if she’d ever had a dream on the mountain, she replied she had, but she refused to share with the priest what it was and told him when she’d awoken, she was at the mountain’s base. After that she’d journeyed home, never to make another attempt.
Now that they’d translated the scroll, both of them became quite excited by what they’d read. Zakhar couldn’t wait to copy it again in his own language and make an attempt to imitate the beautiful artwork surrounding it, but he knew, though his hand had made the scroll, at that point in his life he wasn’t nearly a skilled enough artist to replicate it. The realization was stunning and awesome. He wanted to tell someone, but who and when? Would they think him crazed or that he’d imagined it?
As he discussed the scroll with Matriova, both of them felt there were symbols and meanings in the art to discover that went far beyond the simple words of the text itself. Some of it felt distinctively Russian to Zakhar, though he wouldn’t dare suggest as much to Matriova. He didn’t think she’d take such a thing well.
Together they read it, each mumbling the words to themselves, trying to make sense of the passages of text.
In dire times, at world’s end,
Some must face a daunting task.
Choose to embark,
And leave their mark,
Troika three the mount ascend.
There the truth they must unmask.
Seven spirits bless the land
Pass their tests and wisely rule.
But if instead,
You cling to dread,
Raging beasts will gnaw your hand,
As you become death’s vile tool.
Learn from those who came before,
Should you ever start to drift,
Beware desire,
Trust, but inquire,
Lean upon your tiger’s roar,
Capture every gilded gift.
Then as champions, you’ll arise.
Brimming with a brilliant power.
Distinct, each one,
Shining, each sun.
Rising to boreal skies,
And prolong your terrene hours.
Zakhar quizzed Matriova, taking notes and making his own as long as possible. Finally, when his eyes and the dwindling fire allowed him to work no more, he carefully stoppered his inks and cleaned his quill tips, then rolled up the scroll, vigilantly storing his work, before falling into a deep sleep.
By the time he woke the next morning, everyone else was breaking camp. “What’s going on?” Zakhar asked sleepily as he rubbed his eyes, shivering now that the fire was completely out.
Matriova answered, “I hope you don’t mind. I shared the basic information of the prophecy from your scroll. At least what I could remember. It appears to correspond with what we were already planning to do anyway, which was to try to get the three tigers to the Dreaming Mountain. After that, who knows? Iriko has agreed to accompany you that far at least.”
When the group was ready, Matriova placed a pack on her back, including snowshoes and the sturdy little yurt gifted to Danik, as well as a nice supply of dried fish. Iriko returned his mother’s lovely cloak, securing it on her shoulders himself.
“Are you certain you don’t wish to come with us?” he asked.
“No, son. It is enough that I was able to reunite with you. If I die on the journey, I am ready now.”
“But I won’t know where you are buried.”
“That won’t matter. It’s only a body I’ll leave behind—an empty shell. You’ll know where to find me. Just look up. I’ll be there. Watching over you always, my son. I hope someday you’ll find a way to forgive your old mother. And remember: no matter what you choose, I love you. I’ve always been proud to have you for a son.”
Iriko nodded. He took a step closer to her, reaching out and groping the empty air with his hand, feeling for her shoulder. She took it and squeezed it, guiding his palm to her face. “You’re shorter than I remember,” he said.
“No, I’m not. You’re just taller.”
He hugged his mother and said, “Thank you. I... I’ll talk with you from time to time.”
“And I’ll answer.”
They touched their heads together, then when he had his hand on Stacia’s back again, using her eyes to see, she turned to Zakhar and said, “If you ever have time to seek me out, assuming I survive my journey, I wouldn’t mind talking with you again, young priest.”
“I, too, would enjoy further discussion,” Zakhar said in reply. “Perhaps we can talk about God and the ancestors on our next visit,” he suggested.
“I think I might look forward to that conversation.”
“Then farewell for now. May the snow be solid beneath your feet.”
Matriova grinned. “I like that expression. I’m going to use that one.”
“Feel free,” Zakhar answered, and then climbed into the sleigh next to Danik.
“And, son?” the older woman said, turning back one last time.
“Yes?” Iriko replied.
“Don’t forget to forgive yourself as well.”
With that, she was gone, disappearing around a hill. Iriko could still hear her for a while and tracked her footsteps, but then he was distracted by Stacia’s voice. He’d been fascinated by the story of the magic boots and how they’d turned into a sleigh and reins. The tsarevna’s irritation came through loud and clear to him as he fingered the gemstones along her collar.
Why are you standing there instead of letting your tiger out? Stacia demanded. Can’t you see the magic means to make a third place so you can help us pull?
It’s not very kind of you to sit back there and make us do all the work , Veru added sulkily.
Iriko laughed, almost seeing the pout in the tone of her voice. “Back home the women do most of the work while we have meetings. We smoke and sit around a fire and make all the decisions while the women have the babies, make dinner, collect the firewood, and?—”
Soplyak. You’re full of rubbish , Stacia said. We know your mother is the leader. What are you trying to pull?
“I’m not pulling anything,” Iriko said, stretching his big arms over his head.
Veru said, That’s the point. You’re trying to get out of pulling.
“Is that the way for a proper tsarina to talk? I wouldn’t think fine young ladies such as yourselves should be using words like that,” Iriko said with a chuckle. He paused for a moment to hear their reply and then roared with laughter.
Annoyed, Nik leaned forward and asked, “Can we get going? Please?”
As if reading the minds of the tsarevnas, Zakhar asked, “Can you change to a tiger? Have you ever? I’d like to record that in my notes.”
Stomping over to the sleigh, by holding on to the harnesses, Iriko’s expression turned back into the angry young man with muscles entirely too large. “No, I can’t, for your information. Sorry, ladies. You’re on your own. I’ll tell you where to go though. You be my eyes, and I’ll be your voice.” Turning to the men, he added, “I’ll also let you know when they start to wear themselves out. Reins, please,” he said to Nik.
Reluctantly, Nik handed them over. “So you can see through their eyes, can’t you.”
“I can. The three of us are bonded. I can feel their hunger too. Not that any of you care about that.”
“What do you mean?” Danik said, standing up to address the stranger. “Of course we care about...” He turned to Veru and Stacia. “Veru, you can’t possibly think... of course we care...”
Iriko smiled, his teeth as white as the snow and all as straight as pillars except for one little gap between his front incisors and his two canines, which were slightly snaggletooth. This gave him an even more feral appearance when he grinned. “It’s just too easy,” he mumbled to himself.
Without saying another word out loud, he picked up the reins and turned his head in one direction and the other. The tigers mimicked his movements precisely. Zakhar was fascinated by this and wanted to capture the strange light in Iriko’s glacier-blue eyes and how they dilated suddenly when he linked with the others.
Then the tigers broke out into a run. Danik, who was still trying to communicate with Veru, collapsed backward. If it hadn’t been for Zakhar, he would have gone over the back of the sleigh and fallen off, and the way Iriko was laughing at the sound of the poor man’s struggles, none of the others were certain the sleigh would have been turned around to collect their fallen warrior.
Shrinking back down in his seat, Danik gripped the side of the sleigh and held on. Not for the first time, he regretted seeking out their new companion. Nikolai was thinking the exact same thing. Zakhar was thinking only of the scroll and his journals and when he could begin working again, while the three tigers were now focused on only one thing: the mountain that seemed to be calling to them even though none of them had ever seen it or stepped foot on it before.