Chapter 29
DON’T BOAST WHEN YOU BEGIN BUT WHEN YOU FINISH THE JOURNEY
Veru and Danik arrived back at the cottage just as dawn broke over the eastern mountains.
Max greeted them at the open door, meowing furiously, which they took as a bad omen.
He’d never done such a thing before. The moment they dismounted, the black steed galloped away, disappearing in a vortex of lightning and fire, leaving only a trail of rapidly disappearing sparks in his wake.
When they entered the cottage, they found it dark.
The fire was unlit, and no food was bubbling in the cauldron, which only meant one thing to them—Yuga would be returning any moment.
Quickly, they removed their packs, and while Veru moved the sesame seeds back to their original containers, Danik stowed away the magic gifts they’d been given, wrapping them carefully inside clothing, or stowing them inside the now empty flasks and hiding them in their bags.
By the time they heard the scraping of Yuga’s heavy stone bowl as it landed by the door, they were seated in their usual spots, Danik softly strumming his domra and Veru brushing through Max’s coat with her fingers, working out all the burrs and chiding him for whatever it was he’d been up to for the last few days.
The door flew open, and Yuga dragged in her newly acquired supplies, along with her mode of transport, ignoring the two of them as she did.
She grumble-groaned to herself as she bustled about, tossing items into cupboards and complaining about the ache in her bones and the cold weather that made her nose leak worse than the old pipes in the house.
Finally, she sank into the creaky chair across from Veru. “Well now,” she said. “I can tell the two of you are still alive. At least my traitorous cat is still good for something, anyway.”
“Yes,” Danik said. “Alive and fit. And we’ve done our packing. We’ve completed our end of the bargain, and we’d like to be bidding you dos vedanya now.”
“Is that so?” she said, glaring in their direction down her very long nose.
“It is,” Veru replied, calmly stroking Maxsim.
She glanced meaningfully at Danik. “No . . . no rush, of course. You’re welcome to examine the wares, if you like.
We’ll wait until you do. Then we’ll expect to be taking what’s ours as well as our leave of you.
” Leaning forward, she slid the contract across the table.
“And just in case you forgot, here’s the signed contract for your reference.
I can reread it for you, if you need it, so your memory will be refreshed.
You’ll want to take special note of the items you promised us.
We’re happy to go over them with you again. Item by item.”
“Ha! Perabsurdum nugatus.” Yuga said, standing up and stabbing a bony finger on the paper. “I’ll thank you not to get ahead of yourself, my dear. Let’s just taste that water first, shall we?”
The old woman rose and cracked open the water barrel, then located a dipper and swirled it inside. After sniffing it, she caught a few drops between her fingers and rubbed it carefully. Last, she touched a few drops to her tongue, then froze.
“Scaturigenous selynesse magicum. How did you do this?” she demanded. “Tell me.”
“I don’t believe we have to tell you,” Veru said. “That wasn’t part of the deal. But I’m assuming by your irritation that we accomplished your task.”
“You did,” she agreed. “And it’s very valuable, I’ll give you that.”
“Is it really? You called it scaturigenous selynesse magicum. That’s . . . let’s see . . . if I remember my Latin, that’s magic happy drink?”
“Close. It’s Magical Fountain of Happy Waters.”
“Ah, so you’ll be using it to dupe other poor souls like ourselves.”
“It’s none of your business how or why I use it.”
“Very well. It’s yours to do with as you wish. As we agreed.”
The old woman searched the cottage with her rheumy eyes. “Don’t tell me you completed the second task.” Her gnarled hands opened and closed as if she were already clutching the bolt of fabric.
“We did,” Danik said. He stepped behind a table and brought out the shimmering black fabric.
Though the woman was blind, or at least Veru thought she was, her gaze fixed on the bolt the minute it appeared. “Here, boy!” she said, a definite tone of greed in her voice. “Give it over. Quickly!”
He placed the heavy material in her outstretched arms, and she clutched it to her bosom.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh my. It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined.
It’s perfect. It’s . . .” She quickly unrolled the bolt, measuring it against her arm and counting the lengths.
“One, two, three . . .” Then she stopped at forty.
“Forty and a half. Surely, there’s more. ”
“I’m sorry, Yuga,” Danik said. “That’s all there is.”
“You must make more. You absolutely must.”
“I’m afraid you didn’t stipulate the length of the bolt in the contract,” Veru said.
“Surely this isn’t enough to count as a bolt,” Yuga replied craftily. “In the marketplace, a bolt would never be sold this small.”
Veru interrupted. “Hold on. Before you try to default by arguing semantics, you should know I am well-versed in this particular area, as I’ve had to sit in judgment over disputes often enough. In the marketplace, a bolt is typically one hundred arshins in length.”
“There! You see?” Yuga sat back with a smug expression. “You failed.”
Holding up a finger, Veru added, “I said typically. Depending on the type of fabric, it can also be as small as thirty arshins. It may still be defined as a bolt, so long as the type of material meets certain conditions. In this case, the fabric is a woolen, and therefore heavier. This is one common exemption. In addition, it is very difficult to weave and collect. Exemption number two. It is also extremely rare and would therefore be one of the most expensive fabrics ever to be placed on the market. That is exemption three. For these reasons, I would be extremely surprised if a bolt of this particular type was ever sold at more than thirty arshins in length. Therefore, I’d say we met the task.
And I’d think you’d be hard-pressed to find an impartial judge in this land or any other who wouldn’t agree. ”
Yuga went still, thinking, obviously trying to come up with another way to trick them into losing, but Veru pressed further. “Obviously, you’re unsatisfied with our efforts. I suppose we could simply keep it for ourselves or sell it at the marketplace and see what we could get for it instead.”
Veru rose and began rolling the fabric back into a bolt, but Yuga tore it away from her hands. “You will not!” she said. “Those sheep are mine!”
“Perhaps, but the effort was ours. You don’t own us . . . yet. We would be compensated for our work. But you are right. You do own the sheep.” Veru glanced at Danik and winked. “Very well. We’ll sell it, then, and split the profit with you, fifty-fifty.”
Yuga seemed almost desperate to stop Veru from taking away the fabric but didn’t quite know what to do.
Veru rolled up the black material and lifted the bolt from Yuga’s lap, but the old woman stopped her and pulled the bolt to her chest and then chuckled awkwardly.
“Upon consideration, I’ll take it. I suppose it meets the criteria, though I’ll have you know I’m being very generous. ”
“I’m sure you are,” Danik said. “Shall I help you carry it somewhere, Babushka?” he offered.
“No. No, boy. I’ll take care of it.” Once she’d stowed it away and sat back down, she said, “Well, now. It seems the two of you did well. You should be proud of yourselves. It’s too bad you didn’t finish the final task, but you did much better than anyone else.
That’s excellent. I’ve a mind to reward you with a little something for all you did.
I’m very pleased with your work. And I’ll tell you, that’s a rare thing. ”
“Oh, but, Babushka, we did finish the last task,” Danik said.
“You—you did? But where’s the wheat?”
“The black knight is stowing it for you as we speak,” Veru said, hoping it wasn’t a bluff, and she was right. “While he’s finishing up, here are your sesame seeds, just as you asked.”
Veru placed both jars on the little table between them, and Yuga opened the jars and peered inside them, then ran a finger into each one, feeling to see if they contained the seeds.
When she stoppered them again, she said, “I’d ask how you did it without using the seeds, but I already know you won’t tell me.”
“That’s right,” said Danik. “Just like you won’t tell us your secrets.”
“I’m an old woman. I have no secrets.”
“I think we both know that isn’t true,” Veru said.
“Let’s get this over with,” Yuga said sharply.
“I don’t see any wheat, and I think the two of you are stalling.
” Closing her eyes, she mumbled a few words and then opened her mouth.
They heard the crack of thunder and saw lightning flash just outside the window.
There was a banging on the door. The old woman flicked her fingers, and standing outside in the snow was the black knight.
“You called, mistress?” Sumerki said after bowing to Yuga.
“Yes. These two tell me you stored wheat for them. Is this true?”
“No, mistress. I stored the wheat according to your instructions,” the knight said very carefully.
“Is that so?” Yuga turned to Danik and Veru and smiled widely. “I wonder, then, why they seem to be under the impression that you were helping them?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“It’s very strange, I agree.”
Danik rose from his seat. “You’ve betrayed us,” he accused, his hands clenched at his side.
“Now, now,” Yuga said, still grinning. “I’ll not have my servants tussling with one another. Let bygones be bygones, why don’t you?”
“Predatel’!” Danik shouted. “Negodyay! Posramit’ upon you and your ancestors!”