Chapter 8
The Easter Egg
Lisa finished speaking and folded her hands in her lap.
Silence fell over the room. I was hesitant to ask her to share more details, afraid any other question I asked would reveal my ignorance and solidify the impression in Lisa’s mind that I was a dimwit.
And so, I remained silent, waiting for a sign, for anything. Harry, too, was quiet.
Lisa fidgeted on the couch, then moved her legs, adjusting them. As she did so, she grunted in pain.
“I hope I don’t get a bruise,” she said, placing her legs on the floor and rubbing her thigh.
Harry let out an apologetic bray. “And now”—Lisa turned to me, and then, to my disdain, immediately to the horse—“I need both of you to pay close attention. Harry, please come to the table and I’ll explain why this task is a little harder than it sounds. ”
Relief flooded over me as I heard her words. I wasn’t a dimwit—here was proof my intuition was right, and there was something else to the task. For the first time since his betrayal, I was even ready to engage with the humpbacked horse.
Lisa limped to the table and produced a piece of paper, its surface smooth, white, and almost shiny. It wasn’t like the paper in Zorya, which was mostly made out of birch bark. Thin and smooth paper like Lisa’s was rare and very expensive. I couldn’t help but stare at it in amazement.
“I forget everything here is new to you, Ivan. Please remind me, and if you see something interesting, just tell me, okay?” I noticed Lisa’s eyes were glistening.
“Yes, of course. This paper is so special,” I said in admiration.
Harry had let out a very audible sigh as he rolled his eyes, but I didn’t care.
I had the upper hand. Lisa had been kind to me and needed my help.
And once I helped her, she would help me capture the Firebird and I could return home safely.
Cooperating with the pony for one short task was a small price to pay.
“This probably looks strange to you also, right?” Lisa took out a thick tube.
It was pink and had a picture of a cat on it, only the cat was also pink and had an unusual-looking face.
She pressed on the tube and wrote on the paper in purple.
Then pressed again, and a red line appeared on the page.
Then, a blue one, after she’d pressed on the tube for the third time.
“This is a quill, isn’t it?” I gasped. “I would love one for my village.”
“This is called a pen. We don’t really use quills anymore,” Lisa said. “But I can definitely give you a few of these to take with you. But first, let me explain what I want you to do. The tricky thing about the whole task is where Quinn keeps the deed.”
“Anything for you, Lisa.” Harry cleared his throat. “Please count on my support.”
It was now my turn to roll my eyes at the pony, which I did with satisfaction.
“Thank you, Harry. You see, Quinn keeps the deed in a Fabergé egg, which he stores in a safe. The Fabergé egg was given to me as a wedding present by my great-aunt Irina. The story of this egg is quite interesting, actually—” Lisa paused, running her hand through her hair.
“You see, there aren’t that many of these eggs in the world.
They are exquisite and were first made in Russia in 1885 by a famous jeweler, Carl Fabergé, for the Russian tsar for Easter that year. ”
“I thought you said there weren’t any tsars left?” I gaped at Lisa.
“Not now—this was before, over a hundred years ago. For some time, only the Russian tsar had the Fabergé eggs, and he got one made every year, but then other wealthy Russians also started ordering Fabergé eggs. The one that was in my possession was commissioned by Count Felix Yusupov, who was a Russian nobleman, mostly known for having murdered Rasputin.”
I was about to ask who Rasputin was and why murdering him was important, but decided not to interrupt Lisa.
“This man, Yusupov, left Russia after the tsar was overthrown.”
“The tsar? The tsar was overthrown? But that’s impossible! He is the most powerful ruler in the whole, wide world,” I yelled out in shock, forgetting all about seeming unworldly and dimwitted.
“It actually happened, believe it or not. I’m talking about something that took place over a hundred years ago.
And after the tsar was overthrown, Count Yusupov ran away from Russia, leaving everything behind.
He could take with him just a few possessions, and the Fabergé egg was one of them.
It is the most beautiful egg, worth millions.
The egg is made of rose quartz, encrusted with diamonds.
And this ring I’m wearing I made as a reminder about the egg.
After the divorce. It’s also made out of rose quartz, you see.
” Lisa turned her hand so Harry and I could see her ring with the large pink stone on her pointer finger.
“I see.” I nodded. “So I would need to get to the inn, open the safe, then open the egg and get the deed. And bring it back to you.”
“Yes, but not quite,” Lisa said, averting her eyes.
“You mean I shouldn’t damage the egg, right? Because it’s expensive?”
Harry neighed impatiently, and I noticed he was giving me a look, as if trying to send me a signal. I ignored it. Whatever Harry had to say couldn’t be important, not after he’d betrayed me.
“No, Ivan. I need you to bring the Fabergé egg back to me.”
“To steal the expensive egg? But that’s much more than bringing back the paper.”
“I know. And this is why I believe you’re the only person in the world who can do it. You see, Ivan, I think you and I have a bond.” Lisa bit her lip and pointed to the black box she’d been using before, as if that explained anything. “My real name isn’t Lisa.”
“What?” Harry and I both gasped.
“My full name is Vasilisa,” Lisa said quietly.