Words on Fire, page 18
“You’re ill.” The priest stood and offered a hand for support, but Ben brushed it away.
“Nonsense. I’ve got an order to fill.”
“We’ve got an order to fill,” Lukas said. “Audra and I can do it, Ben.”
“Let them do it,” the priest said. “Your cough will betray yourself and everyone around you in an instant.”
Ben started to protest, but even that ended in a coughing fit. The priest helped him to his feet and promised to find Ben a bed where he could rest, but Ben looked at Lukas and me long enough to say, “I don’t have a good feeling about this trip. Wait for me to recover and I’ll do it.”
“Get some rest, Ben,” Lukas said. “We’ll be back soon.”
As we began to walk away, I asked, “What do you think he means, that he doesn’t have a good feeling about this trip?”
Lukas shrugged. “I think he’s angry about being left behind, and angry that you are going out yet again.”
“Well, if we’re going, let’s go,” I said. Though if I was being honest, I didn’t have a good feeling about it either. Which was ridiculous—there was no reason to be any more worried this time than any other time. But I was worried.
Before we left, the priest insisted on sending us with as much food as we could carry, which unfortunately wouldn’t be enough for the entire journey. I appreciated it anyway. Ben also gave us some money for the printer and a list of other places we needed to visit to collect orders.
“Will we have to return with all these books?” I asked Lukas.
“As many as possible,” Lukas said, the answer I already knew he’d give.
It should have only taken us a day or two to collect the orders, but at each stop, we met someone who begged us to make one more stop for someone else who was running out of books. Our stack of orders was growing fast.
“We’ll never fill them all,” I told him.
But Lukas only grinned at me. “Maybe not, and isn’t that wonderful?”
I supposed it was, and so over the next week, I made a point of working harder and faster during the waking hours and spending every moment before I fell asleep trying to figure out how we might transport so many books.
The first snowfall of the season came the night before Lukas and I were planning to cross the border, and proved to be a great disappointment. There wasn’t enough snow to keep the soldiers inside their huts, but what little had fallen would easily mark our footprints.
“Distraction,” Lukas said. “That’s what you’re always saying. So how can we use the snow for distraction?”
I glanced over at him. “What if it’s not about distraction, but rather, creating the scene that we want them to see?”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
I took a deep breath. “Where is the nearest camp of soldiers?”
We wouldn’t look for just any camp, but rather one with bunkers where the soldiers might be sleeping overnight. We’d passed one on our last smuggling route and I remembered seeing a pair of boots left outside, likely so no one would track dirt into the bunkers. It took us awhile to find the same bunker as before, but it seemed perfect. Tonight, there were four pairs of boots outside.
Which meant there were at least four soldiers inside. I would not forget that.
Lukas shook his head. “If they see a missing pair of boots, they’ll be able to warn the others what we’ve done. They’ll know the tracks we’ve made are fakes!”
“They’ll know some of the tracks are fakes, but not necessarily which are ours and which are theirs. This is a good plan, Lukas!”
He grunted. “You say it’s a good plan because you’ll be in hiding while I go up to steal them.”
“And if you don’t get caught, then it’s an excellent plan! Better hurry—we don’t know when they’ll be coming out.”
He cast me a skeptical look, then slowly rose to his feet and crept toward the bunker. This plan really could work, but it wasn’t as simple as I’d made it sound and we both knew it. Lukas’s boots were left back here with me, so if he ended up having to run at the last minute, he’d be doing it in only socks. He needed to slip on one pair of boots and then carry back a second pair for me, returning in the exact same prints he’d made on the way there.
Lukas was nearly to the bunker now, and he had begun to crouch down to pick up the first pair of boots when the door opened. He darted behind the bunker with wild eyes on me, certain he was already caught.
I was anxious too. His footprints were clearly visible, including those leading to where he was now, and there was nothing I could do to help him from here. My mind raced through the few items still left in my father’s shoulder bag, but nothing would be of any use, not for something like this.
Two soldiers walked outside, obviously on orders to check on the horses, for they were grumbling loudly about it.
In Russian, one said, “Why are we always picked for the worst jobs? I have half a mind to refuse the order next time and see what happens.”
His companion said, “What happens is the commander will leave you with half a mind, by the time your punishment is finished. You check on the horses, I’ll check the area for any activity.”
While the first man walked away from the bunker, the second one stepped in front of it. If he turned around, he’d see Lukas.
I signaled to Lukas to begin moving, which he did, and fortunately, the soldier was too busy searching in the distance to look directly beneath his feet for Lukas’s footprints.
The soldier continued to walk around the back of the bunker, which would force Lukas to the same side of the bunker as the soldier who was checking on the horses. That man had finished now and was on his way back up the hill, saying, “The horses are fine. Where are you?”
By then, I had scooped enough snow into my palm to form a loosely packed snowball. I threw it as high as I could into the air and at a slight angle, hoping it would land directly on the soldier’s head.
My aim was off and instead it landed in the branches of a tree near the soldier, creating enough of an impact to shake a much larger dusting of snow down on him. If Lukas were not still in danger, I would have giggled to see it. But he still was.
The soldier cursed and brushed at his face, giving Lukas the chance to cross to the front of the bunker, shove his feet into a large pair of boots and pick up another, then dart crossways into the woods to hide.
The second soldier had come around the bunker by then and began laughing at his companion, who wasn’t at all amused.
“I’ve got snow down my uniform,” he said. “Even the Lithuanian birds are against us.”
“Come, let’s go inside and let you change. We’ll be on patrol soon and you’ll be better off if you’re dry.”
He led his companion inside, brushing off snow from his shoulders as he did. Neither of them looked at where the pile of boots had been and noticed the two missing pairs.
Once it was safe, Lukas made his way to me. I put on one of the pairs, then we trekked away from the bunker, covering our former tracks until the new fallen snow had covered the oldest tracks.
“That was the worst plan ever,” Lukas said.
“We can discuss that after we’re across the border.” I grinned and began leading the way, relatively unconcerned about the tracks we were leaving behind, and trying not to think about the many hazards that still awaited us.
As before, it wasn’t difficult to leave the country, and with Lukas and me walking about in boots that left Cossack prints, I wasn’t worried about being followed. We removed the oversized boots for our own shoes to cross the rope over the Neman River—otherwise I don’t know how I’d have kept my feet wrapped on the rope line.
“These are … heavy boots,” Lukas said as he crossed. He’d tied the boots together and slung them over his neck, and it seemed they were cutting off his air. Not his wisest move.
I wasn’t doing much better. My boots were slung over one shoulder, making it hard to lift that arm every time I needed to slide along the rope. Not my wisest move either.
Or, I supposed, when one was crossing on an icy rope over a cold river to avoid soldiers who were prepared to shoot us on sight, wisdom and foolishness lost all usual meanings. Fortunately, we did cross it, resting for a while on the opposite bank while I massaged my shoulder and Lukas simply breathed. As soon as we saw the shadows of soldiers beginning to patrol across the river, it was time to walk on.
We reached Tilsit shortly after dawn, and though I looked forward to sleeping, I was also eager to see the printer again and put in the order for books. To our surprise, he merely glanced at the titles and said, “You carriers are providing me a fine living. Are you sure this is all you want for today?”
I smiled at him. “Lower your prices and we’ll order more titles.”
He chuckled. “Maybe I’ll raise my prices. Where else will you go for books?” He laughed at himself and said, “I am a fair man, and my prices are generous because I wish to see Russia as far from my doorstep as possible. It would be worth it to me to never earn another ruble again if those soldiers were gone. But I warn you, some of these titles will make the tsar angrier with you than usual.”
Lukas smiled. “I hope so. When will these books be ready?”
The printer looked over his list again. “I’ll need a week. That should give you time to figure out how you’re going to bring all of these back with you.”
“Where should we stay in the meantime?” I wondered aloud.
“That reminds me,” the printer said. “I have a note for you.” He passed a paper over to me, something that might have seemed a small thing for anyone else, but I received it with a swell of pride. Only a few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to read this paper, but he’d given it to me assuming I could read it, and now I could.
I unfolded it and immediately said to Lukas, “It’s from Milda! How did she—”
“She gave me that only yesterday, when she came in with a book order of her own,” the printer said.
Summarizing the note, I said, “Ben sent her over here, too, only she intends to stay. She’s found a little place to live a few streets away from here and has asked us to come.”
That was a relief, especially since I hadn’t had a decent bite to eat in days and we both knew Milda was sure to have food ready for us. When we arrived, she was just pulling out some potato pancakes, as if she’d been expecting us. I never did understand Milda’s instincts for knowing when guests were coming to eat, but her timing was almost always perfect.
“After you’re finished, I’ll show you around,” Milda said. “I’ve only arrived two days ago myself, so I’ve hardly had time to settle in, but this place was available immediately, so I took it. Perhaps you’ve already noticed the extra coffins in the back room.”
Lukas’s head popped up and our eyes met, not sure whether to be amused or horrified. He said, “Milda, is this an—”
“Undertaker’s home, or it was, before the undertaker himself died. There was no one to take over his business.”
A shiver crawled up my spine. “Is he still … here?”
“His body, or his soul?” Milda asked the question like either possibility could be true. But before I could reply, she said, “He had a proper burial, so let’s hope his soul went with him. The other coffins are empty. Don’t worry, I checked.”
Of course she did.
She continued to describe the home to us, saying, “I’d like to convert the parlor into some sort of shop. I’ll begin by selling off those extra coffins. Everyone needs one eventually! Or I could remake them into beds. Do you suppose …”
She puttered about, telling us her plans to expand the little home and make it a place of rest for smugglers—before their deaths and not after, she was careful to point out—and to use the shop to raise funds to purchase more books for those in Lithuania who could not afford them.
But my mind was already elsewhere, on how to get all the books we had ordered back into the country. We had twice the number of books to carry as we’d brought across the border before, and the river water was so icy cold by now, I dreaded having to cross that way.
There had to be an answer.
And while Milda pulled out the ingredients to bake bread, I remembered the second issue on my mind. I reached into the shoulder bag for my father’s journal and opened it to the last page of notes he’d made, the page with the recipe. I said, “Milda, do you think you could help me get a few things?”
She glanced up, midway through sifting a cup of flour. “Such as?”
“Two of them are the same cooking items you have there, sugar and baking soda. And I need some cotton fabric, if you can spare any. The final item is harder: saltpeter.”
Milda arched a brow. “Saltpeter?”
“Surely some of the farmers in this area will have it. Maybe if we ask nicely.”
“Saltpeter?” she repeated, more suspicious than before. “What are you making?”
“My father’s final trick before he was arrested. Milda, if this works, it could save our lives one day.”
“Well, I’m in favor of that.” Milda sighed. “All right, then I will find you some saltpeter.”
It took her three days, but finally she located a farmer who made saltpeter from his cow’s manure and sold it as a powder to blacksmiths for creating gunpowder. Milda clearly hadn’t known that was the use for saltpeter when I’d first asked her for it.
She held the bag of it close to her chest and looked down at me. “Promise me that you aren’t making gunpowder. No weapons.”
“What I’m making isn’t a weapon, I promise you. It shouldn’t harm anyone.”
She caught my word choice. “Shouldn’t?”
I held out my hands for the saltpeter. “Please trust me, Milda.”
With a sigh, she gave me the bag but said, “If my new home explodes because of this, I will be angry with you, Audra.”
“It won’t explode,” Lukas assured her, then when her back was turned, he whispered to me, “Will it explode?”
I shrugged. I genuinely hoped not, but hope was all I had.
We waited until Milda had gone to bed for the night, then cooked the ingredients on her stovetop. It resembled a soft dough when it was ready, and we rolled the dough into a tube shape inside some of Milda’s cotton fabric, then poked a little stick inside the center of it.
By morning, when everything was dry, we pulled out the stick and inserted the laces from the soldiers’ boots that we had stolen, to use as a fuse, cut the tube into pieces, then wrapped everything up tight with Milda’s extra stockings, though we didn’t intend to tell her about that. She wouldn’t be happy about the sacrifice of her stockings.
“Only four,” Lukas mumbled. “Do you think it will be enough?”
“There’s no way to know,” I said. “Honestly, I wish we had many more, but until we know if they work, I suppose it doesn’t matter. We’ll just have to put them to good use and pray they work when we light them.”
“They’ve got to work,” Lukas said with a smile. “But for now, they are the four most beautiful smoke bombs I’ve ever seen.”
“I think they’re the only smoke bombs you’ve ever seen.” With a smile, I handed him half the pile. “Two for you and two for me. May we use them well.”
He drew in a deep breath. “I don’t see how these will help us get across the border.”
My grin widened. “These aren’t for the border. I have a different plan for that.”
By the time our books were ready, Lukas and I were well rested and eager to test our plan.
“If this works, we might be able to do this over and over again!” Lukas said.
“Let’s just try it once, then decide.”
I wasn’t sure which of us had the more difficult job for crossing. Because he had papers, Lukas would drive our wagon over the bridge. And if the border guards asked, he’d have a good excuse to be traveling.
To deliver a body for burial.
That was my role.
I’d be inside the coffin wearing Milda’s old woman makeup, which would give me a corpse-like appearance. And I’d be lying on top of a blanket covering all the ordered books. We’d drilled small air holes into the sides of the coffin, so although I wouldn’t be breathing comfortably, I would be able to breathe.
“I thought your last idea was horrible,” Lukas said, slowly shaking his head. “This is so much worse, Audra.”
“Just get me out of the coffin as soon as it’s safe,” I said with a shudder. Every time I remembered what I was about to do, my gut twisted worse than usual. I hoped this idea would not be a predictor of how this trip would go.
“You’ll deliver these books, then come directly back here, yes?” Milda asked.
“Unless they need my help.” A good excuse, I figured.
“I need your help,” Milda said. “There is so much good we can do over here, and your parents would want you where it’s safe. That’s why they sent you to me.”
I paused, knowing she was right, even if I hated the idea of leaving the adventure of smuggling behind. But I did have to go back today, for there was one very important item I still hoped to find. “Do you remember the locked book I brought you? After the fire, it wasn’t in your home anymore.”
Milda frowned. “Oh, my sweet child, I don’t know where it is.”
Tears filled my eyes, which was ridiculous, because only a few months ago I’d hated the book, resented it for all that it had cost me. I’d been indifferent to it, I had forgotten it, and now that it was gone … I wanted more than anything to see if my key might open it.
“Could they have burned it?” I asked.
Milda didn’t answer, because maybe she couldn’t. Or maybe she couldn’t bear to tell me the truth. If they had burned it, then I didn’t want her to answer.
Milda kissed me on the forehead, then waved goodbye as Lukas helped me into the coffin. We’d tried to pad the lining, but I still felt the books unevenly layered beneath me. At least they were bound in cloth so the discomfort wasn’t unbearable.
