Words on Fire, page 4
“You shouldn’t do that,” I said. “The Cossacks—”
He stopped again, and this time the expression in his eyes was far more serious. “Have you had trouble with them?” Again I refused to answer, but he said, “I make a point of traveling where the soldiers do not. But they’ll come if they believe you have something to hide.” He glanced back. “Do you?” Another pause, then, “Was your trouble with the police, or with the border guards?”
“Border guards?” I sat up straight. “I’ve never gone near the border.”
“Well, you should sometime. It’s beautiful there. Even prettier across the border in Prussia.”
“I have no papers to cross the border.”
“Why should papers matter?” He chuckled again, but it sounded forced this time, as if too much truth was hidden behind his words. That made me suspicious. If talk of the border made him nervous, there was good reason for it. Although my home was far from the border, that was another of my father’s rules: Never get close to the border. The only people there were either challenging the law or, worse, they were the law.
Hundreds of years ago, the borders of Lithuania had been very different. Many of the countries around us now used to be one kingdom known as the Grand Duchy of Lithuania. But one bite at a time, chunks of our land were conquered or claimed by other countries, including Lithuania Minor to the west. That area had been absorbed into Prussia and was now controlled by the German Empire. The rest of our land was controlled by Russia, under the rule of Tsar Alexander III and whichever governor he’d installed lately to keep his thumb on us.
This was done through the enforcement of his Cossack soldiers who patrolled the land. Get in their way and the luckiest thing that might happen was a stiff beating. It only got worse from there. Just the week before, my mother had spoken of people from my village who had disappeared, their last known act being some small defiance of the Russian laws we all hated. Our priest had disappeared a year earlier for having preached his sermon in Lithuanian. Now both of my parents were gone as well.
Lukas had become silent again, and I was grateful for it. After a while, he reached into the satchel at his side and pulled out a handful of fried cheese curd cakes. My mouth immediately watered for them. I liked mine best when they were fresh out of the pan and served with a little jam, but they were delicious any way I could get them.
Lukas ate three before he turned around and held one out to me. “Want one?” I shook my head, but he only smiled and tossed it onto my lap. “Of course you do. They were made last night.”
I picked up the ball of cheese and popped it into my mouth, closing my eyes to savor the taste. When I’d finished, I asked, “Where did you get them? You don’t look like you have any money to buy them.”
“Not a ruble to my name, but it doesn’t matter. The cheese was a … gift.”
“A gift?” My eyes narrowed. The way he’d said it suggested it wasn’t a gift in the traditional meaning of the word.
Now Lukas was the one who preferred not to answer. He merely shrugged and turned forward again. But he didn’t need to say anything. He obviously didn’t trust me any more than I could trust him.
“Are you a thief?” I asked.
He glanced back and his smile returned. “Not exactly, though I’ll steal if necessary. But I’d think that of anyone, you’d understand.”
My spine stiffened. I didn’t know him and he didn’t know me … shouldn’t know me. I assumed he was thinking of my card trick and wondering if I used that skill for criminal activity. Which, of course, I never would.
Other than using it just now to make Lukas help me deliver my illegal package.
Lukas seemed to know the package was illegal, too, which meant he was making guesses about me that simply weren’t true. And if any of my guesses about him were correct, then I had to be on my guard.
As soon as this package was delivered to Milda’s home, I would get as far from Lukas and his dangerous life as I could, and as quickly as possible.
We entered the small and scattered village of Venska by dusk, and Lukas pointed out Milda’s home to me soon after. It was made of stone and seemed to be one of the larger homes in the area, although half of it had been converted into a sort of shop … or bakery … or something that sold things people might need, I wasn’t sure. The few windows were crowded with various goods—anything from bolts of fabric to tins of baking goods to farm tools. A sign in the window probably explained the place further, but my eyes only glossed over it.
“I assume you don’t know her,” Lukas said as he helped me off the donkey.
“I assume you do,” I countered. My legs had become so wobbly on the trip that, combined with my right ankle, I barely could walk.
“Milda’s a bit odd,” Lukas said. “But don’t think about it too much.” He grabbed my arm to pull me back. “And don’t stare. It makes her uncomfortable.”
“Don’t stare at what?” I asked.
“Well, she might be perfectly normal right now, but again, she might not. The Cossacks think she’s crooked in the head, so they leave her alone, which is just how she wants it.”
I was more comfortable alone. I’d spent most of my life alone. Even with my parents, there was always so much work to be done in running a home and chores on our farm, it was easy to find an excuse to be somewhere that people were not.
“Why does Milda want to be left alone?” I asked.
Lukas’s only answer was to flick his eyes down at the package in my arms, then give me a wink. I drew back, nervous. Did he know why my parents had been called criminals? Lukas had admitted that he would steal if necessary, so he probably knew other thieves and criminals. Maybe Milda was one of them.
If so, then why had my mother sent me here?
At her door, Lukas knocked twice, paused, then knocked twice again, much more slowly. Seconds later, the door creaked open, like it was heavier than the entire home. An elderly woman peered around the doorframe. She had tangled white hair beneath her head scarf and wrinkled skin that appeared crusty. She was heavily bent over with a hunched back, leaning on her cane for support, and she seemed to have exhausted herself simply by coming to the door. I sincerely wondered if she would live long enough to invite us inside.
Lukas clicked his tongue and, with a nod of his head in my direction, said, “This one seems all right. I think she’s Henri’s daughter.”
I turned so fast to look at him that I nearly lost my balance. He knew my father but had said nothing to me?
“Is that true?”
It took a moment to realize Milda was speaking to me. I said, “My name is Audra. Henri Zikaris is my—”
“Hush.” Milda frowned at me, then widened the door. “Better come inside.”
I followed Lukas in, but by the time I’d turned back to Milda, she had leaned the cane against the door, fully straightened up, and was removing a white-haired wig, leaving gray-flecked hair in a bun beneath it.
“Be a dear, young lady, and get the pillow,” she asked me, untying the sash from her vest.
I stepped forward, unsure of what to do until Lukas motioned toward her back. I put a hand at the bottom of her vest and felt upward until I touched a small pillow. I pulled it out and her hunched back instantly disappeared.
Meanwhile, Lukas had wet a cloth at Milda’s sink and handed it to her. She began wiping at her face, removing the crust that had seemed like her skin.
“Flour and water and a few other ingredients,” she explained when she saw me looking. “I’ll keep working on the recipe.”
“Maybe add some ground oats next time,” Lukas suggested. “For texture.”
Milda smiled, and when she lowered the cloth, I saw a woman who was old but still seemed half the age of the near corpse who had answered the door. She had a pleasant smile and a pointy nose, and once she removed the thick glasses, she had intelligent eyes.
They settled on Lukas first. “I saw you coming from a distance, but you’re shooting up so fast, I barely recognized you!” She threw her arms around him for a hug, then stood back and looked at me, her tone becoming solemn. “I do recognize you. Your father’s hair, but your mother’s daughter in every other way.”
My eyes widened. “You know my mother too?”
“Of course. She was the bravest of women.”
“Is.” I’d spoken so softly, I was sure Milda hadn’t heard me, but when she tilted her head at me, I whispered, “My mother is the bravest of women. She’s been arrested, but she’s alive. Both of my parents are.”
Milda nodded. “I see. And what is that you’re carrying?”
I held out the package to her. “Mama wanted me to bring this to you. She gave it to me … before the arrest.”
Milda’s brows pressed together, and she accepted the package. “You poor, sweet girl, you must tell me everything that happened. Have you come all this way on foot? You must be exhausted.”
“Lukas helped me get here,” I said.
“Well, he probably only did it because he’s hungry and he knows I always cook extra. Are you hungry too?”
My eyes might’ve popped out of my head because she nodded and moved toward her fireplace before I could answer. Above it hung a pot of what I thought might be stew, but she grabbed a plate and dished out at least a dozen dumplings.
Lukas practically dove for them and I would have, too, but for my injured ankle. Milda merely pushed past him to set them on the table nearer to me, then gestured for me to have a seat.
I wanted the dumplings. My mouth was watering for them as it never had before. But I nodded at the package I’d brought to Milda.
“Can you at least tell me what it is?”
“Supper first.” Milda lowered a knitted afghan over the stool where the package was lying, then sat with me and Lukas to eat. She must have already eaten, because she took nothing for herself, but simply watched as Lukas and I devoured one dumpling after another.
I glanced over at him as we ate. If he was this hungry, then either he wasn’t a very good thief or else he didn’t steal food.
I finished first, and as we waited for Lukas to finish, Milda asked me about my parents. I opened my mouth, then looked again at Lukas.
“It’s all right,” she said. “You can trust him.”
I didn’t see how, but I started with the disagreement between my parents ending with their decision to take me to the midsummer festival, then the soldiers who had come, and the fire, and once I got past that, I spilled out the rest of the story, right up until meeting Lukas.
Milda sat quietly as I spoke, occasionally dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron. Lukas seemed to have forgotten his food and merely stared at me, slack-jawed.
Before I finished, I added, “Milda, I only came here because … well, I have an idea. The Cossacks want whatever is in that package, and I want my parents back. Will you help me make a trade?”
Milda’s expression fell. “Oh, my dear child, I’m afraid that won’t work. They’d take the package and use it to convict your parents, not save them.”
My heart sank, leaving an empty hole inside my chest. I hadn’t wanted to hear that. Maybe this plan was far-fetched and built on little but hope and foolishness, but I had nothing else left. I couldn’t let it go like that, like these ideas were nothing more than smoke in my hand.
Except maybe that’s all they were.
“Then what did they give me?” I asked. “Can I see it?”
“I think you must see it.” Milda reached over to the package and carefully undid the twine around it. She unfolded the fabric and held it so I couldn’t see the object until she lifted it up. And when she did, my fists curled and I felt nearly ready to explode with anger.
It was a book. Just a stupid, ordinary book.
Several seconds passed in which none of us said a word. I couldn’t speak. My chest was heaving and my insides were knotted with anger.
Finally, Lukas asked to see the book, and when Milda handed it to him, he turned it over in his hands. It was thick and bound in black leather but looked heavily worn. A brass band was attached to both ends of the book with a lock on top to keep it closed.
“Do you have the key?” Milda asked while Lukas shook out the bedsheet the book was wrapped in to see if it had fallen loose.
I shook my head. I’d never seen that book before. How could I possibly know about any key?
Milda took the book in her hands again. “It’s a little damp on one side.”
“She fell in the river,” Lukas said, though that wasn’t the reason it had absorbed some moisture. He didn’t know that I’d used it as a pillow on the dewy forest soil. Nor did I care that I had. It was only a book.
Sometimes I had wondered if my father was not truly a traveling magician, that those tricks were only games to distract from his true missions, perhaps as a spy, passing coded messages to confuse our enemies. Or maybe he traded in gold and silver, hiding the wealth of Lithuania as part of his magician disguise. Or perhaps he was working on a secret plan to free Lithuania from Russia’s control. I’d dreamed up a thousand scenarios of heroism and courage. Not one of them had involved my father spending night after night away from home, all to deliver a few stupid books.
This one, at least, had to be special, or else the Cossacks wouldn’t have come after me the way they had. If Milda believed it couldn’t be traded for my parents’ return, then it was nothing to me. I was glad it was in her hands and my problem no longer.
“She doesn’t know about the books,” Lukas said, offering Milda a wink that bristled against my temper.
Milda nodded, then smiled. “Come, child.”
We followed her into a bedroom at the back of her house where a little stairway led to an upstairs loft. I started up the stairs, but she pulled me back, then knelt down and picked up the lower step, folding each plank of wood like a fan until three full stairs were open, each plank connected by a hinge. I peered into the gap she had created, but it was pitch-black until she leaned past me with a candle. Even that didn’t help much. Now all I knew was that a ladder led into that darkness, and, I feared, I was expected to go down there.
Milda led the way, followed by Lukas, and I went down last, a dozen questions already in my mind. A hundred more instantly popped into my head as soon as I turned around in the room where I now stood, for I hadn’t expected this.
Milda’s underground room was the size of our root cellar, where we stored the winter vegetables. It was equally cool, though Milda’s wasn’t damp like ours. Instead, the room was lined with shelves, and every shelf was packed with books. I’d rarely seen any books at all, and certainly never so many in one place.
I let my fingers brush along the spines of the books as I walked a circle around the room. Some were soft and smooth while others were stiff and even scratchy. They were all sizes, and there were nine or ten copies of some of the books along the row.
Milda smiled. “This is a bookstore, but a very secret bookstore. And it’s only half of my underground home. Follow me.”
She led us through a wood door into another room that was a little larger, directly beneath her home. The walls here were papered in a pattern that had long ago faded and were covered with maps and charts of letters and numbers. A small table stood in the front of the room and eight or nine stools were scattered about.
I looked over at Milda, too confused to know where to start for a question. I simply had no idea what this place was, or why it should be hidden.
Lukas answered for her. “This is Milda’s school. Obviously, you can never tell anyone about this. Or at least, you can never tell the Cossacks.”
“A secret school?” I ran my fingers over the table at the front of the room. A book was laid out there, and a small stack of chalkboard squares was in a crate beside the book with a cup of chalk sticks worn almost to stubs in the corner of the crate. Last night, my father had warned me against joining any schools, and now I understood why. It would only bring trouble.
Just thinking of that conversation put a stab of pain in my heart. I missed my parents. It felt like years since I had seen them. It couldn’t only have been a single day.
Milda put her hand on my shoulder. “If you’d like, you can stay here with me. You can come to this school, learn about the books.”
“No … thank you.” My chest tightened. I refused to learn from a school that taught from books that got my parents arrested. Nor could I ever learn from something that had nearly gotten me killed. I’d return to the forest alone before I opened the pages of any book.
Now Milda folded her arms, and her tone became stern. “Let’s make an agreement, then. You don’t have to go to the school, but you cannot tell anyone about it, either, or about the books you saw.”
I nodded my acceptance. Who was I going to tell, anyway? The Cossacks? We were hardly on friendly terms.
“But you also need food and shelter,” Milda added. “Try living out on the streets and by the end of summer they’ll have some reason to arrest you.”
“What will happen to my parents now?” I asked. Even the question sent shudders through me.
Milda frowned. “I’m afraid it’s not good, Audra. They’re not likely to be released. If they’re lucky, then they’ll be sentenced to a prison here in Lithuania.”
Prison? That was if they were lucky? A lump formed in my throat. “And if they’re not?”
“Siberia,” Lukas breathed.
I turned to him. “Where is Siberia?”
“You don’t want to know,” Lukas said.
“Hush!” Milda scolded.
But Lukas didn’t seem to notice Milda’s warning expression. He said, “Siberia is on the far eastern side of Russia. It’s cold on a good day and below living temperatures all other days. Even if you escape the prison, you’ll soon realize the place itself is a prison. There’d be nowhere to go.”
I had to force myself to swallow that thought down, and it landed in a deep pit in my stomach. Siberia sounded so awful, and so far away. I’d never be able to find them, nor would they ever escape, if they even could survive such an awful place. “They might send my parents there?”
