himself with the power of a god, and she wasn’t
completely
sure that her binding spells would be utterly irresistible, if he got angry enough. Gods were dangerous creatures to enslave. Who knew how deviously they might manipulate the reality around them?
But in a moment, she could see that he really wasn’t angry—anger being forbidden to him. The roaring and acting up were the result of pain, and after all, the poor dear had lost an eye. “I should scold you for killing him before I got the second eye out,” said Yaga, “but I think your wound is making you cranky and I forgive you.”
“Give me the eye you took from that man.”
“It wouldn’t fit,” she said. “And you’d start seeing like a man, which would do you no good at all.” She popped the second eye out of the head. Since it was already dead, it wasn’t so important to pack it in ash. In fact, she might as well dry it to be powdered later—there were plenty of uses for it yet. “You did waste the brains, you know. I can’t even tell which part is which.”
Bear stepped in the midst of the pile of brains and twisted his paw.
“Don’t be spiteful,” said Yaga.
“Kill the girl and take the kingdom if you want it,” said Bear. “Forget all this song and dance. You have the power. Or rather,
I
have the power.”
Yaga sighed. “I don’t want just to take it. I want to keep it. The high king at Kiev—”
“Is your sworn enemy. The Rus’ drove your late husband from the throne of Kiev, didn’t they? Stuck the two of you out here in this backwater kingdom of Pryava, didn’t they? What do you care what the king of the Rus’ thinks of your claim to the throne of Taina?”
“I don’t want a war with the Rus’,” said Yaga. “And you know why.”
Bear roared in frustration.
“Ah, yes, my love. You thought you could trick me, didn’t you? But I know that as god of this land and all its people, you’re god of the Rus’ as well, and if the high king went to war against me, it would weaken my hold on you. Everything must be done legitimately, my pet. Including my conquest of Taina. You’re their god, too, aren’t you?”
That was a sore point between them, since the king of Taina had converted to a religion that refused to recognize the power of Bear.
“We’re really on the same side in this, my love, remember that,” said Yaga. But as she looked at his matted fur, his blood-soaked muzzle and chest, she couldn’t help but think: If this winter god, this walking rug, this one-eyed whining bear is the magical guardian of Russia, then Russia is going to have a very troubled future. “Tell me all about the knight who threw the rock at you.”
“He wasn’t a knight,” said Bear. “He was practically naked.”
“Come here and let your Baba Yaga put something on that wound.”
He shambled over and put his head in her lap. She began to clean around the wound and apply a salve to it.
“He carried no weapon. He didn’t really fight. He just ran and ran.”
“How did he get to the princess?” asked Yaga. She had to know, because there was always the fear that somehow Bear had got himself free of her bindings enough to throw the contest against her.
“Jumped the chasm,” said Bear. “Which you said no man could ever do. You said any man who tried would end up in the pit where I could take his head off.” He scooped up a pawful of brain and ate it sloppily while she worked on his eyesocket.
Bear winced at the salve, as well he should, since she had deliberately left the pain-deadening herbs out of the mix.
“I can’t be right about everything, can I?” said Yaga. “After all,
I’m
not a deity.”
“Yaga, Yaga, Yaga,” he said, as if she had made a foolish joke.
How she hated that nickname! And yet the name had stuck, until now it was the name she used for herself.
Her late husband King Brat had given her the name when he brought her to Kiev as his twelve-year-old bride. That was the pet name he murmured
completely
sure that her binding spells would be utterly irresistible, if he got angry enough. Gods were dangerous creatures to enslave. Who knew how deviously they might manipulate the reality around them?
But in a moment, she could see that he really wasn’t angry—anger being forbidden to him. The roaring and acting up were the result of pain, and after all, the poor dear had lost an eye. “I should scold you for killing him before I got the second eye out,” said Yaga, “but I think your wound is making you cranky and I forgive you.”
“Give me the eye you took from that man.”
“It wouldn’t fit,” she said. “And you’d start seeing like a man, which would do you no good at all.” She popped the second eye out of the head. Since it was already dead, it wasn’t so important to pack it in ash. In fact, she might as well dry it to be powdered later—there were plenty of uses for it yet. “You did waste the brains, you know. I can’t even tell which part is which.”
Bear stepped in the midst of the pile of brains and twisted his paw.
“Don’t be spiteful,” said Yaga.
“Kill the girl and take the kingdom if you want it,” said Bear. “Forget all this song and dance. You have the power. Or rather,
I
have the power.”
Yaga sighed. “I don’t want just to take it. I want to keep it. The high king at Kiev—”
“Is your sworn enemy. The Rus’ drove your late husband from the throne of Kiev, didn’t they? Stuck the two of you out here in this backwater kingdom of Pryava, didn’t they? What do you care what the king of the Rus’ thinks of your claim to the throne of Taina?”
“I don’t want a war with the Rus’,” said Yaga. “And you know why.”
Bear roared in frustration.
“Ah, yes, my love. You thought you could trick me, didn’t you? But I know that as god of this land and all its people, you’re god of the Rus’ as well, and if the high king went to war against me, it would weaken my hold on you. Everything must be done legitimately, my pet. Including my conquest of Taina. You’re their god, too, aren’t you?”
That was a sore point between them, since the king of Taina had converted to a religion that refused to recognize the power of Bear.
“We’re really on the same side in this, my love, remember that,” said Yaga. But as she looked at his matted fur, his blood-soaked muzzle and chest, she couldn’t help but think: If this winter god, this walking rug, this one-eyed whining bear is the magical guardian of Russia, then Russia is going to have a very troubled future. “Tell me all about the knight who threw the rock at you.”
“He wasn’t a knight,” said Bear. “He was practically naked.”
“Come here and let your Baba Yaga put something on that wound.”
He shambled over and put his head in her lap. She began to clean around the wound and apply a salve to it.
“He carried no weapon. He didn’t really fight. He just ran and ran.”
“How did he get to the princess?” asked Yaga. She had to know, because there was always the fear that somehow Bear had got himself free of her bindings enough to throw the contest against her.
“Jumped the chasm,” said Bear. “Which you said no man could ever do. You said any man who tried would end up in the pit where I could take his head off.” He scooped up a pawful of brain and ate it sloppily while she worked on his eyesocket.
Bear winced at the salve, as well he should, since she had deliberately left the pain-deadening herbs out of the mix.
“I can’t be right about everything, can I?” said Yaga. “After all,
I’m
not a deity.”
“Yaga, Yaga, Yaga,” he said, as if she had made a foolish joke.
How she hated that nickname! And yet the name had stuck, until now it was the name she used for herself.
Her late husband King Brat had given her the name when he brought her to Kiev as his twelve-year-old bride. That was the pet name he murmured
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