muttered. “Must have been asleep.”
“It’s my fault,” the priest said quickly. “I shouldn’t have woken you like that. Is everything all right?”
“I—hurt my hand. I fell in the park on the snow, caught it on a broken bottle.”
“People will not use the litter bins,” the priest said in distress. “We put up signs, but everyone just seems to ignore them. I sometimes think that no one cares about anything anymore.”
“I know the feeling,” Ilya said with a thin smile.
“Come into the back office. There’s a toilet there, with a sink. I’ve got a first-aid kit. And tea—that’s always good for shock.” His gaze fell on Ilya’s shrouded sword and he gave a puzzled frown. “You were going fishing? In this weather?”
“Present for my nephew,” Ilya said, improvising hastily. “Birthday.”
“Oh, I see. Well, come on through.”
The thought of the tea was enough to draw Ilya to his feet. He followed the priest through the incense-laden vault, still echoing with the remnants of his vow. But then there was the sudden drumbeat of rain on the wooden dome above him. A flicker of lightning sparked from the gilded icons. Startled, the priest looked up.
“The weather’s broken.”
“Sign of spring,” Ilya said.
“About time. I thought the snow was never going to leave us.”
It felt right, Ilya thought. Whatever storms the spring might bring, winter was passing at last.
Four
ALMATY, KAZAKHSTAN, 21ST CENTURY
Last night’s foray to the pawnshop had seen a moderate degree of success: a few dollars from the gold chain and the watch. But the pawnbroker had not been interested in the ball.
“What is it?” he had asked, puzzled. “Is it made of metal?”
“Just a curio,” Elena had lied, glibly. “My father said it was some kind of relic.”
“I can’t see anyone paying good money for it. Sorry.”
Elena had then tried some of the market stalls, but though people were selling single boots and unworkable radios, the ball remained an object of curiosity, not desire. It rested once more in Elena’s pocket, still heavy, still obscure.
Now Elena stood at the top of Lenina, looking south. The mountains were blanketed in drifting clouds. Her coat was soaked and her shoes were sopping wet, but it was better than more snow. The deep gutters that carried excess water down from the mountains were running brim full, so that it seemed that every street was bounded by a narrow stream. The trees, freed of their weight of snow, were bowed down by raindrops. And the sky was darkening again, heavy with storms.
Elena stepped out into the road to flag down a lift, but everyone was rushing home before the next cloud-burst. Perhaps if she hurried, or found shelter . . . Then the thought of the cathedral snapped into her head. It was not far away. Elena set off again and was halfway across the park when the heavens opened. She dodged beneath the branches of a fir to catch her breath. The storm had come on so quickly, it must have raced down from the peaks. She hoped they weren’t in for a wet spring.
Above her, something rustled in the branches. Elena looked up, expecting to see a squirrel or a magpie, but there was nothing. A shower of dislodged raindrops scattered across her face, making her flinch. Elena peered into the tree and something hissed. Startled, Elena stumbled back. She saw a face in the branches, upside down: gleaming eyes with pinpoint pupils and a row of needle teeth. It was coming down the tree, sliding along the trunk like a polecat, but the size of a man.
Elena cried out with fright. Then she turned and ran, her feet carrying her away from the thing in the tree. She slipped on the wet path and almost fell, but she did not stop and look back until she reached the edge of the park.
There was nothing behind her. The park was wet and empty. A woman with a bundle of shopping was staring at her.
“
Dyevushka?
You all right?”
“There was someone in the trees. I thought they
“It’s my fault,” the priest said quickly. “I shouldn’t have woken you like that. Is everything all right?”
“I—hurt my hand. I fell in the park on the snow, caught it on a broken bottle.”
“People will not use the litter bins,” the priest said in distress. “We put up signs, but everyone just seems to ignore them. I sometimes think that no one cares about anything anymore.”
“I know the feeling,” Ilya said with a thin smile.
“Come into the back office. There’s a toilet there, with a sink. I’ve got a first-aid kit. And tea—that’s always good for shock.” His gaze fell on Ilya’s shrouded sword and he gave a puzzled frown. “You were going fishing? In this weather?”
“Present for my nephew,” Ilya said, improvising hastily. “Birthday.”
“Oh, I see. Well, come on through.”
The thought of the tea was enough to draw Ilya to his feet. He followed the priest through the incense-laden vault, still echoing with the remnants of his vow. But then there was the sudden drumbeat of rain on the wooden dome above him. A flicker of lightning sparked from the gilded icons. Startled, the priest looked up.
“The weather’s broken.”
“Sign of spring,” Ilya said.
“About time. I thought the snow was never going to leave us.”
It felt right, Ilya thought. Whatever storms the spring might bring, winter was passing at last.
Four
ALMATY, KAZAKHSTAN, 21ST CENTURY
Last night’s foray to the pawnshop had seen a moderate degree of success: a few dollars from the gold chain and the watch. But the pawnbroker had not been interested in the ball.
“What is it?” he had asked, puzzled. “Is it made of metal?”
“Just a curio,” Elena had lied, glibly. “My father said it was some kind of relic.”
“I can’t see anyone paying good money for it. Sorry.”
Elena had then tried some of the market stalls, but though people were selling single boots and unworkable radios, the ball remained an object of curiosity, not desire. It rested once more in Elena’s pocket, still heavy, still obscure.
Now Elena stood at the top of Lenina, looking south. The mountains were blanketed in drifting clouds. Her coat was soaked and her shoes were sopping wet, but it was better than more snow. The deep gutters that carried excess water down from the mountains were running brim full, so that it seemed that every street was bounded by a narrow stream. The trees, freed of their weight of snow, were bowed down by raindrops. And the sky was darkening again, heavy with storms.
Elena stepped out into the road to flag down a lift, but everyone was rushing home before the next cloud-burst. Perhaps if she hurried, or found shelter . . . Then the thought of the cathedral snapped into her head. It was not far away. Elena set off again and was halfway across the park when the heavens opened. She dodged beneath the branches of a fir to catch her breath. The storm had come on so quickly, it must have raced down from the peaks. She hoped they weren’t in for a wet spring.
Above her, something rustled in the branches. Elena looked up, expecting to see a squirrel or a magpie, but there was nothing. A shower of dislodged raindrops scattered across her face, making her flinch. Elena peered into the tree and something hissed. Startled, Elena stumbled back. She saw a face in the branches, upside down: gleaming eyes with pinpoint pupils and a row of needle teeth. It was coming down the tree, sliding along the trunk like a polecat, but the size of a man.
Elena cried out with fright. Then she turned and ran, her feet carrying her away from the thing in the tree. She slipped on the wet path and almost fell, but she did not stop and look back until she reached the edge of the park.
There was nothing behind her. The park was wet and empty. A woman with a bundle of shopping was staring at her.
“
Dyevushka?
You all right?”
“There was someone in the trees. I thought they
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