before. I unfolded the paper and peered at it, fascinated, tracing the fabled landmarks of my world, places I had mostly never seen: the fur farm, the forest, the railway line, all converted into symbols on paper.
I felt dizzy as I realized my mother must have left this map for me.
She had really meant for me to make that impossible journey.
There was no note. When I’d searched and found not a word from her, not one scrawled word, I cried, at last. I couldn’t stop myself from trying to picture what had happened. Did they come for her by night or by day? Did she have any warning, did she try to get away? Did she defend herself with brave, wise words? Did they hit her? I saw my mama tied up and put into something like the Box, before she was taken out and shot. Or they might have beaten her up, with heavy fists and leather straps. But Katerina was right: it was over, no use thinking about it. My mama had been taken from this hut before I was eleven. Now I was thirteen, and a different person. I’d been a thief, and betrayed my friend and let him die. . . . I’d turned into a person my mama would not even recognize.
I cried, and then I wiped my eyes. I could not undo what had happened at New Dawn, I could not know if Mama was alive or dead. All I had was the mysterious words of Yagin the guard, whom I didn’t trust at all. But I could find out, right now, whether the treasure I was supposed to guard still existed.
I opened the case, so that it unfolded like a flower, and set everything out neatly. I put on my gloves and mask, and the glimmering cloak of my mother’s magic wrapped itself around me. Before I began my work I
prayed,
some kind of prayer without words, to the spirit of life. I don’t know if I believed in this spirit, I was out of the habit of believing in anything: but I think she had my mother’s face. It was a short prayer, because I needed to move fast. My oil lamp’s reservoir wasn’t very deep: if I had to replenish the oil, I’d have to start all over again with fresh gloves. My mind was trembling, but my hands remembered everything. They took me, sure and swift, through the Lindquist process.
When I knew that the seed powders had begun to grow, I set the dishes safely in the magic nutshell, and sealed everything up. I hid the nail box in the locker under the cupboard-bed, and piled the food that Katerina had given me in front of it. Then I put out my lamp and lay down to rest, leaving the cupboard doors open. I wasn’t used to sleeping shut up, it made me think of the Box.
I had no blankets, nor pillow, but I was still wearing my school uniform. The wardens had let me keep it, as there was no way I could fit back into the clothes I’d worn when I was ten. I didn’t like the idea of going around dressed as an expelled schoolgirl, but I knew I’d soon be thankful for the thick, warm clothes. I just hoped I’d stopped growing. I kept my boots on for warmth, pulled my socks over my knees, and lay with my arms wrapped around my head, dormitory style.
It must have been neighbors who searched the hut, I thought. If it had been the people who came to take Mama, they’d have found everything. . . . Our neighbors had searched the hut, but they’d been afraid of the red light in the workshop. Now I was back they’d see I didn’t have anything extra, and they’d forget about my “legacy.” If Nicolai only lets me have our old vegetable plot, I thought, I’ll be all right. Then one day when I’m grown up, if she hasn’t come home, I will take the map and the compass and set off for the city where the sun always shines. . . . The old life folded round me: the old promise as distant as ever, a hope that I could live on for years. My sleeves smelled of cold and dust, and coal smoke, and dirt. I’d been traveling for five days, in frowsty train carriages. I closed my eyes. I was rocking on a “hard class” wooden seat again, falling asleep while the guards sat and watched me.
The bugs in
I felt dizzy as I realized my mother must have left this map for me.
She had really meant for me to make that impossible journey.
There was no note. When I’d searched and found not a word from her, not one scrawled word, I cried, at last. I couldn’t stop myself from trying to picture what had happened. Did they come for her by night or by day? Did she have any warning, did she try to get away? Did she defend herself with brave, wise words? Did they hit her? I saw my mama tied up and put into something like the Box, before she was taken out and shot. Or they might have beaten her up, with heavy fists and leather straps. But Katerina was right: it was over, no use thinking about it. My mama had been taken from this hut before I was eleven. Now I was thirteen, and a different person. I’d been a thief, and betrayed my friend and let him die. . . . I’d turned into a person my mama would not even recognize.
I cried, and then I wiped my eyes. I could not undo what had happened at New Dawn, I could not know if Mama was alive or dead. All I had was the mysterious words of Yagin the guard, whom I didn’t trust at all. But I could find out, right now, whether the treasure I was supposed to guard still existed.
I opened the case, so that it unfolded like a flower, and set everything out neatly. I put on my gloves and mask, and the glimmering cloak of my mother’s magic wrapped itself around me. Before I began my work I
prayed,
some kind of prayer without words, to the spirit of life. I don’t know if I believed in this spirit, I was out of the habit of believing in anything: but I think she had my mother’s face. It was a short prayer, because I needed to move fast. My oil lamp’s reservoir wasn’t very deep: if I had to replenish the oil, I’d have to start all over again with fresh gloves. My mind was trembling, but my hands remembered everything. They took me, sure and swift, through the Lindquist process.
When I knew that the seed powders had begun to grow, I set the dishes safely in the magic nutshell, and sealed everything up. I hid the nail box in the locker under the cupboard-bed, and piled the food that Katerina had given me in front of it. Then I put out my lamp and lay down to rest, leaving the cupboard doors open. I wasn’t used to sleeping shut up, it made me think of the Box.
I had no blankets, nor pillow, but I was still wearing my school uniform. The wardens had let me keep it, as there was no way I could fit back into the clothes I’d worn when I was ten. I didn’t like the idea of going around dressed as an expelled schoolgirl, but I knew I’d soon be thankful for the thick, warm clothes. I just hoped I’d stopped growing. I kept my boots on for warmth, pulled my socks over my knees, and lay with my arms wrapped around my head, dormitory style.
It must have been neighbors who searched the hut, I thought. If it had been the people who came to take Mama, they’d have found everything. . . . Our neighbors had searched the hut, but they’d been afraid of the red light in the workshop. Now I was back they’d see I didn’t have anything extra, and they’d forget about my “legacy.” If Nicolai only lets me have our old vegetable plot, I thought, I’ll be all right. Then one day when I’m grown up, if she hasn’t come home, I will take the map and the compass and set off for the city where the sun always shines. . . . The old life folded round me: the old promise as distant as ever, a hope that I could live on for years. My sleeves smelled of cold and dust, and coal smoke, and dirt. I’d been traveling for five days, in frowsty train carriages. I closed my eyes. I was rocking on a “hard class” wooden seat again, falling asleep while the guards sat and watched me.
The bugs in
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