Threads and Flames by Esther Friesner Page A

though not half as much as when she held open the bag to show the sandwiches, crackers, and prunes piled inside. The ferry to New York City could wait; the girls gobbled their first decent meal of the day, but not before Raisa said a blessing for the food and also for the good heart of the immigration clerk who had provided it.
    The ferry ride from Ellis Island to one of the piers at the foot of Manhattan was much more pleasant on a full stomach. Raisa took Brina as far forward as they could go so that the little girl could have a good view of the approaching shore. The trip also gave them both a fresh look at the great statue in the harbor. Sunlight played over the sculpted folds of the majestic woman’s gown. Shading her eyes, Raisa saw that the great lady carried what looked like a book in the hand that wasn’t holding the torch, and she wondered what marvelous secrets such a book might hold if it were real.
    Seagulls swooped and screeched as the ferry docked. Raisa and Brina stepped off the gangplank into the rush and clatter of the seaport. The stench of dead fish, jostling people, burning fuel, and rotting garbage was unbelievable. Raisa shifted her hold on the bags in order to grab Brina’s hand and hold it with grim, unrelenting determination. One look at the crowded docks and the bustling streets beyond and she knew she couldn’t feel safe allowing the child to cling to her skirt. The danger of Brina losing her grip and being swept away was too real.
    There seemed to be a bizarre magic in the air of the city. As soon as the passengers disembarked from the ferry and set foot on land they became charged with an uncanny energy, a force that sharpened their senses and added sudden speed to their feet. They began to walk faster and faster with every step, until some of them were surging forward at a rate just short of an outright run. Some of them rushed from the ferry into the arms of people who had been waiting on the dockside for uncounted hours. Others barreled right past the happily reunited couples, families, and friends and plunged into the streets as if they were taking a well-known road home. Only a few, including Raisa and Brina, stepped away from the ferry as cautiously as if walking over thin ice, then stopped in the nebulous territory that lay between the waterfront and the heart of the city.
    There were plenty of people and not one friendly face. A few passersby elbowed her aside, in too much of a hurry to care about anything except their own business. They snarled as they bumped into her, foreign words that could have been either a grudging apology or a command for her to get out of the way.
    Raisa did her best to hold her ground. We shouldn’t go too far from the ferry, she thought. Zusa will be on the next one, I know it! Or maybe the one after that. This is the best place to meet her again, except . . . except . . . Her assurance began to dwindle, beaten back by the noise and commotion around her. Except what if she doesn’t come? What if she hasn’t passed the medical examination? What if there was something wrong with the answers she gave the officials? What if they simply forgot to call her name today and no one takes care of her until tomorrow?
    As she stood there, her fears and doubts multiplying wildly, a small, timorous sound from Brina snapped her out of her worried thoughts. The child’s eyes were filled with fear, and her tiny body shivered as she pressed herself against Raisa’s side.
    Raisa forced herself to smile. “What’s the matter, Brina?” she said cheerfully. “Still hungry? Don’t fret; there’ll be plenty to eat once we get to my sister’s house. You’re going to love Henda, and I know she’ll love you. We’ll go soon, I promise.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “ Soon, but first—first we’re going to wait for the next ferry. We have to see if Zusa’s on it, all right?” The child