Page 7 of The Bone Doll
Syra felt ridiculous prattling off this children’s story to an adult man, but he had asked for it. She continued the story: Dog lived with other animals, but found each too cowardly for his liking. So Dog continued wandering until he found Human, who was not scared of anything. And Dog lived with Human still.
“That is an interesting choice of animals,” Viktor said. “Eagle, Owl, Fox, Wolf, Seal.”
“They’re sacred animals,” Syra said. “There’s the Deer, too.”
“But Dog didn’t live with them?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Deer was dead by then.”
Viktor didn’t ask any more questions after that – which was fine by Syra – and so they walked several more miles until the forest thinned, giving way to a broad but shallow river.
While her companion filled his waterskin, Syra forded the river to scrape reindeer moss from a boulder on the far side. It was not a particularly tasty or nutritive food, but it would fill her belly. Scooping water into her soapstone bowl, she climbed the bank and then started a small fire, over which she boiled the moss. Crossing the river, Viktor found his own place to sit adozen or so feet away from her. Using a twig to stir her strange concoction, she silently acknowledged the moment of privacy.
Again, her stomach knotted. She had never been away from her family for more than two days. She had been gone five days now. Not only was she homesick, but she worried about her mother’s persistent cough, her siblings’ ability to fish and trap without her help, her father’s reluctance to sell the wares that he carved, and her newborn nephew surviving until summer. She scrubbed at her stinging eyes.
Her water boiled over.
The contents of her bowl were nothing more than dark mush, but it meant the moss was edible. Rummaging in her pack for her spoon, she glanced at Viktor, who stared emptily at the river.
Syra grunted and, taking her bowl, strode over to the Ruthenian.
“There’s enough for two,” she said.
His gaze climbed slowly from her boots to her face. “I didn’t ask you to cook for me.”
Syra folded her legs and sat. “I cooked for myself.”
“Still.” His eyes were the color of hardening sap, the midday light catching on flecks of brown and orange. For a moment, Syra wanted to know what he was thinking. “Thank you.”
“Eat,” she said. “It doesn’t taste good, but it’s something.”
Viktor didn’t speak as he ate, his movements efficient and economizing. He reminded Syra a bit of a stray dog. An unfamiliar pang touched her heart before she shook herself and swallowed down the bitter-tasting moss. She didn’t need to imagine him as anything but the man who had taken her away from her family.
Chapter 5
Bereza
On the seventh day of travel, they reached Bereza, which lay on the very edge of Ruthenia. Though the hamlet fell within the princedom of Rodgorod, Viktor doubted the three families here paid taxes orbarshchinato any lord. Sitting in front of her unpainted cottage, the ten-year-old girl Tsilia Aronovich spotted him and Syra and hollered for her father, the headman.
“You look worse for the wear, my friend.” The portly and balding Aron Iosifevich shook Viktor’s hand.
“I gave my supplies to the Sarnoks,” Viktor explained. “They had a hard winter.”
“It was a cold one.” Aron jerked his chin towards Syra. “Looks like you brought a companion.”
Viktor turned to introduce her. “This is–”
“Syra,” she said.
“I didn’t know Sarnoks left their tundra,” Aron said to Viktor.
“Doesn’t your Princess have an alliance with the Storm Owl clan?” Syra asked in flawless Ruthenian. “Their Pathfinder had to travel all the way to your white city to make it.”
The headman had the decency to blush. “I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t realize you spoke our language.”
Syra shrugged. “We trade with Ruthenians sometimes.”
Viktor was a fool. He hadn’t even considered that Syra would know Ruthenian. He had spent months in Beluvod, learning Sarnok vocabulary and grammar from Parmian merchants so that he could communicate with the tundra clans. He hadn’t even considered that Syra might knowhislanguage. He would wager that she spoke Parmian as well, meaning she was as well-educated in languages as he was. Just in different languages. And she had a practical reason for it. He was just aboyar’s son, educated for the sake of it.
