Page 4 of The Bone Doll
For his father.
Viktor wasn’t surprised that his father’s demand for magic to control aleshycame with a catch. When he had learned of the magical doll, Viktor had hoped that he could simply purchase the talisman and not risk anyone’s safety. But of course, all Igor Sviatopolkovich’s schemes ended up involving human collateral. This time, it was Syra who had to carry the doll. Viktor just wished he wasn’t always there to witness the damage his father’s plans wrought.
I’m just doing what I’m told.The lie didn’t make him feel better.
Finally, Viktor stopped, waiting for his Sarnok companion to catch up. When she did, she gazed straight through him like he was a ghost. He bit the inside of his cheek. She couldn’t ignore him for the next three weeks. Taking one look at her expression, however, he realized that she would try.
Best to get past this sooner rather than later.
“May I see the Bone Doll?” he asked.
“No.”
“I just want to know if you have it,” he said. “So I know we aren’t walking 150 miles for no reason.”
She surveyed the tundra, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I wouldn’t be walking with you at all if I didn’t have it.”
True,he admitted, though her words stung. Really, he couldn’t be that odious. He pressed on. “Have you used it before?”
Her lips twitched and her eyes narrowed, focused on the horizon. Then, she said, “Aren’t we going somewhere?”
“Zoldrovya.”
“We won’t get there if we just stand here,” she said flatly.
He nodded in defeat. This was going to be a long three weeks.
Again, she fell into step several yards behind him. As the sun passed its zenith and into the west, they passed a rocky expanse filled with reindeer bones. His hair stood on end, and he tried not to think about what had caused such devastation.
Syra broke her silence in order to enlighten him. “This is what the Bone Doll does. It drives you mad. It drove these reindeer into a stampede, and they crushed each other.”
He grimaced and started walking faster.
Beyond the reindeer graveyard, the ground turned into mud that splashed them no matter how gently they stepped. A series of wolf tracks crossed through. Viktor hoped they weren’t too fresh, but he didn’t ask Syra for her input. He doubted she would give it.
Soon enough, a dirt road appeared. Though deeply rutted and overgrown, it led back to the lands held by the Princess of Rodgorod. He knew he would be a better companion once they entered Ruthenia. He would know better where to go and how to travel comfortable. His Sarnok companion still said nothing.They took the Ruthenian road westward until sunset when they made camp in a shallow ditch lined with barren pine trees.
Viktor and Syra worked in parallel to set up camp. He unpacked the last of his food, while Syra lit a fire. He sat by her fire and pulled out his provisions. Syra unwrapped a salted fish and cut it in half, ignoring his offer to share food.
“Don’t put your bedroll too close,” she said.
Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Worried about my snoring?”
She propped her elbows on her knees, chewing an apple slice.
Taking a swig from his waterskin, Viktor tried to regroup. Of course, he had had no plans of sleepingtooclose to Syra. But certainly he wasn’t so reprehensible as to be exiled to the other side of the camp. His jaw tightened. Except Syrahadjust exiled him. He lowered his head, his throat aching.I truly am the last person she wants to be near.
“I meant what I said in your Pathfinder’s tent,” he said. “I don’t want your Bone Doll. I’m just here to make sure that it reaches Zoldrovya.”
Syra said nothing
Viktor sighed as though she had leveled an accusation. He didn’thaveto participate in his father’s machinations. He traveled to get away from his father. But it never worked like that. Viktor had no money unless his father gave it to him. So, if Viktor wanted the funds to travel, he needed his father. And so he needed to participat in Igor Sviatopolkovich’s games.
“If I had a choice, I would leave your relic in the tundra,” he said. “But we all have false choices. Live on the street like a vagabond or do someone else’s bidding.”
“Help a useless Ruthenian,” she said, “or let your clan suffer more.”
Viktor grimaced. “Surely, I am notuseless.”
