Page 35 of A Song of Saints and Swans
What are they up to?
I didn’t hesitate to pass along Rahim’s contact info to Vasi. He had enough connections to legally uncover who owned both distilleries, and who possibly paid off Margo’s coroner. But the larger issue—at least from the Prav’s perspective—was if the poor girl’s deathwasn’tby suicide, then she shouldn’t have returned as a Rusalka at all.
Which means the gods made a mistake.
One god in particular.
As if summoned by my accusatory thoughts, the creature waiting for us on the banks of the Baltic Sea was none other than Veles’ preferred messenger.
“Well, well, well,” the Gamayun chortled as Vasi’sizbasettled to the ground so we could dismount. “I was wondering who’d been summoned to these shores. Could the wayward goddess of winter’s death be on a covert mission the god of the Nav knows nothing about?”
Truly, the most meddling creature in all three realms—along with her sister.
Because, of course, the Gamayun wasn’t alone. It was rare for the old bird to go anywhere without the Alkonost, and with juicy gossip on the menu, both zeroed in on me like the birds of prey they were.
I sighed, in no mood to dance around the subject. “What will it take to keep Vel out of this?”
The Gamayun preened, her blue and orange feathers gleaming in the early morning light. “There’s an item going up for auction at Sotheby’s I’ve had my eye on. An early 20th century amethyst and diamond cross worn by Princess Diana for a 1987 charity gala.”
Well, that’s… specific.
I often brought back pieces won at auction for Veles—mostly to remind him of the human world he mostly ignored—but wasn’t aware my habits were common knowledge.
How silly of me to think the creature privy to the secrets of the universe wouldn’t notice.
“Fine,” I sighed, turning to the Alkonost. “And what do you want?”
She shrugged her shoulders, causing her matte black feathers to shine like an oil slick. “Nothing. I’m simply here for the drama.”
“Oh, piss off,” Tan groaned, joining me on the porch with Vasi, Anthia, and Jarilo close behind him. “Why are the oversized chickens here? Is it the hut? Are the legs giving the poultry version of ‘fuck me’ heels?”
The Gamayun rolled her eyes. “Contrary to what your single brain cell believes, Taneer, not everything is aboutsexoryou.We are not here for the Yaga and her Riders, nor for the Rusalka and hapless human you’ve picked up like a couple of strays.”
Her sister bobbed her head, the movement admittedly chicken-like. “Correct. We were merely visiting our nests on the island of Buyan when we noticed theAlatyrunexpectedlyglowingfrom within the World Tree.”
Glowing?
“It is?” Jarilo eagerly cut in, the same moment Anthia asked, “What’s theAlatyr?”
Vasi waved a dismissive hand, as unimpressed as always. “It’s a sacred stone with the miraculous power to heal the entire world. At least, according to the blasphemousDove Book.”
When Anthia continued to look confused, she elaborated. “It’s a series of riddles written in verse from medieval times. A bit too preachy for my tastes, which is ironic considering the Russian Orthodox Church banned it for being unattributed Christian tales mixed with good old-fashioned pagan lore.”
“Dovebook, hmm?” Mylittle doveteased, throwing me a saucy smile that had my cheeks heating.
After my conversation with Vasi yesterday, I’d been directed by the Rider rabble to find Anthia and Jarilo in a spare bedroom. By the time I joined them, they had both fallen asleep, but it didn’t take my godly sense of smell to know what they’d been up to in there.
It’s odd that Jar didn’t finish claiming her while he was at it…
Even stranger was how my twin actuallyslept,as opposed to the light resting we occasionally did to give our corporeal forms a break. I’d witnessed Jar fuck for twelve hours straight before, so it made little sense for him to be so exhausted.
I need to figure out what’s going on with him.
No matter what it takes.
Since my twin’s focus was on the divine messengers, I gingerly crept into his mind, hoping to find a clue to his condition before he realized I was there. It wasn’t my finest hour, sneaking around like this without consent, but I was legitimately worried.
The first thing I noticed was howcoldit felt, which added to the mystery. As the god of springtime, everything about Jarilo was fiery and warm—inside and out—but this felt like anizbawhere the wood stove had been out for days.
