Page 17 of Tiger's Tale
“Not now,” Escovina said. “I’ve imbued it with light magic. Now it’s a gift. Larix has a gift for you as well. Here, I’m done. You can put it on now.”
He hesitated only a moment but then lifted the glowing tunic over his head and slid it over his chest. It crackled with energy.
When he turned about, gaining a nod of approval from his two strange and deadly adopted grandparents, Larix said, “Perfect. Now we need to visit the goat and the horse.”
“Why?” Nik asked, following the large tree man out the door.
“Because we need the goat to kick you and the horse to butt you.”
5
BEWARE OF THE GOAT FROM ITS FRONT SIDE, OF THE HORSE FROM ITS BACK SIDE, AND A MONK FROM ANY SIDE
Quickly, Nik trailed behind the leshi, trying to ignore his irritation as he walked in clothing that was inside out and backward and twisting uncomfortably in places he’d prefer the fabric not be bunched. He tugged at the neckline. “Don’t you mean you want the horse to kick me and the goat to butt me?” he asked the tree man.
Nik had been kicked by horses enough to know such a thing rarely if ever brought luck, but he wasn’t going to complain. Better to be kicked than eaten.
The tree spirit called Larix turned suddenly and lowered his head, pointing a gnarled finger nearly a foot long at Nik’s nose. Nik swallowed when he saw glowing yellow eyes blinking from the depths of the mossy green beard and remembered the spider creature saying how much she’d enjoyed hiding behind it and springing out on unsuspecting victims.
“If you want to survive,” he cautioned in a gravelly voice, “I’d suggest trying to be more like a tree.”
“I don’t understand,” Nik said in reply.
“Exactly. Humans are nearly incapable of remaining silent. They are too desperate to be seen. Too anxious to be adored. They don’t realize that the ones who are watched and admired are the ones who are cut down in their prime. How much better is it, then, to go unnoticed? To hide within a copse? Animals understand this. They are camouflaged from those that prey on them. Or they hide among large herds.
“Trees only speak when there is something of grave importance to say. Wisdom takes decades to acquire. If you must speak at all, speak tacitly; otherwise, watch, observe, listen, learn. Those who live longest are the most careful and observant. If you want to survive, you must learn this skill.”
* * *
Nik rehearsed in his mind the advice given many years before by the old tree spirit as he rode on, league after grueling league, back to the shadowed, dark forest near Pyrs. He no longer regretted how he was raised or the fact that he’d been nearly destroyed by monsters, both the human kind and the supernatural. Those experiences had forged him into the creature he now was: the soldier worthy of caring for a tsarevna and, someday, if he watched and waited patiently enough, the one who’d win her care in return. All his prior perils had led him to his beautiful Veru, and he’d brave any obstacle, defeat any foe, and outwit any rival to remain in her presence.
When he was a good distance outside the town and far enough away from the forest not to be in danger, he dismounted and stripped off his clothing, carefully turning all the items backward and inside out just as the tree spirit had instructed him to do many years before. Then he placed his military-issued boots in his knapsack and pulled out the boots lined with gray winter wolf fur the leshi had made for him so many years before.
After lacing them up, he walked a few steps, taking his time and practicing as the tree spirit had taught him. He was delighted to find he could still move as silently as he’d been taught. Nik had been careful not to use the skill or the illusion cast by the tunic and the boots in the camp with the soldiers unless he absolutely needed it. The Royal Guard were a suspicious lot, and they were quick to burn anyone practicing zagovory, or folk magic, not bothering to differentiate if it was black or white magic before resigning the poor wretches to an awful death.
It was that, as well as Nik’s growing experience with distrusting those around him, that led him to hide his magical gifts as well as the means of escape in several places over the next few years. He made it a point to sleep with his back to the wall and in the closest spot to the door, and he never attempted to stand out in the crowd, just as the wood spirit had taught him. That particular counsel had saved his life on many an occasion. Nikolai made it a point to only achieve enough to accomplish his purpose and then quietly fade into the background, just as the leshi had taught him to do long ago.
Over the years, Nik caught wind of a few hermits and lone wanderers who supposedly held knowledge of the magical arts. He always managed to get himself assigned to the groups sent out to investigate. Most were charlatans, but a few were legitimate. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d steal their books of magic or spells, which were very probably nicked from other traveling sorcerers anyway, and practice. Most items ended up being fake or tricks, but he always learned something and held out hope he’d discover more magical relics someday.
Since he was small for his age and looked younger than he was, he shaved a few years off the calendar, which made it all too easy for others to trust him, including his beloved tsarevna. But Nik knew simple parlor tricks and lies wouldn’t work this time. What he was about to attempt would require all his skill, all the artifice he could conjure, if he was going to be successful.
As he stood there on the same road he’d once escaped on, heading back to the very forest he vowed he’d never enter again, he wondered for a moment if this was the best way. He wanted to prove himself to Veru. Show he was worth not only keeping around, not only as a friend, but that he would do anything, absolutely anything, to be considered good enough for her. The problem was, deep in Nik’s gut, there was a sinking feeling that there was nothing he could do that would ever make him good enough. Not for any woman. And certainly not for a tsarevna.
He worked his jaw, gritting his teeth as he considered giving up instead. Just accepting there was no hope. No redemption.
Nik had been running away from something for a long time. When he’d been with Veru in her room, it felt for the first time like he was a protector and not the victim. Like he’d been running to her all along. If he ran from her now, leaving her alone with her problems, then what did that mean? That he’d been a coward all along? That he’d deserved everything that had happened to him?
No. He refused to accept that. Nik would help his tsarevna, and in saving her, he’d also be securing his own future, his own rightful place. He had to return. There would be no more running. Not this time.
Veru was the most likely of the twins to win an alliance with a powerful leader. She’d be married, and soon, if he recognized what was ailing the tsarina. If Nik had any chance at all of attaining his dream, convincing an empire that a tsarina’s consort could be a commoner instead of royalty, then it meant he had to save the tsarina. And there was only one way, as far as he knew, to do that.
Nik let out a shaky breath, not relishing what was to come. Then he centered himself, gritted his teeth, and a silent, steely resolve strengthened him. He stood still for one long moment, then another. He barely breathed. The skin on his knuckles became numb in the cold. Then he felt nothing as the magic came to life. The air hushed. He heard the scurry of a small animal digging in the snow, the call of a bird high overhead, and the wind moaning through the damp trees.
Silently, he took one step, then another. He stood next to a bush. Then in a copse of trees. The animal kept digging. It even popped out its head and looked around before ducking back down to dig again. His own horse couldn’t see him. She grazed and glanced up once in a while but nickered and then went back to wandering off the road. The magic of the tunic and the boots still worked well.
After checking his bag for kalach bread and salt, he stood in front of the horse and turned his back to her. She sensed something but couldn’t see him and danced away. It took several tries, but finally she butted his back lightly with her head, then she startled and took off at a brisk trot, neighing and shaking her head as if disturbed.
“Neechevo, little one,” Nik said, hoisting his bag on his shoulder. “That’s all right. You head to town. If I survive, I’ll find you later. If I don’t, it won’t matter much.” As he began walking down the road toward the town, Nik mumbled, “Too bad there isn’t a goat around here.”
