Page 69 of Tiger's Trek
Loosening the tie that secured the opening, he said, “Collect some birds.”
Within the span of a few seconds, birds of all types began darting toward the balloon, careening to the open bag and diving inside. Once in, they screeched and banged themselves against the sides. At first it was only small birds, then larger birds appeared, including falcons, hawks, and owls. As they, too, joined the group, the bag grew larger and larger. Slowly, it filled the space where they stood until they began to be crowded out.
“Make it stop,” warned Stacia as she threw a leg over the side.
“You can stop now, bag,” said Zakhar, but the bag kept on collecting. Bird after bird soared into the bag, filling it to bursting.
Zima began crying as the creatures bucked and screamed inside. She was certain some of the big ones were killing the smaller ones. Stacia suspected she was right. The tsarevna grabbed the little girl just before she was crushed against the side of the vessel and pulled her into her arms.
“That’s enough!” shouted Zakhar, climbing on top of the bag. He attempted to pull the opening tight and close it, but it wouldn’t stop.
Then he tried a different tack. “Now set the birds free.”
Hundreds of birds poured out of the bag. Zakhar yelped as he fell halfway inside it. Many of the birds had cuts and torn wings. Some flopped brokenly on the deck of the ship. Others never made it out at all. Their lifeless little bodies remained inside the bag, and Zakhar removed them one by one, tossing some overboard. Others he kept, intending to roast them for supper.
Zima turned her head, unwilling to look at the little birds and cried herself to sleep in Stacia’s arms. When the job was finished, they saw the nose bag had returned to its normal size. Stacia quietly counseled Zakhar. “Perhaps the trick is to be specific and only request a small number at a time.”
The priest nodded and tried again, opening the bag. “Bring me ten of Sima’s birds, making certain to give them enough room so that they are not harmed.”
It took some time, but eventually ten little birds arrived and flew into a stretched-out bag. They circled inside, coming to no harm until Zakhar told the bag to release them. He experimented with larger and larger numbers until he found he could hold up to two hundred small birds without endangering them. Once they had what they felt was approximately enough winged creatures to pull them, they set off on their journey once again.
“We’ve wasted a lot of time,” Zakhar said, “but at least we’re headed in the right direction.”
That night for supper they roasted birds to eat along with their barley and rye pottage. Zakhar even pulled the meat from the bones and made something of a stew out of it. But poor little Zima took one look at the dinner and refused to eat any animal meat. In fact, she warned them the nose bag should never be used to summon animals in such a way again. “It just wasn’t right,” she said.
Stacia and Zakhar agreed as the sky darkened overhead. They feared another storm would hit if the little girl’s despair was not mollified.
They mutually agreed to let her have an entire biscuit to herself while they ate the stew. Unfortunately, when they turned around to search for the biscuits, the snow-white ermine, Belizna, in her desperation to get at some bird meat, knocked over the entire pot and began eating. With their dinner in the dirt, Zakhar and Stacia contented themselves to fast until they could make another pot of porridge for breakfast. Zakhar seemed determined to spend the evening in prayer, saying things like, “The Lord is indeed merciful,” and, “One meal is not too much to ask for a spot at the table.”
Zakhar handed the biscuit, which was now becoming hard, to Zima and sat back, pulling his knees to his chest. “My brothers and I used to make trips to feed the hungry children,” he said. “We kept only the simplest of fare for ourselves. What I wouldn’t give for some good black bread, cheese, and sbiten,” he said. “A hard biscuit isn’t much for a little girl.”
“Stop,” Stacia said. “Now you’re making me hungry.”
“What would you like? Right now? I mean, if you could have anything?”
“I don’t know. Ginseng tea sounds nice.”
“Huh. I’ve never had that.”
“It’s imported. Very rare. Oh, speaking of rare. Beluga caviar. Toasted bread with a bit of fresh butter, a very thin slice of salmon and caviar on top. Then you take a bite and just let it melt in your mouth.”
When Stacia opened her eyes, she found Zakhar staring at her mouth. She frowned and grew slightly uncomfortable. His cheeks colored all the way down to his neck.
“F-forgive me,” he said. “I’ve just never had such a dish. It sounds... intriguing.”
“Well, if we ever make it back to the palace, you’re welcome to come try some. My sister doesn’t like it. She’s got a sweet tooth. I was never much for sweets. My preferences tend to skew toward the savory.”
“S-sweets?” Zakhar’s voice squeaked. “Such as what? I’m afraid we give up most delicacies in the brotherhood and keep to simple fare.”
Stacia frowned. “But your stores held plenty...”
“Oh yes. That is true enough. We have more than enough to eat. But like I said, it’s not elaborate in any way. Just your basic everyday items. But you were saying your sister enjoyed the palace sweets?” he prompted. “Such as?”
“Oh, you know. She had her favorites. Trubochka, ponchiki, bliny, pastila—she loved most everything. Nikolai knew it, and he would often ply her with sweets when he wanted something, which was all the time.” Stacia laughed. “I swear, he knew every merchant in the empire, especially those who specialized in chocolate or candy making.”
“What’s chocolate?” asked Zima.
“Shokolad,” explained Stacia. “And why haven’t you eaten your biscuit yet?”
