The Midnight Land: Part Two: The Gift (The Zemnian Trilogy Book 2) by Clark E.P

Author:Clark, E.P. [Clark, E.P.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2015-10-25T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

She was extremely surprised to surface from the darkness and discover that it was already the next morning, and it was time to rise and prepare for the final few versts of their journey.

“It’s raining!” Olga told her. “Raining hard! A spring rain! A real spring rain—warm like a spring rain should be!” She was trying to look disgusted at this news, which meant those final few versts would be traveled in truly disgusting conditions, but the arrival of spring was too joyous an occasion to be sad about, even if it was accompanied by unpleasant inconveniences.

“It is?” said Slava, and looked out the window. Even through the thick wavy glass she could not only see but feel and smell the warm spring rain.

“How do you feel?” asked Olga. “You didn’t seem very well last night.”

“Much better,” said Slava, rising from the bed. “Extremely well, in fact.” And it was true. The dark, dreamless sleep had somehow washed away the fear, or at least—as soon as she had that thought, Slava knew that the fear was not gone, not truly—it had risen up around it and submerged it, so that she could sail safely over it. It was strange, she thought to herself, how quickly and unexpectedly her mind could change itself. She was not only not dreading her arrival in Krasnograd, she was impatient for it to happen. Someday, she thought, she would probably laugh at herself about this. She was even eager to run out into the spring rain, although no doubt she would grow sick of it soon enough—such as within half a verst of being out in it.

They breakfasted quickly and headed out into the gray morning light. The warm spring rain was even more disgusting than Slava had imagined it would be, but no one minded. When it lashed in their faces from an extra-strong gust of wind from the South, everyone laughed and talked about the hot meals ahead of them, and when they had to get out of the sleighs and help guide them through the slushy pools on top of the icy road surface, they reminded each other, still laughing, of the warm bathhouse awaiting them when they got to Krasnograd. Once they were able to get back in the sleighs, the men broke out into a song about the rain, and sang all the way until the city towers rose up before them.

“Is that…Is that Krasnograd?!” cried Vladislava, pointing at a golden dome glimmering dully in the distance.

“Yes,” said Slava. “That is the Empress Tower. It rises from the Empress’s quarters in the kremlin, and is the first thing that any traveler to Krasnograd sees.”

“And when will we see the rest of the city?!” demanded Vladislava.

“Soon enough,” said Slava, trying to sound soothing despite the rapid beating of her heart. All the calm of the morning was gone. It was strange, she thought to herself again, with what would have been a grin if she hadn’t felt so sick and

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