“Twice you were nearly burned alive,” said Dmitrii. “Yet you came back, to save this city from evil. Perhaps you should be rewarded. What do you want, Vasilisa Petrovna?”

She knew her answer, and didn’t mince words. “There is a way to know if Vladimir Andreevich is alive or dead. If he is alive, then I am going to find him. You muster in two weeks?”

“Yes,” said Dmitrii warily. “But—”

She cut him off. “I will be there,” she said. “And if Vladimir Andreevich is alive, he will be there too, with his men.”

“Impossible,” said Dmitrii.

Vasya said, “If I succeed, then I will consider my debt paid, to you and to this city. And now? I would ask you for your trust. Not for a boy named Vasilii Petrovich, who never existed, but for myself.”

“Why should I trust you, Vasilisa Petrovna?” asked Dmitrii, but his gaze was intent. “You are a witch.”

“She defended the Church from evil,” said Sergei, and made the sign of the cross. “Strange are the works of God.”

Vasya crossed herself in turn. “Witch I may be, Dmitrii Ivanovich, but the powers of Rus’ must be allies now—prince and Church must join with the unseen world. Otherwise there is no hope of victory.”

First I needed men to help me defeat a devil, she thought. Now I will need devils to help me defeat men.

But who could do it other than she? You can be a bridge between men and chyerti, Morozko had said. She thought she understood that, now.

For a moment, there was no sound but the triumphant wind, pouring in through the windows. Then Dmitrii simply said, “I will trust you.” He laid a light hand on her head, a prince’s blessing on a warrior. She went very still under the touch. “What do you need?”

Vasya thought. She was still glowing with the words, I will trust you. “Clothes such as a tradesman’s son might wear,” she said.

“Cousin,” Sasha broke in. “If she goes, then I must go with her. She’s made enough journeys without her kin.”

Dmitrii looked surprised. “I need you here. You speak Tatar; you know the country between here and Sarai.”

Sasha said nothing.

Understanding came suddenly into Dmitrii’s face. Perhaps he had remembered the night of the fire, Sasha’s sister forced out into the dark alone. “I will not stop you, Sasha,” he said reluctantly. “But you must be at the mustering, whether she succeeds or no.”

“Sasha—” Vasya began, just as he went to her and said, low, “I wept for you. Even when Varvara told me you were alive, I wept. I despised myself, that I had let my sister face such horror alone, and I despised myself more when you appeared again at my campfire so changed. I am not letting you go alone.”

Vasya put a hand on her brother’s arm. “Then, if you come with me tonight—” Her grip tightened; their eyes met. “I warn you, the road leads through darkness.”