“To my brother,” said Vasya grimly. “While it is still midnight, and he is still alive. But first—”

She turned, seeking, in the darkness. “Polunochnitsa,” she said.

She had no doubts of her guess, and indeed, the midnight-demon stepped at once into the clearing. Voron’s great hooves crunched the bracken at her back.

“You betrayed me,” said Vasya.

“But you understood at last,” said Polunochnitsa. “It was never your task to pick out the good from the wicked. Your task was to unite us. We are one people.” The rage was gone from her face.

Vasya stalked forward. “You could have told me. They tormented my brother.”

“It is not something you can be told,” said Polunochnitsa. “It is something you must come to understand.”

Her great-grandmother had said the same. Vasya could feel the Bear watching. He breathed out a laugh as she, wordless, unspooled the golden rope, snapped it out, caught Polunochnitsa around the throat. The midnight-demon tried to wrench back, but couldn’t, caught by the power in the gold. She made a single, shocked sound and stood still, wide-eyed.

Vasya said, “I do not like being betrayed, Polunochnitsa. You took no pity on me after the fire; you had no pity on my brother. Perhaps I should leave you tied to a tree.”

The black stallion reared, squealing. Vasya didn’t move, though the great hooves were a handsbreadth from her face. “I will take her with me, Voron, if you kill me.”

The horse subsided, and Vasya had to harden her heart. Midnight was looking at her with genuine fear. “Medved owes me allegiance now, and so do you, Polunochnitsa. You will not betray me again.”

The midnight-demon was staring at her with horror and unwilling fascination. “You are Baba Yaga’s heir in truth now,” she said. “When you have finished with the dealings of men, go back to the lake. At midnight, the witch will be waiting.”

“I am not finished yet,” Vasya said grimly. “I am going to save my brother. You are going to swear an oath to me as well, Lady Midnight, and you are going to help me.”

“I am sworn to your great-grandmother.”

“And, as you said, I am her heir.”

Their eyes locked, a silent battle of wills. Midnight was the first to lower hers. “I swear then,” she said.

“What do you swear?”

“To serve you and to heed you, and never to betray you again.”

Vasya, with a snap, freed Polunochnitsa of the golden rope. “I swear to sustain you as I can,” she said. “With blood and with memory. We can no longer afford to fight amongst ourselves.”

The Bear said lightly, from behind, “I think I am going to enjoy this.”

30.

The Enemy of My Enemy

SASHA WAS ONLY VAGUELY AWARE of what happened, after he threw Chelubey from the saddle. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he did it. Merely that there was a sword, and his sister’s vulnerable throat, and he hated the Tatar as he’d never hated anyone in his life. Hated his impersonal cruelties, his clever mind, his soft questions.