The Bear walked softly through the streets, a cold rain on his face, and the lesser chyerti shrank away. He did not heed them. He reveled in the sounds and the scents, the moving air, the fruit of his cleverness taking shape. The news of the Tatar army had been a lucky stroke, and he meant to use it to full advantage.

He must succeed. He must. Better to unmake the world—better to be unmade himself—than go back to the grim clearing at the edge of winter, dreaming the years away. But it would not come to that. His brother was far away, and so deeply imprisoned that he would never come out again.

The Bear smiled at the indifferent stars. Come spring, come summer, and let me make an end to this place, let me silence the bells. Each time they rang the monastic hours of worship, he flinched a little. But men were men, whatever gods they followed—hadn’t he tempted a servant of the newer God into his service?

Hoofbeats sounded in the darkness ahead, and a woman on a black horse rode out of the shadows.

The Bear greeted her with a lifted head, looking unsurprised. “News, Polunochnitsa?” he said, a hint of arid humor in his voice.

“She did not die in my realm,” said the midnight-demon, her voice quite expressionless.

The Bear’s eye sharpened. “Did you help her?”

“No.”

“Yet you watched her. Why?”

The midnight-demon shrugged. “We are all watching. All the chyerti. She has refused both of you, Morozko and Medved, and so made herself a power in her own right in your great war. The chyerti are choosing sides once more.”

The Bear laughed, but the gray eye was intent. “Choose her over me? She is a child.”

“She defeated you before.”

“With my brother’s help and her father’s sacrifice.”

“She has passed three fires, and she is not a child anymore.”

“Why tell me?”

Midnight shrugged again. “Because I have not chosen a side either, Medved.”

The Bear, smiling, said, “You will regret your indecision, before the end.”

Midnight’s black horse shied, and gave the Bear a wild-eyed look. Midnight smoothed a hand through his mane. “Perhaps” was all she said. “But you see, now I have helped you too. You will have the whole spring to do as you please. If you cannot secure your position, then perhaps the chyerti will be right to look instead to the powers of a half-grown girl.”

“Where will I find her?”

“Summer, of course. Beside the water.” Midnight looked down on him, from her horse’s back. “We will be watching.”

“I have time then,” said the Bear, and looked again up at the wild stars.

9.

To Travel by Midnight

VASYA WOKE TO A DARKNESS so deep, she thought she had been struck blind. She lifted her head. Nothing. Her body had chilled and stiffened; moving sent a cascade of pain through neck and back. She wondered vaguely why she was not dead, wondered also why she was lying on bracken instead of snow. It was quiet, except for the faint creaking of branches overhead. Gingerly, she put a trembling hand to her eyes. One was swollen shut. The other seemed all right, except the lashes were gummed together. Gingerly, she pried it open.