Then she stepped into the darkness and was gone.

14.

Vodianoy

VASYA WISHED SHE COULD CRY. Part of her soul yearned after her great-grandmother, as it yearned after the mother she’d never known, after her dead nurse, and the elder sister who’d gone away so young. But how could she live quietly in a land of magic while the Bear was loose, her family in danger, the winter-king left to rot?

“You are too alike,” said a familiar voice. Vasya raised her head. Midnight slipped out of the shadows. “Rash. Heedless.” The moonlight kindled the chyert’s pale hair to white fire. “So, you mean to seek the winter-king?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Curiosity,” said Midnight, lightly.

Vasya didn’t believe her. “Are you going to tell the Bear?” she asked.

“Why should I? He will only laugh. You cannot get Morozko out. You will only die trying.”

“Well,” said Vasya, “you would rather I died, it seems, judging by our last meeting. Why not tell me where he is, and I’ll be dead the sooner?”

Polunochnitsa looked amused. “It wouldn’t do any good if I did. Getting somewhere in Midnight is not so simple as knowing where you mean to go.”

“How do you travel by midnight then?”

Polunochnitsa said softly, “There is no north in Midnight, no south. No east or west; no here or there. You must only hold your destination in your mind and walk, and not falter in the darkness, for there is no telling how long it will take to get where you wish to go.”

“Is that all? Why did Varvara make me touch an oak-sapling then?”

Polunochnitsa snorted. “A little that one knows, but she does not understand. Affinity makes it easier to travel. Like calls to like. Blood calls to blood. It is easiest to go to your own kin. You couldn’t reach the tree by the lake alone because you used a weak affinity—oak-tree to oak-tree.” Her expression went sly. “Perhaps it won’t be hard for you to find the winter-king, little maiden. There is an affinity there, surely. After all, he loved you enough to yield up his freedom. Perhaps he is longing for you even now.”

Vasya had never heard anything more ridiculous. But all she said was, “How do I get into Midnight?”

“Every night, when the hour comes, my realm is there, for those with eyes to see.”

“Very well. How do I get out of Midnight again?”

“The easiest way? Go to sleep.” Midnight was watching her intently now. “And your sleeping mind will seek the dawn.”

Ded Grib popped out from under a log.

“Where were you in all this excitement?” Vasya asked him.

“Hiding,” said the mushroom-spirit succinctly. “I am glad you are not dead.” He gave Midnight a nervous glance. “Better not go looking for the winter-king, though. You’ll get killed, and after I have gone through so much trouble to be your ally.”

“I must,” said Vasya. “He sacrificed himself for me.”

She saw Midnight’s eyes narrow. She was deadly serious, but she’d not spoken in the tones of a lovelorn maiden.