and malice she had sensed in Baba Yaga, that was the most terrifying of all. And yet all these fears did not diminish her joy, for this was the moment she had lived for. All those years ago, learning from Baba Tila, she had thought these charms and potions, spells and curses were to protect her family from the KGB or from some future pogrom. But now she saw that her whole life had been directed toward this moment, when she could protect the future queen and king of Taina from the most dangerous witch in history. And, more than her own pride, she was joyful because she saw her son growing into his manhood now. He, too, had been directed in his life - all that running, jumping, hurling of shot and discus and javelin, it seemed so foolish to Piotr and to Esther both; yet because of it he was able to get past the Bear and kiss the sleeping beauty. He and his father had learned to be as fluent in Old Church Slavonic as any two people alive, which proved to be vital for Vanya.
But who was doing all this directing? Was it a god? More to the point, was it God? And if the latter, was he helping them because they were Jews? Or helping Taina because it was a Christian kingdom? Or simply shaping the world to be able to put an end to Baba Yaga's great evil?
Or was there a fate greater than all gods, that could not bear a truly great malice, and had to bend reality, including a backward passage through time, until that malice could be put to rest?
There were no answers to such questions, of course. And in truth, Esther was not interested in them past the asking. Enough for her that whatever had chosen her and her son, they had so far been up to the challenge. It had worried her, watching Vanya grow up, that while he sometimes worried her and did not always choose wisely - look at Ruthie - he was nevertheless good, in some hidden place in his heart where the deepest choices are made. Any rule of life that he truly believed in, he obeyed; any course of action that he thought was right, he pursued. Resentfully, sometimes, but he did his duty.
Perhaps that's how the great ones are chosen, she thought. No outward sign of genius. Vanya was clever enough in school, an apt scholar, a good athlete. But no one would have picked him as the one to stand against a terrible enemy. No one would have expected him to be a hero.
Even now, Esther could see that neither Vanya nor Katerina expected him to be the one to stand against the witch. He was going to help train the knights and villagers with new weapons, but it was Katerina who was princess, Katerina who was bound around with the enchantments her aunts had created for her. And they might be right. It might be Katerina who faced the witch and beat her, perhaps in battle, perhaps simply by surviving and having babies. Endurance, after all, was a kind of victory; a kind of heroism, too.
And that would be good enough for Esther, too. Let them live. Let them love each other. Let them have babies that grow to adulthood, not just one but many of them. Even if they live in another time, another world, where I never see them, where I'm only a story to them, a name without a face, so be it, if my son and his bride can live. That is joy - joy in the midst of grief, perhaps, and loneliness, but joy and triumph all the same.
Katerina came to her in the night. She was restless - worrying about seeing Ruthie again, she said. But that wasn't all, Esther knew. And sure enough, Katerina soon led her down to the shelf in the garage where she had put the basin in which the still water had shown her Vanya's face.
"A black bowl?" asked Katerina.
"It showed me Vanya when he was with you," said Esther.
"I've heard of it, but never seen it."
"You can only look at one you love deeply," said Esther. "It isn't always satisfying."
"There's more to it than that," said Katerina. "If it's large enough, a black pool, you can see a place and then leap into the water and go there. I think that's how the Widow followed us."