had this girded about his loins, playing at being a girl. Ask them both, and see if they tell you the truth."
"How do you know this?"
"Didn't they walk right past me, not seeing me, overlooking me as folks always do?"
"I don't," Nadya reminded her.
"He cast it away, and I picked it up and brought it here. Because I think the people of Taina should know what kind of wickedness is in the heart of the man who thinks he can marry the dear princess."
"But... she wouldn't marry him if he were that kind of man," said Nadya.
"She would, if she thought that's what it took to keep Taina free of the great and powerful Pretender."
"May I - may I keep this? To show?"
"Go ahead," said the old woman. "I have no use for it." Her supper finished, she arose to go. "But I fear the vengeance of this stranger, if it's known who told his secret."
"I don't fear him," said Nadya. "He doesn't look strong enough to lead a dog on a leash."
"You're a brave one indeed," said the old lady. "You think that because you're virtuous and kind, and your son is a priest, and your husband a - "
"Sergei's only a scribe, not a priest," Nadya said.
"As if it matters."
"You were saying?"
"I was just telling you that you're not as safe as you think," said the old lady. "There are some people so malicious, so delighted in evildoing, that even when you treat them kindly, they answer with a curse."
"I hope I never meet such a wicked person." But Nadya entertained a moment's concern that perhaps the old lady was telling a secret about herself. Could this woman possibly have been the cause of the death of each of her babies? Of Sergei's crooked leg? Of the fall from a tree that ruined it further?
She searched her visitor's face. The old lady looked back at her, unblinking, bearing her gaze, showing no sign of guilt or shame - nor of malice or triumph. Only a look of genuine concern. Impossible to imagine that this woman had ever done her harm. It was wicked of Nadya even to have entertained the thought.
Nadya held up the tattered hoose. "Is it wrong of me to tell of this?"
"I don't know what's wrong or right," said the old lady. "The princess seems not to mind. But what of the men who might follow this... person into battle? Will God fight on their side, with such a man as king?"
Nadya thought of her husband. Of the vicious combat that stopped Baba Yaga's army when they first attacked. How defeat looked certain, until King Matfei cried out for his men to have courage, and then plunged headlong into the thick of the battle, beating down every sword raised against him. They could not let such a king risk his life for them, not without companions fighting with equal fervor at his side. It was the king who gave them heart.
What heart would this stranger give to anyone? How many lives would be lost, with him at the front of battle? God forbid there should ever be another war, of course, but if the choice was between war now, while Matfei still ruled, or war later, when this weakling was on the throne, better to fight it now. Let there be no marriage, and let Baba Yaga come in claiming to rule by right; the swords of the men of Taina, led by King Matfei, would show them what Baba Yaga's claims were worth.
"I might tell Father Lukas," said Nadya. "I might show this to my son."
"Might?"
If she did tell, Nadya knew, it would break Matfei's heart, and would shame Katerina. After all, if the princess chose not to tell it, then there must be good reason, mustn't there? Who was Nadya, to speak when the great ones kept silent?
"Maybe," said Nadya.
"Well, do what you will with it," said the old lady. "You've always done right by me. I imagine you'll do right by the people of Taina."
"I'll try," said Nadya.
Ivan woke to see a hooded face looming over him. He cried out and shrank into a corner of his bedstead. Almost at once, though, he realized that his visitor was a young priest. Or monk. Or something.
"Father Lukas?" asked Ivan.
"What?" answered the man.
Ivan realized that he had spoken in Russian. But proto-Slavonic wasn't that different. "Are you Father Lukas?"
"No," said the man. "I'm Brother Sergei. Not a priest at all."
That would explain his native-sounding