Words on Fire

He gave me a quizzical expression but halted the horses. I slung the sack over my shoulders again, with my father’s shoulder bag beneath that, then continued on down the lane. I’d only rounded the second bend before a voice called out in Russian for me to stop. And I did.

Six soldiers on horseback were waiting by the roadside. I scanned them from one end to the other, increasingly certain that I’d made a terrible mistake. By the time I reached the final man, I knew this was worse than a mistake. It was a disaster.

Officer Rusakov was staring at me, brows pressed low. It hadn’t yet been even two weeks since he had arrested my parents, burned my home, and chased me into the woods. Would he recognize me? Ben had known who my parents were on his first glance at my face; was it that obvious who I was?

Rusakov had already seen me coming, and his eyes narrowed as he directed his horse to the center of the road to intercept me. Maybe he didn’t know who I was. Maybe he looked at everyone that way—like they were a criminal. A fugitive. Was that what I was now?

He’d only seen me from behind as I ran from him, and only for a brief moment.

But he had seen me.

My knees went wobbly, but if I tried to run now, that would be an absolute admission of my guilt. And besides, less than three minutes behind me, Ben and Lukas were about to pass along this very road with a wagon full of books. I thought again of my parents, and especially my father, who I guessed had done the actual transport of books. What would he do right now?

Magic. My father would do magic. I wished I knew a disappearance trick, either to make the soldiers vanish or me, I really didn’t care which.

Rusakov addressed me in that same low voice that had haunted my dreams every night for the past two weeks. “Do I know you?” His brows were pressed low, already suspecting I intended to lie to him. That had been the plan, but I was so nervous, I’d give myself away if I lied. I’d have to play carefully with the truth.

“We’ve never met,” I said. And if we had met, I’d be dead right now.

“Which village are you from?”

I tilted my head back to where I’d just been. “That one.” Whatever its name. I felt foolish for not having bothered to ask for the place’s name.

He was staring at me so closely that I wished I could melt away to nothing. Could he hear the pounding of my heart? Did he know the true reason my breaths were coming in such quick gasps? Rusakov dismounted and walked a full circle around me with his arms folded.

“Your blouse has dirt stains … perhaps from the forest?”

“It’s the only dress I own. I’m sure it’s stained from many things.” At least I had the new apron from Milda. Otherwise, he’d have been sure to recognize me.

“And what are you doing out here?”

I slid the sack off my shoulder and dug into it, pulling out a handful of scraps for him to see.

“Would you care to buy these? I’m not allowed home until I’ve sold them all.”

Rusakov frowned and yanked the sack out of my hands. He pushed one arm downward through the fabric while with the other hand he felt around the outside of the bottom of the bag. He could search all he wanted—the book wasn’t there anymore. When he failed to find anything, he shoved the sack back at me.

But it hardly meant I was out of trouble. “You say you’re not allowed home until all of these have sold? Where is your home?”

“Back in the—”

“Who are your parents?”

My mind went blank. I had no idea what to say or do. Nor did he need my answer.

“You are Miss Zikaris,” he said. “You used to live on a farm near Šiluva.”

I began trembling, so much that he surely could see. The corner of his lip curled.

“Your parents have been given a life sentence in Siberia,” Rusakov said. “They’ll leave on the next train, in two days, and you will never see them again.”

“Please, sir—”

“What would you give to bring them home? What would you do?”

“Anything. Please.”

He arched a brow. “Anything? I wonder if that’s true.” His eye flicked past me to the road. Ben’s wagon was only around the bend now. Within seconds, he would come into view. Rusakov crouched down to look directly at me. “Are those your friends coming? Did they send you here to distract me?”