Free Yvgenie by C.J. Cherryh Page B

and I come as close to doing it us anyone. We're deeply sorry we scared you. We're sorry w e didn't warn you—but we never foresaw this, we abso lutely didn't foresee it—though maybe we should have. Our wizardry failed us. If it's not our fault, certainly it's not yours. ’
    A series of little breaths, a quiet sob, and she leaned her haul against him. ‘ Uncle, I think I love him. I don't even know. ’
    ‘ I know, I know. I wouldn't doubt—he was an extraordinary man. ’
    '' Man?'' She pushed back against his chest. Tear-wet eyes looked up at him, wide and shocked.
    ‘ He's well over a hundred. So's your mother, mousekin. Your father's less than half that. And I'm the youngest, except for you. Your mother died when she was sixteen— ’
    ‘ My mother's not my mothe r ? ’
    ‘ Oh, 'Veshka's ver y much your mother, mouse. But did die. And Chernevog had something to do with that, killed her. ’
    The mouse opened her mouth and looked suddenly as she might pass out. Quick as thinking, he grabbed her a nd made her sit down on the bottom rail of the gate, right whe re she was, and he knelt in the stableyard dust, pressing her c hilled hands in his.
    ‘ It might be romantic to say what you're feeling right now is shock, mousekin, but the fact is, it's also what comes dealing with rusalki. He's very dangerous. Very attract ive. The way Babi guards stableyards and vodyaniye live in wa ter—attraction is a rusalka's nature. And they feel very goo d. —Are you going to faint?''
    She made a little gasp, getting her breath, and shook her head bravely.
    ‘ That's my girl. You'll be all right. ’ His heart said stop now, stop telling the child what had to hurt her. But cold good sense said keep going as long as he had her whole attention: it might not come again, not in her whole life, or his. ‘ Your mother drowne d on that shore. A vodyanoi car ried her body to a cave north of here—yes, that vodyanoi, the one I chastised a moment ago—stay with me, now, mousekin! Chernevog murdered her and her bones lay in that cave under an old willow's roots a hundred years before your father found them. Do you know why the trees in the yard are the oldest trees about? Why all this woods is, as forests go, quite young? Your mother killed this woods, your mother damned near killed your father—not mentioning a number of innocent people she did kill, men, women, and children she drew the life right out of them. Ask your mother about rusalki, little mouse. No one knows more than she does about that kind of ghost. She was one.''
    She looked at him as if she were sleepwalking, eyes wide tear-tracks drying on her cheeks. Her hands were like ice unresponsive to his.
    'She's not dead, ’ she said, hardly a sound at all. ‘ My m other's not dead— ’
    ‘ Your grandfather is. That was what it cost to get her back. ’
    E yes blinked. Like a wince. Be felt that: it had not been her mother she had been thinking of when she had whispered an instant ago, Not dead … And that: What it cost … had killed her last hope. Dead. Dead beyond recovery.
    ‘ Yes, he is, mouse. Don't even imagine that kind of ex chan ge. Wizards are hard to kill. We're very hard to kill and by what I've seen, we're very hard to convince we're dead. B ut I saw him die. There's no doubt of it. ’
    ‘ Can't you let him have Owl back? ’
    ‘ Mouse, he's dead. Owl's dead. They have no place in this world. Where they're buried, if they're buried, shouldn't matter to them. Owl held his heart once. That kind of crea ture ’ s as tenacious as any wizard. Like your grandfather and his one-eyed raven. They're gone. Wherever they are, they do n 't belong here, and if you are in love with Kavi Chernevog then believe this: what he has right now is not life, it's a he ll I saw your mother go through. She loved your father — and in spite of her absolute best intentions, she would have kille d him, she would have killed him just as surely as rain fa lls and fire burns. If