Free Heart of Iron by Ekaterina Sedia Page A

already lost an entire afternoon of studying; I did not need to add a sleepless night to the list of my disadvantages.
    The next morning, Olga burst into my room to inform me of the events following my extraction from the examination room. It was a pandemonium, she said. There had been laughter and speculation, and Professor Ipatiev said rather loudly to the professor who had been examining me — his name turned out to be Parshin — that since I had not finished my exam, I should be required to retake it.
    I gasped at this point in the story, since I could think of nothing worse than being re-examined by Ipatiev who would surely not let me pass. It was just unfair, I thought — of course the professors knew more than the students, of course Ipatiev could fail me quite easily.
    Olga, however, wagged her finger in my direction, and continued. “Only as soon as he said it, Professor Parshin jumped up and said that yours was one of the best examinations he had ever had an honor of witnessing — I swear, he did say ‘honor.’ And then he took your examination booklet and wrote ‘Excellent’ in it, so Ipatiev and everyone else could see. I offered to take it to you.” Olga extracted my booklet from her muff and handed it to me, smiling. “I didn’t think Ipatiev could be taken aback, but there he was. Here, don’t leave that behind again.”
    “Not unless they decide to drag me to jail or something,” I muttered as I stared on the first page of the booklet, my first grade. Professor Parshin had beautiful penmanship.
    Olga’s voice intruded. “What was that about then?” she asked. “I don’t even know what happened to you at the club… and afterwards. And who is that Englishman who follows you around.”
    I did not want to place blame, but saw no way around it. “I thought you did not want to know.”
    Olga’s gaze met mine. “Surely you can understand my position. My father is a nobody, our family cannot shrug off political scandals.”
    “Neither can mine,” I said. After I gave it some thought, I touched Olga’s hand. “But I see your point, and it would be more dangerous to you.”
    Olga beamed. “Now that they let you go, everything is well again, right? Well, come on! We have to be on campus in an hour or so, and you can tell me of your exploits on the way.”
    I let her drag me cheerfully along, but my thoughts remained troubled. For one, I did not share Olga’s happy certainty that everything was well again, or even if such a possibility existed. My idea of things going well was not compatible with disappearances of my friends, or with being arrested and questioned for inquiring about their whereabouts.
    It was unseasonably warm that day, and we still had time, so we decided to sit down on a park bench — not far from the Palace Bridge, with the view of the river, yellow and red with floating leaves, and Nevsky Prospect and the Palace Square on the other side. St. Isaac’s dome blazed like fire, and Alexander’s Column shone in the sun. It was easy to imagine it as molten gold touched by sunbeams reaching down from heaven. I looked toward Gorokhovaya, and even though I could not see it, I imagined the five-storied building with police and seemingly innocuous clerks and functionaries inside. Really, a city this beautiful had no right to have such a loathsome, shriveled heart. I tasted the bitterness in the air, the metallic under taste of the approaching rain, and felt pensive.
    “Well?” Olga said. “Who is he?”
    It made no sense to make as if I did not know of whom she spoke. I told her about Jack. I told her about the night at the Crane Club and the horrible Nikolashki, of Wong Jun’s arrest. I downplayed the drama of Jack’s appearance and mentioned only that he helped me escape, never explaining his propensity to fall out of the sky and commit violence against the secret police, who then for some reason treated him as if he were royalty. Really, even without the exams my mind was