Free Scarlet in the Snow by Sophie Masson Page B

the longer we sat together, the closer I felt to them. And the more I became uncomfortable at the fact I had no name for him in my mind. ‘Sir, I understand why I cannot know your true name, but is there none I might know you by? “Sir” is simply not good enough.’
    He shot Luel a glance.
    She shook her head. ‘There is no name we can safely give that truly belongs to him.’
    ‘Then will it be all right if I invent my own?’ I asked, daringly.
    They both stared at me. Then Luel said slowly, ‘Do you have any objections, my lord?’
    He shook his shaggy head. ‘As long as you do not call me after Peskov,’ he said, and his lips curled back. To my astonishment – and Luel’s – I realised that he had made a joke. A small, weak joke, to be sure, but a joke nonetheless.
    I smiled. ‘Set your mind at ease; I would not give that name to a frog croaking in the swamp! I was thinking of Ivan, because it is a name both so common in our country that it must make it difficult to track, and yet also the name of many legendary heroes who triumph over great odds.’
    ‘Ivan! Why not? It is a good name,’ he said, with a lilt in his voice I’d never heard before. ‘Do you not think so, Luel?’
    ‘I think it is excellent,’ the old woman replied, and there was genuine admiration in her eyes as she glanced at me. ‘I think it is most excellent, my lord,’ she added, ‘and it fits you like a glove.’
    ‘I only wish that gloves would fit me so well,’ said Ivan, with a wry glance at one hairy clawed hand. That was his second joke, all the more remarkable because it addressed the very source of his pain. From that moment he became Ivan, and the invented name made his besieged humanity more real to me than anything else could have done.
    Later, much later, Ivan fell gently asleep in front of the fire, and Luel motioned to me to tiptoe out. In the corridor, with the door closed behind us, she turned to me and said, with real emotion, ‘My dear, dear child, ask of me whatever you will and I will give it to you if it is in my power to do so.’
    ‘Luel,’ I said uncomfortably, ‘I must tell you that I did not agree to – to . . . what you’d asked of me.’
    ‘I know,’ she said. ‘He told me. He was glad. He was unhappy with me, that I had even asked you.’ She paused.‘Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there
is
another way. And perhaps you have found it.’
    ‘Do you think so?’ I said, with incredulous hope.
    ‘I don’t know yet. But in just a few hours you have done what I could not do in all these years. You have pushed back the darkness for more than a few minutes. His eyes – did you notice? There is more colour in them now.’
    ‘Yes,’ I said, then impulsively added, ‘and that makes me happy, Luel.’ It was true. In that instant, I was purely, brightly happy.
    She put a hand on my arm. ‘Ah, my dear, dear Natasha. I bless the storm that brought you to our door. And I want so much to give you something in return for what you have done. Is there anything – aside from what you know I cannot give you – that you might want?’
    ‘Might I be allowed to use the mirror sometimes? I know I cannot go home, but if I could speak to my family – if I could see my home – then it would not be so hard for me.’ I hadn’t planned it, the words had just come out of my mouth, and as soon as they did, I knew it was truly the only thing I wanted.
    She smiled. ‘Of course,’ she said softly. ‘Tomorrow I will teach you how to use the mirror, and you will be able to consult it as often as you wish.’ Her tone changed. ‘But beware! On no account must you try to see anything beyond the walls of your home, or speak to anyone other than your family. And you must not tell them the truth but keep to that story you invented or we will all be in great danger. Do you promise?’
    ‘Of course,’ I cried joyfully. ‘Oh, Luel, thank you! Thank you!’ I reached over and planted a kiss on her cool cheek, making her