Zajushka

Anya’s hand shook as she accepted the teacup from Dotye.

“Careful!” Dotye’s chiding was gentle. “Smell the steam before you drink.”

Anya did as she was bidden, and as she inhaled the sweetly herbal, bergamot-scented steam, her eyes widened.

Dare she believe it?

“REAL Earl Grey?” she whispered, in an awe one could almost mistake for horror.

Dotye raised a finger to her lips, and nodded.

“From the days of long ago.” She gave a smile of mischief. “The GOOD days.”

“Shhh!” Anya’s eyes flickered to the corners of the rooms. “Everything has ears!”

“Even the corn!” exclaimed Rora, popping out from behind her mother, Anya’s, skirts.

“Whaaaat do you say, Zajushka? Corn has ears?” smiled Dotye. It was small wonder; no one could frown in the face of Rora’s earnest enthusiasm.

Anya chuckled too, then paused and set down her cup. Worry knitted her lovely but careworn brow.

“Dotye, how much did this cost you?”

“Never you mind, Anya, never you mind.” Dotye winked. Let’s just say, to the literati, the literate aren’t litter.”

Anya looked stricken.

“Your word-records!-” Everyone in New Petersburg knew better than to use a four-letter word like the b-word.

“-Are not as important as a little good cheer now and then.” Dotye said. “The Great Clock-maker knows we need it.”

she said, gesturing to the ceiling.

Anya had read Newton back in her school days too. She glared at the floor; it was surprising that gravity hadn’t been outlawed, too. THEY would have outlawed it if they could have. Anything they disapproved of, seemed to have a new restriction put in place overnight. Anya knew that they hadn’t tried simply because, if there was one thing they hated worse than freedom, it was humiliation, and Nature’s were the only knees that would not kneel to them.

She sighed. Based on the landfills, they’d have her by the throat soon enough.

Dotye caught Anya’s expression.

“Breathe, Sweetie. Let your mind hush, and just enjoy the tea. Thinking wins the day, but not the kind that goes in circles. You’re not a wind-up mousy, Sweetheart.”

Anya took a deep breath, and the aroma of the Earl Grey filled her nose. It smelled like peace and quiet, back in the days when reading was all that she wanted to do, and was also still an actual option.

Sipping the herbal infusion was slow, and decadent. A queen couldn’t know this kind of luxury; constant luxury dulls the senses, but a little indulgence, on very rare occasion, made the taste-buds sing.

Anya’s little one, Rora, had listened to the adults talking with quiet intensity on her small face, as she tried to parse out the secret meanings, but even the tiniest temperament becomes frustrated eventually.

“Tanta Dotye,” she asked her godmother, “please tell us a story! You always tell the best stories!”

Rora could make the elderly woman beam as no one else could, even though that was rarely Rora’s goal.

“Well, my little Zajushka,” said Dotye, with a sly glance to Anya,” I’m not sure my memory is so good anymore! You’ll have to remind me: what story did I tell last time?”

“We learned about pigs, and bricks, and a wicked wolf, Tanta Dotye!” recited Rora with pride, as she ticked the main points off on tiny, chubby fingers.

“And what did we learn, dear Rora?”

Rora blinked at he unexpected question, and thought deeply, her tiny nose crinkling with the effort.

“We learned that two of the pigs were not so bright,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Zajushka! Calling people unintelligent was NOT the point of the story!”

“But it’s TRUE, Tanta!”

“Little one, I will tell you a secret. It is VERY important, and I will only say it ONCE, so aim your little rabbit ears this way and listen carefully.”

Rora’s eyes widened. Tanta was using her serious voice. She nodded solemnly and sat perfectly still, ready to receive the message.

“The truth, my love, is not its own defense against evil. It is sometimes far better to be wise and quiet, than it is to spill the beans about what you know. Especially if that truth is used to insult someone else.”

“But why, Tanta? Won’t the truth set you free?”

“Not free of the consequences of speaking it, my little love.”

Anya made an exasperated noise, and her teacup clattered back into its saucer.

“Should we lie, then? Should we say that all of this-” she gestured around, at a loss for words-” all of this is GOOD?”

“NO.” Dotye’s word was ice-cold. “A lie like that could never be forgiven. Confusing lies with truth is stupidity. Replacing truth with lies is evil.”

Rora’s little eyes were wide; she had never seen Tanta angry before.

Dotye noticed her goddaughter’s face, and Dotye’s expression softened.

“No, little Love, we must be careful to whom we present the treasure of truth. For a good friend will be a safeguard of such truth, even in times of trouble.”

Rora’s face lit up in recognition. “The third pig, Tanta! Just like him- with the house of brick!”

“Exactly, my good Zajushka! Do you think the Good, Wise pig brother told the wicked wolf, ‘Oh, Mr. Wicked Wolf, I am building this wall to keep you out?’ “

“NO!” cried Rora, giggling.

Do you think that Good, Wise pig looked to his brothers and listened to their taunts, and said to himself, ‘Oh, Lazy Brothers, I was wrong, and it is better to build my house out of flimsy things so my job is easier?’ “

“NO!” Rora’s laugh burbled again.

“No, indeed my child, the third brother saw the truth of the matter, and held that truth in his heart, secret and safe, but he DID use that knowledge to prepare for the wolf, and maybe, just MAYBE, to protect his brothers, who” (and here she lowered her voice and whispered): “Maaaay not have been very bright!”

“Tanta Dotye! Naughty!” Rora smother her giggles behind her two chubby hands.

Dotye winked at Rora.

“Stories teach us much, and sometimes, we don’t know what they have taught us until we come to a problem, and we find we already know the answer. That is why a story is like a candle.”

“A candle?!” squeaked Rora. “How?’

“They light a fire in your heart, that keeps you safe and warm, my Love, no matter how cold and dark it gets around you.”

She scooped up her little goddaughter, and gave her a big hug.

“Safe and warm; always.”

Rora yawned, and hugged her godmother back gently.

She gave Dotye a meaningful look.

“How about that new story?” She smiled. “I did let you be wise; now it’s time for a story.”

Dotye’s laughter pealed throughout the small, dirty underground room.

“And it was so good of you to let me be wise, my Love! Little Stinker!”

She planted a smooch on Rora’s head. “You may have your story, but then bed, understood?”

“Yes Tanta.”

“Good.”

Anya smiled as she watched her toddler, enrapt in yet another of ‘Tanta’ Dotye’s fantastic tales.

“But the goats knew there was a troll under the bridge! Why didn’t they go a different way?”

Dotye’s eyes sparkled with suppressed glee.

“Very good point! You’re right, they should have! But the problem was that it was the only way to go where they needed to graze!”

As the animated chatter continued, Anya let her mind wander. It was so good to have Dotye in her life; the kind, elderly woman would have made a spectacular grandmother, if only…

Anya shook her head to clear her thoughts. Peter had been a very good man, but too courageous to survive for long. Perhaps it was for the best; this captivity was unbearable; it risked breaking her spirit- surely it would have crushed his.

She shook her head again. For the best? What kind of monstrous talk was that?! No, better to know the truth, teach the children in secret, and wait for the right time...for while there were children, there was hope.