When there was a crack big enough for me to get my head through, I squeezed inside. All I could see were cobwebs, dust, and darkness, broken up only by the meager light that seeped through the dirty windows. I glanced around and heard something rustling in the far corner.

  “Rat?” I asked and, just in case, got ready to use ice cover. I didn’t have to, however. Whatever was living there got scared and ran away. I stepped further into the shed to examine its treasures. A shovel, a rake, a couple of buckets, a hatchet, and an axe with nicks on the blade.

  Not too bad. What’s more, there was one window at the front of the shed and one at the back. They looked to be exactly the same size as the ones in the house. Excellent. I took the axe, slung it over my shoulder, and went back outside.

  “Well then, you damn weeds, it’s time to say your prayers,” I roared, looking at the hand the thistle had stung. Then I began to swing the axe, cutting down everything left and right. The dry weeds crackled and snapped under my blows, showering tons of dust down on me. However, I was in such a frenzy that I managed to ignore my watering eyes and endless sneezing. By the time I’d cut a path to the sauna, I realized that I already had blisters on my palms. Hmm, that was even faster than I’d expected.

  I went up to the sauna door, inserted the axe blade between it and the doorframe, and exerted a little pressure. A crack appeared. I pulled the door toward me and was immediately overwhelmed by the smell of oak branches. Oh, my lord, it was glorious! In my past life, I’d gone to the sauna every Monday. A strange habit for an archmage, you say? Maybe, but I loved it.

  Opening the door, I went into the anteroom, which had a bench that could seat three, a small table, and a mirror. To the left was the door to the steam room. I dug at it with the axe, and it opened too. Surprisingly, there was no mold in the steam room even though, judging by the color of the boards, it was damp in there. Most probably, the timber had been treated with something.

  A stove surrounded by large stones stood by the far well. To the right of it was a stack of firewood. I went over and picked up a log. It was heavy, although dry on the outside. I was willing to bet that inside the wood was damp. I put it down on the wooden floor and hit it with axe, which cut it to the halfway point and then got stuck.

  “Dammit,” I panted, lifting the axe with the log on it above my head.

  The next instant, I lost my balance and very nearly flopped on my back. Spinning neatly on my axis, I turned, shifted my grip on the axe, and slammed the back of the blade against the floor. The log split in half. Inside, it was indeed a little damp, but that didn’t matter — as long as it caught fire, it would dry out in the stove.

  While I was looking around, I heard the whistle of the scythe already very close. Mog had managed to reach the sauna, and he pulled open the door with a powerful yank.

  “What do you think?” he asked, glancing into the steam room with a fond look in his eyes. It was obvious the place held a lot of both happy and sad memories for him.

  “We can pry off ve shed windows, ven heat ve sauna,” I answered with a smile.

  “I see you’ve got your priorities right. Come on, give me ve axe and I’ll go pull out vose windows,” he chuckled, teasing me.

  “Good luck wiv vat,” I said, handing him axe and heading back to the house.

  Mom had swept the floors, but it hadn’t made much difference. It wasn’t sweeping they needed, it was a thorough wash. I’d have been happy to help her and fetch water, except that I couldn’t even reach the rim of the well. Also, I wasn’t sure that I could carry a three-gallon bucket without spilling it everywhere. In the end, Mom had to do it herself.

  It took her a couple of minutes to return with a bucket of water. She stared at the floor, coated in a black layer of dust and filth, sighed heavily and simply poured the whole bucket on it. The puddle spread throughout the house. Mom took an old mop handle from the corner by the stove, wrapped the head in a rag that had once been part of my sheet, and began to wash the floor.

  I stood and watched her, feeling fairly useless. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, so I decided to find myself something to do. I took one of my shirts, soaked it in water, and began to wipe the dining table and chairs in the kitchen.

  While we were cleaning up, Mog came in, holding two windowpanes in his hands. Apparently, he’d decided that, rather than change the entire frames, it was a lot easier just to replace the broken glass. He walked across the washed floor, leaving dirty footprints, and Mom gave him a very reproachful look.

  “You started cleaning the floors too early, Yelizaveta Maksimovna,” he grunted, holding Mom’s stare.

  She could barely stop herself from screaming at the special operative. In the end, she just sighed heavily and came into the kitchen to help me. Mog, meanwhile, bent back the nails that were holding the glass in the frame, through the shards outside, then put the new panes in and bent the nails back into place. With the chill wind banished to the yard, the house immediately felt cozier.

  “Well, Stanislav Karlovich, is it time to wash the floors yet?” asked Mom tartly.

  “Past time,” Mog answered with a smile, but Mom just rolled her eyes, pretending to be offended. The captain fell for her act, although I could see her smile as she went into the other room. I guess that was what passed for flirting in this world.

  While Mom was washing the floors, I ran off to fetch firewood. I couldn’t carry much, but I did manage to return with four logs. Mog, meanwhile, was up to something in the shed, swearing loudly. I glanced through the door and saw him digging around in a crate of old rags.

  “Mog, have you got any matches?” I asked.

  “Taken up smoking, have you?” he said and, without looking at me, held out a box of matches.

  “Better still, I’m going to burn vis whole place down,” I answered, taking the matches from his hand.

  “Good for you,” he grunted, then a second later he realized what I’d said. “What the hell? I’ll burn you down if you don’t watch it. Give me back those matches!”

  I giggled and ran back to the house. Mog didn’t chase after me, he just yelled, and even that was just to keep up appearances. Pausing on the stoop, I glanced around the yard. Next to the collapsed fence was a massive pile of dry mown weeds. I doubted that I’d find any newspaper in the house to the light the fire with, so they would have to do. I dug around in the pile to find what I thought would be the least stinky plants and took an armful back to the house.

  “Oh, Misha, where are you taking that all that trash?” asked Mom despondently when she saw the pile of weeds in my hands.

  I saw that, while she’d been washing the floors, her lips had turned blue. It was April, but without any heating, cleaning with icy well water was bound to be an ordeal.

  “I’m going to light ve stove and warm you up,” I replied briskly, taking off my shoes and heading into the kitchen.

  The stove was old, made of red bricks coated with clay and then whitewashed — a classic design. There was a section for wood, an ash pan, and a damper to control the airflow. I cleaned the ash pan, threw the weeds in the stove, and put the four logs on top of them. Then I struck a match and started coughing.

  The vent was closed, and all the smoke went straight into the room. I immediately moved the damper to the right, and the fire got a draft under it. The flames flared up, the wood caught slowly, and the logs began to hiss and crackle. I closed the firebox door and caught Mom staring at me admiringly.

  “I had no idea they’d teach you how to light a stove at that school of yours.”

  “Erm, well, yes, vey tell us about all sorts of fings vere,” I gabbled, glancing nervously at the door. “I’ll go get some more firewood.”

  Mom just smiled and watched me go. Damn, it hadn’t occurred to me what it would be like living together. Now I’d have to think about every move I made and try not to blurt out anything unsuitable. On the other hand, it was probably too late — I’d already said and done too many strange things. The good thing was that she was my mom, and she wouldn’t betray me. Would she?

  I ran out the door and straight into the captain.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, holding two bags of rags in his hands.

  “To get firewood. Ve house won’t burn properly. It’s too damp,” I said with a laugh.

  “Very funny,” frowned Mog, handing me the two bags. “There are clothes for you in one of these, and for you mom in the other. If you put on these old rags, you’ll fit in with the locals. Go on back, I’ll bring the firewood myself.”

  I went back into the house and gave the bags to my mother. She, meanwhile, was trying to toss the yellowing mattress off the bed. Mog came in with a pile of firewood, stacked it next to the stove, and then called us all into the kitchen.

  “So, we have enough provisions for exactly one meal,” he said, pointing to a box of MREs standing on the table. “Let’s eat and go to bed.”

  “What are we going to eat tomorrow?” asked Mom, frowning.

  In answer to her question, Mogila rubbed his temples, as if he’d suddenly got a headache.

  “Well, Yelizaveta Maksimovna, what we’re going to eat tomorrow is whatever we ourselves cook. You know how to cook, don’t you?”

  “What am I, your scullery maid?” asked Mom indignantly.

  “If you want to eat well and not break your back slaving away at three jobs, then yes, that’s what you’ll have to be,” growled Mog.

  “Ooh, here comes our first family argument,” I said, rolling my eyes. Then I climbed on the bench and ripped open the box of MREs. “While you two are fighting, I’m going to eat, if vat’s okay wiv you.”

  The first can I pulled out was rice pudding and meat. Mog immediately snatched it from me: “What are you doing? Heat it up before you eat it. Those are disgusting when they’re cold!”

  He dug around in the box, pulled out two more cans, and put all three on the stove. Mom kept an eye on him, trying to hide her smile.

  Ten minutes later, dinner was ready. Mog brought the cans back to the table and opened them. He didn’t take one, however, preferring to wait while we chose what we wanted. Well, what can I say? The meat and rice were perfectly edible. I’d definitely had worse at school. The only thing I didn’t appreciate was the excessive fat. Scraping around in the bottom of the can, I ended up with grease up to my elbows.

  After that, I ate something absolutely tasteless called hardtack. Even toilet paper would’ve been better. Fortunately, the coffee drink was sweet and able to wash away the unpleasant sensation the cracker left in my mouth. Mom noticed too late that I was drinking coffee and tried to take it away from me, but I swilled it all down before she had the chance.

  Mom picked at her can of pilaf, drank her apple juice, and went off to bed. There was a tense pause as both Mog and I stared at her uneaten pilaf and gulped in unison.

  “Dibs I get half,” I said greedily, my eyes fixed on the can.

  “You little piggy,” he chuckled, pushing the can toward me. “Tuck in.”

  He turned away and gazed out of the window. Clearly he was still hungry, and it was taking him all his willpower not to snatch food from a two-year-old. However, I could be gracious too. As I’d promised, I only ate half, then pushed the can over to the captain.

  “Fanks for the meal,” I said, and went to join Mom.

  “Did you light the stove yourself?” he asked as I was leaving.

  “Wiv ve help of ve lord.”

  “Oof, you little pain in the ass,” he chuckled, then tucked into the remains of the pilaf.

  Going into the bedroom, I noticed that Mom had hung the sheet she’d been using to clean the floor over the window as there weren’t any curtains. She’d thrown out the mattress earlier, and now she’d spread out all the clothing Mogila had given us on top of the wooden frame. She looked at me and smiled.

  “Want to sleep next to the wall or on the edge?”

  “On ve edge,” I said without thinking and climbed into bed.

  It was, to say the least, a hard bed. To be quite honest, I’d have preferred to sleep in the car. There weren’t any pillows, either. All I could do was tuck an arm under my head, not to mention… Mom pulled me gently toward her and hugged me, and all my indignation melted away instantly in the tenderness of the moment. I fell asleep before I could form another thought. Amazingly, even the coffee couldn’t keep me awake.

  I was awoken by a calloused hand pressed over my mouth. It was Mogila. He put a finger to his lips to keep me quiet. I nodded and carefully climbed out of bed, trying not to wake Mom. It was still dark outside and it was horribly cold. The stove must’ve gone out overnight. I followed the captain, and we tiptoed like little mice out of the house, quietly closing the door behind us.

  I looked up at the sky. The moon was only just giving way to the sun. What time was it? Four or five in the morning? And what the hell had Mog got me up so early for?

  “Get changed,” he said, handing me a very worn blue tracksuit and sneakers.

  Without the energy to argue, I pulled the new outfit on. The tracksuit had a hole in one armpit the size of my fist, and the soles were beginning to come off the sneakers.

  “What’s all vis for?” I asked, stretching and yawning.

  “You’re coming training with me. What, did you think now you’ve left the school there wouldn’t be any more classes?”

  “Is ve great Mog going to teach me ve art of driving?” I laughed, and immediately had to dodge a clip around the ear.

  “Enough backtalk! Follow me, quick march,” said Mog quietly, and we began to run along the narrow street.

  The locals were beginning to emerge from their crooked houses. Some were off to work, others to feed their livestock. All of them looked at us like we were complete idiots — an outsize lunk running along with a toddler less than half his height panting to keep up behind him.

  The locals obviously didn’t go in for sport — they were too busy trying not to die of hunger. They just couldn’t understand why we were burning so much energy running. Eventually, we got to May Street, and from there we ran straight down to the Serga River. The total distance was around a mile, which was enough for me to warm up and stop feeling the cold.

  “Get your clothes off. We’re going to swim against the current,” said Mog when we got to the riverbank.

  “Do we really have to?” I asked unenthusiastically. I really had no desire to swim.

  “Quick!” barked Mog, giving me a stern look.

  “What ve hell did I save your life for? If I’d only just let you die, I wouldn’t have to get in vat damn river,” I muttered, pulling off my top. The captain had no desire to listen to any more of my moaning, however. He grabbed by the armpits and ran to the water. “Let go of me, you great big fug!” I hollered, just a second before Mog threw me into the middle of the river.

  The icy water burned my skin and took my breath away. I came to the surface and paddled for the bank, where Mogila was smiling smugly. As soon as I tried to reach the shallows and put my feet down, he jumped into the water and pushed me back.

  “I said we’re going to swim against the current.”

  “And I say I’m going to freeze your balls off!” I said furiously and used frost cover.

  That was a stupid idea. The water froze around me, surrounding me with ice on all sides, and only my head remained above the surface. The next second, the chunk of ice flipped over, pushing my head underwater. If it hadn’t been for Mog, I’d have drowned. He pulled me out onto the riverbank and smashed the ice with his bare fists. The ice shattered on the grass and I, still furious, forced myself to say: “Fank you for saving me. I guess we’re even now.”

  “You’re welcome,” chuckled Mog. “Now, get back in the water and swim against the current. That way, you’ll warm up and give all the muscles in your body a quick workout. You see, Misha, I’m not making you do this for the fun of it…” Before he could finish, I got up and silently followed his orders.

  If you’ve never swum against the current, I recommend you try it. It’s a very tiring exercise. It took a huge amount of effort to just to stay in one place , and every ounce of strength I had to move forward. When I was absolutely exhausted, Mog let me go back to the bank.

  “Rest for a couple of minutes, and we’ll head home for breakfast,” he said in fatherly tone. “You worked well today, though your head’s still full of nonsense.”

  “Like yours,” I laughed.

  “Runs in the family,” he said with a smile.

  “Can I ask a personal question?”

  “Ask away. I’ll answer it if I can. If I can’t, I’ll tell you to go to hell,” he said cheerfully, then looked at me expectantly.

  “Do you like my mom?”

  Mog immediately went red and blustered, before saying in a threatening tone: “I see someone’s a little too clever, aren’t they?”

  “Yeah, it’s a problem I have,” I said smugly. “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you became my new dad.”

  As I said it, I realized I had no idea why I was bringing up the subject. Maybe I was trying to make Mom’s life a little happier. Or maybe I really did respect Mogila and think that I’d like to have a man like that as my dad. After all, I’d never even seen my real father in the flesh. I just had to live with the consequences of his foolishness. My words made the captain even more embarrassed. He stood up, shook himself off, and started walking back home.

  “Maybe you wouldn’t mind, but I definitely wouldn’t get a pat on the head from Arkharov. Your mom really is beautiful, but I’m not going to get myself hanged for her sake,” he said, turning away from me.

  “Idiot.”

  Mog was undercover in Mikhailovsk, and nobody knew my mom there, so what was he afraid of? Was it a fear of getting attached to her? Either way, we walked home in silence. When our new home came in sight, I had a sense of vague unease. My Animal Instinct had kicked in again.

  Chapter 15

  MOGILA HAD BARELY GOT THE GATE OPEN when he was viciously attacked. She came racing across the yard like a wildcat and swung her claws with all her might, aiming for the captain’s cheek. Without blinking, Mog grabbed my mom’s arm and stared at her uncomprehendingly.

 

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