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Authors: CJ Cherryh

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25

Don't wish, dear, Draga said, don't wish yet
...

Whatever you do, dear, don't do anything short-sighted, make any decision until you know the height and the width of it.

Chase away the straying thoughts, chase everything away. This is the simplest wish you'll ever make. It
must
be the simplest.


There's not forever, dear. Not if you sit too long.

Eveshka sat with her chin on her knees, staring desperately into the hearthfire Draga tended through the night.

Wish
nothing
until you're sure.

But Papa said—kept running through her mind. Papa had said, It's a damned fool
who wishes more magic than he's
born with
...

Papa had been with her on the boat, she truly believed
that
had been no shapeshifter—she had thought about it and thought about it and she had resolved that doubt in her mind. Papa
had
not been able to stop her from coming here, papa was dead and his presence in the world had grown very faint, but papa had stayed with her and, changed by his death and being again the kind man of her earliest childhood, had feared for her,
had
watched over her on the river, had wished—

Wished her asleep, most of the time.

Why?

To wish things for her and her baby she would not remember?

To wish things against her mother?


Your father's dead,

Draga said, feeding more twigs into the fire, a fistful of herbs, that flew up on the draft, all sparks, into the red-smoked dark. ‘‘The dead don't always tell the truth. Your father didn't want you out of his hands either. Don't deal with him. You might be his bridge back to the world. Your child might be. Don't think about him. Forget him. The dead have to be forgotten. Think of what truly matters.

She thought about Pyetr, but that led at once to thoughts of Kavi holding him prisoner, doing hateful things, spiteful, terrible things to him. Her mother said, quickly,

Don't! Think of flowers. Blue flowers, dear, blue and white—

...
Spells stitched in hems, spells against too much memory, spells to keep the ghosts at bay.

Spells for forgetting the dark, one stitch and the next, blue thread, green thread, colors the dead could recall but never, ever
see.

That was what it was to be dead, and she never wanted to die again, she never wanted anything she loved to
die...


Flowers!

her mother said.

Be careful, daughter!

She thought of the garden at home, careful rows, thought of her own front porch and the fireside in the evenings, the three of th
em happy and snug in that house…


Sasha's coming
here,

her mother murmured, stirring the embers. The smoke smelled of papaver, and hemp, and strong and dangerous herbs, making her nose sting and her chest burn and her eyes swim.

I know that he is. He's running here for help. But he's dealt with Kavi. He's compromised himself already. I know that, too.


I don't!

Eveshka protested, and for a moment thoughts went scattering and wild.

He'd deal with him only as he had to.


Kavi asks a great deal. Your young friend has
afforded
Kavi a foothold. That's all Kavi asks. You know that, dear. That's all K
a
vi's ever needed. I don't know this young man—you do. But older and wiser wizards than he have made that mistake, haven't they? Deal with Kavi—when your husband's life is in the balance? Kavi seems so reasonable when he wants you to do him
favors. He wouldn't hurt your husband, no, the whole world treats Kavi ill, he's only seemed to be a villain—forget he murdered you: he was young, then; he'd not really harm Pyetr. No matter that he's bestowed his heart on him—


Oh, god!


It's true,

Draga said.

It is true, dear. I'm sorry to tell you so. Owl is dead. He flew at Pyetr's sword.

Draga wished her calm, wished her to listen and be very calm.

Kavi tricked your young friend, got your husband alone for only a moment within a magical boundary—that was all it needed.


How do you know these things?

Eveshka cried.


Hush, be calm, dear, be calm. I know, that's all. That's what magic does for you. I know—and so far my magic is keeping my workings secret, but your young friend is about to brail through that veil, soon, now, very soon. He's coming here because he believes he's no match for Kavi and he hopes for your help. What will you be able to give him?


Why didn't you tell me, dammit? What
other
secrets are you keeping?


Dear, you weren't so sure of me—


I'm still not!


—and I wanted no wishes that might make things worse Now at least you have your wits about you. Use them! Your friend is making mistakes. He's unable to rescue your husband getting himself away was not a coward's choice: you know how Kavi loves an audience.

She was shaking. She remembered the house
...
Pyetr in Kavi's hands
...


But it wasn't the only choice young Sasha might have made He might have fought Kavi. Instead he's running for your help, he's thinking of wishing magic for himself to get here—and that's nothing to do alone, god, no, it isn't. Your young friend is making dangerous mistakes, one after the other. He's young. he's inexperienced even in using what he has, he's trusting your father's advice, and he's already put your husband in terrible danger—


Stop it, mama!


He's coming here, I'm telling you, and he might do
anything
. Kavi's right on his heels—Kavi has your husband with
him, do you understand me, 'Veshka? You know Kavi's going to use him to get your attention.

She looked into her mother's eyes—blue, lucent as glass by firelight,


'Believe
me,

Draga said.


Don't
do
that, mother!

‘‘You'd better believe something, daughter. Doubt is your enemy. Fear is your enemy. Love can destroy you
and
your husband
...
most terribly. All your life's been if-I-dared and someday. Someday's come, 'Veshka. The sun's rising on it. What will you do, 'Veshka—and when will you know your own mind, 'Veshka? Only for regrets?

‘‘Quit pushing me, mama! I can't think when you push me!


I'll forgive you, dear, —but time won't. It goes on just the same. Make up your mind. Do you want me to guide your wish? I will.

Her mother hardly blinked. There was certainty in her. I will, her mother said, strong as a wish. Her mother
wanted
to guide her, her mother
wanted
her not to make the mistakes Sasha was making.


Eveshka, do you hear me? Kavi's using that boy. He's sending him here, to open the door. He'll follow. And you know how your husband will fare then. What are you going to do, 'Veshka?


I can't think, mama, just shut up!


You can't stop doubting, can you? Doubt's the enemy of magic
...
and its friend. Doubt keeps our magic from running wild, keeps idle wishes from leaping the barriers of our thought, gives us that little space, that very little breathing space
...
for thinking things through. But you can't let doubt rule your life. Follow me now. Follow, me. It's not so far a step.

She wished not. Her head was spinning. Sight and sound came and went, near and far by turns.


It's not so far,

Draga said.

All you have to do is want the strength, really want to have it.


I can't!


'Veshka. Just follow me. One perfect wish. One wish for everything you want. Is that so hard? Your husband—your home—your young friend—isn't that really what you'd choose, over everything in the world?


No!

she cried, and pressed her hands to her mouth, appalled at what leapt out of her—but when she tried to want only Pyetr, doubt came flooding over her, doubt made her wonder if she loved him or if she loved herself more—until her heart ached and she felt herself about to faint.

Her mother said, looking her in the eyes,

You love your husband, don't you?


Yes!


More than anything else? What's important, 'Veshka? Do you know at all? What are you going to do with it if you get it?

Everything in the world was in doubt. Eveshka clenched her hands between her knees, and tried to know that answer. Save Pyetr, she thought. But her father would say, Fool!

‘‘When you wish for magic,

her mother said, scarcely louder than the crackle of the fire,

be very sure you demand enough— because this is a bargaining. Forever and ever, you'll exist in the magical realm to whatever degree you decide now. And you'll decide now how much of nature you'll keep—you'll have no more than that.


You're frightening me.


I mean to, dear. This is deadly serious. Know what you want. Decide how much you need. And for what. Do you want love? Or do you want magic?

‘‘I want to be strong enough!


Are you?


I don't know!


God, girl! Perish your ambivalence!
What
do you want?
What,
exactly, do you want?


I don't know, mama, I don't know!


Do you want your husband? Or do you want your freedom?

Free? she thought. There's this damn baby—

God, what does it mean to it? Or to Pyetr?

‘‘It means whatever you want for the baby,

her mother said. ‘‘Kavi certainly doesn't want it born—unless he can get his hands on it. Do you want a baby? That's the question. Do you really want a husband? Was it a husband you wanted in the first place, or was it freedom from your father? You have that now. What will you settle for?


Let me think!

she cried, raking a hand through her hair
that trailed loose about her face. She could not dismiss her unease, nor her misgivings, and the doubt was the same doubt, always the same doubt, that she simply could not make up her mind, ever.

God, I don't know if I want a baby.


Defend it,

Draga said.

Or be rid of it—if it's not more important already than you've wished yourself to be.


It's my husband's, too—


Then defend him,

Draga said,

—if you want either. I've kept us hidden. That's ending. All this time, all these years, I've been waiting for you. The two of us can beat him, dear. Two of us with the same mind can raise help enough to beat him.


What, mama?

she cried.

Shapeshifters and the like?


They're quite harmless—if you command them.


They're vile!


Nothing is vile, dear, except helplessness. You've kept your heart—you did decide that, I hope. I hope it wasn't simply lack of decision. Do you want me to carry it for you? I can.

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