Pure (Book 1, Pure Series) (27 page)

           
I settled back into my seat and tried to sleep.

           
Several hours later, the lights came back on and people began to stir.
 
GM's eyes fluttered open.

           
"Good morning, Solnyshko.
 
If indeed it is morning."

           
"Good morning, GM."

           
GM asked a passing flight attendant for some water, and once she had it, I decided to ask my question.
 
Her actions over the last hours seemed to indicate that she was a little more relaxed about her attitude to the past and its superstitions, but I knew it was still dangerous territory.

           
"GM," I said.
 
"Mr. Hightower – the teacher who died – he mentioned the legend of the Little Sun.
 
He said it was from Krov.
 
Do you know what it is?"

           
GM sighed.
 
"Yes, I know it.
 
It's just a story – something parents tell their children before bedtime."

           
"Please, GM, tell me what it is."

           
"Very well.
 
There isn't much to it.
 
According to the tale in every generation in Krov a pure-hearted child is born who has the power to hold back the darkness and save the village – in other words, be a hero or heroine to the whole town.
 
A mother would tell this to a child so he or she would go to bed on time and prove to be the heroic Little Sun."

           
"What does that mean, 'hold back the darkness'?"

           
GM sighed.
 
"The child has the ability to command a sphere of light with great power over evil.
 
Sometimes the child is called 'Solnyshko' or 'little sun' just like I call you.
 
The use of the word is common enough apart from the legend.
 
I called your mother that, too.
 
Many mothers do."

           
"That's all there is to the legend?" I asked.

           
"That's all I know," GM replied.

           
I leaned my head back against my seat.
 
GM's story really didn't tell me much.
 
It sounded like GM was right – it was a bedtime story to convince children to be good.

           
While GM had been talking, I had felt once again like someone was watching me.
 
I leaned into the aisle now and looked around, but I didn't see anyone looking in my direction.
 
I remembered that the first time I had felt that way, I had actually seen a pair of floating eyes.
 
I wondered if I concentrated hard enough if I could get the eyes to reappear.
 
I looked around, and I willed the eyes to materialize.

           
Something seemed to pull me in a particular direction, and I found myself focusing on a heavy-set man in a grey suit.
 
He appeared to be absorbed in a book.
 
I concentrated on him as hard as I could and tried to see the eyes.
 
Just as I thought I was getting a hazy image of two floating circles in the air, the man in grey looked up at me and frowned.

           
I looked away, embarrassed.
 
Why had I thought I could will myself to see floating eyes?
 
I realized I was probably just feeling nervous about the strange situation I was in and that had led me to feel spied upon.
 
No one was watching me – I had to convince myself of that.

           
I tried to relax on the rest of the flight, but I was anxious to be off the plane.
 
As GM had said, we were to land in Georgia and then cross illegally into Russia.
 
As I thought about the plan, there seemed to be a lot of ways it could go wrong.
 
I wondered if GM and I could go to jail if we got caught crossing the border illegally.

           
At long last, the captain announced that we would soon be landing.

           
"Well, Solnyshko, our adventure will begin soon," GM said.
 
"First Georgia.
 
Then we cross the border and make our way to Krov.
 
How is your Russian?"

           
I had had a Russian tutor as a child, and I had kept up with it over the years – it was something I enjoyed.
 
"It's pretty good, GM."

           
Good enough, at least, for me to recognize that the word 'Krov' was the Russian word for blood.

Chapter 12.

As GM and I left the plane, I could feel eyes on me again.
 
I turned to see the man in gray walking behind me.
 
He frowned at me, and I looked away.
 
I was growing tired of feeling so jumpy all the time.
 
I resolved to push my paranoia away.

           
"We should converse only in Russian now," GM whispered to me.
 
"I think it's best that we not attract too much attention."

           
I switched, a bit awkwardly, into Russian.
 
I was used to listening to it, but I hadn't had much practice speaking it lately.
 
"Do people speak Russian in Georgia?"

           
"The native tongue is actually Georgian.
 
But there are Russian speakers in Georgia, and we should be able to find people that understand it.
 
As Russian speakers we won't be unusual, anyway.
 
Besides, I know enough Georgian to get by."

           
"Is Georgian like Russian?" I asked.

           
"No," GM replied.
 
"It is not even Slavic."

           
We walked out into the airport, and GM paused to read the signs overhead.

           
"Where are we going right now?" I asked.

           
"Into the city.
 
I don't think we should appear to be in too much of a hurry."

           
We took a train into Tblisi, and I was surprised by how warm it was – I guessed it was about sixty degrees – definitely warmer than it was at home.
 
GM had steered me toward lighter-weight clothing when we were shopping, and despite her reassurances, I had been sure I would be shivering.

           
"You were right about the weather, GM," I said, shortly after we had left the train.

           
"'Tblisi' means 'warm spring' in Georgian," GM said.
 
"I can't believe you doubted me, Solnyshko.
 
It's about 1 p.m. local time.
 
Would you like to get some lunch now?"

           
"Sure," I said.

           
The city was pretty, and if circumstances had been different, I would have loved to explore it.

           
We stopped at an ATM, so GM could get some local currency.
 
She came away with a pretty thick stack of banknotes.

           
"Wow," I said, "that looks like a lot of money."

           
"We may have need of it," GM said, tucking it away.

           
We found a small restaurant nearby, and GM ordered for us.
 
While we were eating our appetizer – something called
imeruli khachapuri
– which turned out to be bread with cheese baked in it – GM showed me some of the Georgian money.
 
The coins were called
tetri
, and the banknotes were
lari
.
 
The
tetri
had lions, peacocks, and rotating wings on them.
 
The
lari
were all different colors – blue, brown, yellow, green, even rose.
 
I was fascinated by the Georgian money.
 
I had never held foreign currency in my hands before.

           
Shortly after GM had put the money away again, our lunch arrived.
 
We had chicken and something that looked like spinach and a dessert that was made with walnuts.

           
At the end of the meal, I looked around the restaurant.
 
Once again, I was struck by the fact that I was in a foreign country.
 
"GM, do you realize that aside from my spending my early childhood in Russia, this is the first time I've ever been out of the U.S.?"

           
GM gave me a speculative look.
 
"Yes, that is true.
 
How do you find it, Solnyshko?"

           
"It's actually pretty exciting," I said.
 
"I just wish it were under different circumstances."

           
GM reached over and patted my hand where it rested on the table.
 
"When we sort this all out, Solnyshko – and we will – I promise you that we will start going on proper trips.
 
It would do you good to travel."

           
"Thanks, GM," I said.
 
"I'd like that.
 
Have you traveled much?"

           
A strange, faraway look came into her eyes.
 
"I did once, yes.
 
But that was long before you were born."

           
GM's voice trailed off, and she was silent for a long moment.
 
Then she shook her head, as if she were throwing off a memory.
 
"We should settle the bill and be on our way."

           
Once we were out on the street again, GM leaned over to me and whispered.

           
"We'll engage a marshrutka to take us to Sochi, Russia.
 
Then we'll rent a car there and drive the rest of the way to Krov."

           
"Why don't we just rent a car here?" I whispered back.
 
"And what's a marshrutka?"

           
"We're going to Sochi because I think it's best to be careful and not to take too direct a route," GM whispered.
 
"I have had the strangest feeling ever since we were on the plane that someone has been observing us."

           
I froze when she said that.
 
Though I had been ignoring it, the feeling that someone was watching me had not left me when we'd left the airport.
 
The fact that GM was feeling it, too, was disturbing.
 
I decided not to say anything to her – if she was already feeling paranoid, there was no point in my adding to it.

           
A marshrutka turned out to be a cross between a taxi and a minibus.
 
The ones that ran in Tblisi itself had fixed routes, but there were others that ran outside of the city and that had a lot more freedom in their routes, picking up passengers and dropping them off wherever they wanted to go.
 
GM and I went in search of the latter type of marshrutka.
 
GM was hoping to negotiate a trip all the way into Russia.

           
Eventually, GM found a man with a bright yellow marshrutka, and though I couldn't understand what they were saying, as they spoke in Georgian, I could tell that GM thought she'd found our driver.
 
The man was very thin, with faded blue eyes and pleasant face.
 
At first, he seemed reluctant, but GM continued to talk.
 
At one point she took out a stack of banknotes.
 
The money seemed to change his mind.
 
The man relented and waved us toward the marshrutka.

           
"Success!" GM said to me in Russian.
 
"I have obtained a ride for us to Sochi, and the driver has agreed not to pick up other passengers until he has dropped us off.
 
That way, if someone is following us, he won't be able to get into our marshrutka.
 
I feel confident we can leave him behind."

           
We drove out of the city, and we were soon in the countryside.
 
The scenery was pretty, and I devoured it eagerly with my eyes, but as time wore on, my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell asleep.

           
GM woke me up as we approached the Russian border, and I was instantly alert.
 
We crossed the border without any trouble.
 
A feeling of excitement welled up with me as I looked out the window – this was my first glimpse of my native land in eleven years.
 
It was beautiful to me.

           
We drove on for several more hours, and I fell asleep again.
 
When I woke up, the night was a solid black, and we were stopping for dinner.
 
Our driver had a friendly smile and seemed to be pleasant company, but I didn't speak any Georgian, and he didn't speak any Russian, so we weren't able to talk to one another.
 
But he and GM had a lively conversation and seemed to get along very well.
 
I figured that it was just as well that I couldn't participate – the feeling that I was being watched was stealing over me again, and I probably wouldn't have been very good company.
 
I told myself that after a good night's sleep in a proper bed the feeling would go away.

           
After dinner, we got back in the marshrutka and drove on through the night.
 
At some point in the wee hours of the morning, we arrived in Sochi, and the driver dropped us off in front of a hotel.