50

We served the tsarytsya and her generals in the formal dining room the next morning, eyes down, arms full. General Midnight made acid comments, and Aleksei was snide, and as we went up and down the stairs Ivan eyed Anya with a desperation that embarrassed me on his behalf.

I didn’t care. Once we had assured ourselves the generals weren’t going anywhere, Cobie, Anya, and I made for the tsarytsya’s room. We had decided to give ourselves eight minutes. Any more than that, and the guard outside would begin to suspect.

Anya tore the sheets off the bed, working triple-time by herself as Cobie counted and watched the door. I went straight for the radio.

I noted the frequency it sat on first, then, painstakingly, I turned the radio dial, stumbling across chatter here and there on my way to 3.44.

My heart was in my throat. I needed to know if Perrault had pleaded our case to Asgard, and I had to warn Asgard that an attack was coming.

But when I reached my frequency, I found it empty.

The sound was the skate of runners over cobblestones, the merciless roar of a river. My stomach sank. Perrault wasn’t there.

It cost us so much to come in here, every time. And today, it was for nothing.

“Nothing.” I turned to Anya. “He’s not manning the radio.”

“Or they’ve left Asgard,” Cobie said. “They could be beyond range of the tower.”

“No,” I breathed, horrified. “I don’t know what frequency to use to contact Flørli. I didn’t think to ask Torden. How will I warn them the tsarytsya is planning an attack?”

The hole in my logic gaped at me: I’d hoped the Beholder was on its way to me. What assurance had I had that there was a tower close to them?

I hadn’t thought of it. Guilt left me weak. What if we had missed our only chance to warn Asgard?

“We’ll come back. We’ll do it another day.” Cobie took a long breath. “You have six minutes. Do something with them.” She pointed to Anya, who’d paused changing the sheets. “Don’t stop. We only have six minutes.”

I stared, horrified, at the radio.

With six minutes, I could reach out to Godmother Althea—but, no. Her frequency was 3.44, as well, and she wasn’t there. I counted on my fingers; it was probably around two in the morning in Potomac. She and the sisters were asleep or at Matins, the prayer service that broke the night before Lauds at dawn.

I clenched my jaw and began, slowly, to turn the dial—straining after the chatter I caught, hoping I’d hear familiar voices.

And finally, I did.

“She is well,” someone was saying.

“But you won’t tell us where?” answered a boy’s voice. “My sisters are—”

“You know I can’t,” said the first voice, a girl’s—my chest seized.

The voice was Gretel’s.

I cleared my throat. “You really ought to leave well enough alone, Hansel. Leirauh is safer where she is. That is, if Gretel kept her promise.”

There was dead silence.

“Hansel?” I asked the quiet. “Gretel?”

“Selah?” Fritz blurted. “Is that you?”

“It is,” I affirmed. “I’m here. With Cobie and Anya.”

“You’re where?”

I swallowed hard. “Baba Yaga’s house.”

Gretel swore. Fritz was silent.

Five minutes, Cobie mouthed to me, imperious.

“It’s all right,” I said hurriedly. “I—Gretel, did Perrault speak to you?”

“He did not.”

“Fr—Hansel?” I asked.

“Not I,” he said.

I chewed my lip. If Perrault hadn’t been able to contact the fürst or the Waldleute, what else might have gone wrong? Had they left Asgard, after all?

There was no time to fret.

Perrault hadn’t spoken with them. Torden was here—I would be fine. But we still had the chance to help the resistance free the city.

“Regardless,” I said, “I have information for you.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense, princess.” I couldn’t see the leader of the Waldleute, but I could imagine her: eyes narrowed, chin lifted, one brow quirked.

Quickly I related to them what we had discovered—the depletion of the tsarytsya’s armies in the east, west, and south, and at Stupka-Zamok. “So if you can coordinate an attack with the other arms of the resistance—”

“We could feasibly end her,” Gretel said slowly.

“Yes, and there’s more,” I said. “One night soon, security in Stupka-Zamok is going to be very lax. If I could speak to local divisions of the resistance, we could take advantage of that. We—” I paused, uncertain. “We could take the city.”

“You can’t approach them, but I can,” Gretel said immediately. “I will reach out to the Rusalki and the Leshii and the Vodyanoi. Speak to them on your behalf. They will find you and coordinate an assault.”

“Who are they?” I asked.

“The Leshii are the woodfolk, the Vodyanoi the river dwellers,” Gretel said. “And the Rusalki are the mothers.”

I stopped short at this. “The mothers?”

“Yes.” Gretel’s voice turned bitter. “The mothers of stolen children.”

“I’ve already seen them,” I said slowly. “The night of the full moon, some of the children were forced to fight. The mothers came to watch.”

“Good,” Gretel said. “So you know who to watch for. Now, when is this happening?”

“The night of the lunar eclipse, in about three weeks,” I said. “The phases of the moon are important here. I think it’s a religious ceremony. They call it Zatemnennya.”

A hand flailed in my periphery. Three minutes, Cobie said, holding up three fingers.

I was so distracted by Cobie that I didn’t hear them at first. But Gretel and Fritz were hissing, protesting, horrified. “Zatemnennya?” Gretel demanded. “Is that what you said?”

“Yes,” I answered, uncertain.

“Are you trying to get my people killed?”

“No!” I exclaimed. “What are you talking about? I’m trying to help!”

“I am not sending my people into the Mortar on Zatemnennya,” Gretel said, forceful. “And if you’re smart, you will spend the night behind a barred door.”

“What is Zatemnennya?” I asked, confused, my panic rising. “I don’t understand!”

“It is a revel, of sorts.” Gretel’s voice was grim. “I like you, Selah. Take my advice and don’t make any plans for the eclipse. Stay inside.”

Cobie dragged a finger across her throat. Time to go.

I desperately wanted to press Gretel for more information. But I was out of time.

“I have to go,” I said. “Fur die Freiheit.”

“Fur die Wildnis,” said Gretel.

Fritz’s voice was rusty when he finally spoke. “Stay safe, Selah.”