8
Sonya did what she could to help Anatoly, but even after weeks of regular meals, his health did not improve. She wished Jorge was there. Perhaps his potions could cure the old wolverine’s ailments, or at least make his final days more comfortable. She debated staying with him until the Lady finally came for the final embrace, but he would have none of it.
“Why are you still here?” he snarled on more than one occasion. “Don’t you have fox things to do? Starting revolutions, eating babies, and the like?”
He acted as though her presence was an inconvenience of some kind, but she wondered if it was the looks of pity she couldn’t completely conceal that made him so cross.
One night, as she and Blaine settled in on the far side of the cave, Blaine gently suggested it might be better if they left.
“And let him die alone?” she asked.
“Maybe that’s what he wants,” said Blaine. “I think maybe I would.”
“Really?” Sonya was surprised. Blaine was such a friendly, outgoing person that she assumed he would want to seek the comfort of loved ones in his final moments.
He stared up at the cave ceiling.
After a moment, he said, “When I finally meet Bàs, that reckoning is for me alone.”
“What do the Uaine believe happens after death?” asked Sonya. “Is the soul of the dead person in the sluagh gorta? And does it stay there the whole time before they’re brought back? Or does it go somewhere else while it’s waiting?”
He was silent for such a long time that she wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
But then he said, “Sorry, Sonya. Only the Urram Le Bàs are allowed to talk about such things, and I don’t think they’d tell anyone who wasn’t Uaine.”
“Oh. Uh, sure. I understand.”
Blaine had never been reluctant to talk about his religion before, and he’d never seemed all that devout. In fact, he seemed far less deferential toward Rowena and the other Urram Le Bàs than many other Uaine. But perhaps even he had his limits.
“I guess it’s sort of the core of your whole religion, isn’t it?”
“Aye. What about Rangers?”
“We return to the Lady Marzanna for our final embrace in the Eventide, then we pass to what lies beyond.”
“And what lies beyond?”
“We don’t know.”
“So your religion doesn’t claim that anyone knows what happens after death?” He seemed impressed for some reason.
“Well, the Lady knows of course,” said Sonya. “But she’s not telling.”
Now he just looked confused. “Why not?”
“It’s not for us to question the Lady.” She said it automatically, but then wondered if she still believed that, given her conversation with Anatoly.
“I see…” He didn’t sound like he much cared for the blind obedience, either, but clearly didn’t want to cast judgment on her religion.
After a moment, Sonya sighed. “I suppose if Anatoly wants to die alone, we should honor that wish.”
“Aye,” said Blaine.
“Once the meat is all cured, we’ll head back to Gogoleth.”
“I think that’s for the best.”
“Don’t you?”
“Of course.”
They stayed another week, then said goodbye to Anatoly. He responded with a “Good riddance!” before flopping down on his pile of furs and gnawing intently on a piece of salted meat as if they were already gone.
Sonya had spent far too much time in the cave during the last month, so it was a great relief to feel the mild spring breeze on her cheek as she emerged from the Ranger’s den. The snow was nearly gone now, and the mud had mostly dried. In their place were gold and green fields, interrupted by the occasional meandering brook.
She searched the area around the cave to see if perhaps Andre and Tatiana had left some sign of which way they’d gone. But either they’d covered their tracks, or the clues had all melted away. Regardless, she had no way of knowing whether she would ever even see them again. She would have loved to get another opinion on some of the things Anatoly had said about Lady Marzanna. The idea that the goddess didn’t have Izmoroz’s best interests at heart, the idea that her efforts might not have actually been for the good of her people…
“Was this whole trip a waste of time, then?” asked Blaine as they began the long trek back to Zapad.
“I don’t know,” she said. “We made Anatoly’s last days more comfortable, at least. And he… taught me some things, I guess. About Rangers.”
“Oh?”
She merely shrugged, and he did not press her. Perhaps he understood that just as there were things about Bàs that he couldn’t speak about, there were some things about the Lady Marzanna that a Ranger shouldn’t speak about. Besides, she wasn’t sure she really understood it yet anyway.
It wasn’t as though Anatoly had completely altered her view of Lady Marzanna, of course. She’d always known the Lady could be cruel. But perhaps she’d still clung to the idea that the goddess cared at least to some degree about the welfare of Rangers and the people of Izmoroz. The suggestion that they were nothing but tools was deeply troubling. If true, it called into question a lot of Sonya’s assumptions of what it meant to be a Ranger. And to be Izmorozian.
A chill ran through her as she recalled something Andre had said during her first visit. Our responsibility is to facilitate death and change, to make way for something new. Not just the death of people, but the death of countries and cultures. The Lady Marzanna has made it clear that it is time for Izmoroz to die.
She’d argued against that idea ferociously at the time. Even now it didn’t seem possible that was the Lady’s intention. It simply couldn’t be true.
Could it?