"So she'll be here, and you'll be there."
"What a bright girl you are."
"How can I prevent that?"
"You can't."
"Then why are you telling me this? What can I do about it?"
"I think it should be plain by now that I can't tell you anything directly. Nothing but what she wants me to say. Well, maybe I slip in a little more information than she wanted. But it's entirely up to you what you do with it. I'd do it quickly, though, if I were you."
What was she supposed to do? Run? There was no escape from this place, and that wasn't what she came for, anyway. Nor could she hide, not from Baba Yaga.
She looked at Bear, who was now standing in the middle of the room, motionless. In one place. Very still.
And then she understood. Bear and Baba Yaga would change places exactly. Where he was standing, she would be standing. So if Katerina did something to that space, and Baba Yaga arrived inside it...
She set to work at once, snatching up a stick from the fire and marking a pentagram in charcoal on the floor around Bear's feet. The beast stood very still while she drew it. He stood just as still as she carefully but quickly went through the spells of containment. From this place you shall not wander, of your own power these five walls are made, and so on, and so on.
And then she was done.
"Well?" she said. "Enough?"
"We'll see," he said. "I've been trying very hard not to know what you've been doing, and I think that I succeeded. You'll soon find out, though, won't you?"
And with those words, he disappeared.
For three infinite seconds, the pentagram was empty.
Then Baba Yaga stood there, looking even more hideous than Katerina remembered from the few times her father had taken her to the court of the high king in Kiev when Baba Yaga was also in attendance there. She turned immediately to face Katerina—the witch had arrived knowing where she was.
"How long do you think your husband will live?" she asked. "I think it will be a long time. Hours and hours. I wonder if he'll still be thinking of you, at the end. Or if he'll just be wishing Bear would finish up so he can die."
Katerina had expected some such boast; she barely listened. She was much more concerned about whether her binding would hold. "When you look in the mirror, old woman, do you like the face you see?"
"Of course," said Baba Yaga. "But I don't see the same face you do."
"I'm not surprised," said Katerina. "Won't you step over to the mirror and let me see you as you see yourself?"
Baba Yaga laughed. "You're hoping that I'll try to step outside this foolish pentagram and I'll be stopped and then I'll scream and rail against you and finally plead for you to release me, which you'll do only after all these nice people are free, and your husband is safely delivered from my husband's wrath, and I've renounced my claim on Taina, and... oh, what else is it you want?"
"I expected nothing of the kind," said Katerina.
"You drew this pentagram for exercise?" asked Baba Yaga. "This sort of thing is useless against me, you know. I unmake such spells a hundred times a day, and make others twenty times as strong that I can still unmake with a flick of my fingers."
"And yet," said Katerina, "you stay within the pentagram."
"Why not?" said Baba Yaga. "It's as good a place as any to stand and watch you writhe. I'm only deciding whether to make these good people tear you limb from limb and eat you raw, or make you watch while I dismember them. Which would be more fun to think back on? If only I had one of those marvelous little boxes from Ivan's country, that remember things for you so you can see them later, as often as you want to watch."
"You talk and talk," said Katerina, "and yet you continue to stay within the pentagram."
"It amuses me to stay here, so you can hope that the spell you cast might be working."
"You don't know what spell I cast."
"You think I can't smell a binding from a hundred miles away?"
"I'm sure you can."
"Well, here." Baba Yaga waved her hands and clapped. "The binding is undone."
"Well, that was easy, wasn't it," said Katerina.
"Everything you fret over and sweat over is easy for me."
"And yet there you are, within the pentagram."
Emboldened, Katerina walked over to Baba Yaga's mirror and looked in it. "It didn't turn me ugly," said Katerina. "So it can't be the mirror's fault you look the way you do."
"Get away from that table."
"Come and make me," said Katerina.
"Don't think I won't, if you provoke me."
In answer, Katerina began opening boxes and bottles, jars and bags. She took a few of them to the fire and emptied them over the flames.
"You shouldn't play with things you don't understand," said Baba Yaga.
"I'm sure you're right. Though I do recognize some of these things. This is what you used to make the cloth that brought the airplane here, right?"
"Oh, now look what you've done. It will take me minutes and minutes to get more of that."
But Katerina knew otherwise. These things were rare and hard to get, dearly bought when they could be found, and treasured by those who had them. Soon all of them were empty.
"Let these people out of their chains," said Katerina.
"Not likely," said Baba Yaga.
"If you do, and give us safe passage out of here, I won't burn your house down over your head."
"But, foolish girl, that's precisely the only time you could. For as long as I leave them chained here, you won't do anything to harm my house."
"I would be sad to see them die," said Katerina, "but everyone dies eventually."
"Even your husband," said Baba Yaga. "I wonder if Bear has taken his eyes yet, or if he's saving them for last."
"And still you stand within the pentagram."
Katerina dashed a chair against the mirror. The glass shattered.
"No!" cried Baba Yaga. "What kind of monster are you! Don't you know how many slaves I had to kill to give that thing its power?"
"If only you could step outside the pentagram, you could stop me." She set the ornate chair onto the fire.
"Don't burn that chair! It has so many spells of comfort on it that—"
"Set these people free, and I'll let you out." Katerina was opening larger boxes now, and found one that was filled with books. She walked to the fire, ripped a page from somewhere in the middle of the book, and dropped it into the flames.
Baba Yaga shrieked. But she did not move.
And then she calmed down. "I see," she said. "I see. You didn't just cast a spell of binding. You cast a spell of desire. Very clever."
"So if you'll just release the captives—"
"I must be tired, for it to have taken me so long to see it. I can't want to leave this space, which holds me far more firmly than if there was more physical restraint."
"Very good," said Katerina.
"Clever of you."
"And yet you stand within the pentagram. Will you release the captives? Start with one, just to show you're paying attention."
Baba Yaga glared at her. "No, no, that's too easy. There's more to it than that. Perhaps a spell to make it so I can't even desire to break the spell that keeps me from desiring to leave the pentagram. That's very circular, isn't it? But then there might be a spell making me forget how to break such spells, and on and on, when there's a simple thing you just don't understand."
"And what is that?" asked Katerina.
"This is my house," said Baba Yaga. And with that, the whole section of floor with the pentagram on it dropped out from under her. The witch fell through the trap door, but rose again almost at once, climbing up a ladder. "Oops," she said. "No pentagram. Even though I never wanted to leave it, now that I'm outside, I can't understand why I ever wanted to stay. Or why Bear stood still for you while you drew it on the floor. But that's between him and me, later. Now your precious captives start to die, one for each box of precious powders and each bottle of precious liquors that you ruined. That should take us more than halfway through this crowd, don't you think?" Baba Yaga strolled over to where the pilot stood, half-dead from the beating she had given him. "For instance, I told poor Ivan a lie—I said I killed this one. I think it's just about time I made it true, don't you? We wouldn't want Ivan to die believing something that isn't so!"