"Not much, he answered. I think when he sings he can put you to sleep, and he is supposed to live in Thrice-Ninth Kingdom."
"He's also related to Scandinavian myth, Koschey said. His children are the two cats that pull Freya's chariot; at least, according to some sources."
"I hadn't realized Russian fairytales were related to other religions, Yakov said.
Koschey laughed. You're kidding, right? Most of Russia's pagan gods were borrowed from elsewhere-Scandinavia, Phoenicia, Greece, Egypt you name it. There's very little original folklore here."
Galina thought it strange that mythological creatures were capable of discussing their own origins. But then again, why wouldn't they be? Is it true that he can put people to sleep? she asked Koschey.
He nodded, and picked up a robust, rust-colored leaf off the ground, twirled it between two fingers. It is not just the sleeping, he said, and smiled a wan smile. It's the dreaming you should be interested in. He can make your dreams worthwhile, to say the least."
Koschey was right. Galina's dreams were unusually powerful and vivid, and as she dreamt she really believed that she was back home, in their small apartment, with grandmother in the kitchen doing something to the cabbage to make it smell. Their mother was at work, and Galina was getting ready to go to the night classes she'd been taking during her rare periods of lucidity. Masha was still in school then-she sat in the living room, oblivious to the blaring of the TV, her elbows propped on the windowsill, the open book in between them.
Galina felt guilty then, because she was a bad big sister-absent, distant, frail and unsure of what was real and what wasn't. She wanted so desperately to be there for Masha-so young, so pink, so brimming with health and hope. She wanted so badly to connect. Homework? Galina said.
Masha looked up from the book, her gaze momentarily snagging on something outside before turning to meet Galina's. No, just reading."
"What? she persisted, admiring the round contour of her sister's cheek. How old was she, anyway? Eleven, twelve? Something like that.
Masha consulted the cover. Hamlet, she said. Do you know that one?"
Galina smiled. Yes. How're you liking it?"
Masha made a thoughtful face. They all speak in verse but I do like it. Especially the part about forty thousand brothers that's a lot of brothers, isn't it?"
Galina nodded. She understood the quiet awe in Masha's voice-none of the kids they knew had large families, and a girl was lucky to have a big brother. It was a generally accepted truth that brothers were better than sisters-they could be strong and protective, and they were the closest thing to a father for a girl who didn't have one. Big sisters were generally useless, because they moved out and had children, and couldn't protect one.
"You wish you had a brother, don't you? Galina said.
Masha looked guilty for a moment, but then smiled. I would like a boy to live with us. Wouldn't you?"
"Not really, Galina said. You're lucky you don't remember Dad."
Masha looked furtively toward the kitchen, but their grandmother remained there, ensconced in the sizzling of the vegetable oil, the clanging of the oven door and the smells of cabbage and fried onions. Grandma is making pies, Masha said. Tell me about our father."
There wasn't anything new to tell, but this conversation had the comfort of familiarity about it. He was a jerk, Galina said.
"And a drunk, Masha said with conviction.
"Not so much a drunk, Galina said. The neighbors said that Mom was crazy to let him go. Where else would you find a sober man, they said. But he just he wasn't anything. I don't think he ever said a word to me. And Grandma hated him."
Masha nodded, smiling. I guess it's good that there aren't any boys here then."
"If you say so."
"You'll be late for your school, Masha said. Why do you go to school at night?"
"It's evening college for those who work, Galina said. Like me. I can be late a little."
Masha gave her a penetrating look, modeled so perfectly off their mother's that Galina had to laugh. You really have to be taking this more seriously, Masha said. If you keep on like this, you'll never have an education, and I'll probably be married before you."
"Of course you will. Galina laughed still. You're the one who wants boys in the house."
Masha shrugged. Galka, she said thoughtfully. Would you rather be deaf or blind?"
Galina weighed her options. Deaf, I suppose. What about you?"
"Blind, Masha said. This way, Mom will have no choice but let me get a dog."
"You have it planned out, I see, Galina said. She looked at her watch and sighed. I have to get going, I suppose. Don't go blind just yet; maybe we can talk Mom into getting you a puppy."
Masha beamed. Thanks, Galka. You know what I really want? I mean, besides the puppy?"
Galina looked out of the window, and saw her bus pass by. There would be another one; she sat down on the couch and kicked off her shoes. What do you really want?"
Masha stared at the passing bus. I want to be someone else."
"Who?"
Masha shrugged. I don't know. Not me."
Then there was guilt again; Galina couldn't stop feeling that it was her fault also. Who would want to be a girl with a crazy sister and no brothers or a father? Who would want to be a girl with such a severe mother and silently disapproving grandmother, who constantly cooked fried potatoes, pies, borsch that tasted of frustration and suppressed anger? Who would want to be a girl in a house filled with damaged women, and no hope of ever becoming something else herself?
"I'm sorry, Galina said. You know, things can change. It doesn't have to be this way forever."
Masha nodded. Go, she said. I love you, as much as forty thousand brothers."
Then the scene changed-they were in a darkened room, with sooted wooden walls. Masha was older now, but her eyes still watched Galina with a hopeful expectation. You'll help me, won't you?"
"I've been doing nothing else, Galina said. I'm here looking for you, with a stupid cow and Koschey the Deathless, while Mom is home with your baby."
Masha looked confused for a second. A baby?"
Galina nodded. But we'll talk about that later in person. Now just tell me where you are."
"I'm in a castle, she said. Although it doesn't look like a castle, but they tell me Peter the Great used to live here."
"Who are they? Galina tried to keep her voice steady.
Masha shrugged. I don't know. There are several of them, or maybe just one and he wears a different face every day."
"What do they want with you?"
"I don't know. They keep us here and send us, always send us to look and tell them what we saw. They have so many birds, and we see every corner of above and below. They take the images from our eyes and the memories from our heads, sounds from our ears and voices from our tongues please come find me before we're all deaf and mute and blind."
"Who has many faces and a castle? Galina asked Zemun as soon as she woke up under Bayun's tree. Look at this, she thought; I'm talking in goddamn riddles. And I'm asking advice from a talking cow. And I talk to birds and cats. It's a good thing my schizophrenia is in remission.
"Hmmmm, Zemun said. Dvoedushnik, maybe. But who knows what other creatures lurk in this forest?"
"What do you mean? Yakov interrupted. I thought you all knew each other."