Galina returned to the cabin, the jackdaw perched on her wrist. We're ready, she told Koschey. Just let me say my goodbyes."
Yakov nodded at her awkwardly.
"What are you going to do? Galina said.
He made a face. I'm not going back underground, that's for sure."
"What about your grandfather?"
"I'll send him a note, I guess, Yakov said. But my mother-she needs me more than he does. And there are things I need to take care of here."
Normally, Galina wouldn't pry; but right now coyness seemed superfluous. What things? she asked.
He jerked his shoulders, making the crow that perched there flap its wings and caw. I want to talk to my ex-wife, for one. I need to know what happened-do you ever think that there are people you should've been kinder to?"
Galina nodded.
"Same with my ex, he said. There are things we need to talk about."
"Good luck, Galina said.
"Same to you, he said. It's really nice, what you're doing for your sister."
She was grateful that he didn't argue with her decision. Thanks, she said. Good luck on the surface."
"I'm staying underground, Fyodor said. It's much nicer there."
"Yes, Oksana added. I only came to the surface to help, but I can't wait to get back-Sovin will be so mad at me that I got one of his rats killed."
"It could've been more than one, Galina said. You did well. Thanks for helping."
Oksana shrugged. I suppose."
Timur-Bey didn't say much and just shook her hand.
"I'll be seeing you around the underground then, she said, and turned to Elena. And you too."
Elena pouted a bit. That's not what I meant. But you're welcome to stop by any time-even though jackdaws are poor conversationalists."
Galina was flattered by the disappointment so evident in Elena's voice. I'm glad to have met you, she said. I really would've liked to be friends with you."
After that, there wasn't much else to say and she looked to Koschey. I'm ready, I guess."
"I haven't done this one in a while, he said. It's not at all like putting one's death into a needle."
Galina wanted to ask what was the difference between a soul and a death and how did he learn to do these things, and what was his relationship to Baba Yaga. But there were too many questions-she would never ask them all, and now was her last chance. It seemed better to descend into silence without asking them. Let Masha figure out these things.
"Here we go, Koschey said.
He ordered Galina to stand still while looking into the eyes of the bird perched on her wrist. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Koschey plucking thin translucent threads of magic from the air, weaving them together. She felt a nudge form within, a momentary vertigo, as if she were falling into a well. The jackdaw's eye became black and huge in front of her face, like a black moon, like a starless sky, like the bottom of a well.
The giant eye shrunk into a pupil, and was now surrounded with a hazel iris, crosshatched with golden and brown streaks. As she pulled away, her field of vision widened to the view of a pale face with blue smudges of shadow under tired, heavy-lidded eyes and a bloodless, tormented mouth. It took her a while to realize that the face she was looking into was hers.
The woman's eyes focused, and her mouth opened in the expression of childlike surprise and wonder. Galka? she whispered.
"Yes, Masha, it is me, she wanted to answer, but her mouth-her beak, made of hard bone and horn-opened in a loud, jubilant squawk.
It is me, the jackdaw Galina cried, and this is you, and oh God, I'm so happy to have found you. I'm sorry it is not as perfect as I wanted it to be. Go now, go, hold your child, tell Mom that it'll be all right, visit grandma in the hospital. Just go, just go.
She felt restless itching in her arms (wings), and she spread them wide. She circled the cabin, faces of people around her barely registering, until she found the open door and flew outside. There were other birds there, but there would be time for them later, and she circled over the cabin, rising higher and higher into the air.
She saw a woman and a man, both looking familiar-the woman tall and hunched and pale, the man squat and blocky-exit the cabin and walk down the path. As she rose higher into the sky, they became two black dots slowly traversing the great powdery whiteness below, the black tree branches weaving a delicate net above them. The river, still free of ice, snaked in its wintry desolate blackness between its white banks, and a white church stood almost invisible on a white snow-covered slope, only its onion roof golden with captured sunshine.
She spiraled downward, to take another look at the small wooden cabin tucked away in the very heart of the park, and watched a tall, skeletal man exit the cabin and crane his neck, shielding his eyes from the sun. A woman in a black velvet dress holding a shotgun stood next to him, watching Galina like he did.
She also saw a small gypsy girl, surrounded by an army of rats, make her way to the river; a tall lanky guy followed her, not quite with her, not quite separate. They sat on the bank, the rats spread around them like a living blanket, and watched the smooth river surface.
Deep inside the jackdaw knew that sometime soon she would find those people again, follow them by flying through an imaginary window or a reflection of a doorway in a rain puddle; a part of her had an inkling of other birds underground, and a fond memory of a white cow glowing with warm bluish light and spilling stars like milk. But not yet-she had things to attend to here, on the surface, first.
She rose high enough to see the streets beyond the park, animated with a slow churning of crowds and smells of fire and exhaust; she saw the squat tomb of the subway station and its slow disgorging and consumption of the dark throngs. There was ringing of trams and heavy sighs of the kneeling buses that carried tourists and honking of automobile horns; there were smells of fresh bread and beer and ash.
She headed north-west, where more golden domes lit up under the sun, and the clock on the Spasskaya Tower announced the time with deep hollow beats; she circled over the Tsar-Bell and Tsar-Cannon, both blue with patina and gigantic, ludicrous in their excess. Her wings clipped the air into even, turgid fragments as she swooped down over Red Square and the blue spruces by the Mausoleum, as she flew over the river again, perching for a rest on the guardrails of the humpbacked, ornate bridge. She circled over the New Arbat and took a cursory swoop down Gazetniy Pereulok.
There was a sense of significance to her flight, as she remembered that these places were important somehow. But her human memory was receding already, leaving behind only the keen intelligence and the cunning instinct of a bird. Only a few images lingered behind, and in her mind's eye she saw the tall woman walking through the snow-covered park, the woman with hazel eyes and bewildered frown. Galina did not remember how or why that woman was important, but she thought about her with the warm regard one afforded to kin.
"She's going to be all right, the jackdaw thought. And that was all that mattered.