The Unfailing Light

I slept fitfully that night, and the next morning felt horrible as I dressed and dragged myself downstairs with the other girls to breakfast. The sleep I had managed to get had been full of strange, tiring dreams that I could not even remember. Just annoying wisps and fragments that made no sense remained.



Madame Orbellani passed out our mail in the dining hall that morning, and I received a letter from my brother, Petya. He had written to me from Moscow, where his regiment was training. There was no news from him of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, and I knew I should not have even expected any. My brother would not think it proper to tell me what went on inside the ancient order assigned to protect the tsar.



I sighed. It was a letter full of brotherly duty, saying he missed me and our parents, had experienced treacherous weather during his train ride, had seen a pair of gloves in a Moscow shop that he thought I would like, and that he looked forward to seeing me at Christmas. My brother was not the letter-writing type. It was strange to receive such a long, rambling note from him.



There was an odd scribbling at the bottom of the letter-a hastily written number three next to a symbol that looked like the Maltese cross. The symbol of the Order of St. John. Had he wanted to tell me something but changed his mind? Had the Order found the lich tsar? I felt so frustrated not knowing what was going on outside the walls of Smolny.



Augusta looked as sleep-deprived as I did. Her pretty blue eyes looked sunken and her face was paler than usual. "Are you feeling well?" I asked her. Pushing her bowl of oatmeal aside, she put her head down on the table.



Her sister Erzsebet looked worried. "She was awake moaning and tossing restlessly all last night."



Madame Tomilov hurried over. "Augusta, are you ill? Get up and see the nurse at once." She looked around at the rest of us. "Is there anyone else who is not feeling well? The nurse has already seen several girls this morning."



I looked at Elena, accusingly. Mon Dieu, not again. It was not the full moon, and she did not look any pinker than usual. Surely she could not have turned into a veshtiza last night? She looked at me with an innocent, questioning look.



"Katerina, you do not look well either," Elena said, sounding terribly concerned. "Madame Tomilov, perhaps she should also go and see the nurse."



Madame nodded in agreement. Before last year, the headmistress would not have been so quick to monitor our health. We would have been told that suffering builds character and not to complain. But a number of parents threatened to pull their daughters out of Smolny after many girls had been mysteriously poisoned.



No one knew the true story, of course. Who would accuse a king's daughter of turning into a poisonous, blood-sucking moth? I had no idea what the doctors told Madame Tomilov. Did she know the truth about Elena? The empress knew, and surely she would have sent Elena back to Montenegro if she felt the princess was still a danger. But the empress believed her spell was strong enough to protect us all.



I helped Augusta stand up and together we went to visit Sister Anna, a nun who had been sent to Smolny by the empress to minister to the sick girls. Sister Anna had little medical training, and instead believed that all illnesses could be cured by fasting and prayer. I worried that Augusta would not be strong enough for any fasting. Or for kneeling on the cold floor for any length of time. What we both needed, in my opinion, was either some strong tea or a long nap.



Sister Anna was sitting at her plain wooden desk, writing in a large journal. She smiled when she saw us. "Good morning, girls. What brings you to see me this beautiful day?" She was a small woman, dwarfed in her white woolen habit. She wore a very severe black wimple that hid all of her hair.



"Madame Tomilov sent us, Sister. She said there are many of us that have been feeling poorly today."



Sister Anna shook her head, her thin lips pinched together. "A bunch of nothing, I believe," she said with a heavy peasant accent. "Let me have a look at you." She gestured toward the hard wooden chair next to hers.



I nodded at Augusta to sit down first. I was already starting to feel a little better. Not quite so achy and tired anymore.



"Hmmm," the sister said, as she felt Augusta's wrist for a pulse. "Open your mouth." Augusta did so obediently, with a bewildered glance up at me.



"Nothing more than a guilty conscience, my dear. What have you done?"



Augusta looked frightened. "I am so sorry, Sister. Please forgive me."



Sister Anna nodded and patted her hands, encouraging her. "What do you wish to confess?"



Augusta's shoulders sagged. "I sneaked into the kitchen last night and found the basket of cherries meant for today's dessert. I ate half of the basket all by myself."



I sighed. No wonder Augusta looked awful. She'd been up all night, overeating.



"Gluttony is a terrible thing, Augusta. I want you to go to the chapel and pray for two hours." Sister Anna turned to me. "And now, let me look at you."



I took the tiniest of steps backward. "I am feeling much better already, Sister. I thank you so much."



"Wonderful. Off with both of you, then." She picked up her pen and returned to her writing.



I walked with Augusta to the chapel. "Are you really feeling better?" she asked me as we turned the corner and got out of the sister's hearing.



"I'm just tired," I said. "I had difficulty sleeping last night."



The Bavarian princess grabbed my sleeve. "Me too! That's why I went to the kitchen to begin with! I kept being awakened by something. And it wasn't Erzsebet's snoring."



That strange, cold prickle on the back of my neck returned. "Did you find out what it was?"



"No. It must have been hunger. Oh Katiya, those cherries were delicious. I hope the cook has more. I hope there is pie for dessert tonight!"



Augusta went off happily to the chapel to pray for her bellyache, and I hurried on to arithmetic class.



In class, I took the letter from Petya out of my pinafore pocket and carefully placed it in my textbook, rereading it instead of listening to Madame Orbellani's lecture. I stared at the number three at the bottom of the page. Was it a key to a code? Petya had always been interested in secret codes when he was younger. I overheard Papa discussing it with him one day, saying that the Order would have a perfect use for his talent. I glanced up at the front of the classroom, at Madame Orbellani. She had written several numbers on the board in an equation and was crossing out digits on both sides of the equal sign.



It gave me an idea. Starting with My Dearest Katiya, I crossed out every third word in my brother's letter. I hoped that it looked like I was doing my arithmetic problems diligently. It worked perfectly. The words I crossed out sent a chill down my spine when I read them together:



Katiya, there is treachery within the Inner Circle.



The tsar is in danger. It is not safe for me to send



word directly. Warn the tsar, Sister.



Mon Dieu, what kind of danger threatened the tsar? I'd never even heard of the Order having an Inner Circle. I gasped out loud.



"Katerina Alexandrovna, do you wish to share your answer?" Madame Orbellani asked. "Please remember to raise your hand first."



My mouth went dry. My brother did not realize I was trapped at Smolny behind the empress's spell. He was hoping I would be able to slip away and send word discreetly to the tsar. What could I do?



"What is the answer, Katerina?" Madame Orbellani asked again patiently.



I was not in the mood for mathematics. "Forgive me, Madame, but I am still unwell. May I return to Sister Anna?"



Madame Orbellani sighed. "Of course. I shall expect to see your mathematics problems correctly answered in the morning."



"Oui, Madame." I hurriedly closed my books and gathered them up. I hated lying to my favorite teacher. But perhaps in the quiet of my room I would be able to send a warning to George. I knew he was thousands of miles away in Paris, but hopefully he would still be able to pick up on my thoughts. It was the only way I knew to discreetly inform the tsar of my brother's warning. I had to try.