Natasha had decided to join the party and she brought Sofia and Anya, so there were more women than Bernie thought there’d be. The amount of advanced planning needed to travel just a couple of days was mind boggling to Bernie. And this trip would take at least a month, new coach or not.
“I can’t believe it.” Bernie knew his voice was harsh and his nose bright red from chapping. He was also angry. “I can’t believe it took five freaking weeks to get here and the ship still hasn’t made it.” Which wasn’t what he’d started to say but was more politic. He stomped around the room for a bit, working off some excess energy and tying not to say what he wanted to say.
“Now, Bernie.” Vladislav Vasl’yevich Vinnikov, Natasha’s captain of guards, tried to soothe him. “It was a long way, a hard trip at this time of year. I would imagine that it was even worse on the sea. Your friend will be here. You must just be patient.”
“Why can’t we just go to the coast to meet him?” Bernie asked, in spite of his better judgment. The truth was Bernie was pretty sure he knew why. He wasn’t going to be allowed to leave Russia. Not for the foreseeable future, anyway. They had their up-timer and weren’t going to chance losing him. That had become obvious once they got to the Russian/Swedish border and stopped. He threw his hands in the air.
Bernie knew Vladislav Vasl’yevich wasn’t about to answer his question directly. It wouldn’t be the correct thing to do.
“The villages in the area, Bernie. We should look at the villages. The soil is a bit different, perhaps. You could take notes; it would help with the development of the plows and reapers, I’m sure.”
Bernie brightened a bit, not much. “Well, it’s something to do anyway. Sure, we’ll go take a look.”
Natasha, who had been quiet for a few moments, added, “As well, Pavel Andreyevich would like you to design your plumbing for his home. He is most interested in it. And you are invited to utilize his sauna, if you wish.”
Bernie grinned. The word Natasha had used was banya. The Russian multi-leveled sauna was certainly a way to get warm. Overly warm, if the truth were known. Bernie hadn’t quite been able to make it to the third level back at the Dacha, not yet. Nor had he quite had the guts to roll around in the snow afterwards, although he had progressed to dumping buckets of not-quite-cold water on himself. The process also involved a massage with leafy twigs that was called venek, that had been sort of a revelation. Bernie didn’t know of the reports up-time that venek worked better than Viagra, but if he had he would have agreed with them.
“Sounds like a plan.” Bernie sniffed. Cold always made his nose run. “After four hundred miles in this kind of freaking cold, a sauna sounds really good.” And as pissed and, tell the truth, Bernie, he thought, scared as you are. Now is not the time to make an issue of it.
Natasha smiled as Bernie left the room. “That might have been more difficult.”
Vladislav Vasl’yevich shook his head. “He knows. He just doesn’t want the confrontation any more than we do. I wonder what delayed the ship.”
They had planned not to reach the border till after the car was already there, but didn’t want it waiting too long. Natasha had spent a worried week thinking up things to keep Bernie occupied. As yet, Russia had been able to recruit a total of one up-timer. That up-timer was Bernie Zeppi. Cass Lowry was a temporary hire.
Czar Mikhail and Patriarch Filaret were quite insistent that Bernie not leave Russian territory. At the same time, Mikhail Romanov expressed a personal desire that Bernie not be made to feel abused or trapped. Natasha was stuck with the job of keeping Bernie from leaving Russia while keeping him from realizing that he couldn’t. A task which, if Vladislav was correct, she had already failed at.
It was important that Bernie remain willing to stay in Russia. Bernie was in regular correspondence with Brandy Bates and his own family in Grantville. A sudden end to those letters would be reported to the government of the USE, most likely. Russia, decidedly, didn’t want to annoy the USE at the moment.
Chapter 41
“What the hell took so long, Cass?” Bernie asked.
Cass Lowry glared at him from beneath the hood of his camouflage-fabric parka. “Everything you can think of, dude. Everything. Hail. Freezing rain. A goddamn storm at sea. So don’t gripe at me. I got the damn thing here, didn’t I? Not to mention the drums. And let me tell you, those were a ring-tailed son of a bitch, they really were. And expensive! You’d never believe what Gorchakov had to pay for those fifty-five gallon drums, not to mention what’s in them.”
Bernie decided yelling at Cass wouldn’t help, so he grinned. “You’re right. I’m happier than you know to have fifty-five gallons of gas, I promise you. And motor oil. That’s a bonus I didn’t expect.”
Cass smirked. “I told Brandy. I told her and that Vladimir the same thing. ‘It’s not going to do any good if you just send the car,’ I said. ‘You’ve got to send some gas and oil.’ It cost Vladimir a bundle, Bernie. But he did it. And there’s a whole pile of boxes in the wagons, too. Everything anybody could think of to send you is in a box or wrapped up in the trunk of the car. Brandy hit every garage sale and junk sale she could to find stuff to send you. And books-you’ll never believe the books. Piles of them.”
“Great. We need every one we can find. Come on. Let’s go get the introductions over with. Things are kind of formal around here, Cass. You need to watch your step. Just follow my lead and things will probably be okay.”
“Natalia Petrovna Gorchakov, may I introduce Cass Lowry. Cass, this is Vladimir’s sister, Natalia Petrovna. And this is her aunt, Madame Sofia Gorchakov. And this is Anya, our accountant.”
Bernie thought he’d done a credible job on the introduction until Cass opened his big mouth.
“If you’re Vladimir’s sister, why isn’t your name Natasha? That’s what Brandy said, Natasha.”
Bernie sort of kicked Cass in the ankle and made a face at him. “I’ll explain later,” he murmured. “Just say hello-and be polite, will you?”
Cass glared a bit, but nodded. “Ma’am, I’m pleased to meet you. I did bring a load of letters for you. They’re from your brother and Brandy. And there are some presents, too. They’re in one of the boxes.”
Natasha nodded graciously. “My thanks. We appreciate your trouble and invite you to share our hospitality at the Dacha for a while. Vladimir Petrovich was pleased that you accepted his commission.”
“Yeah, well, I stung him pretty good on the fee.” Cass snickered.
Bernie knew there was going to be trouble sooner or latter. Cass was acting like he was still up-time and still a football star. “Natalia Petrovna, we will take our leave of you for the moment,” Bernie said. “My friend and I need to have a talk. If you will excuse us?”
Natasha inclined her head. “Certainly, Bernie. Perhaps we shall see you and Cass at dinner?” Bernie suppressed a groan. Cass, Natasha, dinner… what was wrong with that combination? Bernie didn’t want to think about it.
Dinner was tense, to say the least. The Russians were showing restraint and Cass needed to be in restraints. He was behaving like a boor, to the point where Bernie was seriously considering knocking him out. Unfortunately, most of the Russians present understood quite a bit of English. Natasha had an aptitude for language and was getting fairly close to fluency.
To make things still worse, it turned out that Cass had an aptitude for language also. Bernie hadn’t expected that at all. He was certain that if she’d been present, their former Spanish language teacher in high school, Guadelupe DiCastro, would have been struck dumb with astonishment. Bernie had gotten a B-minus in her class but Cass had almost flunked it completely.
Cass wasn’t actually stupid, though, although he could sure put on a good imitation. When he decided to learn something and applied himself, he could usually manage it pretty well. So, on the long trip here he’d apparently learned some Russian. Not enough to really get by, but enough to be able to insult people in two languages instead of just one.