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."' "That's already true,'' Sasha said."Wish it anyway.I do.—And while you're about it, wish us smarter than our enemies.''"I don't think you can do that.You either are or you aren't.That's how you win and lose."You have to be specific.""Then—" He thought of Vojvoda's upstairs windows, of balconies, latches and shutters."Wish us not to forget the little things.Wish us—" He thought about the years of his boyhood, that he had gambled his way up from tavern cellars to the fellowship of young gentlemen—and deluded himself about their loyalties."—to see through our most cherished self-deceptions.""That's good," Sasha said."What else? What about Chernevog?"Pyetr shook his head slowly."I don't know." God, he found himself don't-knowing, the same as Sasha.But there was so damned much to keep track of.”Wish a snake to bite him.Wish a bear to eat him.""Awake or asleep? Now or later? You can't put much complication in a wish.There might not be a bear in the neighborhood.""Well, find one! God, what can you predict? What use is the damn bannik, if it doesn't give you that? —Get some sleep, for the god's sake.We're crazed, we're getting nowhere closer, talking all night."‘‘Uulamets used to say, Never ill-wish.''"Well, it never damn well stopped Uulamets.Did it?""No," Sasha admitted, and then said, on another sigh, "A bear isn't really such a bad idea."12Slow thump of hooves on earth, quicker and quicker—an ominous sensation of presence behind him—Sasha looked over his shoulder.Eyes shone out of the dark.Babi hissed, or something did.White mane flew in his face, dead branches rushed past him.He was riding he had no idea where with something clinging to his back, riding double on the horse—Volkhi made an odd noise, and Sasha waked with a start in fogbound daylight—with the pale horse of his dream leaning over him.A white and brown spotted horse, actually, looking at him down a very familiar bowed nose.He scrambled up, sending the horse shying back in offense; he asked, wobbling on his feet, "Missy?"Ears pricked forward to his voice—and switched back again as Pyetr staggered upright, "God, boy, where are you getting them?""I didn't intend to.I honestly didn't intend to—""Isn't that the carter's horse?""It's Missy, yes.""Well, god, don't let her get away! —Here, Missy.GoodMissy, here, girl, Volkhi's a gentleman, I swear to his behavior."Missy shied back from Pyetr's enticements, even from Babi; but Sasha cheated, afraid she might indeed bolt back into the woods.He wished and whistled softly, stood with his hands held out as Missy took one cautious step and another, until he had her soft nose smelling over his fingers.Old friends, old memories, in the midst of troubles—god, it was good to see her.It was wonderful to put his arms around her neck."Poor old girl," he said against her warm, broad cheek."Poor old girl, I'm sorry, I wouldn't have brought you here.This is a dreadful place."Missy distractedly butted him with her head, cracking his teeth, looked up and surveyed Volkhi and Pyetr and Babi with a worried eye, doubtless asking herself what this odd gathering was, or what an honest working horse might possibly have to do with present company.But that something had gone right suddenly began to seem too improbable.Missy's presence, however loved, became a threat.He had dreamed about a white horse: he had never thought of white-maned, white-rumped Missy."I wished for her the night Volkhi came," he said dazedly, holding Missy's cheek-strap while Pyetr was busy throwing the packs together."I knew I'd done it.I thought I'd stopped it.That was why I was up writing, when the shelf fell.I wished other things—god!—about my uncle—''' "The black god take your uncle.And I doubt Missy had much to do with the shelf."''It doesn't.But she had to have come straight up from town— to where we were going to be this morning
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