Page 22 of A War Apart

I glanced over to see her shake her head.

“They took me by surprise, that’s all. Is this the place?” She tucked the unfinished socks back into their bag and nodded at the bakery ahead of us.

I cast a wary look back at the soldiers and took a deep breath. It wasn’t them. Mila was safe.

As we pulled up in front of the bakery, Ulyana came bustling out to greet us. A faded blue scarf covered her head, and the apron she wore was covered in a dusting of flour. “You’re here early!” She took Mila’s bag. “I had meant to clean up before you got here.”

“That’s alright,” Mila said quietly, stepping down from the wagon.

Konstantin Anatolyevich’s large pink face peeked through the doorway. “Han Antonovich, good to see you again!” He came out and put a hand on Ulyana’s shoulder. “You’ll have to drive around the block to put the horses and wagon up. These tiny roads, you know. No place to stable on our own street. Here, I’ll go with you.” He climbed up into the seat Mila had vacated.

I looked back at my wife, but she was already following Ulyana inside. The baker kept up a steady stream of conversation as we drove around to the stable.

“I’m sure you’ll want dinner soon. Ulyana has it cooking right now. We have some time before my friend is expecting us. I told Ulyana I was helping you make a business connection and that we’d be gone for the afternoon. I’m sure she wants some time alone with your wife, anyway. She doesn’t say anything, but it’s hard for her, being away from everyone she knows. She’s glad you’ve come. Gives her a taste of home.”

At the stable, Konstantin bounded out of the wagon and unhooked the horses before I could even climb down off the seat. “The brush is on the hook, if you want to brush them down before we go in. I’ll just check that the trough is filled.”

Once we finished, he led me through a door in the back of the stable. It opened into the bakery, where a young boy stood behind the counter, tending to something in the oven.

Konstantin clapped the boy on the back. “My apprentice. The guild sent him to me last year at his parents’ request. Keeps me in business, he does.” The boy looked down at his feet, but I saw a flash of a proud smile. “I’ll have dinner brought down to you in a bit, alright? Mind the shop while we’re with our guests.”

“Yes, sir!” The boy turned back to his work.

“We’re up here.” Konstantin led me up a narrow set of steps in the corner, into a well-furnished sitting room where Mila and Ulyana sat by the window talking.

“Business must be good, Konstantin Anatolyevich,” I remarked as I took a seat, “if you’re able to have an apprentice.”

The big man grinned. “You must call me Kostya.”

It was impossible not to like the man. “Business must be good, Kostya.”

“Oh, you know.” He waved a large hand dismissively. “I can’t say much in favor of the army, but they are good for business.The baron is generous, too. He varies his order throughout the guild, encourages local business.”

“You’re too modest, Kostiukha.” Ulyana smiled fondly at him before turning to me. “Lord Ilya gives him twice the business of the other bakers in the city, and he’s already been commissioned to provide the sweet pirogi for Prophet's Day.”

“And my biggest competition was commissioned for the meat pirogi, and the rest of the bakers for the poor-breads. He’s not singling me out,dorogaya.”He smiled at Mila. “She gives me too much credit. But how are you, Mila Dmitrievna? We were so sorry to hear of your troubles.”

She stiffened. “I’m doing well. Thank you for asking.”

Ulyana stood. “Dinner is ready, Kostya. We were just waiting for the two of you. Shall we eat?”

The cramped dining room was obviously not made for more than two or three people, but the food was good, and Ulyana and Konstantin had a cheerful banter that more than made up for Mila’s detached silence. I was grateful; I didn’t feel up to carrying the conversation myself.

When we finished eating, Konstantin stood, his head nearly brushing the ceiling. “Well, we should be off. We’re expected soon.”

“You’ll be alright?” I asked Mila. She pursed her lips and nodded once. “Then I’ll come get you once I’ve found us a room.”

“Don’t think of it.” Konstantin wore an indignant expression. “You’ll stay here tonight, and I’ll brook no refusal. We have plenty of room.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on his wife’s scarf-covered head. “We’ll be back for supper,dorogaya.”

The walk to the inn was short, the air warm from the early afternoon sun. I kept a cautious eye out for the soldiers from the tavern fight, but I saw none. Konstantin chatted amiably as we walked, stopping several times to talk to passersby or to mention a piece of trivia about a certain house or store.

We finally stopped at the door to an inn, and Konstantin held the door open for me to enter. “Here we are.”

I looked around as I stepped inside, blinking in the sudden dimness. The place was empty but for a sandy-haired man sitting in the far corner, slouched over his mug. He looked up as we approached, and I felt a flicker of familiarity.

The man stood, revealing a hook where his right hand should be. “You’re late.”

Konstantin grinned. “You know me. Never on time. Han, this is Boris Stepanovich.”

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