Eric Flint: Grantville Gazette.Volume XIII

The very idea was repugnant.

A lot of information that was coming from the up-timer histories was repugnant. Inconceivable, a lot of it.

Colonel Kovezin stopped staring at the broadsheet. "How many people have seen this?"

"A lot of them," Machek admitted. "The things have been being passed around all over the city. Along with the ones about killing rats, boiling water, not drinking so much…"

"This city is being buried in paper," Colonel Kovezin said. Then he grinned. "We live in interesting times. Never mind this. I'm sure the patriarch is well aware of it and will make a pronouncement. Try to keep the men calm. Today is a big day for us and I want everyone's attention kept on his duty."

Machek grinned back. "Today is the day?"

"Yes. Today we receive our new rifles."

Sofia's eyes sparkled like cold black diamonds. "Nevertheless, it cannot be you that goes. You are needed here. Bernie needs you. Boris and Daromila need you. You may not abandon that trust."

Natasha stopped her pacing. She'd been trying too hard to justify being the person who went. She knew it. "But I so want to see it, Aunt Sofia. So very much." She threw herself onto a bench. "Vladimir is there. I miss him. And I want to see it."

"Even so." Sofia's eyes softened. "I know, dear." She patted Natasha's hand. "I know." She grinned. "So do I want to go." Then she straightened her shoulders. "But we must carry on here. Czar Mikhail has said that he will consider this marriage, but there must be a senior female of the family to examine Brandy. And I know just who to send." She cackled in laughter. "Oh, my. It will do them so much good."

"I didn't really believe it. Not until I saw that." Vlad watched the Las Vegas Belle until it was out of sight. Even after several months, he still wasn't entirely sure he believed it. And slowly he began to smile. "I believe that turnabout is fair play, Brandy. Perhaps I should write Bernie that I insist that he build me an airplane. And a factory for cars. And an oil refinery."

"Soda pop." Brandy looked in the direction where the plane had disappeared. "Real, old-fashioned Coca-Cola. I miss those. New movies, instead of re-watching all the old ones. Xerox machines for quick copies. Um, we can probably think up a bunch of stuff to demand, really. They won't be very realistic, I imagine, but it might be kind of fun to make a demand instead of trying to satisfy them. Besides, they might just do it."

They walked slowly to Brandy's house thinking up ever more outrageous things to demand of Bernie and the "brain cases" in Muscovy and laughing at their demands. No one could be sad on a day like today.

They turned up the walk to Brandy's house and she hesitated a bit. Vlad knew that it was because her mother had died there.

He'd been surprised, three days after Donna died, by the attendance at her funeral. It seemed like a large number of people showed up. Most unusual was the cluster of young girls around Brandy. One of them was one of the most beautiful girls he had ever seen. Her hair was a deep auburn and her skin was clear with just a few freckles.

Brandy had, in compliance with Donna's wishes, arranged a simple graveside service. It was very brief. Afterwards, people visited with one another and everyone spoke to Brandy and Vernon for a moment or two. Brandy introduced Vlad to the cluster of young girls. They were. .. quite exceptional, he thought.

Much to Vlad's surprise, Vernon was one of the first to leave. "He's just not good at emotions." Brandy had noticed Vlad watching Vernon. "He never has been. He's closed up, like in a shell or something. It drove Mom crazy. That, I think, is why they got divorced. Mom was too emotional for him, I guess."

Vlad looked down at her. "I promise you. I promise you that I will never be so, so…"

"Calm and dispassionate?" Her tears started flowing again. "Good. I don't think I'd like it any better than Mom did."

The sound of the doorbell jerked Brandy to alertness. She smoothed down her dress and checked her reflection in the mirror before opening the door. Here goes, she thought.

Vladimir stood on the porch, smiling at her. Her breath caught a bit. They'd been dating a long time, but this was the first time they'd been alone together. Really alone. No servants. No Mom. Brandy still felt Donna's loss keenly. But a person had to move on. This dinner was an effort to do that.

"Come in, please." Brandy smiled as Vlad brought his left hand from behind his back with a flourish. His eyes twinkled a bit. "The little books, they say a man should bring a gift to dinner. So, I brought you this."

This was not flowers or candy, or even a bottle of wine. Vlad had brought a bag of coffee beans. Brandy grinned. "Good. We'll have some later." She stood aside and waved Vlad inside. "Dinner will be ready in just a moment. I hope you like it."

Vlad divested himself of his heavy fur coat and looked around the room. "You have changed a few things, Branya. Not much, just a little. The home seems somehow more your own, now."

"Just a little." Brandy felt sad for a moment. "I loved my mother, but I never cared for that 'country' look she liked so much. So I sort of streamlined the room a bit." A dinging sound came from the kitchen. "One thing about a house this size, you can hear the timer. Come on in. The table is ready and it sounds like dinner is, too."

Brandy ushered Vlad into the small dining area where she had used Donna's best china and crystal to set the table. "Have a seat. I'll be right back."

Brandy came back with a large platter of something. Noodles, Vlad thought. He'd become fond of noodles. But what was covering them? It smelled wonderful, whatever it was.

Brandy set the platter on the table. "I've got no idea if this is really a Russian dish. But Cora said it was, so I tried it. I hope it's good. I'm not really much of a cook. Mom tried, but I wasn't very interested, to tell the truth."

The smell had Vlad salivating. "I don't care if it's Russian, Branya. It smells wonderful. Just wonderful."

Brandy smiled widely and served Vlad a portion of the dish, whatever it was. She poured wine for them both and indicated the salad and bread on the table. "Thank heaven for greenhouses. We always had lettuce back then. I'd miss it, if we didn't have it here, even if it isn't the iceberg I'm used to." Apparently noticing Vlad's hesitation, she urged, "Go ahead. Dig in."

Vlad did. The scent was marvelous and the taste even more so. It only needed one thing. "Is there, perhaps, some smetana?"

Brandy gave him a look and he grinned guiltily. Brandy had commented before about his liking for smetana. He put it in nearly everything he ate, including stew. "It has quite a bit in it already." She passed him the dish full of sour cream. "But I knew you'd want more. Is it all right? Does it taste good?"

Vlad nodded, busying himself with the dish. "Marvelous." He added sour cream to his plate. "Marvelous. I'm afraid I'm ruined for Russian cooking, at least the cooking back in Muscovy. Ruined. I may never wish to go back, just for the flavor of the food alone. What is this called?"

"Beef Stroganoff."

Vlad ate until Brandy was pretty sure he was about to explode.

"Marvelous," he said. Several times. Well, it was, but that was only part of the reason he kept saying it. Vladimir was terrified.

After dinner, over coffee in the living room, Brandy began to feel a little awkward. What did you say now? How did you handle this kind of privacy when you didn't have any intention of needing, well, this kind of privacy? Not yet, at any rate.

Vlad solved the problem by beginning to speak. "Natasha tells me that the situation in Muscovy is quite tense. Czar Mikhail has vaguely suggested a constitution to replace the agreement he made on assuming the throne. Such a document would be binding not only on him, but on all future czars. Most importantly though, it would also be binding on the Duma and Bureaus and replace the Zemskiy Sobor with an elected legislature or perhaps turn the Assembly of the Land into such a congress."