Thaw

Andrej met me at the estate’s front gate, passing through ephemeral shadows cast by the low-hanging December sun. A timber wolf trotted at his side.

"M-master Iv-iv-ivonski," I stammered. My arms were numb, my fingers ached; my feet warmed only by constant pacing. "G-good moring. Has th-there been a-any word?"

Andrej stopped, the iron latticework separating us. He considered me from under the rim of a yak-skin cap.

"Your husband's been gone for six months," he said. "Enough time for a caravan to reach Rome. On foot.” His gloved hands fumbled with the corroded bolt. “No word, Mrs. Reich, and I wouldn’t expect any."

The gate opened and the wolf sprang forward. I shrieked, expecting the beast’s weight on my chest, imagining its jaws around my neck. "Don't be foolish," Andrej muttered, heavy boots crushing permafrost with every step.

I managed to find my voice. "M-my son?"

"Is fulfilling his duties," replied Andrej. "And will continue until Victor returns with my galleon. At which point, unless your husband has won over the Italian Quarrymasters, he will take your son's place."

Andrej opened the estate's mailbox: a miniature castle with jutting spires and steeples. Ivory characters on the side declared "IVONSKI."

He removed a single letter, triple-stamped and sealed in wax. The envelope bulged.

"School is starting," I protested. "He deserves education."

Andrej shrugged and tore open the envelope. "It's unjust, true. But so is the capital I've lost. Debt must be repaid."

"I'll take his place."

He laughed. "A woman? In the stables?"

I flushed. I should have known that Ivonski souls were black. Teeth clenched, I reached into my tunic, forcing numb fingers to grasp the frozen knife handle...

"Huh," Andrej muttered, eyes twitching over the letter. He looked up.

"Your husband sends word."