Grigory's Gadget Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  World Map

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Thank You

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 E. A. Hennessy

  All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, and events either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For information contact:

  eahennessy.com

  Cover and map design by Deranged Doctor Design

  ISBN-10: 0-9971943-1-6

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9971943-1-9

  First Edition: March 2016

  Emerald Owl Publications

  Buffalo, NY

  Dedicated to Mohua and Rotem, who have inspired and supported my writing throughout our friendship.

  For full high-resolution map image, visit eahennessy.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Zoya Orlova's mind was a manic, swirling fog as she scurried around her apartment, moving clothes from her now-bare bed into the two leather suitcases on her floor. Those suitcases were all she'd have once she and her friends left Lodninsk.

  A steady knock on the door startled Zoya.

  Zoya looked around her bedroom, trying to spot anything she'd missed. She had already packed the few decent blouses, bodices, corsets, and pants she owned. The dresser was empty now, except for a brass clock with an ivory face that read a quarter after six. Zoya played nervously with a strand of her violet hair. The hair, along with her gray eyes and freckled skin, reminded Zoya of her mother and grandmother.

  Another knock, this time frantic.

  “Zoya! Are you ready?” Zoya's friend Lilia Alkaeva shouted, knocking again rapidly. Zoya walked into the tiny living room and opened the door with a smile.

  “Almost,” she said. “I'm waiting for my landlord to come by, and I need to grab one more thing.”

  Lilia shuffled in and sat on the small sofa. She pulled back her fur-lined hood and unwrapped her scarf. Her tan skin was flushed from the cold. Lilia’s soft round face hadn’t changed since childhood, when she and Zoya first became friends. She reminded Zoya of simpler times when they were young, before they’d experienced so much tragedy and loss. She was a comforting presence for Zoya, and Zoya knew the feeling was mutual.

  Lilia regarded Zoya with sleepy eyes as she tucked a piece of her thick black hair behind her ear and adjusted her glasses.

  Zoya closed her door and walked into the room that had been her grandmother's. Grandma Orlova's clothes still hung in the closet. They, like Zoya's, would be distributed to needy folks in the city. As worn as those clothes were, they would likely be the nicest donation received in quite some time. Zoya knelt and rooted around in the bottom drawer of her grandmother’s dresser until her fingers found the small box she’d hidden there. The box held a family keepsake: a small sphere, the size of a grapefruit, composed of tightly packed gears and wires. Zoya thought it looked as though the parts should be able to move, but never had been able to make them budge. As Grandma Orlova lay on her death bed, barely able to speak lest she go into a horrible coughing fit, she'd told Zoya this keepsake was particularly important.

  “If you protect it,” she'd said, “it will protect you.”

  Zoya had nodded and promised her grandmother she'd keep it safe. She'd assumed her grandmother's mind was going or clouded by medication. Grandma Orlova had never mentioned that particular keepsake before, but it obviously meant something to her. Zoya grabbed the little gadget and packed it into the corner of one suitcase as a sentimental token to bring to her new home.

  “Has your landlord paid you yet?” Lilia asked as Zoya returned to the living room.

  “I haven't seen him,” Zoya said, shrugging in annoyance. “He's been busy, brushing me off every time I bring it up.”

  “He knows you're leaving today, right?”

  Zoya shrugged again then fastened her suitcases closed.

  “I still can't believe it,” Lilia said, grinning as she glanced out the small window. There was nothing to see but ice and the stone of the next building. “It feels so surreal. We're finally leaving!” She smiled broadly at her friend. “We'll start our brand new, wonderful life in Mirgorod soon!”

  “I didn't get any sleep last night,” Zoya said. “I'm just so nervous. What if something goes wrong?”

  “Don't talk like that,” Lilia told her. “Only I'm allowed to talk like that.” Lilia winked, but her fidgeting hands betrayed her nerves.

  A series of hard, steady knocks sounded on the door. Zoya opened it and smiled politely at her landlord. He was a tall, malnourished man with yellowed eyes and teeth. “Enjoy your new perfect life, Miss Orlova. Here's the money for the furniture.” He shoved a small stack of bills into Zoya's hand. Zoya stared at it and wrinkled her brow.

  “Is this it?” she asked.

  “Tough economy,” her landlord said simply then turned to leave.

  “Wait just a second,” Zoya objected. “This isn't even half of what these things are worth!”

  The landlord turned back around, frowning and rolling his eyes.

  “The dresser in my grandmother's room is an antique,” Zoya went on. “It's at least a hundred twenty years old, and in perfect condition! And the brass bed frame dates back to the rule of King Vassiliy II!”

  “Yes, it's old,” the landlord grumbled. “I was generous.” He turned and walked away before Zoya could object further.

  “Gosh,” Lilia said as Zoya closed the door. “Well, it's better than nothing, I suppose. On the bright side, that's the last time you'll have to deal with him ever again.”

  Zoya frowned as she glanced around the small apartment. Lilia stood and patted Zoya's shoulder.

  “Come on,” Lilia urged. “Everyone else is waiting downstairs. We'll miss the train if we don't hurry!”

  “Am I the only one who had trouble fitting my entire life into two suitcases?” Anya Filipova asked as Zoya and Lilia arrived in the lobby of the apartment complex. She was fussing with her golden-brown hair, which was a mess about her head from the wind outside. “I barely had room for all of my craft supplies, let alone clothes!” Tall and skinny, Anya always moved with an easy grace such that the simple act of fixing her hair seemed like a flourish.

  “She didn't let me sleep at all,” Lilia teased. “I can just buy new fabric there, right? Oh, but I love this fabric! Which beads should I bring?”

  “Shush, you,” Anya replied with a playful shove. “These are important decisions.”

  “Demyan and I had it easy,” Nikolai Polzin responded. He leaned casually against the wall and grinned. Fresh snowflakes still dotted his black dreadlocks and melted against his mahogany skin. “We split our archeology books and tools between the two of us. The only downside is we’ll need to share.” Demyan Volkov playfully shoved his friend, his green eyes sparkling. He was nearly a head shorter than Nikolai, with a small frame.

  “Lucky,” Lilia told them. “I had so much trouble narrowing down which books I wanted to bring.”


  “My issue wasn't space so much as weight,” Zoya said. “Screwdrivers and wrenches get heavy fast. I could pack only the most basic tools.” Zoya walked over to Demyan and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek.

  “I don't need much,” he told her, “as long as I have you.” Zoya stuck her tongue out at him.

  “You're so sweet,” she said.

  “Sickeningly sweet,” Nikolai added.

  “Anyhow, friends,” Lilia said with urgency. “We really do need to get moving. We don't want to be late!” The friends nodded and bundled up to head outside.

  The city of Lodninsk, Morozhia was a dreary place surrounded by coal mines and filled with factories. Soot stained the stone and brick buildings. The only saving grace was the near-constant falling snow that made the city seem somewhat clean.

  “Where are you off to at this hour of the morning?”

  A platoon of soldiers stood in the friends' path, their hands placed firmly on the metal batons strapped to their belts. The friends cast their eyes to the ground.

  “We're going to the train station, sir,” Zoya said. “We're heading to the port in Koravsk.”

  “Tickets,” the leader commanded. The friends complied, handing over their tickets.

  “Mirgorod?” the leader asked. “What is there for you in Mirgorod?”

  “We're students, sir,” Anya said, “transferring to the Grand University of Mirgorod for our final year of studies.”

  “What's wrong with Lodninsk University?” the leader asked. Anya opened her mouth to answer and froze. She glanced at her friends.

  “Absolutely nothing, sir,” Zoya said. “We have been taught that living through hardship builds character. What better hardship than to endure being far from this great city, sir?”

  “Indeed,” the leader replied. After he looked at each ticket, he nodded and returned them to the group.

  “On your way,” he said. He and the rest of the platoon resumed their march down the street. The friends sighed and continued on their way.

  The wind howled through the streets as the friends made their way to the train station. The large, stone building was one of the grandest in the city. Thick glass filled its facade, reaching almost to the top of its domed roof. Zoya and her friends smiled at each other then entered.

  The lobby was huge with high ceilings made of a brown stone. The marble floors laid out a warm geometric pattern trimmed with gold. In the center of the lobby sat a fifteen-foot clock tower.

  “Wow,” Nikolai said. “I've never been in here before.”

  “Neither have I,” Demyan agreed. “Who knew there was anything this colorful in Lodninsk?”

  “A sign of good things to come,” Zoya said, smiling.

  They lumbered toward the signs labeled Baggage Check and showed their tickets. The woman behind the desk glanced at each ticket and frowned.

  “You didn't reserve baggage space,” she told them. “You'll need to bring your bags with you to your seats.”

  “Could we pay for the space now?” Zoya asked.

  “No more space left,” the woman said, handing back the tickets. The friends bowed their heads and continued toward the boarding platform.

  “I could have sworn I reserved baggage space,” Demyan said.

  “She's right, though,” Nikolai replied, putting one of his suitcases down and pointing to his ticket. “These don't say anything about baggage.”

  “I guess we'll have to squeeze in together,” Lilia said.

  “I don't have a problem with that,” Demyan said, nudging Zoya with his elbow.

  “You two need to behave.” Anya rolled her eyes. Demyan and Zoya laughed.

  The friends walked onto the station's platform, sheltered by stone and glass. Smoke billowed out of the large locomotive and filled the platform area. The train's whistle blew.

  “Hurry,” Lilia pleaded to her friends. “We need to get to our seats.” She rushed ahead to where the conductor collected tickets.

  “Third car,” the conductor barked, shoving the ticket back to Lilia. The group of friends walked down the platform until they found the car marked Three and boarded.

  A narrow hallway extended down the length of the car. Gas sconces lit the dark wooden walls and deep red carpet.

  “Alright, compartment numbers,” Zoya mumbled, looking at her ticket. “I have 313.”

  “Me too,” Lilia and Anya said in unison.

  “Wait,” Demyan said. He glanced at Nikolai's ticket. “We both have 313 as well.”

  They walked until they found 313. Anya opened the door to find two velvet benches within. Each bench could comfortably seat two people, uncomfortably three.

  “How long is our train ride?” Anya asked.

  “Ten hours,” Zoya replied.

  Nikolai sighed. “Let's get cozy.” He stepped into the small room.

  Nikolai and Demyan hoisted each of their suitcases onto shelves above the benches. Demyan stowed Zoya’s bags as well, filling the remaining available space.

  “We can put our bags on the floor,” Anya said, shoving her suitcases between the benches. “It will be like a table.”

  “Make sure our suitcases are stable up there,” Zoya said. “I don't want to get hit on the head when the train starts moving.”

  Demyan tapped the suitcases and smiled when they didn’t budge. He and Zoya sat together on one bench, while Nikolai, Lilia, and Anya sat opposite them.

  “Ow!” Lilia shouted. “Nikolai, what's in your pocket?”

  Nikolai felt around his pockets then pulled out a drawing compass.

  “Er, sorry,” he muttered, and tucked the compass into the side of his suitcase.

  “Who keeps a compass in their pocket?” Lilia asked. Nikolai shrugged and laughed.

  A moment later, the train whistle blew again. Slowly, the locomotive chugged away from the platform. The early morning sun peeked through the clouds, splashing the inside of the car with a rosy hue. The friends stared out the window as the train left their home town behind.

  “Goodbye, Lodninsk,” Zoya mumbled. “We won't miss you.”

  Nikolai and Demyan fell asleep almost immediately once the train started moving. Lilia pulled out a large, leather-bound book to read, while Zoya and Anya contented themselves to watch the snowy scenery pass by outside. Zoya tried to shut her eyes for a nap, but sleep evaded her. After about an hour, Anya pulled out some yarn and a crochet hook. Lilia looked up from her book and furrowed her brow.

  “Are you really knitting right now?” she asked.

  “No,” Anya replied. “I'm crocheting.”

  Lilia rolled her eyes, closing her book. “What are you, eighty years old?”

  Anya looked at Lilia through the corner of her eye. “Fine,” she said. “You don't get a scarf for your birthday this year.”

  Lilia laughed. “Good, I won't need one,” she said, teasing. “Mirgorod is going to be warm and sunny, and I'll never need a scarf again!”

  “They still get snow sometimes,” Zoya said. “For, maybe, a month out of the year.”

  “See?” Anya said to Lilia. “And that will be one month you'll wish you had a scarf.”

  Lilia stuck her tongue out then reopened her book.

  Another hour passed when they heard a knock at the door. Zoya reached past the still-sleeping Demyan to open it. A server stood next to a cart full of breakfast plates. Each plate had a piece of dark bread, a small cup of butter, a sausage link, and a bowl of porridge. Zoya shook Demyan awake, and Lilia did the same for Nikolai. The friends then eagerly took their breakfast. Nikolai glanced into the hall.

  “Don't we get anything to drink?” he asked.

  “Looks like they poured our drink into the porridge,” Lilia replied, watching the watery slop fall from her spoon.

  “The sausage tastes like newspaper,” Anya said after taking a bite.

  “They really serve the high-quality fare on these trains,” Demyan said.

  “We should be thankful we're being fed at all,” Zo
ya said. Her mouth twitched into a smile, and she burst into a laugh. “The food is terrible.”

  After the friends finished their breakfast, they stacked their plates and shoved the pile to the edge of the suitcase nearest the door. Nikolai shifted in his seat, squishing Lilia in the process.

  “What are you doing?” Lilia complained, pushing Nikolai toward the wall.

  “I'm sitting on something,” he replied.

  “Another compass?” Lilia mocked. Nikolai stood and looked down at his seat.

  “Oh, it's a newspaper,” he stated, pulling the crumpled papers out from under him. He sat back down as he neatened them.

  “How did you not notice that before?” Demyan asked.

  “I was sleeping,” Nikolai told him, “and then I was eating.” Nikolai smoothed out the newspaper and looked at the front page.

  “Uh-oh,” he uttered. He turned the newspaper around to show his friends. The image on the front of the paper was of three soldiers standing in front of a large, armored tank. The text above it read War Brews in the South. The word “war” was larger than the rest of the headline.

  “Well,” Zoya said, “we knew it was coming, one way or another. Does it say if Starzapad has attacked Morozhia yet?”

  Nikolai skimmed the article. “It's nothing we haven't already heard. The Queen of Starzapad continues to offend Our Great Leader with embargoes, insulting accusations, spying, et cetera.” Nikolai put the paper down. Lilia snatched it up and read it.

  “It says Starzapad attacked Morozhia because of the disappearance of the Princess Rozaliya.” She looked at her friends, puzzled. “Starzapad blames Morozhia for the disappearance. Why would we kidnap a princess?”

  “Who knows?” Demyan said.

  “Who cares?” Nikolai added. “We're leaving. It's not our problem anymore.”

  Lilia's eyes went wide. “What about our ship?” she asked. “We have to sail right by Starzapad. Will they attack us?”

  “I doubt it,” Zoya replied.