"Inna! Inna, wake up." Sarah gently rubbed her daughter's arm.
A much more pleasant awakening than Inna had expected. She blinked and sat upright.
"Darling, how did you sleep?"
Inna couldn't answer that one honestly. "All right," she said.
Sarah took a steadying breath. "I have something for you." She held out a letter.
Inna took it. The letter was unusually heavy. It was addressed to Inna specifically, even stating which bedroom she inhabited. She gave her mother a quizzical glance.
"Go on, open it," Sarah prompted.
Inna flipped the letter to find it closed with an intricate black seal. She brought it close to her face. Durmstrang, it said. Durmstrang. She slit the letter open.
Miss Inna Domoslov,
We are delighted to inform you that you have been accepted to Durmstrang School of Sorcery and Magic. Please observe the list enclosed; these are the items you shall require.
You will report to Moscow Railway Station on September first at 10:00 a.m. Please take care to be punctual.
We look forward to your attendance at our prestigious academy.
Sincerely,
Natasha Chevaka,
Mistress of Beldorv Student Relations
A shining bit of paper fell into her lap. Delicately inscribed in silver were these words:
Durmstrang Express
Moscow Railway Station
10:00 A.M.
"Mother, what is this?" Inna asked. Behind her calm face, a quiet excitement began to blossom.
"It is your acceptance to a school of magic, sweetie," Sarah answered, her hand twitching in an aborted move brush Inna's hair back from her face.
"What do you mean, magic?"
"I mean…" Sarah searched for the right words. "I mean that you have magic in your blood. Do you know—the strange things? That's what I'm talking about, darling." Sarah meant what she had forbidden Inna to speak of at only three years of age. Inna knew exactly what Sarah was talking about. "You can do magic. You're a witch."
Inna sat for long moments.
"Oh," she whispered. She looked at her mother. "Why didn't you tell me before? You knew about it."
Sarah's throat caught, and she tried not to squirm. "Boris doesn't know." She had never dared to tell her husband.
"He doesn't know about magic?"
"No."
"Are you a witch?"
Her mother's face was strained. "Yes."
"You were a witch all this time, and you still allowed everything to happen."
Sarah wilted under her daughter's cold stare. "Forgive me, she pleaded desperately. She bowed her head and sobbed.
Inna couldn't speak. She did not know what would come from her mouth. Finally, she lifted Sarah's head. "Don't cry, Mother."
Sarah tried to steady her breath.
"Was my father a wizard?" Inna asked her.
Sarah said nothing. She had always refused to talk to Inna about her father. All that Sarah had ever said was that he was dead—that Boris was her father now.
"Mother— you owe me this much."
Sarah looked away. "Yes, your father was a wizard."
"What was he like? How did he die?"
Sarah forced a smile at her daughter and patted her leg. "Not now. It's late—time to get up. We have some shopping to do."
Fifteen minutes later, they were in Sarah's Mercedes. Inna didn't care for it very much; the extravagant car drew more stares than she was comfortable with. Silent, she watched the road as Sarah drove deep into Moscow, down streets Inna had never seen before. Finally, they parked in front of some ill-favored apartment buildings.
After walking some distance, they stopped at a small garden that squatted in the shadow of one of the buildings. "Mother…" Inna began to protest as her mother opened the gate and pulled her inside.
"Hush, darling." Sara followed a path lined by dead shrubs. It went on for much longer than it should have, the shrubbery getting steadily taller, until it seemed to Inna like a maze with one road.
It ended at a small door made of stone. There was no handle or keyhole, merely a tiny, round hole right in the middle. Inna stared at it for a moment, then looked questioningly at her mother.
Sarah was very pale. "Oh—sweetie—I forgot! Your father is bringing home his partner for lunch." She looked pleadingly at her daughter. "I have to go home." She thrust a small silver key into Inna's hand. "This is for your bank account. The money inside is yours—it is your inheritance. The number is 787. Now, I've got to go," she mumbled, hastily backing away.
Inna, stunned, watched her go. "Mother!" She called, just as Sarah turned out of sight.
"Yes?" Sarah asked, returning with a hunted look.
"How do I…" Inna gestured toward the stone door.
"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry!" Sarah rushed back. She looked quickly about them, and took out a stick—a wand. Inna thought she seemed ashamed as she inserted the tip of it into the hole. The door creaked slowly open. "Now, dear, I must run," Sarah whispered, pocketing the wand. She rushed away.
Inna stepped automatically through the door before it shut behind her. She knew she should feel a little angry at her mother for abandoning her like this, but what she really felt was relief. Sometimes, her mother's timidity could be contagious. Inna would figure things out on her own.
She was standing in a short hallway of the bushes. At the end, the sun shone brightly. Taking a breath, she walked out of the shadows.
There were many strange and wondrous things to greet her eyes. Shops selling parchment and books, potions, broomsticks, magical plants. People rushed by her dressed in colorful robes and cloaks. Inna realized with a jolt that she was drawing stares with her plain shirt and skirt. Feeling intensely uncomfortable, Inna hurried down the street, searching for the bank her mother had spoken of.
It proved to be rather easy to spot, a large, imposing white building that stood high over the other shops. A huge sign glistened against the marble: Gringotts Bank.
Inna headed toward the shining bronze doors, but stopped dead in shock at the… creature guarding the door. It was about her height, but that was where the similarities ended. It had a long, obtrusive nose and sharp eyes. A pointed beard made it a he, Inna assumed. Dark, thick-looking gray skin and sinisterly long fingers clashed with his handsome uniform of red and gold.
He turned his gaze to Inna. They stood, eye to eye, her heart thudding uncomfortably. He bowed her inside.
Feeling as if she had passed some kind of test, she pushed through the doors, only to be met by a second set, these silver. She read the words engraved upon them:
Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn,
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors,
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief you have been warned, beware,
Of finding more than treasure there.
An elegant warning, Inna thought. She ignored it and stepped inside.
There were hundreds more of the craggy creatures. Some sat behind a long, tall counter, weighing stones and coins, examining golden objects. Others showed people into doors along the huge hallway. Unsure of what to do, inna followed a tall woman over to the counter.
"Chila Verkoff's safe, please." The woman handed the waiting creature a huge, brass key. He examined it for a moment, then called another creature to escort her to her safe.
Well, that wasn't so hard, Inna thought. She approached a waiting creature and held out her key. "Number 787, please."
"What is the name?" the creature demanded, his eyes resting sharply upon her face.
Inna's stomach dropped horribly. Her inheritance, her mother had said. From her father? But if that was so, her last name wouldn't be Domoslov.
"…Inna…" she began helplessly.
"Inna Slevonov, isn't it?" the creature said.
Hoping desperately that it wasn't a trick, Inna nodded.
"Very well." He turned. "Geester!" Inna barely had time to wonder before another of the creatures stalked over. "Escort Miss Slevorov to her vault," he said, handing Geester the key. A sharp nod and Geester left.
"Thank you," Inna called softly to the creature at the counter. He deeply to her, and she dashed off after Geester, who was impatiently holding a door open for her. She ducked through and found herself in a dark, sloping passageway lined with torches. A mall set of what looked like train tracks lined the ground.
A sharp whistle from her side made her jump—Geester was closer than she thought. As if in answer to the shrill call, a cart zoomed up to them. Geester climbed into it and gestured impatiently for Inna to follow. She clambered in after him.
She didn't have time to wonder before the cart shot down the tracks. It swung down this passageway and that, gaining speed all the time. Inna clutched the side of the cart, fright and exhilaration flooding her senses. The cart plunged even deeper, through caves draped with odd, grotesquely-shaped stalactites and stalagmites.
Inna had just begun to relax and enjoy the wild ride when the cart shuddered unevenly to a halt in front of a tall, narrow black door. Geester hopped out and used her key to unlock it. A loud whoosh, and Inna's hair blew back from her face. She peered inside, and gasped.
Three huge piles of coins, all as tall or taller than she was. One gold, one silver, one bronze.
This fortune was hers. All the time, she'd never known. She turned to Geester. "How much do you think I'll need to buy school supplies?" she asked.
He smiled nastily. "Depends on what you're planning on buying."
"Well, I'm going to Durmstrang, and I need…" she trailed off at Geester's cold glare. Obviously, he had not meant for her to respond. Scowling, he stuck out a hand with a bag for her. She filled it with equal amounts of each type of coin, hoping it would be enough.
After the more-enjoyable return ride, Inna once agains stood outside the bronze bank doors. She stepped forward into the swarming crowd of the magic folk.
*I*I*
Boris had been pleased with his luncheon. His partner, Andron, even remarked on its quality. Inna's absence went unnoticed.
As soon as they had gone, Sarah rushed to her car. If she hurried, she might be able to get Inna home in time to prepare for supper. Lost in the loud, confusing town of Beldorv, Sarah had no idea where her daughter could be found. She wandered helplessly down the streets.
"Mother?" Inna's voice startled her out of her worries.
"Darling! Where—" Sarah had not recognized her daughter, who now wore the garb of a witch. "Have you gotten everything?"
"Yes."
"Good. Hurry, we need to go." She led her daughter out of the city and into the car.
"Put your things in there," instructed Sarah when they entered Inna's room at home. The trunk she indicated was large and black; Inna saw the same seal on it that decorated the letter—an elaborate D, intricately woven with vines and various creatures.
"Hurry, put your things away and come help me in the kitchen." Sarah bustled away.
The books would have to wait, Inna thought regretfully. She had purchased several that were not required by her school list; her fingers itched as she stacked them gingerly into the trunk.
"Would you wash those dishes?" Sarah asked when Inna came down to the kitchen. She did as she was told. Her mother looked harrassed; now was not a good moment to discuss it, but time was running out. September the first was the next day.
"What are you going to tell Boris when I go?" Inna had a sinking feeling her mother had not planned to tell him at all. Boris wasn't likely to take the news well.
"I don't know." The truth was, Sarah had not thought about it. She had chased the thought out of her mind ever time it had occurred to her.
Inna stared down into the bowl she was washing. She should have learned not to be disappointed long ago. "What will you do? Tell him I'm dead?" she asked.
"I don't know."
*I*I*
When Boris came for supper, he was not alone.
"Why, Andron! I did not know you were coming!" Sarah hid her floury hands in her apron.
"After lunch, I could not stop thinking about what such a cook might create for supper. Boris finally had to invite me," Andron said, smiling broadly.
Nasty man. Inna had never liked him; he thought he could flatter his way into anything, but really only got his way because he was Boris' business superior. Still, his presence was vital in the plan that was just coming together for her.
In Sarah's opinion, dinner was going along well. Andron praised her cooking so much, even Boris found himself obligated to agree with him. The men's conversation was flowing nicely. Good thing, too. Sarah could never think of anything to add.
Inna ate quietly, studying the adults around her. Her muscles tightened with nervousness. Her chance came in a lull of conversation. Insides twisting, she spoke.
"Guess what, Father?"
Sarah's fork stopped halfway to her mouth. Inna looked as if she were bursting with excitement—a sight Sarah had not witnessed in years.
"What is it?" Boris asked, surprised.
Inna had everyone's attention. Perfect.
"I've waited so long to tell you—I know you'll be surprised." She forced out a giggle. "I've been accepted to St. Olga's Academy!"
There was a moment of stunned silence.
"Oh, congratulations!" cried Andron. He reached out and patted Inna's shoulder. Inna thanked him happily, a nervous eye still on Boris. She could see the battle raging in his eyes.
"Mother wanted to tell you, but I begged and begged her not to. I hoped you'd be surprised," Inna added.
Boris finally clicked into gear. "And what a surprise it is!" he boomed, a broad grin plastered on his face. He raised a glass. "To my daughter. May she impress her schoolteachers as much as she impresses me." That was for Andron's benefit, Inna knew; no matter. She gulped her water, relieved beyond words.
Sarah was shaking. Boris couldn't blame her now, she hoped fervently.
Andron stayed long after dinner had ended. Inna stayed in the kitchen, cleaning, while the adults retired to the living room to talk. Over all, she was pleased with how the news had gone over. Hopefully the remaining hours she spent here would go as well.
That night, knowing what was coming, it was impossible for Inna to sleep. Only eleven more hours. Ten.
She lay on her side and tried to stifle her thoughts, closing her eyes and pretending to sleep as her door quietly opened.