Chapter 4: You Take

I only had the rest of that day to wait. Though the hours were agonizing and monotonous, I managed to get through them by thinking of Afanasiy Allilyeva. You know, daydreaming, the likes. I described my thoughts to you in the last chapter. You know what I mean.

Anyway, I felt a peculiar change when the sun started to bleed red. I suddenly felt calmer, like my emotions had just decided to smooth out. I knew what was going to happen. I knew my imminent future.

Then there came that fateful knock. It was polite, reserved, and refined. No one had ever knocked on our door that way. At the sound of it, I sat straight up in my lumpy bed. My father poked his head in and threw me a spiteful glare. I grinned at him in response. I strained my ears to hear when my father answered the door. There was a soft greeting, and then an exclamation of surprise from my father. He bellowed my name, and I was at the entryway in a flash.

I was so relieved when it was Afanasiy. It's not like I doubted his arrival, but at the same time it seemed almost too good to be true.

I didn't pay much attention as Afanasiy and my father, who was still sputtering in shock, talked. I was too busy looking at Afanasiy. I became somehow fixated on the motion of him speaking, how his teeth sometimes clicked together softly.

"Mihael," he turned to me and smiled gently, at some point. His voice shook me out of my trance. "Please gather your things and do whatever it is that you need to prepare."

"Yes, sir!" I replied enthusiastically. I went to my room and stuffed some clothes into a ratty old bag. It was all I had, really, and certainly all I needed. I was back to Afanasiy not long. He, my father Damyen, and I exchanged an awkward glance. Afanasiy stepped back and made a small hand gesture towards Damyen.

I knew what the gesture meant. I turned to Damyen. "Goodbye, father." I said smugly, smirking ruefully despite myself.

Damyen grunted, the type of farewell I expected from him, but then he did something I hadn't expected. He stepped forward and clapped my shoulder. "At least you'll be better off then me." He said.

The words stunned me, and I didn't know quite what to say in reply. The words told me that he cared to a certain degree. He knew it was a good thing for me to go to this school. He knew I would benefit, and go farther then he had in life.

I was still staring, confused, at my father's sad, sorry face when Afanasiy put a hand on my shoulder and guided me away from the house.

"We'll be taking a carriage to Moscow." Afanasiy began to say. I knew he was distracting me from the fact that I was leaving the house I grew up in. I let him distract me. I didn't want to see the ghost of Lenushka's presence walk in and out of that creaky door. "It will take a few nights, and unfortunately I won't be in your company during the day, as I have some business to attend to."

Normally, I would have found such a remark suspicious, but I simply nodded and complied. Afanasiy grave off an aura of persuasiveness, which of course I didn't notice at the time. But what vampire, even an inexperienced and naïve one, didn't radiate that aura?

He opened the door for me into a carriage that was lavish. It was clear and polished, the seats lined with velvet. I, being the son of a tailor, had seen many types of fabric before, but only velvet on rare occasion. I felt like I could have stared at it forever, run my fingers over it for eternity, but then Afanasiy closed the door of the carriage, and there was a slight jolt, and then the carriage was off.

I boldly glanced up at Afanasiy, who looked perfectly natural amongst all this finery. For a moment he was as still and as silent as a statue, and then his gray eyes flickered to life as they settled upon me.

"Mihael, may I please see your bag?" Afanasiy was suddenly quite animated his movements almost grotesque in their precision.

Though confused, I handed him my bag. To my surprise, Afanasiy opened the carriage door for just a moment, and in that moment flung my bag out into the oblivion of the outskirts of Kargopol.

I gaped, and Afanasiy just smiled, teeth glimmering in the darkness. "Oh, you won't be needing those anymore. I kindly received your measurements from your father Damyen, and new clothes should be prepared for you when we reach Moscow."

I broke into a wide grin. Being a tailor's son, I couldn't help but be mildly interested in fashion. And fashion coming from Moscow, well, I hope that any pure blooded Russian would be interested in that.

New clothes were just the beginning of my happiness. Afanasiy Allilyeva was a very pleasant conversationalist. He was an upperclassman and therefore it was inevitable that we shared nothing in common, but I was eager to listen and Afanasiy was content to talk. He spun vivid tails of Moscow, of the parties he had been invited to, where the women were decked out in pastel colored lace and taffeta, and where they drank French champagne out of crystal glasses, and where the men's shoe buckles were made of gold. He spoke of the success of his school, although not in a boastful manner, and how government officials, artists, composers, and other such important people had come out of his school. He made me feel like I could do anything, which was also the emphasized focus at his academy.

Day, though. Afanasiy mysteriously vanished at each day break to attend to his 'business', which of course was the dead sleep in his coffin, though I didn't know it at the time. All I knew was that he went away during the day, leaving me alone with the company of no one. Without Afanasiy, the carriage became stuffy and dull, and the ride mundane. When we stopped for a meal in some pub or inn or another, the driver wasn't very good company either. He simply ignored me and ate his food, and drank out of his personal flask.

I helped myself get through the day by reliving the nights with Afanasiy in my head. After the second night, I knew his voice so well that it was easy for me to recreate those conversations. Sometimes I even made up new ones, which proved to be more interesting. I tried hard to rack my brain for the types of things Afanasiy would discuss, and the sophisticated answers to which he would give my endless questions. Then, when Afanasiy did return, (using remarkable speed to catch up, even for a vampire, I might add), I could put him up to the questions I had thought of. I found myself to be consistently wrong in the answers I had guess ahead of time, but I didn't care. I was quite aware that I had lots to learn.

I treasure those nights in the carriage with Afanasiy still even now. It was one of the few times I ever got to spend a great while with him, and it was certainly the happiest of times.

We arrived in Moscow one evening a few days later. I was enrapt by the tall buildings of every color, and I stared out the window like a small child, amazed at every sight I saw. There were people dressed in all colors, all styles, walking about in dainty pointed shoes and powder whitening their faces. There were people who flaunted their wealth, and weren't afraid to even be possibly murdered by someone.

An in some ways Moscow was no different from Kargopol. I did have glimpses down dark alleyways, where I saw the poor, the starving, and the dying. They were just like some of the people in Kargopol, just a little better hidden.

I tried to ignore that. I tried to concentrate on the beauty and majesty of Moscow, which was easy. And all the while Afanasiy was watching me with that soft smile of his. I wanted to tell him all the things I was seeing, but then I realized he saw those things every day, and that it would be pointless to tell him.

"This is it." Afanasiy said after a while. The carriage was approaching a castle-like complex of buildings painted exquisite shades of aqua. They were tall, towering over each other in haphazard layers, like the builder had been too enthusiastic to do the proper planning. I loved it immediately. It was so chaotic and flamboyant; it completely reflected Afanasiy's eccentric personality.

"This… is where I'm living?" I said hollowly, utterly astounded.

"And studying." Afanasiy added.

We pulled over at the side of the curb and Afanasiy opened up a side door. It led into an antechamber. There was wealth and luxury everywhere, I cannot properly describe it, it was all such an exciting blur that my mortal mind could not precisely record it.

The antechamber lead to a great hall, where there was one finely cut stone table. Sitting around it were about twenty or so boys my age and older, and one other man.

"This is it?" I asked. I knew this school was select, but it didn't seem like this small amount of people could make use of all these tall buildings.

"Yes." Afanasiy said, laughing slightly. "I must admit, I had half of these buildings erected upon whim and for my own viewing enjoyment." I was even more amazed by Afanasiy then before. Everywhere I went it seemed that his wealth just accumulated into an even bigger mass then I had previously perceived.

"Everyone," Afanasiy's voice rang out, filling the whole hall easily. "As you know, I left you last to go on a bit of a scouting mission. Here now I bring you Mihael Keehl, a fine boy with a quick mind who shows a great deal of promise."

I blushed slightly, unused to the heavy praise.

I thought the boys would have been cold to me; shun me, even, for I was still in my old clothing and therefore looked infinitely poorer then the finely dressed young men I saw before me. However I was much surprised when they all got up from the table and practically swarmed around me. They greeted me, hugging and kissing my cheeks like I was one of their own who just had been gone a long time.

"Take him to Nina's." Afanasiy told the others. "There have been preparations made for him there."
I was then swept away in the tide of my new friends, who took me through the front doors of the great hall.

"Who's Nina?" I asked, feeling incredibly inept.

"Afanasiy's personal clothes maker and designer." They told me as they led me through a maze of artful corridors I would surely never memorize. "She does our clothes, too." I took one look at their garments, and immediately decreed this Nina woman to be a fine designer of clothes, as well as a skilled craftswoman.

"We also think that she and Afanasiy are engaged in a relation of sorts, but we can't get either of them to talk about it openly." There were many snickers and laughs among the boys. Apparently the matter of Afanasiy and Nina was a popular topic of conversation. At first I was astounded that such things were talked of so lightly, for in Kargopol they would have been denounced as sinful, but then I thought: This is Moscow. Ah yes, this is Moscow.

I soon realized why the others thought that Afanasiy and Nina were hiding a relationship. The moment I stepped into her cluttered shop, she knew exactly who I was and spoke very highly of Afanasiy Allilyeva. I was fitted immediately in fabulously made clothes; the layers dyed rich shades of blue to reflect the highlights of my eyes. Despite my protests, Nina forced a pile of clothes into my arms. The boys gave hurried farewells, as she was urging them not to linger. We left her shop, but the image of Nina was still fresh in my mind. Though her eyes were near to black and her hair the same, they was something about her caring tone that reminded me all too much of my dear Lenushka, whom I had not seen in years.

The boys brought me to downtown Moscow, and an open bazaar, where they spoiled me even more. I was soon decked out in jewels like the others, and munching on delicacies.

Soon my limbs were tired, though the others seemed to have reservoirs of energy. We went back to the school, though I secretly called it a palace, and Afanasiy was there waiting. He smiled at me, pleased with my appearance, and I was glad. Then his smile faltered, and he vanished. The boys explained to me that this was normal, and sometimes Afanasiy didn't return for days at a time. I found this to be slightly peculiar, but they didn't find it that way so I tried my best to act like it didn't bother me.

We settled into our rooms during a free period before bed. In my room, there was a full length mirror framed in ornately carved mahogany, and it was then that I first got a proper look at myself. I was transformed, to say the least. I looked like a nobleman's son, important and somehow older. I didn't look like me, a scrawny vagabond adolescent of the poor section of Kargopol. However, I did like this new look, and I liked the way the clothes felt on me. Besides, I was a student of Afanasiy Allilyeva I should look my best, shouldn't my best shouldn't I?

I got changed into my night clothes, not knowing what else to do. I sat on my bed, feeling out of place on the luxurious satin bedding, staring at an empty bookshelf. Somehow I knew that those shelves would be filled with the books of my studies, once I learned to read, that is. Why else would the bookshelves be there, if not to fill itself with knowledge I so craved?

The next day was Sunday, and like clockwork I rose pre-dawn to prepare for Divine Liturgy. At first I looked around, unabashedly disoriented, taking a moment to become aware of my surroundings. Sighing, I collapsed back into my bed, the densely stuffed feather pillows welcoming my head. I realized I had no idea where the nearest Orthodox Church was, or if Afanasiy and his students were even of the Faith.

I ended up changing into proper clothing, though I wasn't sure if I was dressed in fashion, for I wasn't used to dealing with so many layers and colors. I then spent a great deal of time wandering around the various buildings of the school, trying to find the dining hall, the only room I remembered clearly after the haze of last night's events. After a while of being damned lost, I gave up. I simply sat down in the corridor by a door. I figured I probably at least already missed the Small Entrance and it would be deemed quite rude if a tramp like me showed up late in the middle of the service.

I started to doze off, but then became alert again when I heard someone's footfalls coming down the corridor. I looked and saw a portly, slightly chubby yet pleasant looking man. He saw me staring at him, and realized who I was, greeting me and even addressing me by name.

"Are you lost, young Mr. Keehl?" He was indeed cheerful, but not so that it would disgust a person. His personality was uplifting more then anything.

"Yes, sir." I said I stood up. "I was originally looking for someone to ask if they know of an Orthodox Church in the area, but I lost my way and…" My words drifted off.

"It's not a problem, my boy. With others sheparding you to your classes, you'll be able to find your own way in no time. Now, I'm of the Jewish faith, so I don't know any Orthodox churches, but there's a chapel up one floor if you wish to pray there."

"Y-yes, sir." The man, whom I learned was the foreign language professor, led me up to the chapel. It was a small, but very pretty room, with a reverent wooden cross. There were stained glass windows of all different shades of green, letting in the light like foliage in a forest. I kneeled down, making the Sign of the Cross, and began to pray.