Listen To The Music That Goes Along With This Chapter.

January 14, 1916

Dearest Sophie,

Only a short time and I'll be out, just a few more days.  I'm traveling to St. Petersburg once again, but this time, never fear, I'll be taking the train to Paris and not Siberia.  Love Always.

Your Friend,
Vladimir.

Just a few days more, just a few days more; the same statement repeated itself over and over in his mind, over and over like those drums he had heard in drill practice everyday for the last 16 years...over and over, over and over...

He licked the envelope, stuck on a stamp, and placed it in his bag as he traveled over the bumpy roads to St. Pete.  It'd be on it's way to Paris soon, and into the hands of Sophie.  He wondered how she was.  He hadn't seen her since his leave last year, and that had been so short a time.  He knew it was hard for her to see him so little.  She was getting up there in years, as was he -- goodness, he was 41 now, wasn't he?  How had life flown by so fast?  It seemed like only yesterday when they had been young and happy, flirting at the dinner party that long time ago, riding horses and spending time together.

Sophie had been fine with the decision for him to leave for the army.  Vlad had promised to write and keep up their friendship.  As he had.  And as she had. Through each letter, each short visit, they had come closer and closer...over days, weeks, months, and years he had fallen in love.  True love.   Of course, Vlad thought solemnly to himself, Sophie had never mentioned similiar feelings.  They were, as she once put, "Le ami de serré", the closest of friends. He saw her  when he visited his family in Vointsky during his leaves, nd he wrote to her continously, everyday, day after day.  When he was fighting during the Russo-Japanese War, he read her letters filled with prayers. When he was laying out in his tent on the battlefield and looking up at the stars through the tattered canvas, he thought of how she shined just as bright as them.  He closed his eyes now and thought of their last meeting in Paris.  He had had to travel to Paris, but he had.  And he would again, as soon as he was out.  And that would be soon, so soon.  It was just in his grasp, just close enough for him to smell and see, but just far enough that his hand couldn't quite grope it.

Her father didn't approve of their seeing each other and corresponding. Oh, at first he had.  At first he had seen Vladimir as a perfect oppertunity to match his daugther, and he had encouraged their love.  He supposed Vlad would tire of the army quickly and come home and marry her before both of them aged.  He had been wrong.

Vlad enjoyed the army despite it's risks.  He enjoyed the fellowship and the friends he met.  He enjoyed the orders, he enjoyed the daily drills, and he even enjoyed the mess hall meals (and he especially enjoyed the desserts, which lead to him not being quite as fit as he once had!).  More importantly, he enjoyed the freedom.  He just wasn't...ready, to get married.  He was scared of making a wrong decision, of taking the wrong path.  And Father...Father was sick.  Which meant that Vointsky would soon be his.  And he didn't want it!  At least not yet, not now...

Vlad decided he had waited long enough. He was ready to go to Paris and ask for Sophie's hand in marriage.  Once he reached St. Petersburg, he was going to buy a ring.  A huge ring!  A diamond -- he had the money the army had paid him, and he had some he'd been saving up -- just enough to buy her a ring and to get them started off in their new life together.  He grinned and clapped his hands together.  How wonderful it promised to be!

There was, however, still the problem of Sophie's feelings.  And even more, Vlad's stability.  Talk of revolution was high now, and the troops were readying themselves for battle.  Yes his duty had gone up but Russia was notorious for calling old veterens in to help the Czar's wars and it was quite likely he'd be asked to go in again.

But no, he wouldn't think about that!  Czar Nicholas was a strong ruler and had 5 children who would go on to carry on the Romanov legacy.  No one would dare try to turn over the Romanovs, Russia's delicate House of Cards.  Yes, he'd be optimistic.  Sophie would agree, or at least after time she would, the Romanovs would always hold firm power, and the rest of his life would be full of lazy and gentle days, with happiness abounding.  Everything was falling into place like pieces to a large jig-saw puzzle.

But the puzzle was to be broken.

~*~

"Hurry, Dimitri!  Get those apples and give them to me!"

Dimitri wiped a strand of his hair out of his eyes and ran through the large kitchen to Viktor's side with the plate of apples.  Right before he got to it he stumbled and fell.  Apples rolled every which way.  He gasped in surprise and bent down hurriedly to try and pick them up.  Two cooks, Elena and Danya, were carrying a huge anniversary cake and they were heading right towards the fallen fruit!  Dimitri tried to kick the apples out of the way but it was too late.  Danya slid over an apple, causing the cake to lurch and fall to the ground.

"MY CAKE!" he screamed.  "MY CAKE!"

Dimitri tried to pick up the shattered cake but fell instead, head first into it.  He straightened himself up and tried to stand, but frosting caught under his shoe and sent him sprawling, his backside landing squarely in the torte.

"Oops."

"OOPS?  THAT'S ALL YOU CAN SAY?!!  OOPS?!"

The frosting faced boy looked up at Danya as he sat up on his caked behind.  "I'm sorry?" he said with a insouciant smile.

"Sorry is NOT GOOD ENOUGH!  VIKTOR!  Keep your charge out of trouble!"

 Danya and Elena walked off to make another.  Viktor turned and scowled at Dimitri.

 "No good child!  Get those apples, then clean up that cake!"

Dimitri scurried and picked up the apples.  He made a pocket with the end of his shirt and loaded them up.  He presented them to Viktor, who scowled.

"Look at that, covered with frosting!  I'll have to clean them all now before I make the pie!"

"Sorry, sir," Dimitri mumbled submissively.  It really wasn't fair that they treated him like this.  He was only 10 but oh, one day, he vowed to himself, he was going to come back and FLAUNT the money he had.  He'd throw it in their faces, laugh at them, kick them, hit them, make them fall in CAKES!

He laughed to himself, imaging Danya with frosting on his face.  He'd show them JUST how much he was worth, JUST how much he had succeeded.  He wouldn't stay a kitchen boy forever.  No, he'd BE somebody.  And he'd have cars and boats and a huge palace -- just like the Romanovs he worked for now!  For all they knew, he could even MARRY one of them!  What was the name of that youngest girl?  Anastasia.  He could marry her!  Yeah, wouldn't that be something, the little boy they kicked around now ruling over them one day!

"What are you doing now, daydreaming again??  Clean up that cake, boy!"

Dimitri got a mop and rags to clean with quickly and started.  As he mopped he imagined his life when he got older.  He'd be out, living on his own, saying what he'd mean and meaning what he'd say. Sitting on instead of dusting that old Russian throne!  He'd go where the wind took him -- out of the palace, out of St. Petersburg, out of Russia!  Yes, he'd see the world.  Dance with can-can girls in gay Paree!  Drink tea with the King in England!  Tango with a beautiful lady in Spain!  What the hey, he might even see America!  He smiled as he envisioned himself with a beautiful wife on his arm, money around them everywhere.  He'd be a somebody...and it would happen someday soon!

"Are you done YET?"

"Yes sir," he said sweetly, turning on his best smile.  For now he'd have to be meek and submissive...but oh, what promise the future held.  If he could EVER get out of here!

 "Then go clean yourself up!  And here, take this.  It's bruised."  He handed him a battered apple.  Dimitri took it gratefully and stuck it in his pocket as he walked down a servant's tunnel to the quarters they had.  He opened one end of the passage and walked in to a large communal bedroom.  He found his way in the darkness of the room to the servant's bathroom.  There was one for this bedroom, one for the next, and so forth.  Each bedroom was to serve 10 servants, as was each bathroom.  Needless to say, he was always last.  Luckily everyone was so busy with the ongoing party that he was able to get in without waiting and clean himself up.

 As he wiped his face clean, he wondered if his shirt was too dirty that he'd have to dig out his other one from under his cot somewhere.  He only had two, both old and torn in a few places, but not that bad.  A little large, but he was lucky to have them.  No, he decided, this one was fine.  He reached inside his pocket and smiled as he touched a piece of paper with a certain drawing on it.  His good luck charm.

He turned to leave and caught sight of the small window that was in the side wall.  He walked to it and tried to look out...darn, he was too short.  His eyes scanned the room and he saw a small crate used for storing towels.  Dumping the towels out, he was able to drag it over and climb on top.  There, now he could see out easily. And, if he moved his head to just the right angle and squinted a bit he could see the Gulf of Finland that lay out ahead.

Dimitri opened the window and leaned out as far as he could, standing tip-toe on the crate.  The cold wind ruffled his hair and he laughed.  The salty smell of the Gulf filled his nostrils.  Oh, what a wonderful smell.  The smell of freedom, the smell of adventure.  He closed his eyes for an instant and let it fill him up completely, let it wrap itself around him in it's protective cocoon and whisper in his ear.  Come to me...come to me...come to me...

Come to me.  He would go.  He would go now.  Everyone was at the party after all, he reasoned, they wouldn't notice the absence of a small kitchen boy.

He crawled out onto the flat portion of the roof from the window.  He scooted out across to the edge of it and looked down.  Gulp.  It was a long way down.  The Neva River glistened in the moonlight hauntingly.  It was only January, it was still frozen over.  If he fell he would go straight through.  Under that ice was water, water that held a cold bite that froze limbs, and a restless tide that reached and grabbed it's frigid hands out to pull any unsuspecting victum down to their watery crypt.  There was no chance that he'd live if he fell.

He looked once more back out at the Gulf of Finland in the distance.  He would come to it, but not now.  "Later," he whispered into the wind.  "I'll join you later."

He crawled back into the bathroom and hopped down on the crate.  He scooted it back across the floor and piled the towels inside of it, then ran back out of the room and into the servants tunnels.

He felt his way along the walls and counted doors.  The sixth door led to the kitchen.

One...two...three...four...five...where was the sixth door?  It was supposed to be right here...where had it gone?!  He groped in the darkness then gave up.  He ran forward more until he felt a door.  This must be it...but it didn't feel like it was in the right spot.  Oh come now, of course it was.  And he didn't have to time to worry over moving doors.  He had to get back out there and help Viktor.  But first, the apple! Being a kitchen boy made a kid hungry, after all!  He dug in his pocket and pulled out the apple.  He took a bite and opened the door.

Bright lights flashed and music filled his ears.  WHERE WAS HE?!  This wasn't the kitchen!  This was the ballroom!

He backed back into the tunnel, gripping the apple tightly.  HE WAS AT THE BALLROOM!  This was the seventh door, not the sixth!  He leaned against the damp wall and caught his breath.  What to do?  He had to close this door before someone saw him and go back to the kitchen, he had to be meek and submissive and return immediatly...

But wait.  What was that up ahead?  He peeked around the corner of the wall.  The Dowager Empress Marie?  It was actually her!  He had often seen her, but never this closely...and the Grand Duchess Anastasia was with her!  Wow!  He'd never been this near them.  He could make out their elegant traditional dresses easily and could see just how much gold filagee was strewn in them.  He wondered how many sewing ladies had pricked their fingers woking with it.

Go back, he told himself.  He wasn't allowed out here.  But...something wanted him to stay, to walk out and look.  Well, there was never a better oppertunity to do so.  Viktor thought he was cleaning up, everyone else was busy with the party...he slipped out and closed the door behind him.  He softly scooted across the floor.  He was right behind them now!  And whoa, take a look at that fancy jewelry box the Empress had with her!  Boy, that thing must've been worth tons...those jewels, that gold!  He wished he could touch it.  Now they had opened it and were singing a song, a nice lullably.  So it was a music box, not a jewelry box.  He didn't see what kind of key it had, but it obviously had one.

He absently took a bite of apple and listend to their conversation.  Something about Paris...ooh la la.  Hmm, the Grand Duchess was going to follow her to Paris in a few weeks.  Maybe, just maybe, he could go!  If he worked hard and pleaded his case to Viktor, he could convince him to let him go with the Princess as a...a something.  Oh well, he could go as a shoe-shine boy for all he cared as long as he got to go!

"Dimitri!"

Dimitri gasped and turned around.  Oh NO!  It was Gaston, the head butler!

"Hi?" he asked timidly.

"DIMITRI!"  Gaston grabbed him and picked him up, causing him to drop the apple on the ground.

"Dimitri, you belong in the kitchen!"

 He kicked furiously.  "But I was just..."

"No buts!  You're going to get a whipping for this!"

"NO, please NO!" he pleaded.  He wouldn't cry, he WOULDN'T cry...but no, he COULDN'T WHIP him!

"NO!" a voice rang out.  Gaston stopped and almost dropped Dimitri as he turned around.

"Excuse me?"

 "No!  Don't hurt him!" Anastasia cried out, running forward and grabbing Gaston's arm.  She had heard it all and she knew one thing: she hated being hit in punishment.  So why would Gaston hit this young boy?  What had he done so wrong?  Nothing in her eyes, and she would stop it.  Children do, after all, stick up for one another.  Gaston lowered Dimitri absently.  Dimitri shirked away from him.

"But, Your Highness..."

"Do as she says, Gaston," Marie said from her throne as she turned to look.  Gaston nodded.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

 Anastasia turned her attention back to Marie once more.  Gaston turned to look at Dimitri and pointed his finger.

 "Next time, Dimitri Leongard, next time."

 Dimitri didn't answer, but instead saw Gaston walk away.  He stuck his tongue out at him.

 "There won't be a next time. -- at least if I have anything to do with it."

Which brought a good point.  If he wanted to go to Paris with the Grand Duchess, he had to meet her and prove that he was worthy of serving her!  And what better time than now?  With the Empress there, he'd have TWO royal approvals!

 He hurried forward to the two.  They turned to look at him.

 "What is it?" Marie asked bluntly.  Dimitri gasped a little.  What to say?  How to start off?  How did one go about talking to royalty, anyway?

He bowed quickly to Marie, then to Anastasia. "Um, Your Grace, I just want to, um, thank you for..."

Gasps filled the air.  Dimitri turned and looked.  Rasputin!  He knew him, everyone knew him.  He had been banished long ago!  So what was he doing here now?

He watched the Czar and mystic man face off.  Demands were made.  Insults were traded.  A curse was mentioned.  What was going ON?  Why didn't the Czar have him thrown out now?  Why were they listening to him still?

Dimitri was spell bound by Rasputin.  What had given this man his power? How could he do the things he had done, the things that he was doing now?

A rough arm grasped his and pulled him into the servant's tunnel.

"HEY!" Dimitri cried.

 "SHH!"

He squinted in the dim light and saw Viktor.  "Come with me.  You are not to be out there."

"But there's a fight..."

"Come with me!  You are in my care, you will do what I say you will do."

Dimitri turned and looked once more out the doorway at the glittering life that wasn't, could never be, his before Viktor shut it behind them.

~*~

 "FIRE!  FIRE AT THE PALACE!"

Vlad sat straight up in his bed.  Fire?  At the palace?!  He jumped out and ran to the window.  The streets of St. Petersburg were filled with people running, running, running NO WHERE!  They were just RUNNING!  Children's wails, dogs barks, the sound of gunfire.  Everything filled his ears as chaos rained down on St. Petersburg in a huge storm of pandemoinium and hatred.

Vlad quickly shut the window and grabbed his robe and slippers as he ran out into the boarding house's hallway.  He was staying here until tomorrow, when he was scheduled to leave for Paris by train.  The hallway looked similar to the street with people running in every direction.

"What's going on?  What's happened?" he cried.  People rushed by him with their belongings.  "Please, tell me!" he shouted.  Still no answer as families and people hurried to gather their treasured belongings and reach safety at the city's outskirts.  "TELL ME!!!!" he finally screamed in his monstrous voice.

Everything stopped and people turned to look.  Finally an older gentleman stepped up.

"The revolutionaries have invaded the palace!  They're after the Romanovs and anyone loyal to them!  The trains are being shut down!"

And with that, everyone went back to bustling.  Vlad thanked him and ran back inside his room.  He threw on the suit he had bought that morning and balled his old White Army uniform up into a ball and stuck it under his bed.  If he was found with it on him by Revolutionaries he'd be killed -- and he couldn't be killed now that he was so close to seeing Sophie again and telling her the truth about his feelings!

He threw things into his suitcase, counted his money, and grabbed the small box he had bought.  Inside was the ring for Sophie.  He tucked it safely inside his pocket and ran out into the hallway.

He finally made his way out onto the street and tried to find the train station.  It was...where was it??

He hadn't been to St. Petersburg again since he had first ENLISTED in the army and had been sent to a nearby training camp.  Moscow was where the army met, not here!

"Excuse me, sir," he cried, stopping a gentleman. The man pulled away, in too much of a hurry to help someone other than himself and his family.  Vlad couldn't blame him much.

He tried repeatedly to get people's attention, but none came towards him.  He saw a crowd of men running one way down the street and he found himself caught up in it.  He tried to pull away, but his efforts were futile.  He was being pulled closer and closer to whatever they were headed towards.

FIRE!!! THERE WAS FIRE UP AHEAD!  Great flames licked up the side of a huge building ahead.  They were on their way to the PALACE! He tried desperatly to push himself away by using his small suitcase but kept being pulled in the great tide of men.  He was caught in a churning river of hatred and disgust.

They reached their destination.  The men started spraying water, helping get people out.  So this was a volunteer regiment of loyal fire-fighters!  They were going in to get people and servants out!

Vlad set down his things behind a nearby bush.  He heard a train whistle blow.  He looked over and saw smoke -- smoke from a train!  There was the train station, with the last trains pulling away.  He started to back away slowly, then stopped.

Cries came from the palace.  Cries of the people caught inside, the people being shot and captured.  He gulped.  What to do?  Should he run?  Should he retreat?  Or should he stay and help others escape from the towering inferno that they were caught in now?

He took off his coat and rushed forward to where a crowd of men were forming plans.

"Iakov, you and Akim take that portion.  Avel, you and Maksim take this one..."

"I'll take one!" Vlad said.  They turned to look at the stranger.  They didn't know him, but they needed him all the same.  They were short enough men.

"Take the west entrance and find whoever you can."

"I will."

Vlad ran off with them and soon found his way in the heavy snow to the door.  The fire hadn't spread here yet.  He uttered a prayer that it wouldn't come to his area, then walked in.

People were everywhere, trying to escape, trying to run, trying to be set free.  Vlad helped some of the men shuffle the people out while he watched for the fire.  He lead a family of servants to the entrance himself.  Still no fire.  He helped another man carry a Duke who had been knocked unconcious out into the cold snow.  Still no fire.  He found a man with a broken leg and helped him limp to safety.  Still no fire.  Vlad mentally congratulated himself on the lack of fire in his wing.  Maybe the fire-fighters had burned it out.  Maybe, just maybe, they had stopped the revolutionaries and saved the royal family!

"GET OUT!"  Vlad turned to look as the man named Avel started yelling to the people in the room.  "GET OUT!  They're coming!"

 They?  Who was they?

He heard it then.  A song.  He strained his ears to listen closer through the screams.  A chant.  He tried to make out the words...Czar...kill...death...  He gasped.  THERE were the Revolutionaries!  The awful Bolshevik Mob!

He surveyed his surroundings.  People were crowding the entrance.  He ran to the back of the line and tried to hustle people out as fast as he could. He had to get out!  He had to see Sophie!  Sophie, Sophie, Sophie -- he had to meet her, to be engaged to her!  He couldn't die here, tonight, like this without telling her JUST how much she meant to him. Through the last 16 years she'd been more to him that anyone in his life, through Lara, through his mother, through the army...she had been there!  And now he had to go to her!  He had to always be there for her!  His last promise to Lara echoed in his mind.  Don't let her get away, don't let her get away.  He couldn't let her get away!

"There's another exit!" the man Akim shouted.  He pointed down a hallway of rooms.  Vlad followed a stream of people who were ducking down that way.  He was lagging at the end of the line, but he didn't care as long as he got to his precious Sophie again.

A large man ran by with his wife and child and accidently hit Vlad into a room.  He stumbled back and fell down on the carpeted ground.  He stood up quickly and started to run back out.

"Ohhh..."

He stopped.  He had heard something.  Through all the yells and cries of people, he had heard something, so small that only a miracle had allowed it to reach his ears.  He turned and frantically searched the room.  Was someone in here?

"Ohhh..."

He squinted in the dark and made out a heap lying on the ground.  He ran over and gasped.  A boy!  A young boy was laying on the ground, knocked out!  A large bruise was over his right eye and by his hand was...a jewelry box.

"Hurry!" Akim shouted to Vlad.  Vlad started back to the entrance but stopped.  He couldn't leave this boy.  He couldn't and he wouldn't.

Bending over the best that he could and hoisting him up on his shoulders, Vlad picked up the boy.

Ugh...age had taken his toll.  He wasn't as strong as he used to be, was he?  He took the jewelry box too -- it obviously belonged to the boy.  He ran out after the crowd.

~*~

 Pain.  The first thing Dimitri felt was pain.  After pain came a vague sense of worry.

 Then came fear.  Full blown fear.  Fear for himself, for Anastasia, for Russia.

He slowly opened his eyes.  Light filtered in from between two curtains that were drawn almost all the way together.  Oh, it hurt to even look around the room.  Room...what room was this?  He tried to sit up but instead closed his eyes.  Mm, whatever room it was, it had a nice bed.  Nice and soft, with clean sheets and a puffy pillow.  He let his head sink back luxeriously.  It was the first time in ages that he'd had a soft bed instead of a stiff cot...ah, it felt wonderful to just lay and sleep...

"So you're SURE he'll be okay?"

"Oh yes.  Just a bump on the head.  My youngest fell once and had the same problem.  He should wake up anytime now."

 "Thank you, ma'am."

These words reached Dimitri's ears.  He listened lazily to them.  He knew they were referring to him, it was obvious.  He didn't much care, really.

The door to the room opened softly.  Dimitri forced his heavy lids to open themselves slowly.  Standing in the doorway was a man.  Dimitri guessed around 40 somewhere.  Pudgy,  tall.  An all over large man.  He saw Dimitri's open eyes and smiled as he walked in and shut the door.

"Ah, the patient is awake."

Dimitri didn't answer, just looked at him, appraising him coldly.  The man tried again.

"How are you feeling?  You gave us quite a scare.  You must have been knocked out.  Oh, but look at those curtains, that light must be hurting you.  Let me shut them."  Vlad walked over and drew the curtains more.

"How long has it been?" Dimitri asked bluntly.  The man turned around at the boy's first words to him.

"Since when?"

"Since I was knocked out?"

"I don't know the exact time.  I'd say around...2 days.  The date is January 19, 1916 and I believe you were knocked out the night of the revolution, January 17."

Dimitri didn't answer to this, just let it sink slowly in his mind.  He'd been asleep for 2 days...hmm.  The man sat down on the end of his bed.

"My name is Vladimir."

Dimitri gave the same cold stare.

"What's yours?"

 No answer.

 "Well?"

  "None of your business," he finally snapped.  Vladimir raised his eyebrows.

"Ahh, so we have a restless one?  Well, no name, I'll give you one.  Akim.  He was the man that helped me when I found you.  He tried to get me to the train station so we could leave but all the trains were gone by that time."

"I hate that name," Dimitri said coldly.  Vlad shrugged.

"Well, I have no other name to call you.  You won't give me your own."

Dimitri didn't answer.  Vlad sighed.  Of all the children for him to rescue, he rescued a smart aleck.

"Well then..."

 "I like your name," Dimitri interrupted.  Vlad stared back in shock.  What a strange boy!  One minute refusing to talk, the next making obscure statements!

"Excuse me?"

 "I like your name.  One of my uncles was named Vladimir."

 "Oh...I wonder if I like your name."

 "I wonder too."

 Vlad grinned despite himself.  He thought he saw the boy give a wry smile, but it disappeared quickly before he could be sure.

 "I'm afraid you'll have to tell me at one point.  I must locate your parents..."

  "I don't have any parents."

 "Your uncle..."

 "He's dead.  Both are."

 "Any family..."

 "All gone."

Vlad's heart went out to this poor boy.  So young to be so alone!  How was he going to handle this?  What to do?  He must break this boy open slowly so as not to scare him, he finally decided.  Maybe casual conversation would do it.

"Do you know what happened?  I mean, why you were knocked out?"

"Yes..." he said slowly.  "The revolutionaries..."

"What about them?  Did they knock you out?  You were found with a broken vase by you, I remember that.  And this."  Vlad pulled out the jewelry box from his coat pocket and handed it to Dimitri.  Dimitri took it slowly and looked at it.  The box Anastasia had dropped, the music box that she had come back to get!  He gaped at it.  It was even prettier up close...and to think that ROYALTY has owned this!  It was more than Dimitri could have ever expected.

"Well?  What is it?"

Dimitri looked back up at Vlad.  What to say?  It was the Grand Duchess Anastasia's and I rescued it after I rescued her?  It was technically owned by royalty?  It wasn't a jewelry box, but actually a MUSIC box?

No, none of that would do.  Dimitri didn't trust this man enough to give his name...why would he tell him the true meaning of this and how he got it?

"I was racing through the servant's tunnels and the vase knocked me on the head.  This was laying beside the vase and it must've fell.  It's a... jewelry box, I guess."

"Oh," Vlad said slowly.  "So that's what happened.  Well, it's a good thing I got you.  The mob was coming back across that way again.  I think they'd already been there once."

He didn't answer, just looked at the music box.  They both remained silent for a few minutes.  Vlad wished that he could get this boy's name out of him somehow.  If he knew it, maybe he could figure out what to do with him once he recovered.

"So...you have no family?"

 "None."

 "Why?"

  Dimitri shrugged and didn't answer.  He placed the music box beside him on the nightstand table.

  "Well, the landlady took a look at you.  She said you were going to be just fine."

 Dimitri gave the same cold, unfeeling stare.  His big brown eyes said little: Well.  I'm here.  I'm obviously under your control.  What now?  What now indeed, Vlad thought.  What now indeed.

"Why were you in the palace in the first place?"

Dimitri shrugged again.  "Does it matter?  I'm not anymore.  I'm here in this house of some sort with you."

"A boarding house.  I was staying here when the mob broke out.  I thought I would never return.  I was lucky to get it back from the lady."  Vlad sighed.  This was getting so DIFFICULT!  "Please, just tell me your name.  It will help us both more than you'll EVER realize.  PLEASE.  What good will it do either of us if you remain silent?"

Dimitri smiled to himself.  This man was practically BEGGING.  He felt strangely in control...he liked it.  But, he reasoned, he might as well tell.

"Dimitri.  Dimitri Leongard."

"Dimitri Leongard...pronounced Lay-O-Nard, am I correct, but spelled like Leon-gard?"

"Seems that way."

"A popular Russian last name," Vlad murmured.  Oh boy.  Now it'd be even HARDER for him to find whatever family this boy had left.  Dimitri could see his thoughts in the man's eyes.

"I told you, I have no family.  So don't worry about finding them.  Father's dead, mother's dead, family's dead.  Gone.  Poof."  He made a disappearing motion with his hand.

"Why were you at the palace then?"
 
"I told you, it doesn't matter!" he snapped.  Ow, his head hurt even worse now.  He grimaced in pain and looked at the man.  "What about you?  You're so darn excited about my past, lets hear about yours."

Vlad raised his eyebrows.  For a, what was he, 10, 11 year old?, he spoke like an adult.  Acted like one, too.  Vlad crossed his arms.

"My full name is Count Vladimir Vanya Vointsky Vasilovich.  I am 41 years of age to be prescise, and I want to go to Paris."

"To Paris?"  Dimitri laughed.  "I almost got to go to Paris...well, at least I would have made sure I had."

 It was Vlad's turn to stare.  "Why?"

Dimitri crossed his arms and gave the same look.  Vlad understood by now the way this boy worked.  He just stared when he didn't want to answer.  Vlad sighed.

"I wanted to go to see my...friend."

"Another toff?"

"Toff?  What's a toff?"

Dimitri laughed.  "You really are a Count, aren't you?  A toff is street talk for royalty."  He wanted to tell the full meaning, dumb royalty, but skipped it.  Vlad shrugged.

"I suppose you could say that."

Dimitri was tired of this man.  He wanted to leave and go somewhere.  He wasn't sure where, but he'd find a place.  He undid the covers of the bed.

"Well, sir, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

Vlad was up in an instant.  "Go where?"

Dimitri smirked and didn't answer.  He rested his socked feet on the ground and looked for his boots.

"Where are my boots?"

Vlad kicked them secretly under the bed with his foot and shrugged.  "I have no idea."

"What?"  Dimitri scanned the room.  "They have to be here somewhere!"  He stood up and started to walk but fell as his knees buckled under him.  He collapsed on the ground and held his head.  "Ow..."

Vlad kneeled beside him.  "I knew you shouldn't walk.  Let me help you back to bed."

Dimitri obeyed.  Why not?  That bed was nice and soft, and his head pounded.

"Alright, but I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Of course," Vlad said seriously.  "Tomorrow."

"Right.  And you better know where my boots are by then."  He slid down under the covers and closed his eyes.  Vlad smiled and pulled the bed spred up around Dimitri's shoulders.  He waited till he was asleep again, then softly walked out and shut the door.

~*~

Tomorrow never came.  Oh it came in that 24 hours passed, the minutes slowly ticked by, the seconds went on their way.  Night fell, day broke.  But Dimitri's plans for that tomorrow never quite went as he thought.

It started when Vlad came up to his room with a large breakfast.  Eggs, bacon, toast, everything he could find he brought up.

"What's all that?" Dimitri asked in awe.  Vlad smiled.

"Some food that the revolutionaries missed in their plundering and I bought from the landlady."

"Are you...going to eat all that?"  Dimitri looked at Vlad hopefully, his brown eye's wide.  He had NEVER in his life seen so much, and it smelled oh, so good!  His mouth watered.  Vlad set the tray before Dimitri on the bed.

"It's yours.  Enjoy."

"For me?  All of it?"

Vlad nodded and smiled.  Dimitri picked up his fork hesitantly, then took a bite.  It was good!  He ate more...and more...and more...At one point he looked up suspiciously.

"What is this?  Trying to get me to stay here?  I won't.  I'm leaving right after this."

"Of course you are," Vlad said with a nod.  "This is just to give you some strength.  I promise."

Dimitri was a smart child and he knew that Vlad's seriousness and promises were too good to be true...but the food WAS excellent after all.  He ate more.

Fifteen minutes later it was all gone.  Vlad blinked.  He had WATCHED this boy the whole time.  How could he DEVOUR so much in so little a time?  He ate faster than even the Count himself did!

"Enjoy it?"

Dimitri looked up from his glass of milk and nodded, but didn't answer. Vlad noticed his milk mustache and couldn't help but think how cute this little boy was, despite his stand-offishness.  Perhaps it even added to it.  It made him think of his soon-to-be life with Sophie.  Maybe they'd have a little boy just like him..if he could ever find a way out of Russia.

Last night Vlad had done some asking around.  It was true.  The Bolsheviks had closed every railroad line for the time being.  They were setting up a new government.  And Vlad realized just how much his life was in danger now and how tightly the "Fates" held it between their fragile thread.  Not only was he a Count, he was also an ex-member of the White Army.  He'd have to hide his identity. And even more important, go back to Vointsky as soon as he could.  What if his family was caught?  What if it was burned?  There was too much at stake here...but first, the problem of this boy.

"So, where are you going?"  Dimitri shrugged and drank the rest of his milk.  Vlad sighed.  "So you have NO WHERE to go?"  Dimitri shrugged again and ate the last crust of toast.  "And you have NO family what-so-ever?"  Dimitri smirked and didn't answer.  Vlad rested his head in his hand.  Dimitri inclined his head slightly to the side.

"Where are YOU going?"

Vlad looked up.  "I'm going back to my home."

"Paris?"

"No, my father's estate in Vointsky."

Dimitri leaned back agianst the pillows and looked across the room at the window.  He undid the covers and slid out, then held on tightly to the nightstand table.  He walked slowly across the room, step after step, foot after foot.  Vlad marveled at this boy's inner will to get up so soon.  He himself would probably still be asleep.  What a tough kid.

Dimitri finally reached the window and looked out.

"It's all gone."

Vlad stood up and walked beside him.  "It's not all gone.  There's still buildings.  See?  And the marketplace is still there."

"You don't understand," Dimitri said looking up at him.  "The people.  They're all gone.  The dogs that used to roam this street...where are they?  Gone.  And look, see over there."  He pointed to beyond a cluster of buildings where there were some burned stubs of trees.  "There used to be a park there.  It's gone, too.  What happened?"

Vlad sighed.  "A change of government."

Dimitri sank down in a chair by the window.  He let it all take form in his mind.

Gone.  Russia was gone.

What was in it's place?  He had gone to sleep, and everything had changed, in only three days!  He leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his forehead in his palm.  He closed his eyes and tried to have organized thoughts.  His head had stopped hurting so bad at least.

Vlad sat down beside him in another chair.  "So...
"
"Is it still Russia?"

"For the time being.  It'll take a few years for a complete switch-over of a government, and even longer until they choose a new name."

"And that means...?"

"We have no government."

Dimitri sighed and leaned back in the chair.  Vlad wondered how a boy so young could know this much about politics and what it meant to the country in general.  Vlad liked him.  He was...different.  There was something about him...a mixture of worldly wisdom and youthful innocence.  A powerful combination in a boy so young.  He wanted to help this child, more than anything now.  Maybe he could persuade him to go back to Vointsky.  Then at least he could talk over everything clearly with him.

"Would you like to go back to Vointsky with me?  We can leave today and get there a week from now."

Dimitri looked up and gave a harsh stare.  "I don't need help from you."

"I know," Vlad said calmly, having finally learned the way to this boy's heart was not through confrontation, "Of course you don't.  I just thought you might like too.  All the trains are gone, and as you can see, there's no St. Petersburg left practically.  And you might find a place you like along the way there to stay."

Dimitri weighed the possibilties in his mind.  It WAS true that he'd get out of St. Petersburg.  Maybe he could find a small little town to take up residence in.  Hmm, not a bad thought.  And he'd only have to stay with this man for a short time.  Why not?

Vlad saw Dimitri's eyes turn from cold uneasiness to warm hope.  He smiled.  "So...will you?"

Dimitri turned to him and gave the first smile Vlad had seen.  "I will..." He quickly turned on a frown again.  "But only because I want to get out of here."

"Right," Vlad said seriously.  He stood up, hardly able to keep his own serious demeaner up.  "I'll go tell the landlady and rent us a cab or something.  I hope we can get one."  He started to leave, then stopped and turned.  "And we'll get you some new clothes.  The landlady has a child about your age, maybe she has some clothes you can use."  He smiled and left the room.  Dimitri watched him go and smiled to himself.  Hmm...maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

~*~

"I feel like a cooked turkey," Dimitri whined as the carriage bumped along the dirt road to Vointsky.  "And my feet are pinched."

 "But you look quite the ladies's man," Vlad said seriously.  Dimitri wrinkled his nose and fumbled with his high-buttoned shirt.  It was hot in here! And this carriage was too jumpy -- cars still hadn't replaced the horse and buggy used for the lesser roads in the Russian countryside.  Dust flew up by the window and Dimitri was unable to see out.

"I don't care about ladies!  How come I have to wear this?"  He didn't like his new white shirt or those tight shoes the landlady had sold Vlad.  It was all too stiff.  At least his servant's outfit had been large but comfortable.  He had been traveling with Vlad for six days now, and they were on the last leg of their journey.  During this short period he had come to like Vlad more and more.  He had a good sense of humor and a funny way of putting things that made one grin.  But he still didn't trust him.  And he never would, he decided firmly.

Vlad laughed.  "One day you'll care about ladies!  You'll turn 18, 20 years old, and you'll fall in love..."

"Ha!  Love's for babies!'

Vlad grinned and looked out the window at the dust.  Dimitri watched him and crossed his arms.

"So, you in love?"

Vlad turned to look at him and smiled.  "Yes, I am."

"With who?"

"Sophie, my friend in Paris."

"Ah, so you were going to see your girlfriend.  What about now?  You going to go now?"

Vlad sighed and leaned back against the hot seat.  "I suppose.  Sometime.  It may take a while longer now, though, since the government is trying to keep everyone tightly in Russia."

"What if they find out you're royalty?"

Vlad leaned to the right slightly.  "I'll be dead."

Dimitri whistled.  "Tough luck, huh?"

Vlad laughed.  This boy had the funniest way of stating things.  What exactly WAS tough luck?  Was that possible?  "Yes, tough luck."  He stuck his hands in his pockets and felt the familiar box that held the diamond ring.  He smiled to himself and looked over at a bored Dimitri.  He pulled out the box.  "Look here, Dimitri."

Dimitri looked over as Vlad opened the box and showed the ring.  Dimitri's eyes widened as he leaned in to look at it.

"Look at that thing!  What a hunk of ice!"

"Ice?  It's a diamond."

Dimitri rolled his eyes and laughed.  "Excuse me."

Vlad smiled and handed the box to Dimitri.  "You can look at it if you want."  Dimitri eagerly took it and held it up at eye level.

 "Whoa...how much did this cost?"

"50 rubles."

"Holy sh..." He stopped himself as he saw Vlad raise his eyebrows and quickly corrected his language.  "Holy cow."  Vlad smiled approvingly and Dimitri looked back at the ring.  "She must really be worth something."

"She is," Vlad said.  "She is."

Dimitri handed the box and ring back to Vlad.  "Why's she so special?"

"What?"

"Well you must love her for some reason."

"Reason?  I have 50!"

"Name one."

"Well..." Vlad said, "When I was 25, she...helped me.  And my sister.  Very much so."

"Sister?  You have a sister?"

"Yes, I had a sister."

Dimitri didn't answer.  He felt the distinct need coming from Vlad not too.  He was a sensitive child and could easily percieve when to talk and when not too.  He made a question up and asked it instead.  "Are we almost there?"  Vlad glanced at his watch.

"In about two hours, hopefully."

Dimitri sighed and leaned back against the hard leather seats.  He decided to count the buttons on his new shirt.  After that, he started counting the buttons on Vlad's shirt.  After THAT he started counting the buttons on the suitcase beside Vlad.  He added them all up.  He tried to calculate how many buttons per object, but was only 10 and hadn't learned much division yet.  He gave up and sighed in frustration.  Vlad looked over at him.

"What's wrong."

"Nothing.  Do you know how to divide?"

"Yes, of course.  Why?"

"I don't."

Vlad raised his eyebrows.  "What exactly do you need divided?"

Dimitri squirmed uncomfortably.  His rested his elbow on the armrest of the seat and leaned his head on it.  "Well, I was counting the buttons on my shirt, then the buttons on yours, then the ones on the suitcase.  And I added up 15.  So I tried to calculate how many buttons per object or thing or whatever.  But...I'm not...sure...really...how to find out."  It took a lot, Vlad realized, for the boy to swallow his pride this much and ask.  He smiled.

"Ahh, you need to learn division?"  Dimitri nodded.  Vlad patted the spot beside him on the seat.  Dimitri carefully got up and joined him.  Vlad pulled out a pad of paper and pen.

"Now see here.  You counted 15, right?"

"Right."

"And there are three objects, correct?  You, me, and the suitcase.  Now, I have 6 buttons, you have 6 buttons, and the suitcase has three clasps, or buttons as you call them.  Do you know how to multiply?"

"Up to the 7's."

"Good.  Now watch carefully how I put this..."  He wrote out the equation in division form.  "Now, y'see the three?"

"Yes."

"And you see the fifteen?"

"Yes."

"What times three is fifteen?"

Dimitri bit his lower lip as he tried to remember.  Hmm, how to do this? "I...I'm not that sure."

"Okay.  Pretend I have three barrels, each barrel with the same amount of apples.  I have 15 apples in all.  How many apples per barrel do I have?"

"Five."

"Correct.  So, five times three is...?"

"Fifteen!"

"Right!  Now, what would fifteen divided by three be?"

"FIVE!"

"RIGHT!"  Vlad shouted happily.  Dimitri cheered.

"So there are five buttons average per object!  I just divided!  I actually just divided!"

"You did it!"

"I did it!"  They laughed together, then Dimitri sobered.  "How'd I do it?"

 Vlad chuckled and opened the page to a new sheet.  "Lets do some more equations..."

By the end of the two hours, Dimitri could divide fairly well and knew his 8 times tables somewhat.  Vlad decided that as long as they were together he'd set aside two hours each day to tutor Dimitri in whatever he needed tutoring in, especially math.

The carriage stopped just as Vlad was trying to sing the 8 times tables so Dimitri would remember them.

"Eight times four is thirty-twooooooo..."  Dimitri stifled a laugh as he looked up at the man.  He joined in for the next one.  "Eight times five is fourtyyyyyyyyy..."

"We're here, sir," the driver said as he walked around to the side of the carriage.  Vlad flushed at realizing the driver had heard them singing.  Dimitri laughed and waited till the driver went around back to get their other suitcase.

"You look like a tomato, Vlad!"

Vlad laughed.  "I suppose I do.  Let's get out and go find my estate!"

They exited the carriage with their luggage and paid the man, then surveyed their surroundings.  Vlad scanned the old town.  The general store was here.  And the barber shop.  And a few other places that Vlad had hardly ever gone too -- only the servants did generally.  But usually the servants were everywhere, bustling around, buying things for their owners.

Now, there were no servants.  There were a few men in tan uniforms with red armbands, and a few older gentlemen sitting outside talking to them.  And that was it.  It was almost like a ghost town, with just a few fragrant wisps of a memory of days gone by.  Vlad took Dimitri's hand and started walking quickly.

"What's wrong?" Dimitri asked.

"If anyone asks, you are my son," Vlad said through tightly gritted teeth, still walking.  Dimitri struggled to keep up pace.

"Why?"

Vlad didn't answer, just tried to walk across the town as fast as he could.  He got to the edge and two men in uniform stopped him.

"Stop, sir."

Vlad stopped.  Dimitri gulped and stopped with him.  He looked up omniously at the guards.  What exactly was going on, and why was it?

"Yes, sirs?"

"We need to get some information from you before we can let you past this point."  They flipped open a book of all the Royals name's in the area.  Vlad knew his was on it.

"Information?  What SORT of information?"

 "Your name."

"My name?"  Vlad's heart started to pound.  NAME?!  He couldn't give his NAME!  He'd be identified as a count and shipped back to St. Petersburg to be killed!  What was he supposed to do?  "Um..."

"Name, please."

"I...I..."

"Is this your son?"

"Yes," he answered quickly.  One guard stooped down to Dimitri's eye level.  Dimitri took a step back and eyed the man warily.

"Hello, kid."

"I'm not a kid."

The man laughed.  Dimitri noted that he didn't like his laugh.  He stepped over closer to Vlad.  The man took out a pad of paper.

"What is your father's name, son?"

"My father's name?"

"Yes."

Dimitri looked up at Vlad, then back at the man.  Vlad sucked his breath in sharply.  What would he answer?  Oh, please, not his real name...

"My father's name," Dimitri said as a slow grin spread across his face, "is Mikhail Leongard."

"Mikhail Leongard..."  The man wrote that down.  "And yours?"

"Dimitri."

"Dimitri..."  He stood back up and looked at Vlad.  "Your business here, sir?"

Vlad sighed in relief.  He had already had this part planned.  "My sister worked at one of the estates as a maid.  I was hoping to go see her, assure her safety."

The guards exchanged glances, then allowed Vlad his right of way.  Vlad hurriedly pulled Dimitri down the dirt road toward Vointsky.

"That was fast thinking," Vlad said once they were out of sight of the guards.  "Where'd you learn to lie so good?"  Dimitri smiled.

"It really was my father's name.  They never asked me yours."

Vlad laughed as he looked down at a beaming Dimitri.  "What a little con-man you are!"

They both laughed, then Dimitri burst into song. "Eight times one is eighttttttt..."

Vlad joined in with a chuckle.  "Eight times two is sixteennnnnnnnn..."

© 1999 AnyaMuse@aol.com
© 1999 AnyaCI@aol.com