Maid of Baikal: A Novel of the Russian Civil War

“Then can you please be so kind as to tell me who will win the war between Reds and Whites?” he pressed with only a hint of irony in his smile. “It could save me a great deal of time and effort.”

“God does not permit me such great questions,” Yelena answered gently. “He gives me small things only. I see future of only one person at a time.”

“Then might you tell the future of one of us here?” McCloud asked with a gesture that included the three men seated around the table.

Yelena folded her hands in her lap and closed her eyes. When they opened, they settled upon Jake Sweeney.

“I choose this one,” she answered.

“Any objection?” the journalist inquired of Sweeney.

“None at all,” the Red Cross man replied, pulling himself together. “Nothing she says could make my situation any worse, I suppose.”

Yelena closed her eyes yet again.

“I see you soon in Yekaterinburg and Omsk. Difficult work, dangerous conditions. You are very busy man there, too busy perhaps even for vodka.”

This brought chuckles from everyone but Sweeney, whose eyes seemed to well with tears. Her reference to his drinking seemed to have hit a nerve.

“But good results for Russian people. You finish many tasks and everywhere people see big improvements. In summer, Russian government give you big reward. In autumn, you go back to America: big job, much money. I see you in American capital then.”

By the time the woman finished, Sweeney seemed transformed. His eyes were brighter, his spine straighter, and his smile almost radiant.

By now, several of the people from the other tables were gathered around Ned’s.

A young nurse set a glass of seltzer water quietly before Yelena and asked, “Won’t you read someone else?”

As if the intention had already formed, Yelena answered, “I speak to this one next,” nodding toward McCloud. She downed nearly the entire glass of seltzer, closed her eyes, and, before the man could raise an objection, spoke again.

“I see this one with great need for fame and success. Many years he wait for big story to make his fortune. This winter, in Irkutsk, his big story come to him at last. I see him hold story tight, like tail of tiger, until it is famous all over world. Then I see him write books and give speeches. All people in America and Europe, all love this story very much. And when his work finished after many years, he go home and die happy in bed.”

McCloud gave a self-conscious laugh and wagged his head; but underneath his whiskers, he was blushing.

The woman’s voice came forth with great energy, arousing intense interest among her growing circle of listeners. Several of them asked at once if she would tell his or her fortune next. But Yelena waved their requests aside.

Ned found both readings quite plausible, given what little he knew of the two men. And for a moment after McCloud’s reading, he worried that Yelena might turn her second sight next onto him. But his anxiety subsided when so many others clamored to be chosen. He watched the woman sip at her glass of seltzer water and turn pale, as if drained by physical or mental exertion. When the nurse who had brought her the seltzer asked if Yelena might offer one more demonstration, the woman shook her head and rose halfway from her chair before suddenly lowering herself again.

“My spirits not let me finish. They tell me I must speak about young man opposite me at table.” She raised her eyes and met Ned’s gaze with an unblinking stare for several seconds before lowering them.

A long pause ensued. Ned noticed that the parlor car had gone silent, most of its occupants having gathered around him with expectant looks. As an intelligence officer, the last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself. Though he didn’t believe in fortune telling, what if this woman by some clever deduction or lucky intuition were to reveal something that compromised his work? Yet, to refuse her might draw even more attention and the incur ill will of his fellow travelers. He decided to let her have her say.

At last, Yelena spoke again in a measured voice.

“I see this young man split between two desires: one to work hard and find success to satisfy important people in his family. Other to seek adventures in wide world. I see difficult choice, too, between intelligent young woman in America and brave Russian girl, with spirit of giant, chosen for difficult task that no one else can do. To complete this work, man and girl must stay as brother and sister, though perhaps they want more. If work is success, very good results for them, and for Russia. Young man return to long life in America and much happiness. If work fail, much suffering and maybe not leave Russia alive.”

Ned’s heart leapt to his throat upon hearing her words. Several people gasped.