He felt something he couldn’t define when he looked at her. Relief that she was safe, the old deep-seated hunger he’d always felt but had denied, and finally something else he couldn’t name—but it made his heart feel full.
She stood and embraced him. He couldn’t remember anything that smelled quite as good as she did. He pulled back slightly and kissed her on her scar. She blushed and edged away.
“I want you to meet some people.” She gestured at the five people sitting around the table: Blue, Claude, Nathan, and two other War Council members, an old man and a younger woman.
“I am honored to finally meet you,” the old man said. Bright eyes flashed in the network of weathered wrinkles on his face. “I am Chief Andrew of the Dot Lake Dena.” He held out his hand and Grisha shook it, completely at a loss.
A middle-aged woman with streaks of gray in her black hair smiled up at him.
“As am I,” she said. “I’m Anna Samuel from Fort Yukon.”
“Yes, I saw you both at the first War Council meeting, but I didn’t meet you personally.”
“Grisha is very confused,” Nathan said gently, his intense eyes flashing from person to person. “Perhaps he should eat before we talk with him.”
“Oh,” Wing said, “of course. Pardon us, please.” She led him over to the row of windows where the odor of cooked food became overwhelming.
Back at the table, as he wolfed down potatoes and moose steak, Wing spoke in a very low voice. The others listened quietly.
“We are in desperate straits. The Russians are massing troops on the Diomedes and at Tetlin. They’re already moving north out of St. Nicholas.”
Grisha’s spoon paused midway to his mouth. “How many people do we have to put up against them?”
“That’s a good question. A lot of Dena think we are mad to try this and are leaving the fortified villages, the redoubts, to go live with relatives in the bush. Other villages are fortifying against us, and announcing they are loyal to the Czar.”
“How many do we know we have on our side?” Grisha asked through a mouthful of food, then paused to swallow. “That’ll tell us what we can do.”
“It seems we don’t have to ask,” Anna said to the others at the table.
“No,” Nathan said with a smile on his pockmarked face. “He’s already talking like a field commander.”
Grisha nearly choked in the middle of a swallow. “Field commander! It’s been years since I was a major, I’m not even a Dena.”
“Don’t forget we six are over half the War Council,” Chief Andrew said in his careful voice, “Yesterday the Dena Republik officially declared independence. We’re offering you a commission in the army, Colonel Grigorievich.”
“Why me? There are so many others.”
“You think efficiently during fluid situations,” Wing said, holding up an index finger. “You have years of experience in the field and have proven yourself to be a commander of fighters.” Another finger popped up. “You know the Russians—you’ve lived among them your entire life and served in their army. And we trust you to do your best.” Four fingers splayed toward him.
“But I’m not a Dena, I’m only half Kolosh.”
“There has been friction between some of our people,” Nathan said, looking down at his hands. “Between ‘upriver’ Indians and ‘downriver’ Indians. People from Nulato don’t completely trust people from Old Crow. There are factions in all areas.”
“Why would they care, aren’t we all in this together?”
“Some old, very old habits die hard. Everyone fights the same enemy, but when it comes to taking orders from someone whose people have always been suspect…” Nathan shook his head.
“There are soldiers in the ranks who know you, served with you in the Troika Guard, they speak highly of you. You’ve shown us all your mettle over the past few days.”
“It doesn’t feel right. I really think you could find someone else if—”
Chief Andrew raised his hand, palm out. “There’s the other side of this aspect to consider. If we fail in our fight for independence, you would be the scapegoat in the eyes of many. You’re not even of the People.”
“But I plead with you to say yes,” Nathan said. “There is much we think you can do.”
Grisha considered Chief Andrew’s warning along with Nathan’s entreaty. He felt honored by the opportunity to lead these people he had come to respect and even love. This cause was important to him: much more immediate than anything he had ever done for the Czar.
But Chief Andrew was right: if his troops failed, Grisha would be blamed.
He knew he would probably never see Akku or any other part of southeast Alaska again.
“Very well. Where do I serve?” Grisha tried to overcome the feeling of hollow unreality inside him.
“Colonel Grigorievich, you will be in charge of the Southern Defensive Force,” Anna said crisply. “You are ordered to protect the highway between Chena and Tanana while retaking Chena for the Dena Republik.”
“How many people are in my army?”
“A little over eight hundred, so far,” Wing said. “Our scouts say the Russians haven’t reinforced Chena yet. They’re too busy building up Tetlin. They must think we’re going to attack.”
“What about the political angle?” Grisha asked. “Didn’t the Californians offer some help, and Haimish’s people?”
“The U.S. has a squadron of fighters on the ground in Galena but it’s still uncertain if they are going to stay,” Wing said. “The Californians are supposed to have an answer for us today.”
“And,” Nathan murmured, “here comes Mr. Jackson now.”
Benny Jackson walked over to their table.
“Who’s in charge here?”
“I’m the acting president,” Nathan said, “if that’s what you mean.”
“Yeah, that’s what I mean. Would you step over here, please?”
“Benny,” Wing said firmly, “whatever concerns him as president also concerns us as the council.”
“I got someone who wants to talk to the person in charge, okay?” He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and turned away. “C’mon, Mr. President.”
Nathan followed him across the room, futilely running a hand through his unruly hair. Grisha got up and ambled after them. Jimmy Scanlon wore a headset with large cups over his ears behind a radio transmitter like the one back in Chena. A microphone on a stand stood in front of the other equipment.
“Where’d you get that?” Grisha asked.
“We left a cache here on our way to Chena,” Jackson said, picking up a microphone. “Okay, Nathan, Mr. President, the person you’re going to speak to is an undersecretary in the State Department.”
“Of what must I convince him?”
“You must assure her that if the Republic of California grants your government diplomatic recognition you will grant us ‘most favored nation’ status in return.”
“What does that mean?” Grisha asked.
“I thought Nathan was in charge here,” Jackson snapped.
“So what does it mean?” Nathan asked, his raptor’s gaze pinning Benny.
“It means the Dena Republik would grant the Republic of California first rights in trade agreements, political and military alliances, and extractive minerals exploration.”
“So if the United States wanted to form an alliance with us, they’d have to wait in line behind you guys?” Grisha asked.
“Not necessarily, but you can’t promise two countries the same things, you know.”
“But we can have ‘most favored nation’ status with more than one country at a time?” Nathan pressed.
“Yes.”
“Okay, we’ll do it,” Nathan said.
Jackson stepped up to the microphone and nodded to Jimmy Scanlon who twisted one dial. A speaker hummed into life.
“Benny Jackson, here. Are you there, Ms. Undersecretary, can you hear us?”
