The Cautious Traveller's Guide to the Wastelands

by Sarah Brooks

“My maid was unable to make the journey. It was too much of a strain on her nerves.” “Well, it is good that our nerves are made of stronger stuff. My weak-spleened nephews spent months trying to dissuade me from this journey with tales of all the terrors that may befall us, but I believe they only succeeded in scaring themselves.” She gives an unexpected smile and pats Marya on the hand. “Now then, where is my cabin? If Vera here doesn’t have me stuffed into an armchair with a cup of tea in my hand very quickly, I can’t swear to her behavior.” “Right here, Countess.” The steward gives a much deeper bow and a theatrical wave of his arm. The maid—Vera—opens the door at arm’s length, as if afraid of the horrors within. “Ah! So we are to be neighbors,” says the Countess. Marya gives a curtsey. “Oh, we shall have none of that here. My name is Anna Mikhailovna Sorokina. And I will call you…?” Another catch of the breath, a lurch like the feeling of missing a step she hadn’t realized was there, but the Countess seems not to notice. “My name is Marya Petrovna Markova,” she says.