Pasha gasped. “You know who I am.” His face was flushed from exertion and his hair wild again. Nikolai shrugged, still breathing heavily from running so hard and so far. “I won’t tell anyone.” “I . . . thank you.” “Of course. But one piece of advice,” Nikolai said as he glanced again at Pasha’s too-shiny shoes. “If you’re going to sneak out, you’ll need better disguises. For one, your boots. And . . . well, to be honest, everything you’re wearing is much too nice. Even the holes in your trousers are symmetrical. I could help, though. I know a thing or two about clothing. . . .” They had been
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