Chapter 4

“What?” barked Zoe, rubbing her shin.

“Money, mamma,” Tyke said.

“What for?”

“Hunter sausage,” she said, “You said I could get it.”

“Did I?”

It wasn’t just Tyke that nodded ... Krys did too.

“I did?”

“Da,” said the sausage man. He knew exactly what had happened. The American child had won again.

The bag ... laughingly referred to as ‘my purse’ ... was opened and money was available. Hunter sausage is about as expensive as sausage gets... $16 bucks a pound ... umh ... one thousand two hundred thirty-five rubles a pound ... and ... lessee... 2.204 pounds per kilo ... two kilos ... and... 10,892 rubles ... WHAT!!! How? “Tyche Selene Flintkote!” uh oh “How could you?”

“Mom ... you said I could,” Tyke said.

And Krys nodded ... again.

The sausage maker said, “Da.” Again.

Heavy Sigh

“Don’t you dare waste it.”

Zoe paid the man.

The babushkas all grinned. Tyke was ... yeah.

Krys and Tyke said, “Mustard? Black Russian Rye bread?”

And that meant the baker ... the bread ... and the farmer and his wife ... mustard. Russian mustard isn’t yellow salad mustard ... Russian mustard is straight mustard powder, a bit of sugar, water, salt, vegetable oil and vinegar. Homemade is best. Mustard smeared on a piece of heavy rye and a slice of sausage ... mmmm. Followed with ice cold peppered vodka. Not iced vodka ... ice cold. No vodka for Tyke.

“Are we done?” Zoe asked.

Nods all around. Laden, they began the trek to the boat.

Everyone was trudging ... except Tyche. She skipped.

Daddy might be back.

He wasn’t.

The sapphires... “Of a certain size’ said the rules. Didn’t say the size had to be ONE sapphire ... Weight ... not volume Bigger is better? Cynthia tried first.

The portal wouldn’t allow Cynthia. Or Zoe.

Much moping. But ... Zoe perked up. “I’m pregnant?”

“All right. I’ll go,” said Krys. If it worked, Crossroads wouldn’t keep her. Krys was turning 15.

“Going?” asked Tyche.

“Looking for your dad.”

“Good,”

And Tyke was holding Krys’ shirt tail.