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Laughter drifted over the water.
“How is THIS supposed to be funny, Illya? Vodianyk drags little
children to his underwater dwelling to serve him as slaves and Baba
Yaga kidnaps them to eat! Are all of your Russian fairytales as creepy
as that one??”
Napoleon looked at The Seine again as they walked to their hotel after
having dinner in a little restaurant which Illya had confessed to
having fallen for while studying at The Sorbonne. Illya had also
casually remarked that the Seine reminded him of the Neva in Saint
Petersburg so Napoleon couldn’t help himself but carefully asked his
friend to tell him “something funny” about Russia. They’d been
partners for over a year now but Illya still didn’t speak much about
his homeland. And when he did – it was cagily and with reserve. It
wasn’t that Napoleon didn’t respect his partner’s privacy, but that he
really liked the man and just wanted to know him a little better.
“My grandmother used to tell me this one when I was a child…”
Illya stopped and gazed upon wide stretches of river and the lashing
and lapping of waves on stone. Napoleon held his breath.
“Do you miss it sometimes? I mean your homeland.”
“I…,” - Illya reluctantly looked away, “My home is where my duty lies.
Let’s go, Napoleon, it is getting dark and tomorrow is going to be a
difficult day.”
“Sure, tovarish, let’s go.”
Napoleon suppressed a sad sigh. So, it would not be this day, that his
secretive partner would be able to trust him enough. The Soviet Union
taught their people to keep their thoughts to themselves perhaps too
well - much too well. But one day he would reach him, that was for
sure. If not today, than tomorrow. Yes, he would break those walls.
Tomorrow.