Who the Hell is Das Brick?

Isabella cried. Olga gave her comfort and a ball of sticky sweet rice.

They swept into a large stove room with tapestries and a very animated lur player laboring in the corner. Ravens were croaking and drying their wings next to a healthy warm fire in the center of the broadest wall. A woman was giving orders to a lady-in-waiting next to the fire.

"Maria!"

"Olga! Why aren't you at the monastery?"

"I spoke with Fivim a few moments ago. There is a spy from Dmitri abroad."

Maria rolled her eyes and tugged at her queue with both hands, behind her neck.

"Olga, when has there not been a spy at the Kreml? Everything we do here is known at the courts of the Sultan, and Poland, and the Horde. Nothing is private!"

"Fivim got word from Boris and Gleb themselves. This spy is working for Dmitri and Baba Yaga and is part of a plan to open our gates to them."

"I don't like vem. Vey want to eat me." quoth Isabella. "Spain, please? Anyone?"

"Where is Boston, ma'am?"

"Where?"

"Boston? East of England? Apparently Afanasy is travelling with a fat bald man from Boston. He could be the spy."

"Why would Fana travel with a spy of Dmitri and Baba's? He's not recently bounced from the turnip wagon."

"No one ever knows where Boston is. I encourage you to have one of Ivan's generals go kill him forthright."

"Olga! We welcome envoys from away. Boston may well be arrayed against Poland and Lithuania, and the Horde."

"El Pelon means 'the bald guy'" quoth Isabella.

"Well there you have it. He represents himself."

"Ask Afanasy to bring him hence. I would Ivan meet this Das Brick and form his own opinion."

"And we will be mindful of spies."

"As always, lovely sister. How is Isabella prospering here in Rus?"

"I wov it" quoth Isabella of Castile.

Maria gestured to a raven, and whispered to it. It flew from the window out into the spring sunshine, away from the ringing notes of the lur player.