Threads and Flames by Esther Friesner

well-trained parrot.
    The only bright spot in the midst of so much discouragement was the fact that Zusa had two different books to bring to the lessons. One was a women’s prayer book, the other a novel called The Wishing-Ring, written by a man who went by the name of Mendele Mokher Sefarim, which meant Mendel the little bookseller . Raisa did her best to appreciate the lessons taken from the women’s siddur, but she couldn’t help sharing Zusa’s contempt when she explained why it was written in Yiddish rather than Hebrew: “They don’t think we’re scholarly enough to master Hebrew, like the boys. Ha! I remember some of the yeshiva students back home. They didn’t have the brains to know which end of the goat gives milk! But we’re the ones who aren’t smart enough to learn Hebrew?” She made a disgusted sound.
    It was hard enough reading the prayers without carrying so much resentment as well. Whenever her lessons came from the women’s siddur, they ended in failure. It was a different story when Zusa tried to help her get through The Wishing-Ring. Though the words still came to her with difficulty, Raisa was eager to do better. There were even times when she stopped Zusa from taking over and doing the reading for her.
    â€œBut you’re struggling!” Zusa objected. “Why can’t I tell you what it says? You never mind that when we’re using the prayer book.”
    â€œI—I don’t know why this is different, exactly,” Raisa admitted. “I just know I’m enjoying the story, and you say he’s written other books. Maybe one day I’ll be able to find one, and when that happens, I’ll need to be able to read it on my own.”
    â€œSuit yourself,” Zusa said. “Keep trying. But remember, it’s only a nine-day voyage.”
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    On the seventh day of the crossing, the sea grew rough and any hope of completing the journey in nine days sank under the wild waves. Raisa woke up to the violent pitch and roll of the ship and sounds of loud moaning from her fellow passengers. A strong, sour stink was in the air, almost overwhelming the usual smell of haphazardly washed bodies and breakfast oatmeal. Raisa hooked her hands on the edge of her bunk and leaned over to see if Zusa was awake, too.
    Zusa was lying on her side, reading the Sefarim novel. She makes it look so easy! Raisa thought with a twinge of envy. Will it ever be that easy for me?
    Zusa put down the book and greeted her friend happily. “Well, good morning! How are you? Not seasick?”
    â€œNo. And you?”
    â€œNot a bit.” She sat up and swung her feet to the floor. “I didn’t know I had such a strong stomach.”
    â€œI wish mine were stronger,” Raisa said, pulling back from the edge of the bunk and resting her chin on her hands. “I don’t mind the way the ship’s moving, but this stench!”
    â€œThey can’t help throwing up.”
    â€œI know, and I’m sorry they’re suffering. I wish there was something I could do for them. Do you think the ship’s doctor has anything to cure seasickness?”
    â€œIf he does, he’s saving it for the rich folk. Have you seen the look on his face when he handles our examinations? I heard he’s supposed to look us over daily, but he can’t stand the sight of us. No wonder he skips days, or sends an underling and hopes he’ll get away with it! No, we’ll be lucky if the crew comes down here to clean up the mess more than once.”
    â€œDo you think it’s safe to go up onto the open deck?” Raisa asked, climbing down from her berth. “I want some fresh air.”
    â€œNo harm in trying,” Zusa replied, standing up and starting to dress. “It might be raining, but a little water won’t hurt us. What’s the worst that can happen?”
    The line for the toilets that morning was longer than