I drew in a breath. “That must have been awful.”

  “He told me to go home, but I refused. I asked him why they were doing this over a book, but he wouldn’t answer and only said that Otto’s father was getting the punishment he deserved. I stood between them and said I would not allow the whipping to happen.”

  “Surely that ended it.” I couldn’t imagine any father would refuse his own child something so important.

  “ ‘Back down right now, or you’ll get the same.’ ” Lukas glanced over at me. “That’s what my father said. I refused that, too, so he had one of his men grab me and drag me away. I escaped him and ran, just ran as fast as I could. The soldier I’d escaped was chasing me, but someone reached out from the shadows, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into hiding with him, whispering that if I stayed quiet, I’d be safe. That was Ben, almost a year ago.” Lukas sighed. “I haven’t been home since then. I don’t even know if my home is still there. You’ll understand why when you hear my father’s name.”

  “Rusakov,” I whispered, putting together the pieces. “Your father is Officer Rusakov. That’s why you had to hide when he was inspecting wagons on the road, and why you wanted to stay in the forest when they were burning the town. You didn’t want him to see you.”

  “My father isn’t evil,” Lukas said. “But he is wrong. Wrong about Lithuania, wrong about books, and wrong about the way to enforce the horrible laws. Until he changes his mind, I won’t go home.”

  I put my hand over his, and we sat there in silence for a very long time, until finally Lukas sighed. “If the horses are rested, we should get on the road again. We have to get to Kražiai before the soldiers do.”

  By midafternoon we arrived in the town of Kražiai with illegal books hidden inside a coffin, which now felt far too ominous. We had expected to be the first to give the warning that soldiers were on their way, but it was obvious from the moment we arrived that the warning had already come. It was as if the entire pulse of the town had changed.

  Unlike on our previous visit, no one came from their homes to greet us, or in from the fields or markets. We’d passed several public places on our way there, and no one was in any of them. Maybe they were huddled in their homes.

  Huddled. Hiding.

  Planning. Praying.

  They knew what was coming.

  We had barely driven to the door of the church when Ben came out, waving his arms as if to shoo us away. “Now? Why did you two have to come now?”

  “We had to warn everyone—”

  “They’re warned. Can’t you tell? Now go.”

  “We have their books,” Lukas said.

  Ben eyed the coffin in the back of our wagon and seemed to understand. “Let’s unload them and get you two away from here as quickly as possible.” Then he glared at me. “You should have stayed back with Milda. Why don’t you ever do as you’re told?”

  “Tell me something I can obey, and I will.” I wasn’t in the mood to be scolded by him, not after all we’d been through to get here.

  Ben directed us to drive around to the back of the church, where the priest was already waiting at the door. He said, “Get inside before someone sees you.”

  We followed him inside as he directed a few men to go out and tend to our horses and to get the coffin. I couldn’t see how anyone heard him above the bustle of noise and activity inside the church, but his request was obeyed.

  “What is everyone doing?” Lukas asked.

  From where he stood, it must have looked like the people were dismantling their own church, but I stood a little deeper inside the nave and realized they were passing items belonging to the church to others waiting outside, attempting to rescue them.

  A woman I had seen here on our last trip pointed at us. “They’re book carriers! They can help us get these treasures to safety.”

  “No,” Ben said, cutting in front of me. “That is not their job.”

  “Soldiers have arrived!” a man called from a position near a window. “Call everyone inside!” I wasn’t sure where he was stationed, but he must have had a view out front, because four men immediately brushed past us to get to the front of the church, where our wagon had just been. Each man held a pitchfork in his hands like it was a rifle. The main doors were opened barely long enough for me to look out and see a line of Cossack soldiers coming up the hill.

  The priest said, “On orders from the governor in this region, this church is supposed to be burned. He believes that if we have nowhere to worship our God, we will be forced into worshipping their God.”

  A woman standing near us said, “We won’t let them burn this church. But if they do, we must get everything out. Please help us.”

  “You’ve gotten out everything that you can,” Ben said, stifling a cough. “Now please, for the last time, listen to me and get as far from this place as possible.”

  “And let the Cossacks win again?” she asked, to echoes of agreement from the people around her.

  “They will win,” Ben said. “No matter how many of you are here, it won’t matter. They will win.”

  “Can’t we help them?” I asked. “She’s right, we are smugglers. We can—”

  Ben pointed out the window. “What orders do you think those soldiers were given? To back down and let the people have a victory against the tsar? No, they are just waiting for more soldiers to arrive and then one side or the other will start a fight that will only end one way, and that is with dead Lithuanians in the street and a church burned to its foundation. Your work is to deliver books.”

  “Our work is to do everything we can to free Lithuania! Words are never enough of a weapon. We must help these people fight!”

  “No, Audra! For every man we bring to a fight, they can bring ten. For every weapon we can forge out of sickles and sticks and pitchforks, they have rifles and pistols and swords. The only weapon we have is who we are, and that is our words, our stories, our culture. If we preserve that, then there is always a chance for freedom, but to preserve that, we must stay alive.” He wanted to say more, I knew he did, but his next words were drowned out by a coughing spasm severe enough to force him to lean against a wall for support.

  Lukas had a simpler argument. Touching my arm, he said, “Ben is right. Our lives are dedicated to saving the books. Maybe others teach from their books or transport them, and that is their purpose. These people are here to save this church. We’ve got jobs to do, and so have they.”

  Reluctantly I began to follow Ben out the back of the church, but we didn’t get far before another group of people entered, those who had been outside helping to take objects from the church. “More soldiers are coming,” a woman said.

  “Then why would you come in here?” Ben growled. “Go back to your homes!”

  “That’s what I’m telling you,” she said. “We can’t leave. They’ve got us surrounded. If we go out there, they’ll arrest us.”

  Lukas looked at me. “You can find us a way out, Audra. You always do. One of your father’s tricks, perhaps?”

  I shook my head. “There’s no trick for something like this. Those soldiers intend to destroy this church, with or without us inside it.”

  Ben pushed us behind him. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Lukas, you and Audra go as far to the back of the church as you can, and if shots are fired, I want you both inside that coffin you brought here.”

  “What are you going to do?” I asked.

  Ben coughed, then said, “I’ll help these people fight.” Before I could respond, he added, “Only me. We have a long night ahead, and no matter how it ends, when news of what’s happened here gets out, the anger against Russia will rise more than ever. Which means the need for book carriers will be greater than ever.”

  Lukas and I started to protest, but Ben ignored us as he continued pushing us toward the back of the church. We’d only taken a few steps before the first shots were fired out in the street.

  “Was that them or us?” Lukas asked.

  Ben turned back to us, his face grim. “Get inside that coffin and stay there until I come for you, or until it’s been silent for an hour. Hear me?”

  “We’re not hiding like cowards while everyone else fights to defend themselves!” I said.

  Ben turned on Lukas, his face reddening with anger. “I’ve seen these fights before, Lukas, and I know how they end. Get her to safety, now!”

  Lukas nodded and grabbed my arm, even as more shots were fired. I yanked it away and stomped ahead of him toward the back of the church, furious.

  “Aren’t you afraid?” he asked. “Why are you in such a rush to join the fight?”

  “Of course I’m afraid!” I said. “Just as I’ve been afraid nearly every moment since the day my parents were taken away. But every day, I tell myself to push through my fear, because if I do, maybe I will finally carry the book that brings them home, and it never does, never. Book smuggling isn’t enough, Lukas—isn’t that obvious? At some point, we’ve got to stand on our feet and face the Cossacks and force the Russian Empire out of our land! What if tonight is the night we could have made a difference, the night I could have brought my parents home, but it doesn’t happen because I’m hiding inside a coffin instead?” I hesitated as we heard more shots firing above and a loud crash directly overhead, as if the soldiers had already broken into the church. Lowering my voice, I said, “We can help these people. It’s the right thing to do and you know it.”

  Lukas sighed as if he knew he’d lost the argument. “I should have made you stay with Milda, and then I should have stayed too. So what do we do?”

  My eyes were on the door that someone had left slightly ajar. Through it, I couldn’t see any soldiers, nor were any shots coming from back here. I suspected when the fighting began, anyone who was here joined the others at the front of the church.

  I said, “Let’s get outside and find a place to see for ourselves what’s happening. If there’s a way to help, we’ll do it. If not, I promise, I’ll leave with you and escape into the forest.”

  Lukas nodded. “That’s fair enough.” He took a deep breath, gripped the handle of the door, then said, “I told you once that if you began to work with us, there’d be no going back. I wish you hadn’t taken me so seriously.”

  I put a hand on his back and pressed him forward, then with a sigh added, “I wish that too.”

  As we had hoped, the back of the church was abandoned, and my first thought was to tell the people inside that we had a way out. But before that thought was even finished, Lukas grabbed my arm and yanked me to the ground, just in time, as the soldiers who’d been here returned, grumbling about being assigned watch duty when the real action would happen up front.

  For now there was no more shooting, so I hoped what I’d heard earlier were only warning shots intended to scatter the men with pitchforks. Though if those were warnings, I doubted that anyone had left. The men weren’t only protecting their church now, they were also protecting their loved ones inside.

  Their actions were noble and brave … and probably would end in tragedy. And now I had dragged Lukas into the midst of this too. I wished none of us had to be here, but we were. The air felt thick and seemed dark, as if death hovered nearby, waiting for his opportunity to collect more than his share for the day.

  Lukas began crawling on his hands and knees away from the soldiers who were still talking about how they would handle this situation if they were in charge. Grateful for the noise they were making among themselves, I followed Lukas until we were far enough away that we could hide in a patch of trees and hope to figure out a way to help.

  “If we could draw the soldiers away,” I said, “even for a few minutes, we could get the people out.”

  “Too late,” Lukas said, as the instant I’d finished speaking, the front church doors burst open and the people spilled out onto the church lawn, ready to fight.

  “They have no weapons,” I whispered to Lukas. “They have no chance here.”

  “Then let’s help them escape.” Lukas darted forward, silently grabbing the arm of a girl near our age and pulling her toward me. I was directly behind him and took her hand, then motioned to her that we would be crouching low to the ground. She nodded and followed my lead, and I pointed out the patch of trees behind the church where I wanted her to go. The most dangerous part would be the low brick wall that surrounded the church. Her only choice was to slip over it. I hoped she was fast, and even then, I hoped she’d be lucky.

  Others around us weren’t so lucky. A man running right in front of Lukas was caught with a bullet. A fraction of a second’s difference, and it would have been Lukas instead. But he had been encouraging people to get to the ground as well, and directing them in the same way I was.

  I turned again to find Lukas, but whatever he had been doing a moment ago, now he was completely still. He was facing me, but staring at something, or someone, directly behind me, his eyes betraying the kind of horror that told me I was in terrible trouble. At first I didn’t understand why. Not until Lukas said, “Spare her, Father. Let her go.”

  “It was never about her. I came to find you.” I recognized the voice and closed my eyes, not daring to turn around, nor did I need to. Officer Rusakov was behind me. Lukas’s father.

  “Do you intend to arrest me?” Lukas stepped closer. “You should. I am a book smuggler, Father. Everything you worked to stop was everything I fought to achieve. I’m still fighting for it.”

  I shook my head. “Lukas, stop. He—”

  “Lukas?” Now Rusakov crossed to where I could see him. He was still in his uniform, but it had been stripped of the decoration he’d worn every other time our paths had crossed. I got the feeling he had come here as a father, not as a soldier. “Lukas is your name now?”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that Lukas must have had a Russian name before this, but of course he had, and he would have changed it to keep people from knowing his background. That must have been part of the reason why Rusakov had wanted my help.

  Lukas didn’t answer his father, but Rusakov walked closer to him, almost forgetting me. He said, “You were there that night, when the village of Venska burned. I was sure I saw you with this girl. I tried to get her to reveal your name … Lukas … so that I could find you.”

  “If you’d looked for me with the other Lithuanians, you would’ve found me.”

  “You are Russian—”

  “Half-Russian, and I never even felt that much. I remember once seeing my friends reading a Lithuanian book, and when they realized I’d seen it, they dropped the book and ran from me in fear. From me, Father, simply because of the language of the book! I picked it up, determined to understand why those words were so dangerous to the tsar. Do you know what it was? A simple fairy tale of a girl named Rue,” Lukas said.

  “Perhaps all of Lithuania is a fairy tale! An imagined place that refuses to acknowledge its position in the real world!” Rusakov shouted.

  “If Lithuania has a place in the real world, then it deserves its own language, its own culture,” I said. “We deserve our own books.”

  Rusakov gestured to the soldiers and villagers behind us, still fighting. “Then you deserve what will happen to all of you tonight. Freedom is never given as a gift; if you want it, then people will die for it. Why can’t you just accept the occupation and live in peace with us?”

  But before he could say anything more, a rifle fired into the air and the area went quiet. A soldier nearer to the front of the church shouted, “Enough of this! Go to your knees if you want to live! Stay on your feet and you’ll be shot!”

  Several people immediately obeyed the order, though more remained on their feet, either still trying to escape, or worse, trying to fight back, using pitchforks against bayonets. It didn’t help that those who had knelt were immediately assaulted by the soldiers, their cries for mercy returned with beatings on their backs or heads. One woman had fallen to her knees, her fists clutching the frostbitten grass, praying for a miracle from the God she was trying to defend. But a soldier yanked her to her feet by one arm, told her she was being arrested, and began leading her away. Even then, I saw her lips still moving, still praying.

  Other soldiers continued to order the crowd to their knees. But why would they think anyone else would obey now, only to receive that same treatment?

  “Get the people out of here,” a soldier ordered.

  His men began herding those who were still on their feet down the hill away from the church. Halfway down, a woman slipped and might’ve been trampled if others nearby hadn’t stopped to help her up, receiving beatings of their own as repayment for their mercy.

  “We’ve got to help them.” Lukas’s tone deepened, and then I knew he had been addressing his father. “I’m going to help them and you will not stop me. You know this is wrong.”

  Rusakov hung his head. “Then go. Do what you must, but remember that I have no more authority among these soldiers. I cannot save you.”

  “Perhaps having no authority is the first step to saving yourself,” Lukas said.

  Rusakov nodded grimly, then I grabbed Lukas’s arm and we began running down the hill to keep us ahead of where the people were still being forced to march away from the church. As we ran, I glanced back at Lukas. “Tell me you still have some matches left.”

  He began patting at his pockets and withdrew his matchbox. “Only a couple. Will that be enough?”

  No, it wasn’t. We had four smoke bombs, and now at best we would only be able to light two of them. I had always counted on using all four.

  But two would have to be enough. We rounded a corner where a crooked wooden home offered Lukas some cover to hide. I took the matches from Lukas, then darted to the opposite side of the road, though there wasn’t much here to protect me. Lukas would have to do most of the work.

  “What is your plan?” Lukas hissed.

  I shushed him. The Cossacks were still pushing the people closer to us. I had to concentrate. My timing had to be perfect. I hoped Lukas would know what to do when the right moment came.