Her husband was sitting by the fire with Marko, who was whole and hearty again even if he was a little paler from not working in the sun all spring.
While Marie and her mother were cooking, Marko appeared to be completely drunk.
Oleg turned to her with a smile. “Did you really chop the head off a snowman?”
Sándor started to laugh.
“Volchitsa, I did not know this was a habit of yours.”
Chapter 33
Oleg
“Excellent work, Elek.” Oleg patted the young man’s shoulder. “Very even. Good placement between your tesserae. That’s very good.”
The dark-eyed boy looked up at Oleg. “When I’m finished, I’m going to put it on my mother’s wagon,” he said. “Sunflowers are her favorite.”
“That’s a wonderful idea. When you know where you want it to go, I can show you how to fix it to the wall.”
Oleg was teaching some of the young Poshani how to make mosaics with broken tiles and shards of dishes. They also used smooth stones and any little pieces they could find around the kamvasa. They were fixing the small mosaic squares to loose burlap netting that could then be placed on a wall or a table or whatever the children wanted.
The degree of skill was… highly variable. But the children seemed to enjoy it.
One of the girls wanted to make a lamp like she’d seen online, so Oleg had found some glass for her and smoothed the edges so she could bring her vision to life.
“Nano Oleg.” Another child ran up to him. “Can you light my lantern please?”
“Of course.” He snapped his fingers, and the little boy’s face lit up.
“Thank you!”
There were many things he found peaceful about being among the Poshani clans during the summer kamvasa, but the most amusing one was the sudden popularity he had immediately garnered among the little ones in the caravan.
He was a walking ladder to reach tall things. A fire starter. And an ally in all sorts of dangerous pursuits their parents would not approve of.
Oleg had learned quickly that Poshani children took advantage of the lax rules and late bedtimes during the kamvasa, particularly regarding tree climbing and anything involving physical danger.
It was no wonder so many of them grew up to be fearless warriors.
Though admittedly, it was rare for any of the children to learn a lesson regarding their dangerous pursuits because there was always a Hazar watching to make sure they made it to the ground, and often the boldest children took advantage of that just to garner a quick flight with a vampire aunt “Bibi” or uncle “Nano.”
He was honored when the little ones started calling him Nano, and he enjoyed being nothing like an authority figure for the first time in centuries.
No, his wife was the authority here.
Oleg was surprised and delighted how easily he was able to relax among Tatyana’s family where he had little power and almost zero expectations. He happily chatted with kamvasa guests—especially those of dubious reputation whom his wife dreaded—he coordinated the movements of the rotating druzhina who came with him—never more than four at a time—and occasionally he would welcome guests from his own clan who had been graciously invited.
“Nano Oleg,” a voice called.
He turned and saw Dessie, Rumi’s oldest child, waving at him. He stood and turned to the children. “Do any of you have any further questions before I leave you to your work?”
“No, sir!”
“I’m fine.”
Cheerful voices chirped back at him, and most of the children seemed happy in their projects, so Oleg left them near the kitchen wagons and walked over to Dessie.
“Does Terrin Tatyana need my assistance?”
