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“Yes,” Davy said, glancing at the man beside him. Almost all the Russians he had met spoke
some degree of English but perhaps this fellow did not. His face was convincingly blank, as if even
this banal discussion was beneath his understanding.
But evidently not. With a slight grimace, Vlad accepted the social realities of the situation.
“This is Davy Mabrey,” he said to the snowman. “He is a British revolutionary in service to the
Queen but in sympathy to our cause.” The man’s small eyes darted to Davy with sudden interest and
Davy flushed.
“And this is one of the senior members of the Volya,” Vlad continued. “May I present my
comrade, Filip Orlov.”