Clearly feeling my stare, Zaal flicked a glance to me. I could see discomfort in his expression. When I looked again to the old man, something in his stare made me seek out Viktor. I found him by the far wall, watching us, not the fighters. Flicking my chin, I waved my hand and signaled for Viktor to clear out the gym.

I didn’t know why, but the way the old man was staring at Zaal made ice shoot up my spine. Five minutes later the gym was cleared and the old man was still fixed on Zaal.

Zaal folded his arms across his chest. I could see confusion in his face. Taking the lead as knyaz, I approached the man and asked, “Why were you outside this gym?”

I’d spoken in Russian again and I knew he understood me. Clearing his throat, the old man opened his mouth but stopped himself from speaking. Mikhail tightened his grip on the man’s hair and neck. When I nodded to my head byki, Mikhail let the old man go.

As soon as he was free, the old man turned toward Zaal and bowed his head. My eyebrows pulled down and I saw Talia and Kisa step farther out of the office toward us, Talia taking the lead. My sister looked from the old man to Zaal and back again; then her worried face turned to me.

I had opened my mouth to say something else when the old man whispered, “Lideri, it is you.” I stilled. My heart pounded when the man spoke in Georgian. Kisa, Talia, and my byki all wore expressions of confusion—none of them spoke Georgian—but I did from years in the gulag, and of course Zaal did, too.

Zaal rocked on his feet and he drew in a long breath.

The man had called Zaal Lideri. The man knew who Zaal was. He knew he was looking at a Kostava.

“Name?” I asked the old man, and his head lifted. He forced himself to address me and said coldly, “Avto Oniani.”

The more I watched him, the colder the man’s attitude became toward me. Stepping next to Zaal, I saw the man watching me like a hawk. As I stopped, I asked, “You know this man?” I pointed to Zaal.

Avto nodded his head, and water filled his eyes. Zaal had been silent and absolutely still since the man turned up, but something caused him to snap out of his trance and ask, “How? And who do you think I am?”

Zaal had spoken in Russian, and I knew it was so Talia could understand. There wasn’t anything Zaal did that Talia wasn’t involved in.

The man frowned but answered in like manner. “You are Zaal Kostava, from Tbilisi, Georgia.” He put his hand on his chest. “I am Avto; I was a servant to your family, when you were a boy.”

I heard Talia gasp, but before Zaal could say anything else the man stepped forward with urgency. “Lideri, the night your family was killed I had just lost my mother. I had been at her funeral when the attack happened, but I returned that night to return to my duties to find … to find…,” the man trailed off as emotion clogged his throat. Reaching up, he wiped away his tears.

Zaal was a statue as the man spoke of his family. I could see Talia about to move to her man, but I shook my head in her direction, demanding that she stop. Kisa placed her arm on Talia’s arm and spoke into her ear. Talia was angry at whatever my wife said, but she did as I had signaled.

Avto wiped his face and, stepping yet closer to Zaal, continued, “I found them, sir. I saw the blood.” Avto’s eyes closed as though he was reliving the tragedy. “All the servants had been slain; the guards that had stayed loyal were slain, but for one. He was injured, but not badly enough. He told me what had happened.” Avto lifted a shaky hand to Zaal. “That you and your brother had been taken by that man.”

Zaal was gritting his teeth so tightly I thought his jaw might break. Avto glanced around the room, and his hands started to shake. My eyes narrowed seeing his anxiousness, his sudden change. “Lideri,” Avto properly addressed Zaal, “I, along with my wife, we buried your family—your parents, your grandmama.” Avto shook his head. “The little ones—your youngest brother and sister.” Zaal’s breathing deepened and quickened in pace. His nostrils were flaring. The effect Avto’s storytelling had on Zaal was there for all to see.

Avto bowed his head. When he looked back up his eyes were red. “I couldn’t believe it, sir. All that life, gone; left to die like animals.” He wiped at his damp cheeks, then said, “We buried all of your family, Lideri, on the hill on your property, in case you ever go back.” I could hear the grinding of Zaal’s teeth, but everything went silent when Avto informed, “All except one.”

The room temperature seemed to drop, and Zaal growled, “Explain,” his deep rough voice betraying how painful all of this was to him.

Avto swallowed and continued, “When we were lifting the bodies, we thought they were all dead.” He took a deep breath and added, “But when we reached the bottom, we noticed that someone was breathing. Hurt, severely wounded, but there was still life.”

“Who?” Zaal demanded, the veins cording in his neck.

“Zoya, Lideri. Little Zoya was alive.”

A soft cry came from across the room. Talia had her hand over her mouth and her eyes staring at her man. “Baby. Your Zoya.”

Zaal’s body began shaking. Every part of him shook, until he managed to ask, “She was breathing? She was alive?”

Avto’s face fell, and he said quietly, “Yes, Lideri. She had been shot three times. She was bleeding badly, and I feared she would die before we could get her help.” Avto ran his hand across the back of his neck. His face had turned ghostly white. After several seconds, he continued, “We managed to get her to a family member of mine. My wife.” His voice broke, but he coughed and said, “My wife held her tiny body in her arms. There was blood everywhere, and the little one was so pale. My wife stroked through her hair, and rubbed at her arms to keep her warm until we got to my cousin’s house.”

A tear ran down Avto’s cheek; this time he didn’t even wipe it away. His old eyes were lost in the memory, his aged hands clasping together so hard that his knuckles were bone white.

“My cousin had to work hard, Lideri, but he managed to extract the bullets.” He shook his head as if ridding something from memory. “She lost so much blood that my wife and I were covered. But she fought so hard to stay alive. Her little five-year-old body would not give up. She was so strong, so brave.”

This time sniffing came from both Kisa and Talia and when I looked to my friend he was practically unchanged, but his cheeks were wet with tears, his green eyes haunted. I closed my eyes, feeling the hurt in my chest. Hurt that this new brother of mine had thought everyone was dead, only now to be told he had blood left alive.