I recall.'

'There's a chance he's about if you-'

'S—— in my mouth! I have no desire to talk to him now!'

'Later?'

'My, you're a pushy acolyte.'

'Listen, Comrade Nekabov has contrived a grand plan with his paper.'

'Do tell.'

'A section devoted to writers.

'A section?'

'Indeed. In fact, Nekabov has commissioned several authors, including myself. I have signed rights to distribute my second novel through him.'

'He's leaning from the scandalous tripe?'

'I can't say anything of the sort, but he appears serious about propagating our craft.'

'Em...perhaps...but I surmise the parasite is attempting to push copy.'

'True, hisself is a mogul; however, I owe my success to the man. Without his help, _Hero/Heroine_ might've been lost to the ages.'

Medvelov snorted and rolled his eyes.

'I have no cause for exaggeration,' said I, all solemn-like. 'I'm only relaying Comradecooed hisself. 'I _only_ have your interests at heart.'

Oh, Iliosovy...

Sad, solitary Iliosovy.

Comprehend: I realized my comrade would always make me _his_ problem.

Forevermore, Iliosovy pronounced authority to lecture me!

He'd stand on my shoulder and chirp in me ear...

My long-gone despondency...his weapon to wield.

Mayhap it be this moment...yes...it _was_ the moment...I manufactured an antagonism to the man.

But I gave into perversions... _he-he._

And when the rollicking ceased, he laid his head on my back and said, 'I'll come Wednesday.'

# CHAPTER 12c

"First Of All..."

Comrade, do recall the blizzard what dumped mounding snow on eastern Russia in September 1847? _One for the ages,_ saith the old. Lo! The cold...the wind! Anemoi's shrieking conjured wraiths and demons! The simple folk's maxim be: _Snow in September heralds a bitter winter_. Though the enduring nature of