THE ARTEMIS ORPHANAGE & ITS SPIES
Excerpts from the award-winning book by Natalia Dovhopol translated into English by Alina Zhurbenko.
About the Book
The year is 1907. A fight breaks out in one of the Kyiv theatres. A respectful Austrian gentleman publicly accuses a messenger boy of stealing. Without a trace of fear, the teenager rejects the accusations not yet suspecting that this is his first test, an invitation to a new life. Herr Friedrich has found a prospective student for his orphanage: the secret school where professional spies get their training.
It is a tightly-plotted detective story of four young female spies, their physical and metaphorical journey through Greece, the United States, Japan and Ukrainian lands in the times of Belle Époque. The protagonists solve riddles, defeat enemies, and — the most important — fight the inner demons.
The book was published in 2019 and won the second prize at the “Koronatsiya slova” manuscript contest the same year. It won the first prize at “Espreso. Reader’s choice” as the best young adult fiction (2020), and was shortlisted at Book Pitch of Odesa Film festival, Ukrainian teenage book award “Navyvorit” and young readers book award “BaraBooka.”
This excerpt is translated with author’s permission. All rights belong to Natalia Dovhopol and the “Vivat” publishing house.
Prologue (excerpts)
translated by Alina Zhurbenko
Tobacco smoke, noise and clinking of glasses filled the hall of a cafe-chantant. All kinds of low-brow audience favored it: those who couldn’t afford drinking champagne at the restaurant of the Hotel Continental, and also those who preferred to be entertained with cheesy songs, funny pamphlets and provocative dances. After all, Mozart is not everyone’s treat.
The crowd was rather mixed: merchants and bourgeois with their ladies, working girls with heavy makeup on, two buzzed sailors and a bunch of merry cadets showing off their uniform. In the adjoining room someone was losing at a pool table, and someone had laid out the cards hoping for some easy cash before performance began.
A party sitting at the darkest corner might have looked weird next to these regulars. Just an ordinary spot to have fun and some drinks in Kyiv, this place seemed unfit for the young people at the table. Two very young ladies were resting casually on the chairs, dressed in elegant evening gowns. The semblance to Greek goddesses was undoubtful from their postures, while the light veils on their flowery hats covered the upper part of their faces. Next to them a handsome young gentleman sat with his legs crossed and held an unlit cigarette in his lips. He wore a black three-piece suit and wide-brimmed hat, the kind nobody in the world would wear besides the people from the Wild West.
(…)
A swish of pastel-golden colors had been flying toward their table. It stopped only to turn into a blond girl, adorned lavishly with a sparkling necklace and bracelets.
“I told’ya!” the newcomer exclaimed cheerfully. Her freckled face blushed from excitement. “I won three rubles in poker! The whole three rubles! How much is this, Paul?”
“Well, not much,” the young man replied lazily. “Yet enough to pay for the wine.”
“Look at him,” the blondie rolled her eyes and flopped down on a chair. “Why should it be on me?”
They didn’t notice switching from French to English.
“Hey, young man!” the blondie beckoned a waiter. This time in perfect Russian, no trace of accent whatsoever. “I’d like some white rum.”
“Does the lady wish for a glass or a bottle?”
“Let’s have a bottle! I’m going full out! Don’t you guys have something to say on such occasions?”
Finally curtains started to slowly crawl to the sides of the stage. An orchestra jumped into a popular port melody, and dancers, dressed in dinky skirts and stripy stockings, appeared on stage.
“Listen, it’s so much fun, I am about to join them!” the blondie chimed in again. She had already downed a glass of rum, and the heels of her elegant beige boots were eagerly tapping to the rhythm.
“Keep an eye on this lunatic, because she totally can,” Amelie nodded toward her. “Gloria doesn’t know how to have fun without a scandal.”
“Well, you don’t know how to have fun at all. You keep eyeing those cadets for the entire evening, and don’t have the guts to talk to them.” In a split second Gloria, the blond girl, was already on her feet and near the table, where several young cadets were having drinks, apparently celebrating their return to the city after summer holidays.
“Damn,” Mirto, the Greek girl, whispered softly. “This isn’t good, if you ask me.”
“I think so too,” Amelie agreed. Her eyes fixed on animated Gloria and the cadets. They suddenly snickered, casting curious glances at the girls. In a minute three of them were already on the way to their corner. A red-headed and broad-shouldered youth led the way.
These young men looked no older than eighteen, but they held their heads high and behaved quite presumptuously, like their formal cadet hats had added them extra height. The redhead was silent though.
“So you are the Japanese?” he stood right in front of Amelie, looking her over from head to toe.
“Maybe,” she replied reluctantly. Her heavy painted lips barely moved, like the question deserved only that much effort on her part.
“My uncle died in the Japanese war!” The young man blurted even louder than the music around.
“Oh, you don’t suppose I killed him, do you? I was six years old at the most.”
The Japanese girl spoke calmly. Unwavered, she looked up on the red-headed bulky fellow who was hovering over her.
“Well, one has to pay for father’s sins,” he said through clenched teeth and leaned over her even more.
“You’re not going to hit a girl, are you?” Mirto asked in a fake dismay.
“I’ll settle for another payment,” the cadet said, grabbed Amelie for the round chin, leaned in and kissed her.
Everything that happened next had happened so quickly, that the entertainer didn’t even get to the end of his short routine.
Amelie stood up. Her silk lilac dress rustled, a little hat slid off, showing the porcelain-like face and a perfect hairdo. In one swift movement the little Asian girl slammed the redhead against the wall, one hand clenching his throat, another pressing on his chest.
Gloria clapped her hands. “Well, you finally had some fun! Lee, really, why are you always so rough with men, huh?”
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