An earthly crown

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"Diana, you don't have to go through with this."

Diana stared at her hands, refusing to look up. After nine days sequestered in the Company's camp, rehearsing every day and then staying behind when the others went out to explore the jaran encampment, she had grown used to her colleagues coming back to harangue her, to get her to change her mind, and in some cases to ridicule her for going native. But the more they tried to budge her, the more her resolve hardened.

Now it was early morning of the day she was to marry, and Yomi had appeared at her tent at dawn with Tess Soerensen in tow. And left the two women there together.

Diana stared at her pewter bracelet and heard Tess sigh. "Diana, are you even sure why you're doing this?"

Diana looked up. "You did it. You married Bakhtiian."

Tess chuckled. "Not on my second day in camp, I didn't. Although it's true enough the tribe welcomed me in as soon as I arrived, and adopted me only days after that. You must think of Anatoly as well. Have you considered what it would be like to stay here, after your Company goes back to Earth?"

Diana twined her fingers together and fastened her gaze on her knuckles.

"Or what it will be like for him if you leave?"

She pressed her lips together. She could feel the heat burning in her cheeks. "Isn't it better that we-even if I go, isn't it better that we have shared something together than nothing?"

"If by something you mean you want to have sex with him, I must tell you that you don't need to be married to him to do that.''

"But-" Diana felt all at sea, confused and hurt at once. "But why did he mark me, then? I thought all barbarians were prudes, that you had to be married or else it was-taboo or something. Bakhtiian killed a man, back at the port-"

"For rape."

"You approved of it? The execution, I mean."

"I wasn't there. You can't make assumptions about these people, Diana." She hesitated. Diana braced herself. She knew what was coming, and she was determined to resist it. But instead, Tess took her off guard. "I've asked my sister Sonia Orzhekov and Anatoly's grandmother Elizaveta Sakhalin to come to you this afternoon before the celebration. I hope you will listen closely to what they say.''

Which would be yet another attempt to talk her out of the marriage. "I've learned a little khush," said Diana defensively. "You think I'm a fool for doing this, don't you?"

Tess smiled ruefully. "That would be rather like the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think? It's easy to act on impulse, and much harder to think about what the consequences might be. But the consequences will show up sooner or later, and then you must prepare yourself to deal with them."

"I love him," said Diana stubbornly, as much to convince herself as to convince Soerensen. Then she recalled the intense blue of his eyes, the piercing sweetness of his gaze, and she flushed.

"Love is a compelling reason," said Tess quietly, "if indeed what you're feeling is love. But you don't even know him. You've never exchanged one word with him that wasn't translated through someone else."

"That doesn't mean I can't love him!" But, Goddess, what if Tess was trying to tell her that it was Anatoly who wanted free?

Tess sighed and rose. "Just remember, Diana, that love is never the only reason. I'll go now. Yomi said to tell you that rehearsal will start early this morning."

Diana flung her head up and jumped to her feet. "Oh, Goddess! If I'm late, Owen will have my head on a platter."

"Yes. I heard that the company will be doing its first performance tonight. What have they chosen to perform?"

Diana shook her head as she pulled a tunic on over her shirt. "We've been rehearsing some of Ginny's reductions of Shakespeare. Keeping the content without the verbiage and-well, reducing the story to its most basic components and mixing in some of the dell'Arte conventions of telling a story without words, or at least that the words in and of themselves don't have to be understood to understand the story. Owen has us working with gesture primarily, and tone and intonation. It will be fascinating to see how well it carries over.''

"I'm sure it will be," Tess replied tonelessly. The two women parted, and Diana ran over to the rehearsal area. Luckily she was not the last one to arrive. Hyacinth jogged up at her heels. His white-blond hair was in disarray and he held his belt in his right hand, fastening it as he halted beside her.

"Why are you late?" Diana demanded as they walked together through the screens and arrived to find the others assembled around the raised platform on which they usually rehearsed.

Hyacinth winked at her. He had delicate features and perfect lips, and eyelashes to die for.

Diana snorted. "Male or female?"

He grinned. "Both. Together."

Diana laughed, choked it off, and flushed suddenly. "I hope you know what you're doing," she said in a whisper, aware that half the company was watching them.

"Oh, Mother's Tits, Diana," said Hyacinth with disgust. "I may be gorgeous, but I'm not stupid. I've had days to watch how things go in the jaran camp. They invited me, not the other way around. I'm discreet, as were they." Then he leaned down and nibbled at her right earlobe. "And as you know," he said softly, "I'm very good."

Diana shoved him away, fighting back a smile. "I hope you're keeping track. At the rate you go, you'll sleep your way through half the camp before we leave."

"Only half? I'm wounded by your lack of faith. 'Look, here come Owen and Ginny. Phillippe and I have a bet running-I say we'll do Lear, and he says we'll do Tempest. What do you think?"

"Anything but Dream," Diana muttered.

Hyacinth giggled. "Two men in love with the same woman. Too close for comfort, eh?"

"Shut up!" she hissed, furious that she was so transparent, and especially to Hyacinth, who was not only promiscuous but a notorious gossip.

Owen mounted the platform and surveyed his troops. "We'll do our final run-through this morning and then move the stage to the performance ground. You'll have the afternoon off, but I want everyone back at-" He checked the back of his hand to read the transparency strip, but all such physical evidence of their off-world origin had been left behind on the ship that had brought them here. "Ah." He glanced around, perplexed. Ginny sat hunched over her notebook. His gaze settled on Yomi.

"Sunset is at 1900 Standard. Meet at 1800 hours."

"As Yomi says. Now." He paced from one end of the platform to the other, as if measuring it, studied the scattering of clouds in the sky, and motioned to Hyacinth. "Puck. We'll walk the awakening scene first and then go back to the beginning."

Hyacinth smiled charmingly. "But you haven't told us what we're doing yet."

Owen blinked. "A Midsummer Night's Dream, of course. Come, come. We haven't much time. I'm a little concerned about the division between our world and the faery world. But one must assume that all human cultures have some understanding of a spirit world, of a world coterminous with our own. I believe that the mythic element must touch all human cultures, that it is there that we must seek our initial contact."

At first Diana felt weak all over. Then she was furious. What would they think? What would Anatoly think? It was like a slap in the face, like making fun of something that was serious, not a lark. "You can't!" she blurted out. "Owen, you can't do it."

Owen blinked at her, looking bewildered. "Can't do what?" he asked. Anahita tittered.

"You can't make me play that part. It's… it's…" She clenched her hands into fists and found that she was too upset to go on.

"But it's perfect. Love's misunderstandings. Weddings. A comedy. It will play to the audience, and we will find a bridge across which we can communicate."

Hyacinth coughed into his hand, hiding his smug grin. "Poor Owen. I'm having no problem in communicating."

Unexpectedly, Hal spoke up. "Di's right, Dad. Considering what happened with Burckhardt, isn't it a bit inappropriate? What if the natives take it as an insult?"

Owen regarded first Diana, and then Hal, with a penetrating gaze. His usual vagueness sloughed off him like a duck shedding water from its back. "I hear your reservations. But. I am right in this. Now. Hyacinth, shall we begin?"

"I refuse," said Diana, before she realized she meant to say it. "I refuse to play Helena. You're asking me to insult my… my…" The word was hard to say, but she forced herself to say it. "My husband."

"Ooooh," said Anahita. "My, my. Aren't we the little queen today?"

"Anahita," said Gwyn in a soft voice. "Shut up."

Everyone else was watching Owen. Owen scratched at his black hair, frowning a little. Then he clambered down from the platform and walked over to stand in front of Diana. She wanted to take a step back, but she did not. He pulled at his lower lip, studying her with his dark eyes.

"Are you a member of this Company?" he asked finally.

She swallowed, but she met his gaze. "Yes."

His voice dropped. In an undertone that could not be heard five feet from them, but carried clearly to her, he said, "Then do as I say. It is your choice, Diana. You are free to go, if that is what you wish. Although I would hate to lose you, that goes without saying. Now, will you play the part?''

Her hands were still tightly fisted. She lowered her gaze away from him. Of course she was out of line, disputing with him in this way. Of course she was free to go. She had always been free to go, as were any of them. "I'm not free to go, and you know it," she said in a whisper, because it was true. She was an actor. Her whole life had led her to this. "Yes." She could not look up at him. She felt their stares like a weight on her. "I'll play."

"Good." He said it curtly but not without sympathy, and then turned and hopped back up on the platform.

"From Puck's entrance," said Yomi.

"Sorry," muttered Hal, with a lift of his chin motioning toward his father.

"Thanks," she said, and took her place. And forced everything else out of her mind, to concentrate on her part: Helena, scorned by Demetrius-Demetrius, who together with Lysander loves Hermia-until out in the enchanted wood, by the mistaken conjurings of Puck, both Demetrius and Lysander forget their love for Hermia and compete for Helena's affections.

They broke at noon, and Diana went and sat in the big Company tent while the others trooped off to assemble the stage and screens over in the jaran camp. Joseph was assembling food for the company. He had a fire going outside, with a huge kettle full of soup set on a tripod over it. Inside, he frowned at the solar-powered oven that sat disguised as a chest in one corner of the tent. "We'll need more flour soon," he said. "And I don't know how to requisition it. Otherwise we'll have to give up bread."

"And you make the most wonderful bread, Joseph." Diana propped her chin on her fists and stared at the canvas wall. The filaments that led up to the solar strips sewn into the ceiling blended into the canvas fabric, lending the barest sheen to the fabric if the light struck it right. "I hate being confined to camp like this."

"It's a good lesson," said Joseph thoughtfully.

"What is?"

"Well, marriage, a legal or spiritual partnership of whatever kind, is restrictive in that you must think of another person and not only of yourself and your desires. You are no longer as free as you once were, responsible only for yourself. Not that I think that that's necessarily the meaning these people give this custom of seclusion-I wouldn't presume to know that-but it's one lesson to be gained, nevertheless. Is there someone outside?" He ducked his head out the flap and then turned back to look at Diana, a quizzical look on his face. "I believe they've come to see you."

He disappeared outside, and Diana heard a brief exchange. She stood up. Joseph reappeared. "Go on," he said. Then he smiled. "And good luck."

"You don't think I'm a fool?" she asked, because Joseph and Yomi were the rock on which the company was laid, the solid foundation that held everything together, and she trusted their judgment.

"We're all fools sometimes," said Joseph cheerfully. "But foolishness is one of the saving graces of our lives. Go on. I can't have them in here. The bread's about to come out."

She pushed past the entrance flap and blinked to adjust to the sunlight. Sonia Orzhekov and Anatoly's grandmother waited for her outside. Elizaveta Sakhalin was a tiny woman, quite old, but Diana felt cowed by her presence nevertheless.

Sonia smiled graciously and took Diana's hands in hers. "I hope you will allow us to have a talk with you."

"Of course." Diana dared not refuse. She felt like a giant, towering over Sakhalin, and yet she felt as well at a complete disadvantage.

"Will you come with us, then?" Sonia asked, with a kind smile. "We discovered that you have no tent of your own, so we took the liberty of bringing one with us, which we set up out here."

"Out here" lay just beyond the Company's encampment and not quite within the jaran encampment. "That's very diplomatic," said Diana, seeing that the colorful tent was sited to belong to both camps, and yet to neither-the meeting of two independent tribes. "And generous, too. It's a beautiful tent." Which it was, striped in four colors on the walls. The entrance flap bore a pattern of beasts intermingled, twined together.

"You must thank Mother Sakhalin," said Sonia. "She has gifted you the tent. Here, now, come inside. We sent Anatoly out of camp for the day, knowing we would bring you here, but you really ought to be inside until sunset." Sonia pulled the tent flap aside and gestured for Diana to precede her. Diana hesitated, and then motioned to Sakhalin to go in first. That brought the first softening of the old woman's features, but the smile was brief. She ducked inside, and Diana followed her. There was room to stand up, but barely, and the walls sloped steeply down from the center. Sonia came in last. She showed Diana how to sit on the large pillows that covered half the rug that made up the floor of the tent.

"I spoke to Mother Yomi," said Sonia as she, too, sank down onto a pillow. "She agreed that you might wait out the rest of the day in seclusion here, as is fitting. She said some preparations were necessary for your performance tonight, but one of the other women of your Company will come by to help you."

"Thank you," said Diana, aware that Elizaveta Sakhalin was studying her with a frown on her face. "I… I hope that you will tell me anything I need to know, about… about…"

Sonia grinned. Her eyes lit, a trifle mischievously, perhaps, and Diana felt suddenly that here she had an ally, not an enemy. ' 'As for what to do with Anatoly, I think you need no instruction from me." Diana flushed and twisted her bracelet around her wrist. "As for the rest-well-first Mother Sakhalin wishes to ask you a few questions." She spoke a few words in khush to Sakhalin, and then the grilling began.

Elizaveta Sakhalin wished to know about Diana's family. Were they important? Wealthy? Had they any skills to pass on to her new husband's family? Did they own horses? How many tents made up the family? Only after Diana had stumbled through this inquisition, scrambling to answer the questions truthfully without revealing anything about where she really came from, did Sakhalin's questions narrow in on Diana herself. Did she have any particular skills to bring to the marriage? Any marriage goods? What was an actor? Was it like a Singer?

In fact, it was clear that Elizaveta Sakhalin thought her grandson was marrying beneath himself, that he had fallen in love with a pretty face, marked Diana on a whim, and now was going to marry a woman who had nothing but her looks and her curious status as an actor to recommend her. And she had nothing. Diana stared at her hands as silence descended, and she realized it was true. To these people, she had no knowledge and no skills that made a woman valuable, and no family except the Company, here.

"Well," said Sonia apologetically, "Tess came from an important family in her own right. You mustn't mind Mother Sakhalin's disappointment, Diana. You must understand that the Sakhalin tribe is the Eldest of all jaran tribes, and she the headwoman of that tribe, so of course-"

"So of course she expected her grandson to marry a woman of higher rank,'' said Diana bitterly. If only they knew what an honor it had been for Diana to be accepted into the Bharentous Repertory Company, or how many actors she had beaten out for the place. It was absurd; millions of people knew her name, millions had seen her perform, on stage or watching through holo links, and this old woman, this barbarian of a tribe that didn't even know the rest of the universe existed, thought she wasn't good enough to marry her grandson.

"Diana," said Sonia firmly, taking one of Diana's hands in her own, "I understand that actors are Singers, that they are gifted by the gods with their art. But Mother Sakhalin believes that jaran Singers are the only true Singers-that can't be helped. Most jaran care nothing for khaja ways, and why should they? But I can see that you are a woman who thinks well of herself and has a position she is proud of. I have been in khaja lands, and I know you are a Singer. Still, you are not in your land now, and Mother Sakhalin is worried about her grandson. Who is, I might add-" She shifted her head so that she could wink at Diana without Sakhalin seeing, "-since she can't understand me, her favorite grandchild. Make him happy, and she will come to love you."

A rush of gratitude overwhelmed Diana. Impulsively, she reached out and took Sonia's other hand in hers. "I thought you came to try to talk me out of the marriage.''

Sonia looked puzzled. "It is Anatoly's choice, and while I might think that choice was rash, I cannot now interfere. Not even his grandmother can interfere."

"I…I thought-" Now she glanced at Mother Sakhalin's stern face, and then away, because the old woman terrified her. "I thought perhaps Anatoly no longer wanted to marry me. That you came to tell me that. It isn't-as if we know one another very well. He might have had second thoughts."

Sonia laughed and squeezed Diana's hand reassuringly. "Men never have second thoughts. Anatoly, like most young men who have gotten what they want, has been infuriatingly well-mannered for the past nine days.''

If the rug had been yanked out from under her feet, Diana could not have felt more unstable. It really was going to happen. "But I don't know-that is, what is expected of a wife here? What do I do?''

Sonia sighed and released Diana's hands. "How like Tess you are. I begin to think you khaja women are hopeless. But perhaps that is because you have servants or slaves to do all the work for you."

"We don't have slaves!" Diana broke off. She could not begin to imagine what these jaran women must do, every day, to keep their families fed and sheltered and clothed and healthy. Her world and their world barely intersected, and in their world, she was as ignorant as a baby. "I hope you will help me understand what things I need to do." She hadn't the faintest inkling of what she was getting into.

Sonia shook her head. "You need a woman of the tribes to help you, to treat you as a sister. I can't offer, because I have too many responsibilities as it is. But perhaps…" She turned to Sakhalin and the two women had a rapid conversation in khush. Diana could not understand a word they were saying, could not even recognize any of the khush words she had so laboriously learned from the program on Maggie's slate. "That is settled, then," said Sonia finally, nodding her head with a satisfied look on her face. Even Sakhalin looked mollified. "The tribes are moving. The main army leaves tomorrow, and our camp moves as well. We will meet up with Arina Veselov and her tribe, and I will ask her to take you in. That will do, I think. You'll like Arina. I think you must be of an age, you two. She and her husband know Tess well, too, so they will understand about your khaja ways. But you'll have to learn khush, although I believe Kirill has learned some Rhuian these past three years. Is that acceptable to you, Diana?"

"To me, yes." Pitched into this unknown sea, Diana was not sure she could swim. "But I'll-you'll-Arina Veselov will have to speak to Owen and Ginny first. I need their permission for any drastic change in my circumstances. I have my duties to the Company."

Sonia repeated this speech to Sakhalin, and the old woman voiced her approval of Diana's deference to her elders. "Mother Sakhalin says that until we meet up with the Veselov tribe, you and Anatoly may consider the Sakhalin camp your own."

"But isn't that his family? Wouldn't he live there anyway? ''

Sonia cocked her head to one side. She wore her hair in four braids, each bright with ribbons woven in the hair, and her head was capped by a beaded net of gold that hung in strands down to frame her face. "When a man marries, he goes to his wife's kin to live. Tomorrow, if you wish, you may move your tent into your people's encampment, and Anatoly will move there as well."

Except that inside the encampment lay concealed the forbidden technology that they used every day. "But-"

"Or you may wait, if you wish, and see what agreement you and Mother Yomi reach with Arina Veselov.'' Sonia stood and shook out her skirts and helped Elizaveta Sakhalin to rise. Diana got hastily to her feet and went to hold the entrance flap aside. "If there is any wedding finery that you wish to borrow," said Sonia, pausing before she left, "let me know."

"That much I think we can manage," said Diana, and then realized how snappish she sounded. "But thank you." She smiled sincerely at the other woman. Sonia smiled back. Sakhalin did not smile. The two women took their leave.

Diana let the tent flap fall back into place, leaving her in the gloom of the tent. She sat down, then threw herself out along the pillows, and sighed. What was she doing here, anyway? What did she think she was doing? And here she was, stuck in the tent with nothing to do. Of course, she could walk out any time she wanted. She did not have to go through with the marriage. Everyone said as much; she knew as much. But when it came right down to it, she could not bring herself to hurt Anatoly by publicly repudiating the marriage in such a fashion, not when Sonia had just said that he still desired it. And she absolutely refused to give Marco Burckhardt the satisfaction of knowing that he was right.

"Diana?" It was Joseph. "I brought some of your things. And a camplight for the tent. And some food." The tent flap rustled aside and he stuck his head in. "Here you are."

"Bless you, Joseph. How kind you are."

He grinned. "I'll send Anahita by later to help you with your makeup and costume."

"Monster." She laughed, feeling suddenly heartened. "Don't you dare. Go on, you must be busy back at camp."

" 'I go, I go; look how I go; Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.' Lady knows, I've heard that line enough times." He retreated to her applause.

She ate a little and then took out her journal and wrote. "My dear Nana, I'm not sure how to explain this to you…"

Quinn interrupted some time later. "Diana." She crawled in. "What a gorgeous piece of weaving. Where did you get this? Oh, from his grandmother. My, my. Now there's a formidable woman, even though she barely comes up to my shoulder. You must have charmed her.''

"She doesn't like me."

"Surely not."

"Well, I don't know whether she likes me, but she certainly doesn't approve of me. Did you bring everything?"

"Mirror. Kit. Gown. Seshat sent baubles, for afterward-after the performance, for whatever they do for a ceremony. She thought you ought to sparkle, even though we don't have the kind of gold they do. Those women do weight themselves down with it, don't they?"

Diana fingered the gold bead necklace that Anatoly had given her. "I suppose it's a marker of status." Which she sorely lacked. "Oh, well. Let's get ready."

They were old hands at putting on makeup. That accomplished, they changed into the simple gowns that Joseph had designed to fit the greatest range of plays, using smaller accessories to give them character and place. It was dusk when they emerged from the tent and walked over to the encampment where the others had gathered.

Yomi counted them off. "In two more minutes, Hyacinth will be late," she proclaimed. One minute and fifty five seconds later, Hyacinth appeared. He had highlighted his eyes with black pencil and tied various odds and ends-scraps of material, beads, bracelets strung together-to his tunic to lend him an air of being subtly different from the rest, of being a spirit from that parallel world that intersects our own.

Owen looked them over and nodded, satisfied. "I hope you are ready, because now we see."

"Where's Ginny?"

"She's at the house already, helping the audience settle in."

They marched, a ragtag troop, through the quiet dusk of the jaran camp. The walk seemed to last forever to Diana, past the dark hulking tents, past smoldering campfires, toward the murmur of voices, toward the people gathered on the ring of empty ground in front of which their stage sat. She caught a glimpse of the audience as they came up behind the screens: a huge mass of bodies, uncountable, waiting for them rather like a predator waits for its prey. She recognized no individual faces; it was too dim for that. The stage was lit by lanterns. One screen without its fabric center had been set on stage, to form a doorway through which the players could pass from one scene, or one world, to the next. No other scenery existed, only the players and what they gave to their audience.

Yomi called the five minute warning. Gwyn and Anahita shook out their tunics, preparing to enter. Joseph stood ready at stage left with their changes of costume, since they were doubling parts. Owen vanished around the stage to go sit in the house. The play began.

Diana was aware of the audience only as an intent, listening beast, but the beast was theirs. The force of its concentration was like a pressure on them, faltering here and there when the scene passed its understanding, then snapping back, fixed and tangible.

Though the night was cool, Gwyn was sweating from the exertion of playing two major roles. But he was magnificent, as always: his Theseus was martial and strong, his Oberon utterly unlike, ethereal and just slightly spiteful. Even the audience could not confuse the two, though they were played by the same man. As for Anahita-well-Diana had always thought she played Hippolyta too stridently and Titania as a hair-brained twit, but she was powerful, nevertheless.

The lovers fled to another part of the forest. Love became confused, and then was righted at last. The audience did not laugh once, but their attention did not waver.

Puck gave his final speech and extinguished half of the lanterns. Exit.

Dead silence.

Behind the screens, Diana looked at Hal and Hal looked at Gwyn and Gwyn shrugged. A rustling noise carried to them.

"They're all standing up," said Yomi.

Gwyn chuckled suddenly. "Who ever said they'd know how to applaud?" he asked. He wiped sweat from his forehead and shook the moisture off his hand.

Owen appeared, looking intent and excited. "Di, where are you? Come on, come on.''

"Come on where?" she asked, shrinking back.

"The rest of you, too, up on the stage-this isn't a bow, they won't understand that-but don't you see? We can cement the link. We can complete the circle in their minds. The masque of a wedding followed by an actual wedding. Come, Diana."

"Owen, wait," said Joseph. With economical skill, he stripped the makeup from Di's face and then adorned her with the costume jewelry Seshat had brought. "That will do. You may go."

Owen grabbed Diana's wrist and dragged her away, back around the screens. By the time they got to the front, the other actors had filed onto the stage and formed themselves into a neat semicircle. The audience was standing, murmuring now, but Diana saw that their silence, their rise to their feet, was their way of showing respect for what had just been given them. A clot of people stood at the foot of the platform, but only one of them mattered. Her heart began to pound. He stared at her, and he looked nervous, worried even. Owen released her ten paces from Anatoly, and she halted.

Anatoly wore the brilliant red shirt of the jaran riders, embroidered in a fantastic pattern down the sleeves and along the collar. Gold-studded epaulets shone on his shoulders. Gold braid lined the rim of his black boots. He wore two necklaces at his throat and gold bands on each wrist, and his saber's hilt glinted in the lantern light. A belt of gold plates girdled his wrist. Then his grandmother stepped forward and addressed a long speech to Owen. It had the cadence of poetry.

Tess Soerensen stepped forward into the gap between the two pairs. She turned to Owen. "Elizaveta Sakhalin presents to you her grandson, who, in accordance with the traditions of the people, has come to bow to the parits and the relatives of the bride and to ask to be taken to your camp as husband to this woman. He brings with him a string of fine horses, he brings his armor and his weapons, and he brings his skill at fighting. To his bride he brings a new set of bow and arrows. His family brings these presents for the bride's family: wine and milk, dry fruit, meat, and a silk scarf to bind your camps together. They bring also blessings to this young couple, for their happiness and well-being." She paused, and then with an open hand gestured to Owen.

He smiled. Diana realized abruptly that Owen had rehearsed this all along and simply not told her, or possibly anyone else, about it. He lifted a hand and Joseph appeared, bearing gifts in his hands: foodstuffs, clothing, carved chess set. Diana felt cold and hot all at once, and because she did not know where else to look, she looked at Anatoly. His gaze, on her, was intense, and she clung to it as to a lifeline.

'More strange than true,' " Owen began, and in his pleasant baritone, he reeled off the entire speech.

Tess's lips quirked up as he finished. "How am I supposed to translate that?" she asked. "In whatever way it is most appropriate." Tess spoke at length, her phrases cadenced as Sakhalin's had been, a ritual that was generations old. Gifts were brought forward and exchanged. Tess beckoned Diana forward, and then Anatoly, and then she retired. Anatoly put out his hands. Diana took them, clutched at them. They were warm and strong. Elizaveta Sakhalin and Owen came forward and bound the silk scarf around their clasped hands. More words were spoken. Then, sparking, a huge fire burst into flame out on the flat of ground beyond. Two drums beat out a rapid rhythm, and pipes came in with a melody. Under the concealing silk, Anatoly twined his fingers in with hers and stroked her palms with his thumbs. The caress lit fires all along her, and she swayed toward him, wanting nothing more at that moment than to be alone with him.

"Anatoly," said his grandmother, scolding. He stopped what he was doing, but his entire face lit with a smile, a smile that was meant for Diana only, intimate, exultant. Daring much, Diana tilted her head up and kissed him, briefly, on the lips. He whispered words into her ear, another caress, and then pushed back and unwound the scarf from around their hands and tied it around her waist like a belt. Then he turned and left her, walked over to his family and a moment later Sonia Orzhekov had taken him out to dance. Diana gaped after them.

"Diana." Appearing abruptly beside her, Bakhtiian bowed. His presence was as powerful as the fire's. "It is traditional for a new bride to dance on her wedding night. I hope you will excuse my immodesty in asking you to dance."

"Of course," she said, wondering what on earth he meant. But it quickly became apparent to her that she was not meant to spend any time with Anatoly at all, during this celebration. She caught glimpses of him, dancing with other women, speaking with men out on the fringes of the celebration, glancing her way, once, his gaze catching on her, his smile, and then he was drawn away by someone else.

The actors emerged, pale without their makeup, to congratulate her. She danced. She felt confused and disoriented, but she went from one instant to the next and tried not to think beyond that.

"Well," said Anahita, coming up beside her much later. "I see that Marco Burckhardt isn't at the celebration. I haven't seen him all day. What do you think of that?"

"I think you're just jealous he was never interested in you," Diana snapped.

"Bravo," said Gwyn softly behind her as Anahita flounced away. "Congratulations, Diana."

"Thank you. Owen made a spectacle out of it, didn't he?"

"Owen can't help himself. But I assure you that it was impressive."

"Did he have it rehearsed all along? How did he know to bring presents? Where did he get them? Why didn't he tell me?"

Gwyn chuckled. "I think you were part of the experiment. As for the rest, Owen always does his research.

You ought to know that, Diana. If you hadn't provided this wonderful opportunity for him, he'd have had to invent it. Ah, here comes your husband. I'll leave you now." He kissed her on the cheek and retreated.

Anatoly strode toward her, looking purposeful. His grandmother and several members of his family walked at his heels. A moment later Owen and Ginny arrived, together with Yomi and Joseph.

Yomi hugged Diana. "I hope you're ready," Yomi murmured. "We've come to escort you to your tent."

All at once Diana could not move. In a few minutes, she would be alone with a man she barely knew, with a man she could scarcely even communicate with. She stood rooted to the ground. The others moved away, but she could not lift her feet, could not follow them. She had made a terrible, stupid mistake. She knew that now, knew it bitterly, and hated herself for knowing it.

Anatoly turned back. His eyes narrowed as he examined her. He put out his hand, offering it to her. Diana took in a big breath and laid her hand in his.

They walked through camp. No one spoke. The silence weighed on her, counterpointed by the music and singing coming from the celebration behind, which still played on. So she spoke:

"You that choose not by the view Chance as fair and choose as true! Since this fortune falls to you, Be content and seek no new. If you be well pleas'd with this And hold your fortune for your bliss, Turn you where your lady is And claim her with a loving kiss."

Anatoly smiled and squeezed her hand. Joseph grinned. They left the jaran camp behind and came to her tent, set out in the middle, isolated, lonely. There Owen and Ginny kissed her, Yomi and Joseph hugged her, and they left. Anatoly's family left, leaving with them two sets of saddlebags, a rolled up blanket, a leather flask and two cups. Diana stood alone with her new husband in a gloom lit only by the single lantern set on the ground beside them. He did not move, but only watched her.

She hesitated, and then bent to pick up the lantern and pushed the entrance flap aside, and ducked into the tent. A moment later, he followed her in, carrying his worldly goods in his arms. He knelt and set them carefully in one corner, then rose.

She just stood there, the lantern heavy in her hand. His pale hair seemed lighter by contrast with the shadows in the tent. His lips moved, forming soundless words. Gently, he took the lantern from her and hung it from a loop on the center pole.

"Anatoly." She dug for words, khush words, to speak to him, but they had all evaporated.

"Diana-" He said a whole sentence, but it was meaningless to her, nothing but sounds strung together.

They stood a moment in awkward silence. He lifted one hand to trace the scar on her cheek. His fingers slid to trace her lips, and she kissed them, and his other hand sought her hips, to draw her closer to him, and she slid one arm around his back and caught her other hand in his hair…

Then, as quickly as that, she discovered that in fact they did speak the same language.