His conquering sword

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Diana could not help but compare the two modes of travel: the constant jarring sway of the wagons in the army's train against the luxurious appointments of Soerensen's ducal yacht. On this yacht, the Company returned to Earth.

Vasil was in a foul temper, because every time he looked in a mirror he saw his scarred face. He even yelled at Yana one day, when she came to show him the three-dimensional picture she had drawn on a demi-modeler under Hal's supervision. Yana burst into tears and ran out of the room.

Karolla, for the first time in that long trip, came to life. "You selfish beast!" she cried, standing up. Anton lay cradled in her arms. "How dare you speak that way to her!" Diana, sitting with her, rose at once.

Vasil practically snarled. "Leave me alone," he said, and turned his face toward the wall.

At that moment, the door whisked open to reveal Yana, crying noisily in the passageway, and Dr. Kinzer. "Aha!" said Dr. Kinzer tartly, tapping her fingers on her slate. "Feeling sorry for himself again, is he? M. Veseiov, you really are going to have to learn some patience. Now, I beg your pardon, M. Arkhanov, but I do need a few moments alone with my patient."

Diana took Karolla by the arm and they went out together. Anton hiccuped, stirred, and went back to sleep. Seeing her mother, Yana gulped down her tears and ran away down the corridor. Karolla looked white,

"Here," said Diana. "We'll go rest in the chapel." It was the most peaceful place she could think of. They found David praying in the chapel, but he rose when he saw them, made a final circle of grace with his right hand, and retreated to leave them alone. "I hope you don't mind," Diana continued, taking Karelia down to sit on the front row of benches that ringed the altar.

"Why should I mind?" asked Karolla in a choked voice.

"Well, it isn't a temple to jaran gods, but it's still a holy place."

"Our gods aren't jealous," murmured Karolla, and suddenly she flushed bright red. "If only I were as worthy."

"Karolla!" This was too much. "How can you be unworthy? To leave everything you knew, everyone you loved, and all for-him. I think you are the most selfless person I know."

Karolla stared at baby Anton's downy head, not seeming to see the soft glowing lights in the walls, the pale dome that enclosed them, the seamless benches, and the doors that opened without a touch. It was, Diana reflected, how Karolla dealt with things: She pretended she did not see them.

"If I truly loved him," Karoila said, "then I wouldn't care about-" She broke off. "But I want him to love me more. And he never will."

"Love you more than-what?" Or whom?

Karolla threw back her head. At first, Diana had wondered why a man as handsome and as vain as Vasil had married a woman who was, truly, as plain as Karolla, since she doubted Vasil cared about Karolla's finer qualities, but now she supposed he had done it because it ensured him an acolyte.

"But this place," said Karolla, seemingly at variance, "it isn't a place he can ever come, is it? He can't follow Vasil here. Vasil must have known that. Either Bakhtiian threatened to exile him again or else Vasil chose to leave him."

"Bakhtiian?" asked Diana haltingly. Still half asleep, Anton stuck two fingers in his mouth and sucked quietly on them.

"He wouldn't have left if it wasn't for the scar to his face. He would never have let Bakhtiian see him with that scar. Is it true that this dokhtor can take the scar away?"

Diana lifted a hand slowly and traced the scar of marriage on her cheek. "Yes," she said. "It's true. The doctor can make his face look as if it was never scarred in the first place."

"Then I am content," said Karolla.

They made landfall at Nairobi Port and took the train to London. Half the time Diana was thrilled to be back. The other half, she felt as if she weren't there at all. She felt as if she were someone else, watching through her eyes.

At Victoria Station, a familiar face waited on the platform to greet them.

"Hyacinth!" Oriana whooped and ran to hug him.

Hyacinth basked in their welcome. He looked wonderful, but then, Hyacinth always looked wonderful. He was aware also, of course, of the number of passersby who paused to stare at the commotion before recalling their manners and walking on. But when he had hugged them all, he turned to regard Owen.

"Well, Owen," he said in a tone that Diana had never heard from him before. "I'm sorry for the trouble I caused you. It was rash and stupid, what I did, and it caused more grief than you can ever know." He glanced to his left, and all at once Diana saw the slight, black-haired young man loitering twenty steps away.

She felt sick with envy.

And a second later, relief that she stood here unburdened of any awkward jaran presence. And then terrible guilt.

"How is Yevgeni adjusting?" asked Yomi in a low voice.

"Well." Hyacinth sighed, and he looked abruptly tired and discouraged. "It hasn't been easy. We take each day as it comes. I got your message, On, about them." He glanced toward the floating litter and the little family huddled around it, still in their alien clothing, like painted barbarians escaped from their cage. Vasil Veselov had his eyes open, and he squinted at the other man, across the distance. Diana watched as Yevgeni caught sight of the other jaran. His eyes widened and he took two steps forward and then halted, unsure of his welcome.

"Owen," Hyacinth continued, returning his focus to the director, "I'd like to audition again, for the Company, if you'll have me."

"Can't get work, huh?" said Owen.

"Owen!" scolded Ginny.

Hyacinth grinned. "Quite the contrary. I made good use of all the publicity I could get, and I have my pick of parts, by and large, though mostly in the vids." He cleared his throat. "But I miss the work. If you think there will be openings…" He trailed off, not bothering to hide his hope. The old Hyacinth would never have shown that kind of vulnerability so openly.

"Hmph," said Owen. "We will have openings." He glanced toward Anahita, but she had already left the group and they saw her striding purposefully down the platform toward the exit. "And more openings even than you might expect. There's something new afoot." Ginny kicked him. But she couldn't kick the light out of his eyes.

Hyacinth's face opened up. "Thank you. We need something new, Yevgeni and I." Then he made a great, exasperated sigh. "Damn it anyway, he always does this, lurking in the background. I hate it! Yevgeni! Come over here!"

Reluctantly, Yevgeni walked over. Hyacinth draped an arm around the other man. "Now. You haven't met anyone, so let me introduce you."

They made the rounds. Most of the actors even kissed him in the jaran style, formally, on each cheek. Yevgeni stopped at last beside the litter. He stared at the man lying there.

"Yevgeni?" Vasil asked in a hoarse voice. "I thought you were dead."

"We are dead, Veselov," said Yevgeni, low, in khush, so that Diana realized that he had been speaking Anglais to the rest of them. Then he turned away and retreated back to Hyacinth.

No," said Vasil softly. "It's we who are alive, and they who are dead."

"They're not dead, Father," said Yana tremulously. "Are they?" She clutched Valentin's hand and lifted her head to stare at the wild bustle of Victoria Station, which surely must seem unimaginably strange to her. "I thought they were all just-left behind."

"Dead to me," said Vasil. No one answered him. He did not seem to expect a reply.

"Diana! Di!"

The shout carried across half the station. Diana turned. There, late as usual, came her family, all pell-mell and haphazard and swarming the other travelers on the platform: her mother, her father, two sibs, one niece, darling Nana, an aunt, three uncles, and four cousins. She laughed with joy just as her father reached her and scooped her up and spun her around. At last, she was home.