Jaran

CHAPTER FIVE

Tess followed Yuri out of the corral the next morning and walked with him behind the herd of horses as they were driven down to water at a pool. There was a skirmish, biting, a kick, and then the horses at the fore settled down to drink. Watchful young men patrolled the fringe of the herd, mounted on sturdy tarpans.

"It looks like they're fighting over precedence," Tess said, "but I suppose that's just me wanting to make them like people. Or Chapalii," she added to herself in Anglais.

Yuri glanced at her. "You don't know much about horses, do you?"

"They have four legs, two ears, and a tail. That about covers it. Surely these aren't all the horses your tribe owns?"

"Of course not. We keep the herd out on the grass. But we'll keep the khuhaylans in close so that they can get to know us and trust us." He called a greeting to an adolescent boy who rode by, and then turned and started back to camp.

"Yuri," said Tess as she walked beside him, "can you teach me to ride?''

"Why?"

"Because I'm coming with you, when you leave."

Now he lifted his head to stare at her. "But Tess, women don't ride. I mean, not that women can't ride horses, of course. They often ride out to hunt, but they never ride with the jahar.''

"I have to get to Jeds. I have to travel with the pilgrims."

He examined her. Unlike the other young men, he was not shy with her, because of his status as her adopted brother. His expression was always a mirror of his thoughts, and right now he was troubled and thinking hard. "Are you a spy, as the priest Ishii says you are?" he asked finally.

"No, I'm not."

"I believe you, Tess, but you must tell Ilya something convincing in order to get him to change his mind about letting you go with the jahar. It's a very serious matter, riding. Ilya has enemies."

"If Cha Ishii requests that I accompany you, then surely Ilya must agree."

"I don't think the priest Ishii wants you to go."

"He doesn't, but he will do as I say."

"I think Ilya will be very curious to know why the priest will do as you say, Tess. You are alone, you have no saber, no horse, no tent, no family. Why should the priest obey you when he does not want to?"

Over the last seven days, Tess had developed a story, of sorts, to satisfy the women's interest in her past. Now seemed the appropriate time to spin it further. "You know my brother is a merchant, Yuri. But I haven't said-he has trade agreements, treaties, with the khepellis, and has recently suspected that they are not adhering to these treaties. So he sent me to their empire, their lands, to discover-well, I followed this party, I came over the seas with them, on the same ship. According to these treaties, they ought not to be here, and-and I need to know what they are looking for."

Yuri rubbed his lower lip with one finger. "I never liked Jeds," he said at last. "I never understood it. This is not Jeds, and this is not the land where the khepellis come from. So how can you have a treaty that says which of you may travel here?"

The question took Tess aback for a moment, but her training in Chapalii culture-more mercantile even than Earth's-saved her. "Trade rights. Who gets to trade where."

The answer evidently satisfied Yuri. "Well, I suppose Mama can spare you from the work for some time each day. If she agrees, then I will teach you."

"And Bakhtiian?"

"If my mother gives you permission, then there is no reason for him to object. Why should he anyway? You'll need to know how to ride whether you travel with the tribe or the jahar."

"How many days will I have?''

"To learn? Until Eva Kolenin's baby comes, I think. Ten days, perhaps, or twelve. But I warn you, Tess, no matter how well you can ride, you will have a hard time convincing Ilya."

"Bakhtiian won't have a choice. I'm going, Yuri."

Yuri simply shook his head and refrained from comment.

Mother Orzhekov proved amenable, as long as Tess did her share of the work. It had not taken Tess many days to discover that there was leisure as well as work in this culture, and that a handful of women washing clothes were as likely to pause for an hour to gossip or play with the children as to work straight through and hurry on to another task. No one hurried except Bakhtiian, who was commonly said to have breathed too much southern air than was good for him when he had left, seventeen years ago, an impetuous, serious child of sixteen, and returned from Jeds five years later, just as serious and not one whit less impetuous. That journey had made him hasty and reckless, although Mother Orzhekov could be heard to mutter that Ilyakoria had always been hasty and reckless. But even she treated him with a respect that no thirty-three-year-old man, that not even Nikolai Sibirin, twenty years his senior and a healer as well, came close to receiving. He was a visionary-he was their visionary. Bakhtiian had great plans, and the tribe would follow him, even to the ends of the earth. The name he had earned on that trip-bakh-tiian, he-who-has-traveled-far-was as much a mystical as a physical appellation, and it now superseded his own deceased mother's name of Orzhekov, which by birth he ought to be called.

And when Eva Kolenin went into labor and all the men were chased out of camp until the babe was safely born, for fear their presence might attract malignant spirits, Bakhtiian went only as far as his own small tent, set somewhat in back of the cluster that marked his aunt's family.

Sent to get water from the stream, Tess and Sonia and Elena, the handsome gray-eyed girl who was still somehow unmarried, walked through the camp. Tent awnings flapped over empty ground cloths; men's work, a shirt half-embroidered, a knife getting a new hilt, a saddle half made, lay abandoned, left in neat piles. The low trembling of drums accompanied their walk. A lulling chant rose and fell in time with the rhythm. A group of children ran by, giggling. They hushed suddenly, overborne by a swell in the chanting, and escaped in a rush out into the high grass. Alone at this end of camp, Bakhtiian sat in front of his tent, stitching at a pair of boots. He glanced up as the three women passed. Elena smiled at him, but his impassive eyes swept across them without pausing before he went back to his work. Elena frowned. Tess looked back and saw that he had, for a moment, looked after them.

"Why may he stay in camp?" she asked, slowly, in khush.

"You've the ending wrong," said Sonia, correcting her. Her baby, Kolia, was asleep in a sling on her back. "This way." She repeated it twice, and then went on. "Bakhtiian has his own tent, so there is no one to make him leave."

Elena glanced back, and when she spoke, she measured her words carefully so that Tess could understand most of them. "They say that in some tribes, by the settled lands, the men own the tents. Do you suppose that is true? I would not want to live in such a tribe."

"But not every woman has a tent," said Tess.

"No." said Sonia. "A woman who is marked for marriage is gifted a tent by her mother or her aunt."

"Marked for marriage?"

Sonia lifted one hand to brush at the diagonal scar that ran from her cheekbone to her jawline. "When a man chooses to marry you, he marks you."

"He marks you-with what?"

Sonia and Elena looked at each other. Elena had no scar. "With his saber," said Sonia, as if it ought to be obvious.

Tess was appalled. She could not imagine Sonia allowing a man to mutilate her like that. But she was not about to say so. "And-ah-is that the only way to be married? To be-marked?"

"Yes," said Elena.

"No." Sonia shrugged. Grass dragged against the hems of their bright tunics. "There is another. 'The long road to the setting sun, the binding of the four arches.' But that is a path held by the gods. Few people wish-or dare-to ride it."

Elena sniffed. "Better marked than bound."

"I see," said Tess, not understanding at all. She hesitated. "Does it hurt?"

Sonia smiled. "Yes. At first. But it is not a very deep cut. Bearing a child hurts far more. The small pain prepares you for the larger one."

They reached the stream and began to fill the large leather pouches with cold water. "I'm not sure I would choose to marry, if I had to get such a scar,'' said Tess carefully.

Elena turned sullen abruptly, hands caught in the rushing water. "What choice does a woman have in marriage?"

"Elena," said Sonia. "Everyone knows Vladimir prefers you to all the other girls. Mikhal said that Vladi refused Lila's and Marya's advances, all because he's trying to work up enough courage to mark you."

"A kinless orphan! What woman would want that kind of husband?" Elena leaned forward, her hands in fists, her pale eyes fixed on Sonia. "I won't let him get close enough to mark me. He's fine as a lover, but I won't have him as a husband." Tears filled her eyes, and she jumped up and ran off.

Sonia deftly extracted from the rushing stream the two half-full pouches that Elena had dropped. "She's always wished that Ilya would mark her, but it's a vain hope, I fear."

"Do you really have no choice in marriage?"

"In the choosing? No. You must see, Tess, that men have no power over us at all when we're unmarried, but a man who is married can command his wife in certain things, or has at least some power over her that he has over no other woman."

"Then why do you marry?"

The sun shone full on Sonia's face and fair hair, casting a glow on her cheeks. "Sometimes a man has that look in his eye that is hard to resist. You have forgotten, Tess, because I think your heart still aches."

Tess was silent. The wind blew tiny ripples across a shallow backwater.

"It is no shame," said Sonia softly. "We have all hurt for a man who did not love us."

"I tried so hard."

"Perhaps that is why you failed."

Tess put her hands full into the stream. The cold water dragged at her fingers. "Jacques wanted something he thought I had, that I could give him-power and wealth. Something he was too lazy to earn for himself. When he found out I couldn't give it to him, he left. He never loved me at all. I was such a fool." She pulled her hands out of the water. They were already so chilled it was difficult to bend them, but she forced them slowly into fists.

"When you have a full and eager heart in you, you must not go to the man whose heart is empty and weak."

"I don't know if I can judge anymore." Tess sat silent for a long moment, watching the light move from ripple to ripple on the stream. "I'm afraid to try."

"Fear is a poor teacher. But now you have friends. We will help you. It would be best, I think, if you did not approach any of the married men to begin with. One must be discreet, especially in the camp. It is terribly impolite, especially in front of the wife, to flaunt such a thing. But no matter. We have many fine unmarried men to choose from. Vladimir-no, too vain. Kirill-too forward. Yuri-"

Tess laughed. It seemed very natural to speak of affairs so intensely personal, here, with Sonia, in the warming spring sun, the drums a quiet drone in the distance. "Yuri is my brother.''

"Yes. A brother is of far greater value than a husband or a lover. They are much easier to order around. Come, we ought to go back." She rose and, grasping Tess's hand, helped her to her feet. They distributed the extra pouches around their shoulders and walked back to camp. Kolia slept on. A striped tent flap, untied, fluttered in the breeze, one bright end snapping up and down. Pots dangled from side ropes, striking a high tinny accompaniment to the resonant pulse of the women's voices beyond. When they passed Bakhtiian this time, he did not even look up. He had one hand tucked inside the boot, the needle pulling in and out in an even stitch. Sonia's daughter Katerina crouched beside him, intently watching him work.

"Why did he go to Jeds?" Tess asked. "Why would he even have thought of it? Had you ever heard of Jeds before? Had any other jaran ever gone?''

"No, Ilya was the first. I suppose he heard of it when he was a boy. Jaran often trade at ports along the coast. Even so far east as we are now, Jeds is known at every port. I don't know why he went. He was only sixteen. Mama once said there was something to do with his sister, that when she married, he was very angry, but Ilya has always looked farther than others do. I remember when he came back. He told us that if the jaran were one people, and not many tribes, then we would never have to fear the khaja, the settled people, who build their stone tents farther out each year on the plains that the gods meant for our home."

"Are there many tribes?"

"There are a thousand tribes, and a thousand thousand families. We are as plentiful as the birds, and as swift as our horses, and as strong-as strong as a woman avenging her child. So Ilya began to weave a great tapestry, and the Elders of many tribes offered to be the warp in his loom, and the dyans of many jahars offered themselves and their riders as the weft. So the pattern grew. He made enemies. And-oh, it was seven years ago, now-those enemies rode into camp one night when he was away and killed his sister and his mother and father and his sister's five-year-old son."

They had reached the far end of camp and just as they handed the water over to Sonia's mother, the chanting stopped abruptly, pierced by the high wail of a baby. Immediately, singing broke out. A girl ran off to find the father. Kolia snuffled and yawned and opened his eyes.

Sonia set him on the rug under the eye of his grandmother and tugged Tess away. "We'll go start supper. The men will be hungry.''

"But then what happened?" Tess glanced back at the tent where the birth had taken place. The infant cried in bursts. Suddenly there was silence, and the midwife stuck her head outside the tent and called: "He's already suckling." Women crowded in to greet the mother.

"What happened? Oh, with Ilya? He went on. What else could he do? But he has never loved anyone since, except-" Her lips tugged in an involuntary grimace. "Well, he cannot care too deeply now, for fear he may lose more. But he listens to no one. He's made all the jaran his, almost, and when he gets the rest of these khuhaylan horses from across the sea, he'll breed them and then lead the jaran against the khaja, and the name of our people will be on the lips of every person in every land there is, because those lands will be ours. Oh, good. Stassia found dhal roots. Katerina, you little imp, what have you done to your shift?" She gathered her daughter into her arms and gave her a kiss, apparently oblivious to the incongruity of Bakhtiian's great plan for conquest set hard against her sister's plans for supper.

The next morning, Yuri met her for the riding lesson. He was flushed as he jogged up to her. He did not wait to catch his breath before addressing her.

"Tess. We leave day after tomorrow. Ilya would have liked to leave tomorrow, I think, but he could not deny Konstans the celebration for his first child."

Tess's breathing constricted with excitement and apprehension. "But is it too soon? Can I ride well enough?"

He shrugged. "You could travel with the tribe this year. They'll be riding southwest, behind us. Perhaps you could find another tribe going east or north, who could take you to a port this spring. Or wait for us. We won't be gone over a year." "A year? How far are you going?"

"To the shrine of Morava. And then on to the western sea where the khepelli will sail back to their own lands."

The western sea? Tess dug in her memory, seeing the huge inland sea whose northeastern reaches bordered the southern edge of the vast bulk of the northern continent-these plains. And southward, far south on a bay protected by a minor archipelago, lay Jeds. "No, Yuri, I have to go with you. If the khepelli can sail out from the western ports, then I can as easily sail south to Jeds from there. I'll go speak with Ishii now, and then talk to Bakhtiian. There's no point in waiting."

"Tess." He laid a staying hand on her arm. "At least wait until morning. There's no point in spoiling the dance. Ilya gets in a foul mood when things don't go as he wants them to. Men are riding in from another tribe. A scout brought the word. You won't get a chance to speak with Ilya today in any case."

Tess acquiesced and went to help the women prepare for the dance. Any celebration was a great occasion. The arrival of a dozen men from another tribe could only add to the excitement. Indeed, most of the tribe had gathered at one end of the camp to greet the visitors. Tess found a spot next to Elena and Sonia and watched as the ten men rode in, dismounted at a prudent distance, and were escorted into the bounds of the camp itself by Niko Sibirin and another older rider. There, they waited for Bakhtiian to arrive.

The men of Bakhtiian's jahar filtered over in twos and threes to engage in that easy, informal flow of talk carried on between acquaintances who have the same complaint in life. Boys peered at them from behind tents; little girls clustered in packs and stared. The old women ignored them; the married women looked at them from the corners of their eyes; and Marya Kolenin, who wore bracelets around her ankles to show how many lovers she had and who had once kicked a man as hard as she could in the groin to stop him putting the mark of betrothal on her, went right up to them and pulled the eldest's silver-flecked beard. Everyone laughed, including the visitors.

"There he comes," breathed Elena, distracted from this interplay.

Bakhtiian was walking down the rise toward them, the sun bright on his face, his scarlet shirt catching points of light. He had a way of walking that drew the eye to him, that made his surroundings seem merely a stage for himself. He had a great deal of grace, but for the first time Tess realized that not all of it was unconscious. He was purposefully making an entrance. She laughed.

He glanced at her and then away.

Elena elbowed her. ' 'Why are you laughing?''

"I remembered a thing said by an ancient poet of my people," said Tess, "that my brother used to say to me, about the name of vanity being man."

Elena put her hand on her necklaces. "What made you think of that?"

Sonia saved Tess from having to reply. "Come, Tess. They will go on all day with men's talk, which is far more boring to listen to than to watch. We'll go clear a dance circle, and then I think you ought to wear one of my tunics, just for tonight, to please Mama."

It took most of the day to collect enough fuel for as great a fire as the celebration warranted, and the rest of the day for each woman to dress out her one fine tunic with elaborate braids and headpieces and gold and jade earrings. They polished their hand mirrors and traced their eyes with dark kohl. Even the men brought out their best embroidered shirts and fastened tufted and beaded epaulets to their shoulders. Sonia put on six fine necklaces on each arm, and, a thick copper bracelet incised with a spiral pattern, and she wove green ribbons through the two chains that strung her mirror onto her belt.

Food was shared out at every tent. The entire holiday atmosphere was intensified by the brief appearance of the young mother and infant, escorted by the proud father once through camp. Then the musicians settled down by the dance circle, the fire was lit, and the music began.

Nikolai Sibirin, as the eldest rider in jahar, led out his wife. Other married couples joined in, and the unmarried women solicited the unattached men. Light illuminated bits of body and face, changing as the dancers turned. The first ring of watchers was shadowed. Beyond, all was darkness. Tess watched until Yuri came up to her.

"Really," he whispered, "the women are supposed to ask, but since we're kin of a sort perhaps you'll dance with me."

"Yuri, I don't know any of your dances."

"Well," he said, much struck by this, "that's true."

"You go on. I'm happy just to watch."

He left. Tess faded back into the farthest ring of light. The drums were heavy, a strong, rhythmic pulse, the lutes a thick texture through the middle with the pipes shrilling a high, exuberant melody harmonized in fifths and octaves over the rest. Though she enjoyed watching, she found herself longing to dance, but she did not have quite enough courage to put herself forward. The steps they danced were not so different from patterns she already knew, and she grew so interested in analyzing them, even in trying a few surreptitiously, that Cha Ishii's sudden appearance at her side took her entirely by surprise.

"Lady Terese." He bowed. She started. In the darkness, he had her completely at a disadvantage because she could not see the fine shades of color on his skin. "If I may speak?"

"Cha Ishii." To regain her composure, she took a moment to give permission. "You may. I am surprised to see you here."

"It is indeed a primitive display. But I will be brief. We leave day after tomorrow. I wish you to know that once we return to space, we will see to it that the duke is made aware of your presence out here. To that end, I can supply you with a ring-shaped beacon of human manufacture that we will activate once we have returned to the Oshaki. "

Thereby, Tess thought, leaving it to be your word against mine that you were ever here in the first place. She shook her head. "No, Cha Ishii, that will not be necessary."

"But you have no such technology with you. Our instruments showed-" He broke off, and Tess wished dearly that she could see what emotion he was feeling now.

"What instruments do you mean?"

"Those aboard the Oshaki, of course. A slip of the tongue, Lady Terese. Forgive me for disturbing you with my hasty temper."

"Of course. There is no need, Cha Ishii, for a beacon because I am coming with you."

The music stopped. After laughter and applause, the lutes began a slow melody accompanied by a sinuous line dance.

"It is too dangerous a journey, Lady Terese. I strongly advise against it."

"With you to look out for my interests, Cha Ishii, I have absolutely no doubt that I will arrive safely, with you, in Jeds."

The implication of that comment left him without a reply for a long moment as the dance shuffled on behind them. "I cannot allow this," he said at last.

"Do you have something to hide? Surely not, Cha Ishii."

"We have nothing to hide."

"Then you can have no objection to my coming."

"Bakhtiian will not let you go."

"You are paying him. If you request that I go with you, then he cannot refuse."

He pressed his hand together, palms touching, to convey his disapproval of this scheme. His voice remained expressionless. "Lady Terese, I must strongly object-"

She set her hands, fist to palm, in that arrangement known as Imperial Command. "Cha Ishii, I am the heir to this dukedom. You cannot object."

He lowered his hands. "I obey," he said finally, bowing to the precise degree due her rank. "If you wish, I will inform Bakhtiian of my decision now.''

"Now?" She looked to her left, around the circle made by those of the tribe who weren't dancing, and saw Bakhtiian standing nearby, watching them. She sucked in a big breath, blew it out through full cheeks. "Very well. We may as well settle it now."

Ishii bowed again and walked over to Bakhtiian. They conferred together. Standing next to Bakhtiian, Ishii looked angular and stiff; Bakhtiian had tilted his head at such an angle that he did not appear to be looking up.

"Tess! Are you sure you don't want to dance? This next one is very easy, really-" Yuri stopped beside her and followed the direction of her gaze. "What's that all about?"

"Ishii is asking that I come along."

"Oh," said Yuri, sounding apprehensive as Ishii took his leave of Bakhtiian and disappeared into the gloom. Tess grinned at Yuri, but a moment later Bakhtiian walked across and halted beside them. He looked as if he was quite angry but trying very very hard to pretend that he was not.

"Terese Soerensen. When we first met some days past I formed the impression that you had no experience riding horses. You cannot travel with us if you cannot ride."

Tess found that she had enough malice in her soul to enjoy a slow smile at his expense. "But I can ride. Surely Mother Orzhekov told you that Yuri has been giving me lessons. I'm no master of the art, but I can stay on a horse well enough to travel with your jahar, I believe."

"She can, Ilya," said Yuri impulsively. "She's very quick."

Ilya glanced, quick as lightning, at Yuri. "Then I congratulate you," he said to Tess, "although I won't presume to guess how you persuaded the priest to request that you come with us. I don't think you made a friend by doing it."

"Do you mean yourself?"

"I was speaking of the priest," he said impassively. "I have never found it advisable to offend those who are under the special protection of the gods."

"On that count I have no fears."

A high voice broke into their circle. Little Katerina ran up to Bakhtiian, laughing, wanting to tell him something. He crouched beside her, whispered in her ear, and she looked wide-eyed up at Tess and ran away again. The music wound to a close and there was much laughter and a round of singing as the musicians broke off to rest.

"We shall see." Bakhtiian stood up. "It is against my instinct and all my better judgment, but this is the priest's choice, not mine." A single gold necklace shone at his throat, winking in the inconstant firelight as he turned to regard Yuri. "Yurinya. You will see that Terese Soerensen takes proper care of her horse, that she eats, is warm, and is always ready to ride. Do you understand?" It sounded more like a threat than a request.

"Yes, Ilya. Of course, Ilya."

"Terese Soerensen, until such time as we arrive at a port and can put you on a ship, you will abide by my decisions and my orders. You don't know this land. I do. You will ride with me and at other times will stay with Yurinya. If for some reason you can't ride with me, you'll ride with Nikolai Sibirin. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I know I'm inexperienced, but I'll learn."

"You'll have to. Yuri, come with me. Excuse us." He took Yuri by the wrist, as if he was a child, and dragged him away so fast that Yuri stumbled over his own feet and could only manage a brief, despairing glance at Tess before he vanished with Ilya into the darkness of the camp.

Tess had a sudden premonition that Yuri was in for a bad time. She circled the crowd, seeking Sonia, and found her talking easily with one of the men who had ridden in that day. Sonia had laid a hand on the man's arm as casually as if he were her husband, and their heads were close enough together as they spoke that it gave them an intimate appearance. When Tess hesitated, unsure whether to interrupt, Sonia glanced up, saw her, and excused herself immediately.

"What is it?"

Tess told her.

"Ah. You were right to come to me. Ilya will be furious at being outmaneuvered. You wait here."

"No, I ought to come with you."

"As you wish, but stay in the shadows. It will be better for Yuri if Ilya does not know you fetched me."

Tess followed Sonia into camp. Tents surrounded them, cutting off the distant glow of the great fire. There was no sound, no movement, except for the wailing of a child that faltered and stilled. Tess had to move slowly, hands out to either side, fingers occasionally brushing the coarse fabric of a tent wall. Sonia had lost her, but as the music started up again behind, she heard voices ahead, a quiet counterpoint to the distant melody of celebration. She stumbled over a guy-rope and froze, stopped by the voices coming from right around the edge of the tent.

"You deliberately used my aunt's authority to undercut mine." Bakhtiian's tone was so cutting that Tess instantly regretted ever asking Yuri for help. "Of course I would not object, since I did not suspect what you and she were planning."

"I didn't think-"

"Obviously you didn't think, Yuri. Women don't ride with the jahar. Her inexperience will slow us down and could be dangerous."

"But that's why I gave her the lessons."

"If she couldn't ride, there would be no question of her traveling with us, would there?"

"But you just said yourself that-"

"Have you ever bothered to ask yourself why she is here? Or wonder why the priest says she is a spy-"

"You don't really believe-"

"Had I finished speaking?"

The pause that followed was both heavy and uncomfortable. Into it, the distant music metamorphosed from a slow, pacing number into a frantic tune.

"Well, Ilya," said Sonia, walking into their silence with all the aplomb of an angry and protective older sister. When Sonia spoke, clear and carrying, Tess abruptly realized that they were all speaking in Rhuian, a family quarrel that no one else could understand. ' 'Have you finished bullying Yuri now? Or shall I leave until you are done?''

"This is men's business, Sonia."

"Is it, indeed? When two men meet in the dark to discuss a woman, I call that women's business. Yuri, you may go."

"I haven't given him permission-"

"Ilya. Must I speak to Mama about your manners?"

"Go on, Yuri," he said curtly.

Tess, standing frozen behind the dark wall of a tent, did not see in which direction Yuri fled.

"You have made your point, Sonia," said Bakhtiian coldly. "Have I your permission to leave?"

"Certainly, Ilyakoria. But I am curious as to why you were so insistent that Nadine and I travel the long path to Jeds, alone, need I add, where we might have encountered any danger, and in lands where you know very well how they treat women. We cannot even be sure we will ever see Dina again."

"Knowing Dina, we will undoubtedly receive an envoy from the Prince of Jeds himself requesting that we remove her before she destroys the entire city.''

Sonia chuckled, despite herself. "That is very probably true. Don't distract me. What I mean to say is, if you risked us, then whatever excuse you give Yuri about Tess not going because she is a woman is the most ridiculous nonsense I have ever heard."

"Do you suppose she can use a saber?"

"I suppose she can learn, well enough to defend herself, at least. I do not expect her to become such a paragon of saber fighting as Vladimir, or yourself, dear cousin. And I will give her my own bow and arrows, since a woman can use them to protect herself without any shame. What is your real reason?"

"I don't trust her. There are great things in front of us, in front of our massed armies, if we can get so far. I must rid myself of those last few riders who don't understand that we must unite, that the old ways no longer protect us. And I need those horses. What if she acts to harm the priest, to disrupt this journey, to ruin all the work I've done so far?"

"Why should she care? She is a merchant's sister, traveling home to Jeds. She says herself that it was a foolish impulse that led her to follow the priest off the ship, that she only meant to protect her brother's trading rights."

"Do you believe this story?"

"I trust Tess."

He did not reply immediately. "She lied to us once. She is not their interpreter. She's still lying, Sonia."

"How can you know?"

"I feel it in my gut."

"And you're never wrong." Sonia's voice came cold and flat and sarcastic. "Never you. Never Bakhtiian. You never listen to anyone else."

"I would listen to others if they had anything worthwhile to say."

"If you'd listened to others, Natalia and Timofey and your parents would still be alive."

The tension was so palpable that Tess felt it as loudly as any words. Bakhtiian made a sound, like the beginning of speech, and then fell silent, as if he were so furious that he could not even talk. She took a step back, suddenly sure that her presence here would do Sonia no good if it were discovered.

"Come out," said Bakhtiian, as if her thoughts alone had alerted him.

"Ilya-" Sonia began, protesting.

"Whom are you protecting?" he snapped.

Tess knew that however much she did not want to walk around the tent and see either of them, in such a mood, she could not leave Sonia to end this conversation alone.

So she joined them. Sonia stood, hands drawn up into fists on either side of her waist, pale, facing Bakhtiian. He had heard the scuff on the grass and he turned; instantaneously took a step back away from Tess, surprised to see her. He froze, as though touched by some stilling hand.

"Excuse me," she said, and heard the betraying quaver in her voice. "I was looking for Sonia."

His gaze had the cutting edge of a knife. Tess tensed, knowing for that instant that he was about to say something so vicious that it could never be forgiven. Sonia moved, stepping toward Tess as if she meant to shield her.

Bakhtiian caught his breath and whirled and strode away into the darkness.

Distant voices rose to accompany some melody. Tess put her hands to her face. Against her cold palms, her cheeks felt flushed and hot. Sonia came over to her and grasped her wrists. A moment later, they were laughing and crying all at once.

"Gods," said Sonia at last, letting go of Tess. "It's no wonder that there are men out riding just to kill him.''

Tess brushed a wisp of grass from her lips. It was true enough what Bakhtiian had said, that she was lying. But how much could she tell them? How much would be right? How much would be fair? How much could they even believe? She did not know. "Poor Yuri," she said, to say something. "It's just as well I'm going, Sonia. He needs someone to protect him."

"That's right." Sonia leaned forward and kissed Tess on the cheek. "But Tess, however hard it may be, try not to lose your temper with Ilya. It's easy enough to do, but gods, it makes you say the most awful things."

"It is true, Sonia? What you said about his family?"

"I don't know. Other people warned him that there had been threats, but he never would listen. But I shouldn't have said it to him. Harsh words won't bring them back." The high, brisk sound of claps underlaid by muffled stamping reached them, sharp in the clear air, followed by cheers, encouragement to some solo dancer. "Listen to us! This is supposed to be a celebration. We'll wash our faces and run back. The men are showing off. We don't want to miss that." She grabbed Tess's hand, and they went together.

In the morning, Yuri waylaid her as soon as she woke. He looked anxious.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"We have to choose you a horse. I think the little bay. You'll need a saber, a knife… Did I say clothing? A blanket!" He broke off when Tess laughed at his expression. ' 'I would never have believed that Bakhtiian would agree to take you, but you weren't afraid, and so you got what you were reaching for. We call that korokh, one who reaches for the wind. They are few and always brave. The gods favor them.''

"I'll need it." And she wondered, suddenly, finally, what she had gotten herself into.

"There's Sonia. She'll help us."

By judicious application to various members of their family, Sonia and Yuri acquired all the articles that they thought Tess would need on the journey. It did not come to much, since it all had to be carried, but to Tess it seemed like riches: a saber, a knife, an extra set of clothing down to gloves and belt, a thick blanket and light sleeping mat, a bone comb carved in arborescent detail, a lump of soap, and beaded leather strips to braid in her hair as it grew out. Stassia gave her two bracelets, and her youngest son, barely five, insisted that she take his stamped leather flask. After all this, Sonia led her aside to where her mother sat weaving.

"You will be the only woman," said Mother Orzhekov. Her strong hands did not falter, feeding out thread, pulling the shuttle across. "You must have your own tent. Sonia, you know the one. And her mirror. No woman ought to be without a mirror." She dismissed them before Tess could thank her.

"You must thank her," said Sonia as they left, "by behaving in a manner that will make her proud. Words are only words, after all. It is easy enough for me to call you sister, but by the gift of this tent and the mirror, she has made you her daughter in truth."

"She has honored me." Tess wiped a tear from one cheek. The tent and hand mirror she received had belonged to Anna, the sister who had died in childbirth. The tent was beautifully woven, the pattern of stripes, gold, orange, and green as befitted a young woman. On the tent flap a spiral of interlocking, thin-limbed beasts curled infinitely around themselves, and this same spiral of beasts was carved into the wooden handle and back of the mirror. "My parents died when I was ten years old. My brother is the only family I have left."

"Now you have us as well," said Sonia.

They walked on for a time in silence, companionable, going nowhere. Tess stroked her mirror where it now hung from her belt, the grooved handle and the embossed leather case with its cloisonne clasps that protected the mirror's face. Horses whinnied beyond. Wind sounded faintly in the sparse trees.

Two women and a child knelt at a long, flat loom. Stassia's husband Pavel worked, sweating, at his forge. An ancient withered woman tenderly dabbed steaming water spiced with the sweet scent of herbs from a copper pot onto a rash of red sores that blistered a child's back. A girl sang, pounding out meal. Two old men chattered together while they worked at embroidery. A young man sat holding a mass of wool for a girl Tess knew to be unmarried. He smiled as he looked at the ground, up at her as she spun the wool out on her spindle, and down again.

"I'll see a whole land," Tess said. "More than I've seen in my entire life." A life spent within buildings, parks, cities-here it would be all sky, huge, unknown; dangerous, yes, but also new. "I want you to have something, Sonia, to remember me by." She reached into her pouch and drew out the little book of essays from the University in Jeds. "It's all I have, really. And at least you can read them."

Sonia's eyes widened. She reached out and touched the tiny leather volume with reverence. "A book. A real book." Taking it, she held it to her chest. "Oh, Tess." And then, without more thought than that, she hugged her.

"Mama! Mama!" Sonia's little Ivan ran up to them. Sonia released Tess, tucked the book carefully into her belt, and squatted beside him. He put a crude carved figure into her hands. A horse. She smiled, cheeks dimpling, her eyes mirroring his innocent joy, his spontaneous, unreserved expression of love. She looked up, drawing Tess down, laughing together, sharing it with her. Ivan quickly grew tired of their praise and ran away to show his father.

"Wasn't it awful?" said Sonia as they rose. "But so wonderful."

Tess put a hand to one eye and found tears. "I'm sorry to be leaving you, Sonia."

Sonia took both Tess's hands in hers. "You'll come back to us."

Tess smiled. "Can you see the future?"

"No," said Sonia, "but I can see something else, and that will bring you back.''