Jaran

  “But, Charles.” Suzanne marched over to the desk and set her palms down on it, leaning on them, glaring up into his face. “What about Tess?”

  “Suzanne, what can I do? If she’s on Rhui, Marco can find her.”

  “What if she’s in danger? If she’s injured? Captured? Being held prisoner? What if she’s dead?”

  “Must I remind you that in bitter political terms Tess is expendable? Chapalii law allows for me to adopt an heir, who will then be as legal as an heir of my blood. It’s been suggested by the emperor himself, in order that I might have a proper male heir.”

  “We’re not talking political terms, Charles. We’re talking about your sister.”

  “Suzanne, you may take it for granted that I love my sister.” He kept his voice as even as a Chapalii voice, revealing nothing. “You may be sure that if she comes to harm through Chapalii machinations, those responsible will suffer for it. If I have the power to act against them. But I can do nothing for her here. We must grasp the opportunity that presents itself. Keinaba is rich. Through their shipping we will have ties and access to every port and every planet and every system, and, by God, every back door that merchants squeeze through, in imperial space. We can’t afford to lose that chance.”

  Suzanne pushed herself up and spun away to walk out onto the balcony. The transparent wall peeled away to allow her access, and shut behind her, to protect the office from the beating rain and the skirling wind. The tide was out. The tules lay flat against the muddy shallows, pressed down by the gale. Clouds roiled above, dark and turbulent.

  Charles watched her for a moment, and one moment only, and then he turned and walked to the side room to pack what few things he needed for the journey. The seal stood open between the office and the little chamber.

  “Richard and Tomaszio can arrange whatever formal items I’ll need,” said Charles over his shoulder. “And a message to Cara, in Jeds, to let her know what’s happened. She can forward anything to Marco. He’ll have to act on his own for now.”

  Jamsetji snorted. “Always does, that one,” he said to the air. “Rich and Tomas will go with you, as always. Who else?”

  “Suzanne, of course. I need her. That’s all. If this falls out as I hope, we’ll have a whole Chapalii merchant house at our disposal. My God, think of it, Jamsetji. Think what we can do with that.” He went in to the efficiency, and the wall sealed shut behind him.

  Jamsetji grinned at the first trickle of information scrolling up on the desk. “Maybe the long haul ain’t going to be so damned long.”

  Suzanne came in from the balcony, soaked and still angry. “Sweet Goddess, what a storm.” She glared at Jamsetji. “What are you smiling about? What if Tess is down on Rhui in the middle of a storm like that?”

  “You worry too much, young woman. And the truth is,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “you don’t trust her any better than her own brother does. Not really. Not to take care of herself. But I’m betting she can.”

  “Can take care of herself, or find someone to take care of her? Well, I cursed well hope you’re right.” Suzanne cast one last, reproachful glance toward Charles, who emerged from the efficiency with his hands full of bottles and bits. “I’ll go get ready,” she said sourly, and stalked away to the far wall. The tiling peeled open to let her through.

  A soft knock on the door woke Tess. She started up. Sun shone in through the window and she knew it was late, midmorning, perhaps. She grabbed for her saber as the door opened, but it was only Vladimir.

  “Good morning,” she said, suddenly embarrassed to be found sleeping in Ilya’s bed.

  He did not look at her. “Here’s some food and water.” He set a tray down on the table and retreated to the door.

  “Thank you.” His sullen expression did not alter. “Vladimir, where is Bakhtiian?”

  His gaze roamed the chamber, coming to rest finally on Ilya’s saddlebags, slung casually over the endpost. “He’ll be back. I’ll wait outside until you’re ready to go wash.” He left.

  She straightened her clothing and put on her boots and then ate and drank a little, and went to the door. It opened before she reached it, and Vladimir gestured her outside.

  She hesitated. “But—”

  “It’s safe. Mother Avdotya has taken the khepellis to the sacred pool, with ten of the jahar for escort. Come on.” He sounded peevish as he said it.

  Probably, Tess thought, as she followed him to the chamber with the hot springs, he wished that Ishii had managed to kill her. It was impossible to truly enjoy the luxury of the hot springs but equally impossible not to linger a little too long. Vladimir finally tapped impatiently on the door, and she dried off hurriedly and dressed.

  Back in the room, Vladimir paused by the door. “Are you really going back to Jheds?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He looked so comically relieved that she chuckled. “You may laugh,” he said with unexpected fury. “You have family. You have a place given to you. Ilya is all I have. Do you think a girl like Elena wants an orphan for a husband?”

  “I’m an orphan, too, Vladimir. My parents died over twelve years ago. But it’s true, I do have a brother.”

  “Oh, the one in Jheds. What do I care about Jheds? I have been riding with the tribe for two years now. I’m still nothing but an orphan to them. Ilya’s pet. But you—you were there ten days, and Mother Orzhekov gifted you her own daughter’s tent.”

  Voices sounded from the hall. Vladimir had been red; now he turned white. The door opened, and Bakhtiian appeared.

  “Leave us,” he said. Vladimir stared straight into Tess’s eyes, his mouth a bitter line. “Vladi,” said Ilya.

  The young man glanced at Ilya and stalked out of the room, shoulders taut. Ilya raised his eyebrows, shrugged, and walked over to the table to sit on its edge. One booted leg dangled elegantly.

  Then his reinforcements arrived. The usual ones, of course: Josef promptly sat down on the floor, Niko sat beside Tess on the bed, and Tasha shut the door behind him and stood blocking it. Tess blushed.

  “Well,” said Ilya, and she realized that he was a little embarrassed by this situation as well.

  Niko rescued them. “One of the khepelli is indeed missing. We can find no trace of him.”

  “The one missing,” said Ilya, taking charge again, “is the one you met last night. The same one you met with in the garden yesterday.”

  “Ishii killed him.” Tess felt the force of all their gazes on her.

  “For betraying his own kind?”

  “Yes. No. Yes, for breaking his loyalty to Ishii, but really, he killed him for men betraying me in turn. It was Garii who alerted Ishii that we had gone—” She shrugged.

  “To this secret room which I could not find, even last night when I returned there. I see. This gives me rather more respect for Lord Ishii. One betrayal might betoken a real change of heart, but two—” All four men shook their heads. “Mother Avdotya also noticed the missing pilgrim but she will not pursue those who are not bound by the laws of the jaran. There, it seems, the matter ends.”

  “But what about Tess?” asked Niko. “If Ishii would murder one of his own men, then I must believe that she is truly in danger as well.”

  “Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Ilya’s tone was slightly mocking. “I think we will have to seek Veselov’s aid.”

  “Veselov!” This from Tasha.

  “To separate Soerensen from the pilgrims means we must split the jahar. Obviously, with khaja lands to ride through, and Dmitri Mikhailov still somewhere behind us, that would be idiotic. I propose we leave Tess and a few of the riders here at the shrine, where it is safe, and with the rest ride to Veselov’s tribe and ask Veselov to send a portion of his jahar to escort her to the coast. We will ride ahead with the khepellis, see them to their ship, collect our horses, and wait for the others there.”

  “What if the khepelli decide to kill all of you?” Tess asked.

  “Is this relic, and your death, so valuable
to them?”

  “It might be.”

  He smiled. “That is why you will write a letter to your brother that explains—briefly—the situation. As soon as it is done, Josef will ride ahead. With three horses, he will make good time.”

  “Won’t that be dangerous?”

  Josef grinned. “I’ve done rasher things in my youth. I speak the khaja tongues well enough to get by. And I think I am a good judge of men’s hearts.”

  “I suppose that is why you joined up with Bakhtiian?”

  All four men laughed.

  “Did Yuri tell you that he is the only man in my jahar not born or married into our tribe?” Ilya asked. “Well, I cannot answer to that accusation.” He tilted his head to one side, smiling, a surprisingly youthful, sweet expression. It made her so uncomfortable that she stood up and gazed out the window. He coughed. The other men shifted. “In any case,” he said finally, “if we’re all killed, at least your brother will know of it.”

  Through the window she saw part of the garden, thick lines of bushes, a white statue half-hidden behind a tree. It was quiet. From somewhere in the distance she heard the sound of singing.

  “Who will stay?” asked Niko.

  “Yuri and Mikhal,” said Ilya immediately. “Two more, I think. Konstans, perhaps.”

  “Kirill,” said Josef. “That is my recommendation.”

  There was a silence. Tess could not bring herself to turn around.

  “Mine, too,” said Tasha. “You must leave someone who can take command of whichever part of Veselov’s jahar will be sent.”

  “Then you, Tadheus,” said Ilya stiffly.

  “Ilya,” said Niko, “you must eventually give Kirill the responsibility he deserves.”

  A longer silence. Outside, a man’s voice shouted, a cheerful yell, followed by women’s laughter.

  “Very well. Kirill, Konstans, Yuri, and Mikhal.”

  “I’ll go prepare, then,” said Josef. Tasha made some similar excuse, and Niko left after them.

  She turned. Ilya still sat on the table. He was looking at his hands. He glanced up at her.

  “You’ll need paper.” He crossed the room to rummage in his saddlebags, lifting out a tube of soft cloth and the leather-bound Newton.

  “Ilya—” she began, but he took them back to the table and set them down. Unwrapping the cloth, he revealed a quill and a tightly sealed pot of ink. Then he slipped his knife out of its sheath and turned the Newton open to the flyleaf. She could not bear to watch. In a moment, he said, “Would you like me to wait outside?”

  “No.” She came over to the table. He retreated to the bed with the precious book and sat cradling it in his hands while she bent down to compose the letter.

  Charles. I am stranded on Rhui but am currently safe. The Chapalii have sent a clandestine expedition to Rhui which I stumbled across and followed: the Tai-en Mushai—yes, that one—once possessed this planet, and he left a palace and computer banks which contain all the information he gathered which led to the downfall of the First Empire. It really happened! I now possess in storage the contents of his files. I am traveling for Jeds now, but the Chapalii are still a threat to me. If something should happen to me, if you should receive this letter and I do not arrive in Jeds from the north by ship within a month or at most two, then look for the people called the jaran, who live on the northern plains, and specifically for a man named Ilyakoria Bakhtiian. They have sheltered me. Here she hesitated, and then simply signed her name.

  She stood, blew on the fine, marbled paper now covered with her scrawl, and offered it to him. He took it.

  “I will keep the relic until we meet at the coast.” He gathered up his quill and ink, packed everything neatly away into his saddlebags, and swung the packs onto the table. He did not look at her. She did not look at him.

  “What will you tell the pilgrims?” she asked finally. “Won’t they be suspicious? I don’t want you to lose your horses.”

  “I’ll tell them—” He paused. An odd note to his voice made her look up at him. Seeing her gaze, he smiled sardonically. “I’ll tell them that you married me and are now my wife and so will be staying here.”

  “Don’t tell them that!” He blinked away from her vehemence, his expression shuttered. “I didn’t mean…” How could she explain that the Chapalii would take such an explanation very seriously indeed, and that it would cause enormous, negative repercussions for Charles. “I just meant because marriage is not a light thing for the khepellis, that—”

  “Do you think it is a light thing for jaran?” he demanded. “Don’t insult me above everything else.”

  “I only meant that my marriage, because of who I am, would be taken very seriously…” She broke off.

  “And I am of so little importance to the Prince and these khepellis that my marriage is of no account at all? Except, of course, that I married you.”

  Which was true, of course. She flushed. “Damn it, Ilya. I never said that.”

  He smiled slightly. “Very well, then I will tell Lord Ishii that I don’t trust you, that you have broken the laws of our tribe, and I have left you behind under guard until I can get them safely onto ship and return to deal with you later.” He said it with great satisfaction.

  “Very well,” she echoed, and then, because there was nothing more to say, said nothing. Neither did he speak. They stood a body’s length apart, the table between them. She dropped her gaze to stare at the tiny striatums in the floorboards, flowing dark into light, some blending one into the next, some utterly separate. They stood in this manner for so long that she began to wish that he would do anything, anything but stand there silently and look at her.

  At last he swung his saddlebags up onto his shoulders and moved to the door. She looked up. He paused with his hand on the latch. “Fare well, my wife,” he said softly.

  “Fare well,” she murmured. Then he was gone. As if she had been pulled along behind, she went to the door and laid her head against the wood. What would she say to him when they met again at the coast? Twenty-five days seemed like an eternity.

  From outside came the noise of horses, that familiar ring and call of leaving that she had grown so accustomed to, had even come to love. Leaving, traveling, arriving; always moving and yet, because your life and family journeyed with you, always staying in the same place. She hurried to the window and stood up on the bed to look out just in time to see riders, too far away to make out as individuals, mass and start forward away along a path that soon took them into the woods and out of her sight. But she stood still, long after sight and sound of them had faded, and stared out onto the cool of midday and the quiet oasis of the park.

  A scratch at the door. She jumped down from the bed, but it was only Yuri.

  “Tess.” He hugged her. Pulling back, he examined her face. “Well,” he said, “it’s no use staying shut up in here. It’s a beautiful day outside. Come on. Have you seen the sacred pool yet?”

  She had not. So they rode there, the four riders, herself, and Yeliana, and had a little picnic. The sacred pool was really nothing more than a circular marble pool surrounded by pillars, sited in a lovely meadow. A few late-blooming bushes added romance to the setting. The men flirted charmingly with Yeliana, who was delighted to have so many good-looking young riders to practice on.

  “There’s only Andrey, who is young,” she whispered to Tess, “and I’ve never liked him. He came here five years past to become a priest, but I think it was just because he’s so ugly and sour-faced that none of the women wanted him. All the others are as old as the hills. I was sorry when Vladi left.” Then she smiled at something Konstans said and asked him about his wife and baby.

  Tess stood and walked over to the edge of the pool, where Kirill stood alone, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. “You’re very quiet today.”

  “Did you ask Bakhtiian to leave me in charge?” he asked.

  “No. Josef and Tasha and Niko did.”

  His face lit. “Did they?
By the gods.” His posture shifted, and he looked very pleased with the world. He grinned. “Meet me here tonight, my heart, and I will show you how this pool has captured the moon.”

  “Kirill.” She faltered, and set her lips for courage, and looked at him.

  “You love him,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “So much.”

  “Yes.”

  His expression was hard to read, compounded half of resignation and half of—something else. “But Tess, you won’t even lie with him. Isn’t that cruel?”

  “For me or for him?”

  “For him, of course. What you do to yourself is your own business, although I must say—”

  “I don’t believe that you would scold me for that.”

  “I don’t hate Ilya, Tess, or wish him ill. I never have, even if I might envy him now for winning your love.”

  “But I love you, too, Kirill.”

  “Yes. You gifted me with your love, but you gifted him with your heart.”

  “Kirill.”

  “Oh, Tess. Don’t cry, my heart. It doesn’t matter. It was a fair race. I don’t begrudge him winning it, and I don’t blame you for choosing him.”

  “I’m not choosing him. I’m going back to Jeds. And would you stop being so damned noble?”

  He laughed shakily. “All right,” he said violently. “The truth is, I’d like to murder him. Slowly. Strangle him, maybe, or better yet—no, that’s an ill-bred thing to say in front of a woman.”

  She smiled and wiped a tear from her cheek. “That’s better.”

  “I accept what I must, Tess. What other choice do I have?” He frowned and then left her to walk back to the others.

  She remained by the pond. After a while Yuri came to join her. “What were you and Kirill talking about?”

  She shrugged.

  “You don’t want to go back to Jeds, do you?”

  “What other choice do I have?” she asked.

  “Well, I think—”

  “Yuri, do you want to get thrown in the pond?”