Kate Elliott - Jaran

"But, Yeliana-"

"You did it. Are you saying other women cannot?"

"No, but-"

"I hate it here," she said without heat, simply as a fact. "I'm young enough. I can learn."

"Well," said Tess slowly, "you can go where Vladimir went-to Bakhalo's jahar-ledest. If he'll take you. I have an old saber I can give you. It isn't a very good one, but-"

"A saber!" Yeliana's excitement manifested itself in muffled splashing at her end of the baths. "My own saber!"

What have I started? Tess thought, and sighed.

The next morning, Yeliana appeared again at practice and Tess politely asked Kirill to show the girl the most basic strokes. Kirill raised his eyebrows, but he complied.

"Do you know what I think?" said Yuri at midday, when they sat resting under a tree. "I think she must be Vladi's sister by the same parents."

"Why? They don't look so much alike."

"No, but for the color of their hair and eyes. And she's rather tall for a girl. But did you see her with those cuts? Oh, she's very rough, and very new, but there's a certain grace, a certain touch for the blade…I'll never have it, no matter how many years I practice."

"You're not the hardest worker at saber, Yuri."

"That's true, but even if I were-it's not in me."

"No." She smiled and settled her arm around his shoulders. "You have other gifts."

"Yes, and whenever women say that, it's never a compliment."

Movement erupted at the distant doors that led into the shrine. A moment later, Mikhal came running up to them.

"Riders, coming in," he said, and ran off again.

Tess and Yuri scrambled to their feet and followed him.

"Look!" cried Yuri. "It's Petya!"

It was a small group-only eight young riders-but merry as they greeted the four men from Bakhtiian's jahar. But Tess hung back. She could only watch, and after a few moments, even that was too much. She fled into the park and walked, just walked, out into the woods.

Midday slid into afternoon. Finally, she knew she had come far enough-except that nowhere would be far enough-and she turned back. The first shadings of dusk were beginning to color the park when she heard a horse blowing off to her right. She ran over and found herself looking out over the secluded meadow that sheltered the sacred pond. A man, leading two horses, stood by the pool, staring down into the water.

"Kirill."

He spun. "Don't ever go off like that! Anything could have happened to you! Damn it, what were you thinking? Yuri was half crazy, wondering where you had gone."

"But I… I…" To her horror, she began to cry, and she collapsed onto her knees on the soft cushion of grass.

"Tess!" A moment later he enclosed her in his arms and held her to him. "What is it, my heart?"

"I don't want to go," she whispered into his shoulder. Tears stained his shirt.

"Then don't go."

"I have to."

"Why?"

The question struck her to silence. She rested against him, comforted and warm. He shifted on the grass and she looked up at him, so near. He sighed, a long exhalation of breath, and pulled her gently down to lie with him on the grass.

"It's cold," she murmured.

"I brought blankets."

"If Yuri is worried-"

"He knows where we are." He kissed away her tears, one by one.

"But, Kirill, did Veselov only send eight riders?"

"Here." He helped her up. "Your tent is over here. It will be warmer inside. Yes, for now. Petya says that Mikhailov's jahar came up a few days after we left, and Sergei Veselov sent out the main force of his jahar to stay between Mikhailov and the Veselov tribe. But they swung north, so it's no danger to us. But still, there were only a few riders left in camp when Ilya rode in. We'll ride to meet the tribe and then Veselov will lend us more men once Mikhailov has swung clear."

She crawled into her tent and found it rich with blankets. She laughed and nuzzled into them, then sobered. "But why should Mikhailov swing clear? What if he follows Ilya?"

Kirill shrugged. "Bakhtiian can solve his own problems. Do you want me to go?"

He sat so close to her that she could feel his breath on her cheek. Before she could answer, he embraced her suddenly and fervently. "Don't ask me to go, Tess," he said in a fierce whisper.

Tomorrow she would ask Yuri if it was really possible to love two men at the same time yet in such different ways. Tonight she simply pulled Kirill tight against her, not letting him go, because she knew that this was his way of saying farewell.

The tents of the Veselov tribe lay along the river's bank in haphazard line, strung out in clumps of family groups camped together. The two great tents, one belonging to the etsana and one to her niece, stood in the center of the long It was unusual this early to see a fire blazing in the fire pit dug between the two tents, but one was. Three scarlet-shirted men stood there, rubbing their hands by the warmth, watching the large kettle of water that rested over the flames. Dawn pinked the horizon but the sun was not yet up.

"Vladi," said Niko. "Go find Anton Veselov and ask him how she is doing." Vladimir nodded and walked away to the etsana's tent. "That woman," said Niko uncharitably, "never did a good thing in her life, and now with everything else, she has to fall ill. What if she dies? Little Arina ought to be etsana but that damned cousin of hers will wrest even that from her if she can."

Ilya blew on his hands and glanced toward Vera Veselov's tent, where nothing stirred. A woman emerged from the etsana's tent, glanced at them, and walked with Vladimir award the river. "Arina is young, just eighteen, I believe.: I think you underestimate her, Niko. Only Vera and her father want Vera to take etsana. I think the rest of the tribe will support Arina, should it come to that." "She is too young to become etsana." "But they are the last of the family left. There is no older woman to take it unless they take it out of the family altogether. What that girl needs is a good, steady husband. If she is married, it will not seem so imprudent to make her etsana."

Niko glanced at Ilya curiously. "You sound as if you have someone in mind."

"Kirill."

"Kirill!"

"Yes. Kirill."

"You're plotting, Ilya."

"Niko. When Mother Sun sent her daughter to the earth, she sent with her ten sisters, and gifted them each a tent and a name. The eldest was Sakhalin, then Arkhanov, Suvorin, Velinya, Raevsky, Vershinin, Grekov, Fedoseyev, and last the twins, Veselov and Orzhekov. Each sister had ten daughters, and each daughter ten daughters in turn, and thus the tribes of the jaran were born. Next spring we will begin our ride against the khaja lands, and of the ten elder tribes, who will come without questioning me?"

"All of them," said Niko. He paused. "All but Veselov."

"Arina Veselov wants Kirill. She told her mother, and her mother told me."

"What does Kirill want?"

"Kirill knows his duty," said Ilya stiffly. "You said yourself that I ought to give him the responsibility he deserves."

"I suggest," said Niko in a carefully calm voice, "that you let Kirill make his own choice in this matter. You already mean for Yuri to mark Konstantina Sakhalin…"

"How did you know about that?"

"I may be old, Ilya, but I am neither blind nor deaf to the way your mind works, or to the exaggerated sense of duty Yuri feels toward you. Not that he would make her a bad husband, mind you. Ilya, what happened that night at the shrine? Josef and Tasha and I gave you every opportunity."

The fire popped and flamed, licking the base of the kettle. "I do not wish to speak of it, Niko."

"Ilyakoria, you are her husband."

"Yes, I am her husband," he said, rounding on Niko, "and when Lord Ishii tried to kill her and she was forced to ask for my protection, did she ask me because I am her husband and she is my wife? No, Sibirin, she asked me on the honor we gave each other as friends. She does not want me."