Kate Elliott - Jaran

"I have to go back to Charles," she whispered.

"What?" Kirill asked.

"Nothing." But she mentally kept up the litany as they walked back to camp, cycling round and round: / have to go back to Jeds. I have to go back to Charles. And at each pause, she could hear Yuri's voice: "Why does everything have to be so final, Tess?" Because things are final, Yuri, she said to him. Because people die and I don't want to go through this again. She clutched Kirill's arm more tightly, and he glanced at her, but mercifully he said nothing. She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. Because I'm afraid.

"Gods, Kirill, I can't go back there crying."

"Why not? You're a woman. And you lost your brother. Why shouldn't you cry? It's nothing to be ashamed of."

She smiled through her tears. "My sweet Kirill," she said, and then they came to camp and she relinquished her grip on him. Arina Veselov came to greet them, looking sober but not unhappy, and led Tess back to her tent, repeating the news Kirill had told her. Kirill followed them, but he walked next to Arina now not next to Tess.

The evening dragged on. That night she could not sleep. Morning came too soon, and then, dragging on toward midday, lasted far, far too long.

"Look!" said Yeliana, standing up. "Look there. Wagons."

Tess scrambled to her feet. She could not help it, she ran-as well as she could run-out to the edge of camp and into the grass as the wagons and riders and the bleating flocks crested the rise and trundled down toward them in a cacophonous, chaotic mass. She halted, searching, staring, until-

"Sonia!" Oh, God, she looked the same; pale, maybe; and then they embraced. Tess burst into tears. Sonia burst into tears. They both cried, hanging on each other. Finally, as wagons lurched past them and children squealed with excitement and a horse brushed by so close its tail flicked Sonia's tunic, they separated.

"How did you know?" Tess asked.

"Niko rode out to us last night." Sonia had changed not at all. Her voice, her face, everything-like Yuri in so many ways, and yet utterly and only like herself. Except for the new lines of grief etched under her blue eyes. "He told Mama about-" she faltered-"about Yuri, and Mikhal, and Fedya.''

Fedya. Fedya had died so long ago that to Tess it seemed almost a distant memory. Gods, would Yuri fade like that?

"Tess, what's wrong? You've gotten so thin and so pale. Niko says you almost died. Well, we'll take you to our tent and Mama will fatten you up."

And so, when the Orzhekov tribe set up its camp alongside the Veselov camp, Tess was taken politely but firmly back into Mother Orzhekov's domain. Her tent was set up next to Sonia's. Sonia's children-the baby, Kolia, grown quite tall, and walking-made free with her space and her blankets and her gear, and she ate every night under the awning of Mother Orzhekov's great tent, and took her daily walks to the training ground with Sonia.

"Why does that awful woman come Sonia asked three days after their arrival. can't love him."

"Oh, look, here she comes." They giggled a little and then controlled themselves.

"I do not think the khaja will be able to resist this army," said Vera, settling herself gracefully beside them. Her gaze took in the field but did not seem to dwell for longer than an instant on her own husband where he stood to one side here every day?" "Poor Petya. She with Konstans and a few other young men, watching Kirill talk with an old man.

"That is Kerchaniia Bakhalo, isn't it?" Tess asked.

"Yes," said Vera. "He arrived yesterday, and I'm sure he has sixty young men with him. I hear ten of them are orphans, and one is not only said to have killed his entire tribe with a plague but stolen a horse from the Mirsky tribe as well."

Sonia laughed. "What, and none of the Mirskys caught him and killed him for it? And they always bragging about what fine riders they are? He must be very terrible or else very clever. Which of them is he?''

"How am I to know?" Vera asked. "He is only an orphan, after all. I suppose if any riders from the Mirsky tribe come here, then they'll kill him." Her gaze drifted out to Bakhalo and Kirill, who were consulting with Tasha and two elderly men no longer dressed in the red and black of jahar riders. "Poor Arina." Vera smiled sweetly. "I think she thought Kirill Zvertkov would mark her but now I don't think he will. What do you think, Tess?"

Tess shrugged. "Oh, I suppose he is waiting for his mother to get to know her first."

"I thought he had other interests." Then, evidently tired of this game, Vera rose and excused herself.

"Does Kirill have other interests?" asked Sonia. "Tess, don't look away from me. You're blushing. We haven't talked much about your journey, you know. Only about Yuri and Mikhal-" A pause here, and she went on. "-and Fedya, and I am very glad you and Fedya-but, Tess, I know very well there are things you aren't telling me."

She could not talk about Ilya to Sonia. Not now, not when the only way she had to cope with her fear of his return was to not think of him as hard as she could. But her feelings for Kirill were true enough and still raw enough that they could serve as a smoke screen.

"Tess, I will make no secret now that I had hoped, when you left us, that you and Ilya-well, never mind that. What is it you want to tell me?''

"Kirill and I were lovers. But I can't-I can't marry him, and Arina Veselov has made it known that she wants him as her husband. I like Arina Veselov-"

"But you loved Kirill. Ah, well, he is charming in his own way. I've always preferred quieter men. If it is true that he can never use that arm again, then he's done very well to become an etsana's husband. But if he loves you, Tess, then what is to stop him marking you?"

"He won't mark me. No, we've resolved this between us, Sonia. He'll mark Arina. He's waiting-I don't know. I don't understand, sometimes, how Arina can like me."

"Do you think she ought to hate you for loving Kirill and for Kirill's loving you? Why should she? He'll make her a good husband. And he'll have other lovers. Now Vera, Vera doesn't like you one bit, my sister, and that makes me think-" She halted. On the field, Kirill had turned, and he looked up at them and lifted his good hand to wave.

"Do you think I could?" asked Tess suddenly.

"What, marry him? But women have no choice in marriage, Tess, don't you know that?"

Tess flushed. "Practice saber a little. I'm much better, really."

' 'Dressed in those clothes?''

"I'll ask him." Tess rose. Sonia chuckled and walked down with her. Kirill came to meet them, followed by Kerchaniia Bakhalo.

"Why shouldn't I fight?" Tess asked. "I've already learned a great deal."

"You've learned a little, Tess," said Kirill mildly, though he grinned at Bakhalo. "But you've been very well taught. Why not? That is, Sonia, if you think Mother Orzhekov will approve."

"No," said Tess. "This is my choice. I'm going to fight. And I promise to stop when I get too tired."

"I'll walk you back to your tent," said Sonia.

As they left, Tess turned to her. "You aren't going to try to talk me out of this, are you?"

"No, ought I to? Tess, however much you are jaran, you aren't jaran and you never will be. Why shouldn't you fight if you wish to? But I'd better tell Mama now because I'm sure malicious tongues will see the news gets to her in other ways."

So every morning Tess wore her jahar clothes and her saber and went to the practice field. She had to rest frequently, but other than that, Kirill and Bakhalo made no concessions to her at all. Bakhalo was a dry old stick of a man who was unfailingly unkind to all his students, though scrupulously fair, and Kirill possessed the unlikely ability to treat her with the same cheerful ruthlessness as he did the others: they had been lovers, they had loved, but here on the field he could separate those feelings from his teaching even while Tess struggled to separate them from her learning.