Kate Elliott - Jaran

"There was too much to be done on the plains."

"With the jaran?"

"A people poor in reputation, unknown. How strange that I never knew that until I went so far away, and the people whom I met on my travels did not know who I was or from whence I came. Not a soul knew of the jaran." Watching him as he stared raptly out at the far horizon, at the sweep of grass and the soft curve of the land, Tess realized that however much Bakhtiian was like Charles in being a leader, he was utterly unlike him. Where Charles concealed his strength and his power, working quietly and in tiny steps, Bakhtiian radiated his. Where Charles masked his feelings so completely that no one, not even his sister, could read him, Bakhtiian projected all of his; even when you could not tell what he was thinking, you knew it was because he wanted you not to be able to tell what he was thinking.

"But they will know," Bakhtiian said at last, slowly, imbuing each word with potency. "Soon we will be spoken of even in Jeds." He glanced at her, gauging her reaction. "We are only now coming into our time of greatness."

"Measured against-?" It came out before she thought, but of course he did not-could not-understand her meaning: that measured against the vast reach of the Chapalii Empire, against the slow progress of Charles's plans, his campaign was trivial.

"How does one measure the good against the bad? My sister and her child died because of me. My parents died because of me. I know well enough that more of my people will die."

Tess gazed at the horizon of green grass and blue sky, so like Earth and yet so unlike, a subtle shifting of color and shade. She felt abashed. Of course his campaign was not trivial, not to him. Not to the people who would die.

"But still you persist," she said at last, thinking of Charles.

"Still."

They rode on in silence.

That night at campfire Fedya persuaded Bahktiian to sing. He was slightly embarrassed but not ill at ease. He sang without accompaniment. He had a clear baritone and he sang a man's song: days of riding, little rest, the hope of a woman's smile. He knew what suited his voice and kept to it. When he finished, he grinned and began another song. The men chuckled. This was a maiden's song, and a man of the jaran who sang a maiden's song did it to mock women, maidens in particular. He sang it well. Men laughed, wiping at their eyes. Tess hid her grin, glad she sat in the shadow.

"This is the night for the quiet ones to sing," said Yuri, looking at her.

"Yuri, you don't think I'm going to-"

"Of course, you must sing for us."

"Good Lord." Tess frowned at Yuri. "You'll be sorry for this." She stood up. "This is the only song in khush that Yuri has taught me," she lied. It was a man's song, about none of the women wanting to go off with him. She sang it straight-faced, managing to finish that way despite the laughter that erupted all around the fire.

"By the gods," said Yuri proudly, "you sang that well. You should sing more often."

"You should teach me suitable songs." She sat down.

Niko came over to them and crouched, still chuckling. "You are undoubtedly gifted, child. But I'm surprised at Yuri."

"At me?"

"At you, Yurinya. To teach a woman such a song-" He clucked disapprovingly. "Such indelicacy in a youth shocks me."

"But, Niko, I have four sisters."

"That is true," replied Niko sagely. "We cannot fight the gods, or women." He and Yuri sighed together.

"Of course," said Tess. "Blame it on the women." She glanced up to find Bakhtiian standing behind Niko. He caught Tess's eye, and he smiled. If it had not been so dark, she would have sworn he winked. "I suppose next you'll be saying that Sonia taught you that song and encouraged you to teach it to me."

"But she did," Yuri said guilelessly.

Tess laughed, and Yuri, who could never help but laugh with her, covered his face with his hands.

Niko contrived to look offended for a moment. "You see, I am vindicated."

Smiling, Bakhtiian crouched down between Niko and Tess. "I would be honored, Cousin, if you would agree to teach me some of the songs you know, from Jeds and other lands."

Tess caught in her breath, but she smiled at him. "Only if you will teach me jaran songs."

For an instant, she thought he drew back slightly, but then he shrugged and relaxed. "That could be arranged."

"I meant, of course," she added hastily, "only songs that it is appropriate for a man to teach a woman."

All four laughed, Yuri lowering his hands and cuffing Tess on the neck.

"Now, Tess," said a voice above them, "you don't suppose that Bakhtiian would ever do anything inappropriate, do you?''

All four looked up, startled. Kirill had surely chosen that direction to approach them from because the fire, behind him, made a halo about his form. The glow lit red highlights in the thick waves of his fair hair, shone through the angles of his elbows where they stood away from his body, and outlined his stance, easy, a little arrogant. He had his head cocked to the right and he smiled down at her. Nature had, unfortunately, endowed him with a smile as sweet as a girl's, one much at variance with the impudence in his eyes and his demeanor.

Bakhtiian stood up. He was no longer smiling.

"Hello, Kirill,' said Tess, because no one else was saying anything.

"I thought you were supposed to be on watch," said Yuri.

"Well, Yuri, you must have been mistaken."

The big fire sparked, flaming until a rider stamped it down to coals. "As I remember-" Bakhtiian folded his arms on his chest.

"Fedya!" called Niko.

Fedya wandered over. His glance went first to Bakhtiian before skipping briefly back to Kirill. He gave them all his quick, unpretentious smile as a greeting. "Tess," he said in a quiet voice, "I admired your singing."

"Thank you, Fedya."

"I admired your singing, too," said Kirill. "As well as the rest of you."

Tess flushed.

"Kirill." The lowness of Bakhtiian's voice made it more threatening. Yuri scrambled hastily to his feet.

"But it's true." Kirill spread his palms upward in front of himself with such an expression of innocence in the face of false accusation that Tess could not help but giggle. Niko coughed.

"The men in my jahar have manners, Kirill."

"Are you saying I don't, Bakhtiian?"

Bakhtiian's left hand moved to his saber hilt. Kirill's right hand brushed the sheath of his knife. Tess, caught in the middle, pushed herself back.

"You know, Ilya," said Niko quickly, "Fedya escaped without having to sing tonight.''

For a moment, all movement stopped. Bakhtiian's gaze moved to Niko. Some look Tess could not interpret passed between the two men.

"That is true, Niko." Bakhtiian settled back on his heels, his left hand dropping to hang by his thigh, and he transferred his gaze smoothly to Fedya. "You promised me once to teach me some more of your songs."

Kirill was playing with the embroidery on one of his sleeves, his fingers pale in the dim light.

"Did I?" Fedya asked. "I'm not sure I agreed to give them up so easily." His audacity amazed Tess.

"Well, I don't intend to start pleading," said Bakhtiian.

Fedya smiled. "My lute is over by the small fire. We could go now.''

"Yes. If you will excuse us." Bakhtiian nodded briefly at Tess, and he and Fedya left together. Tess sat forward with a long sigh, brushing off her palms.

Yuri rounded on Kirill. "You don't have any manners."

"Aren't you a little young to lecture me, Yuri?"

Yuri stiffened.

"I am not too young to lecture you," said Niko. "You provoke him deliberately."

"What of it?"

"Kirill, I will not bother to answer that question. But I will say that your conduct is not always well considered."

Kirill shrugged. "We're well away from the sacred hill. I have nothing to fear here."