Part 15 (1/2)
Waiting for a chance to strike again, to free humanity from the yoke of the alien Empire. Even his entrances, such as the one Diana had just witnessed, were subtle, small entrances, perfectly timed but not showy, and never ostentatious.
From the camp, entering stage left, came an altogether different kind of leader.
He walked with only two attendants, and yet the two could as well have been one hundred, they endowed him with so much state.
Bakhtiian looked furious. His fury radiated so far that even though Diana could barely distinguish his features, she could read anger in every line of his body.
”Excuse me,” said Tess, turning to leave.
”Where are you going, Tess?” asked her brother quietly.Tess cast a rueful grin back over her shoulder. ”To head him off at the pa.s.s.”
”No,” said Charles.
Tess halted as if she had been pulled short by a rope. She did not move at all for a moment, then she spun back. ”Charles, let me go.” She sounded-angry? scared?
shocked?-Diana could not tell.
”We will wait here,” he replied calmly.
Tess dropped her chin and stared at the ground, for all the world like a scolded child.
Bakhtiian paused for long enough beside Aleksi and the female soldier to add them to his train. Their obedience, like Tess's to her brother, was absolute and immediate. Bakhtiian advanced on Soerensen's tent. Diana looked behind, to see the jaran healers and Anatoly Sakhalin watching also.
With curt politeness, Bakhtiian halted five paces outside the awning of the tent and inclined his head toward Charles Soerensen. ”I trust you have set up your camp to your satisfaction,” he said in Rhuian. He did not look at Tess Soerensen. No, it was more than that. He was forcefully not looking at her, as if the action of not looking at her was as deliberate as if he had chosen to look at her.
”Indeed, we have,” replied Charles Soerensen. ”It is a good stretch of ground, and suitable to our purpose here. The actors are especially pleased with the terrain, since it provides them with a natural amphitheater.''
”I hope my people will be able to enjoy their performances soon. We will have a proper celebration to honor your arrival at our camp tomorrow evening. I would be pleased to escort you and any of your party around our camp tomorrow morning, if it pleases you. Now, if you will excuse me, there are military matters which I must discuss with my generals.”
He took one step back, turned, and then turned back. ”Soerensen?” he said, to Tess. It meant: of course you will attend me as well. Now.
Standing with one foot on, one foot off, the carpet, at the edge of the awning, Tess stood equidistant between the two men. Everyone was watching her. They were waiting for her decision.
She lifted her chin finally, clearly aware that she was the focus of all attention.
She looked angry and embarra.s.sed and irresolute and even slightly amused. But she did not say anything. The silence stretched out until it became painful.
Soerensen waited. Bakhtiian waited. In fact, Diana realized, they were both waiting for Tess to capitulate to them, knowing that she could not capitulate to both.
In a sudden rush of insight, of compa.s.sion, Diana realized that Tess could not make that decision. Not now, at any rate. What had led her to wear jaran clothing and ride with jaran soldiers Diana did not know. What led Bakhtiian to order her around as if she were one of his people was also a mystery. Even if Tess wanted to disobey her brother's deceptively mild command, Diana was not sure that she could.
Murmuring rose in the huddle of jaran healers only fifteen paces to their backs. Marco Burckhardt slipped a hand inside his belt, reaching for something. David took an impulsive step forward, blindly trying to protect-Tess? Or Charles? Anatoly Sakhalin appeared to the side, stepping into the group flanking Bakhtiian. Although his arm still rested in a sling, he wore a saber. His good hand brushed its hilt.
Things were going to get ugly very quickly. Battle lines had been drawn, and if someone didn't intervene-well, Diana now knew what the aftermath of a battle looked like. And neither Bakhtiian nor Soerensen looked ready or willing to back down.
So Diana did the first thing that came to mind. She gave a gasp, flung the back of her left hand up to her forehead, and collapsed to the carpet in a faint.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
In the confusion, Tess escaped. She backed up, spun, and sprinted for her horse, which had been left with reins dangling to wait for her return. Bracing her left foot in the stirrup, she swung on and urged the mare away. She shook with rage and self- disgust.
How dare they reduce her to a p.a.w.n? How dare they try to force her to choose between them? And, oh G.o.d, she hated herself for letting them. She had just stood there, gaping like an idiot, paralyzed. Charles had not changed, not one bit, and she was still terrified of him. And Ilya! She thought her heart might well burst with anger.
She was out of sight of camp by now, and she slowed the mare to a halt and dismounted to lean against her shoulder. Zhas.h.i.+ nuzzled her cheek and then nosed at her belt, trying to pry her s.h.i.+rt loose.
”Stop that, you miserable beast,” Tess said with affection. ”I don't have anything for you.” She rubbed Zhas.h.i.+'s forehead with her knuckles and then found a tangled stretch of mane and combed it free with her fingers. Distracted, she fished in her pouch and brought out a length of ribbon, which she braided into Zhas.h.i.+'s mane.
Zhas.h.i.+ submitted to this attention with the patience of the vain.
It was soothing work. The bitter truth was, she was still running away. She was still afraid to face Charles. And Ilya- ”The other bitter truth is, Zhas.h.i.+, that I love him too much. He's been gone for a month, and when I saw him walking across to us, it was like seeing the sun rising.
Lord, I sound like any love-sick adolescent. But he's so beautiful.” Zhas.h.i.+ snorted in disgust and bent her head to rip up a clump of gra.s.s. ”Oh, certainly not more beautiful than you, my dear. How could I ever have said such a thing?” Tess chuckled, then sobered, tying off the ribbon. ”Oh, Zhash, I don't know what to do.”
Zhas.h.i.+ resumed grazing. The indistinct gold of the plain extended without interruption to the sharp line that separated gra.s.s and sky. Thin strings of cloud laced one half of the sky, trailing down below the horizon. The wind blew-the wind always blew here-whipping the tall gra.s.s into a frenzy. At the horizon, she could see the amorphous ma.s.s of a herd of horses, out grazing. The sun hung a handsbreadth above the horizon, sinking, and the moon already shone, pale, in the deepening blue of the sky.
She had to go back, of course. She mounted and headed back toward camp, back toward Charles's encampment. An hour or two with Charles, then back to her own tent for the reunion with Ilya. That ought to satisfy both of them, as a beginning.
But as she came into sight of camp, a rider intercepted her. It was Ilya. She considered for an instant trying to avoid him, but it was undignified, for one thing, and for the other, he could outride her without thinking about it, and he was mounted on his stallion, Kriye. She pulled up instead and waited.
Kriye began to prance, showing off for Zhas.h.i.+ as Bakhtiian reined him in beside Tess. With a ruthless tug on the reins, Bakhtiian brought the black to an abrupt halt.
”d.a.m.ned horse,” Bakhtiian muttered. Then he looked up at her.
More than any other feature, it was his eyes that Tess loved. They burned. They were lit, pervaded by an intensity that was perhaps, just perhaps, a little mad. Ob- sessed, at the very least, but no more so than Charles was obsessed. Charles just hid it better.
”Tess.” His voice sounded hoa.r.s.e. He reached out and took hold of her left hand, gripping it tightly.
”Oh, Ilya,” she said impulsively. ”I missed you.”
From her hand, it was but a turn of the wrist for him to take hold of her reins and commandeer them for himself. Zhas.h.i.+ minced, objecting to this kidnapping. ”You're coming with me,” said Ilya, and started back for camp, leading Zhas.h.i.+.
”d.a.m.n you.” Tess went red. ”Give me back my reins.”
”You're coming with me.”
''I won't have you leading me through camp like this.''
He did not reply. His trail led away from the distant Soerensen enclave, around the fringe of tents. But she saw quickly enough what he was doing. Vladimir and Anatoly Sakhalin stood waiting at the edge of camp to receive the horses. Tess was d.a.m.ned if she'd make a scene in front of them. She dismounted, handed Zhas.h.i.+ over to Sakhalin, and hoped like h.e.l.l that the chestnut mare would kick him.
Then she relented. Seeing Anatoly's arm in a sling reminded her too bitterly of Kirill Zvertkov, who had never regained use of his injured arm. ”What happened?”
she asked Anatoly.
”Speared and trampled,” he said cheerfully. He wiggled the fingers of his left hand. ”But you see, the prince's healer says I'll be free of this sling in a hand of days.”
”Ah. Dr. Hierakis looked at you. I'm glad.” She smiled at the young man, whom she liked well enough, except for his doglike devotion to Bakhtiian. ”But then again,”