him. Don't burn him.' As abruptly, she fainted again.
'Damn you, Niko,' said Ilya. 'I'll wait no longer. Will she live?'
'It's a deep knife wound. We've staunched the bleeding as well as we can. She has other wounds but it's this one-I can't say, Ilya. It's low in the abdomen. We can only wait. I'm sorry.'
Vladimir ran up. 'Tents, blankets. Petya has gone back to the tribe to bring their healer. There'll be enough fuel for a small fire soon but the great fire will have to wait until nightfall.'
'Vladi,' said Ilya, 'bring me Kriye.'
Vladimir blinked and obeyed.
Ilya walked past the unconscious Tess and knelt beside Yuri. For a moment he simply rested his hand on Yuri's pale brow. He gazed at Yuri's face, so quiet in repose. A few tears slipped down his face to dissolve in his dark beard. Then he gathered his cousin into his arms and stood, and walked to his horse.
'Ilya,' said Niko, glancing up. 'What are you doing? The fire hasn't been built yet-'
Ilya winced as he put his weight full on his injured knee to swing Yuri's body over the horse and mount up behind him. Yuri's hair hung down, stirred into a semblance of life.
Anton and Vladimir stared at him, shocked. Kirill had his eyes shut.
'Ilyakoria,' began Niko. 'He has earned his release-'
'Only to be separated from her?' Ilya replied harshly. 'Didn't you hear what she said?' Without waiting for Niko to reply, he reined Kriye away. 'I'll be back.' And rode out onto the plains, alone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
'Of night, lonely, blind-eyed.'
Tess lived for a time in gray oblivion. Pain throbbed through her, as constant as the pulse of her blood. She lay on her back, aware only of darkness, a thick dry coarseness against her hands and lips, a heavy, hot, sharp ache in her side. She thought someone was with her but perhaps it was just a dream. She wanted to scream and thrash about, anything, if only it would dispel the pain.
'Tess.' His voice, soft, uncertain.
Because she thought he was a hallucination, she lifted her hand to test his reality. Yes, he had a knee, a thigh, a hip, a chest-his hands caught hers, raising it to his face. His cheeks were damp. She moved her fingers on the soft coolness of his skin. He lowered her hand to his lips and kissed it repeatedly.
'You're taking advantage of me,' she whispered.
'Tess! How do you feel?'
'Am I going to die?' she asked with a kind of vague hope.
'No, Tess. No. You must not die.'
'Oh, well,' she said, disappointed. She coughed, weakly, starting a spasm through her side so acute that gray surrounded her again.
'Tess. Don't leave me!' It was as much a command as a plea. One of his hands moved to rest on her cheek. His fingers, cool and light, traced the line of her jaw.
'Where are the khepelli?' she asked, when she could talk again.
'We're leaving this morning. I'm taking them to the coast. You won't see your brother this winter, I fear.'
'But-' Memory came in fits and starts. 'The letter I wrote-'
'It went with Josef. I have the relic. I'll write another letter, by my own hand, explaining-' He broke off. 'I will find someone trustworthy to carry it to Jeds. I promise you, Tess.'
'I believe you.'
A man moved at the entrance. 'Bakhtiian? Your horse is ready.''
'A moment.' He smoothed back her hair from her temple. 'Tess. Promise me you will live.'
'Why?' Bitter, this memory that overwhelmed her; more bitter than her pain. 'Why should I live when Yuri died?' She began to cry, an agony, leaking from her like blood. She choked on a sob, and it hurt all through her, and she jerked, writhing, anything to free herself of it.
His hands pressed her shoulders down, and he held her there until she stopped fighting. 'Because, my wife, you have other responsibilities,' he said coldly.
She stared up at him. How close he was. She could smell the faint salt odor of his sweat. Her hands followed the smooth cloth up his arms to his back and settled on the curve of his neck, pulling down. His hands slipped off her shoulders to the bedding on either side so that, as they kissed, none of his weight rested on her. It was a light kiss but lingering.
'Gods, woman,' he said unsteadily, breaking himself free gently and reluctantly, 'if you use that kind of argument, you can persuade me to anything.'
'Kill Mikhailov,' she whispered.
'I have already promised to do that.'
'Yes,' she said, remembering, 'you have. Oh, God. Yuri is gone.'
And then he bent until his lips brushed her cheek. 'No,' he said, whispering, as if what he meant to impart to her was too important, or too sacrilegious, to say any louder, 'he is not gone.' He drew back.
'But he's dead-Ilya.' For a moment she saw him very clearly, even in the dimness of the tent. 'You didn't let them burn him.'
'He will come back to us, Tess,' he said simply.
She laughed, a weak, faint chuckle, because she did not believe him and yet she did.
'Tess, I must go. You have not yet promised me that you will live.'
She drew a long, shuddering breath and lifted a hand to touch his face again. The flickering lantern light made him seem darker than usual, shadows playing between the occasional glimpse of a tear. 'You'll plague me forever, won't you?'
'Forever,' he promised.
'Gods, you will, too. I promise.'
''My husband,' he prompted.
'My husband,' she echoed.
'No, the whole thing.'
'I promise you, my husband. There, are you satisfied?'
'For now. Oh, Tess.' He sighed, and leaned down to kiss her once, twice, then her hands, her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead and, last, her lips once again.
From outside: 'Ilya!'
He kissed her again, and then, taking the lantern with him, he left her in darkness.
She lay in a stupor for an eternity. Light flashed at the entrance to the tent, and a man knelt next to her.
'Tess, it is Niko. Can you sleep, my child?' His weathered hands stroked her face gently.
'It hurts. It never stops.'
'There, child. Let me tell you a story.' His voice did eventually soothe her, and she slept.
It was only a short respite. Niko washed her, gave her water to drink, after a time fed her a warm gruel. Speaking made her cough, so she did not speak, and she was too weak to attempt anything else. She hurt constantly. For long periods she simply stared into the darkness, and all she could see was Yuri lying dead in the grass.
She woke once from a shallow sleep and lay for what seemed like hours before she recognized the familiar sound serenading her: rain. A man dozed beside her, a steady, rhythmic sound. She reached out, touching him with the tips of her fingers. He woke abruptly and sat up.
'Tess?'
