bear.
She recognized now who the woman was, walking back through the hollow and still walking, up toward Tess and her father's tent: It was Karolla.
'Vladi,' said Tess, wanting support, and Vladimir came and stood beside her.
Karolla stopped before her. For an instant she stared at Tess as if the sight of a woman in jahar clothing shocked her. She put a hand to her eyes, caught back a sob, then lowered her hand.
'I beg your pardon,' she said in her soft voice. 'Do you need help with the tent?'
'Thank you,' Tess stammered. 'But surely it is your tent.'
'I would not want it even if it was mine,' said Karolla fiercely. 'It is Bakhtiian's now.' She hesitated. 'Perhaps you do not understand. This was my father's mother's tent, not my mother's. In any case, I left the Arkhanov tribe and my mother when my father left them to ride against Ilya, so even if it were her tent, I would have no right to it. Those of us who left are no longer welcome there.'
There was a kind of bitter but practical fatalism about Karolla Arkhanov that made Tess very sad. 'You must have loved your father very much,' she said softly. She found she could not look at Karolla, knowing she had made Ilya promise her that he would kill Mikhailov.
'I loved him,' said Karolla simply, 'but I left because Vasil Veselov marked me.'
'Vasil marked you!'
Karolla's smile was bittersweet. 'Oh, I know I'm not a handsome woman. He only marked me to force my father to take him into his jahar. I knew he never loved me, but he has always been kind to me.' She flushed, and Tess could see very well that she loved her husband. She paused, and the color rose even higher in her cheeks, as if she was struggling. 'Do you-do you know what happened to him?'
My God, she doesn't even know, and she's almost too proud to ask. 'Yes. I saw him. He was wounded but alive. He got away safely, Karolla.'
'Thank you,' said Karolla. 'There is one wagon left, for this tent. Shall we take it down?'
Tess could only obey. Vladimir remained silent, standing at her side, and then helping them strike the tent. He seemed less sullen, if not more thoughtful. After her own small tent, this one seemed huge and unwieldy, but she soon discovered how cunningly it was constructed, so that three people could strike it without difficulty.
As she was rolling up the last rug, Vladimir paused beside her. 'Tess,' he said in a low, warning voice. She stood up.
Vera came up the rise toward them, holding a child in her arms and another by the hand. Golden-haired, gorgeous children: as soon as they came close enough, Tess knew whose they must be. The girl detached herself from Vera and ran to Karolla.
'Mama,' she said, and her face was streaked with tears, 'when is Papa coming back?'
'Hush, child. Help me with these pillows, if you please. Can you throw them in the wagon?' The little girl did so, and Vera deposited the other child, younger and not obviously boy or girl, into the back of the wagon.
'Karolla,' said Vera, ignoring Tess and Vladimir completely, 'Mother Yermolov says she will drive this wagon. I am going with the wounded.'
'As you wish, Vera,' said Karolla. Vera descended back to the line of wagons forming with its escort of riders. The familiar, acrid scent of ulyan wafted over them, borne by the breeze. 'Well,' said Karolla, 'if you do not mind, Terese Soerensen, may my children ride in this wagon?' The little girl had climbed in and sat huddled next to her sibling.
'No. I mean, you needn't ask my permission.' The last thing she wanted was to have poor Karolla begging her for favors. 'It isn't as if-' She halted suddenly. 'Vladi, how am I getting back to camp?''
Vladimir looked at her, puzzled. 'What do you mean, Tess?'
'Did Ilya leave a horse for me?'
'Why would Ilya leave you a horse? There are women here, after all.'
'Ah,' said Tess. 'Of course. Certainly I would go with the women. Naturally you must ride in the wagon as well, Karolla. I am sure Mother Orzhekov and Mother Veselov will treat you kindly when we reach camp, and make some place for you.'
Karolla glanced behind at her children-at Vasil's children. 'Do you think so?' she asked, suddenly looking far more tired than a woman so young ought to look. 'Here is Mother Yermolov.''
Mother Yermolov trudged up the hill with a child and an adolescent girl in tow. She was old and wiry but hale, and she had the look of a woman who has outlived all of her children. She stopped and inclined her head respectfully to Tess, and then inspected the animals in the traces before climbing into the seat. Karolla and the adolescent helped the child into the wagon and got in after her.
'Well, Tess,' said Vladimir, 'I'll ride close by, in case you-well, Ilya said to stay close by you.'
'Thank you, Vladi,' she said, and was left standing, watching him go, while the women waited for her.
'Perhaps you will sit next to me,' said Mother Yermolov. 'The rest are ready to go, and we must lead, of course.'
Given no choice, Tess climbed up beside her. 'Thank you,' she said, determined to be gracious.
'I don't envy you, my dear,' said Mother Yermolov, almost gruffly, and they started forward.
By the time they had gone over the second hill, Tess hated the wagon. It was slow and clumsy, and every bump jolted horribly. Perhaps, just perhaps, it was better back among the pillows, but she could not bring herself to look back at Karolla or her beautiful children. She stared enviously at the riders, free as they ranged along the line. True to his word, Vladimir stayed beside her but it was impossible to talk to him, and she had nothing to say to him in any case. Vasil's saber, stuck awkwardly to one side, rubbed into her thigh. The wagon lurched. Tess grabbed at the side and got a splinter thrust deep in her hand. Cursing, she pulled it out with her teeth.
'You are not accustomed to traveling this way,' said Mother Yermolov mildly. 'Put your hands-yes, there, and there. That's right.'
Behind, the adolescent girl was talking to Karolla.
'But Yevgeni wasn't found, so he must have gotten away. He'll find me again!'
Karolla murmured something indistinguishable.
'But is it true that she is Bakhtiian's wife? That they lay together yesterday?'
'Valye, where are your manners?'
Valye lowered her voice but kept on. 'It's just it seems cruel to love with death all around.'
'Better to be loving than mourning.'
A pause, and then a whisper: 'They say she comes from a great khaja city in the south, but she can't. She's so clean, and khaja are always filthy. Is it true she rode with Bakhtiian's jahar? That's what I'm going to do, Karolla. I'm going to learn how to fight, and then I can ride in jahar with my brother. When he comes back. I won't go back to my aunt's tribe. I hate her.'
'Valye,' said Karolla in a weary voice, 'what choice do you have? She is your kin, your mother is dead, and though Yevgeni protected you this long, he is gone now. You've no one else.'
'I won't,' said Valye, and subsided into silence.
The wagon lurched on.
'What will all these women do?' Tess asked Mother Yermolov finally.
'As Karolla said. They will go to their kinswomen.'
'They must all of them have lost fathers or brothers or husbands.'
'Or sons.' The old woman shrugged. 'The men make war. We can do nothing about that. We have our own lives.'
Tess turned to stare at the column behind. Women and children sat in the wagons, many with wounded men cushioned in their laps or on pillows beside them. Somewhere a woman sang, a pure soprano-as sweet as Fedya's voice and just as sorrowful. The escort rode alongside, up and down the line.
'And in the spring,' said Tess, 'Bakhtiian will lead the jaran against the khaja and the settled lands.'
Mother Yermolov's eyes had a glint about them, a spark, as if at some old joke only she knew. 'Then I pity the khaja women who are mothers and sisters and wives.'
'But you were with Mikhailov. Do you now support Bakhtiian?'
'Mikhailov is dead. Bakhtiian killed him fairly. I hold no grudge against him. It is men's business, after all.'
The wagons halted briefly at midday. Tess climbed down and decided, as soon as she felt earth beneath her
