boots, that she would walk the rest of the way. But though she had thought the wagons slow-moving, once they started again, she found them passing her. Even knowing who she was, women offered her a seat as their wagons passed her, but she shook her head and plodded grimly forward. The wagons passed her one by one until at last the final wagon rolled alongside and, gaining, moved ahead of her. Four bloodstained, unconscious men lay among pillows. One, young and black-haired, looked dead. Vera sat with them. Her gaze met Tess's for an unmeasurable instant. Her face was white. Then Vera looked away as if she had not seen her. Tess walked on, letting the gap widen bit by bit in front of her. But then, it was impossible to lose their track in the grass, and in any case, Vladimir still rode over to the side, not too close now but never losing her from his sight.
A shout came from far ahead. Riders crested a distant ridge and poured down toward them. The lead wagon lurched over an intervening rise and was lost to Tess's view. The others followed, one by one. A single rider cantered down the line.
'Niko!'
He pulled up beside her. 'Tess! Why are you walking here?'
'Have you ever tried to ride in one of those things?'
'Ah, no.' He dismounted. 'Well, I suppose when I was a child.'
'I can't ride in those wagons.'
'Look. We've fallen behind.' He waved at Vladimir, and Vladi reined his horse forward and cantered away. 'I'll walk with you.' The grass brushed at their boots. Tess plucked a stem, peeling back the brittle leaves that embraced it. 'Tess,' he said in an odd voice, 'how did you get that shirt? Weren't you in women's clothing when you were taken from the camp? Oh, damn.' He led his horse away from her and moved the reins so that he could mount.
The comment was not directed to her. About a dozen riders had crested the near rise and rode down toward them. Ilya was riding Kriye. Tess had to look away from them because together they looked so handsome.
He dismounted. 'Tess!' He was so transparently ecstatic that she couldn't help smiling. 'Tess. Why are you walking back here?'' He stopped in front of her, so close that if she leaned forward she would touch him. His red shirt had a pungent, fresh scent, and his hair was slightly wild, mussed by the wind. She reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. He seemed about to say something. Instead, he swayed into her, slid his hands up her arms, and kissed her fiercely.
After a bit, Tess opened her eyes. She broke off the kiss. 'Ilya, everybody is watching.'
He whirled, separating himself from her so abruptly that she had to take a step back to maintain her balance. Yes, twelve men, with Niko; men from his jahar. They were all grinning. Only a few attempted to look away. Ilya took three steps toward them, halted, and fixed his stare on Niko.
'Sibirin! Don't these men have anything to do?'
Niko swung up on his horse. 'Yes, Bakhtiian. Of course they do.'
'Gods! Then see that they make themselves busy. Do you understand me?'
'Certainly, Ilya. Of course. We were just leaving.' They rode away.
Ilya muttered under his breath.
' 'Does that mean what I think it does?''
'Forgive me. Oh, Tess, it's been such a long day.' He took a step back toward her, halted. His mouth thinned, and his voice dropped until it was so low she could barely hear him. 'Where did you get those clothes?' He closed the distance between them and reached to touch the embroidery on the sleeve of the shirt. 'This is Vasil's. Where did you get this?''
'Vasil gave them to me. He cut me free when I was tied up in Mikhailov's tent, and he gave me his saber.'
'What happened to him?' She could not interpret the expression in his voice.
'He-he was badly wounded and had no choice but to retreat.'
'You are lying to me. If I know Vasil, he ran.'
'He was wounded.'
' 'Are you defending him? What happened to the clothing Nadezhda Martov gifted you?''
'It's in the wagon. With your tent.'
If he noticed her emphasis, he ignored it. 'Is that how you treat things given you in friendship? Cloth of Martov's dye and weave is precious, and I expect you to remember that. As soon as we get to camp you will take those clothes off. And that saber. Give them to Vera. I don't care what you do with them but I will not have them in my tent.'
'You have no right to order me in this way. Whatever happened between you and Vasil has nothing to do with me.'
He was furious now. 'It has everything to do with you. Why do you suppose he gave you that, knowing you would wear it? Knowing you are my wife? You will obey me in this.'
'I will not-' she began, enraged. And then she saw that she had plunged into a morass far beyond her knowledge, that her anger was solely for the way in which he so blithely and unthinkingly ordered her to do as he wished, while his-his anger spilled out from some old wound that had never healed. 'I will not,' she said again, lowering her voice abruptly, 'give anything to Vera. But I will ask his wife if she wants them.'
'His wife!' His expression changed so swiftly, through so many competing emotions, that she could put a name to no one of them.
'Yes. Perhaps you did not know. He marked Mikhailov's daughter some years past. There are two children as well, a little girl and a younger one. A boy, I think.'
He controlled himself, and now she could not interpret his expression at all. 'Why are you walking back here?' he asked again. 'Mother Yermolov said you rode some distance in the wagon with her and then got out.'
'Ilya, you never asked me how I wanted to return to camp. You simply left.'
'But, of course-'
'— I would travel with the women? With Vera? With Karolla Arkhanov, whose father I begged you to kill? With children whose fathers and brothers are dead? Killed by your men? And them all knowing me as your wife. You never asked me.'
He regarded her in silence. His face was still. 'Well, Tess,' he said finally, a little awkwardly, 'will you ride with me back to camp?''
'I accept your apology,' said Tess. He swung onto Kriye and offered her his hand gravely. She laughed suddenly, unsteadily.
'Tess,' he said, immediately concerned. 'What's wrong?'
'Don't you remember? When you found me on the hillside. Gods, it seems long ago.'
Though she expected him to, he did not smile. 'I will never forget it.'
She took his hand and mounted behind him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and leaned her head against him. Then, smiling, she kissed him on the neck, once, twice.
'Stop that.'
Wind moved in the grass. She laughed into his hair. 'Is something wrong, my husband?'
He urged Kriye forward and did not reply for a long while. She simply rested against him, content for now.
'There is one mare,' he said at last. 'A beautiful creature though rather bad-tempered. But I think you can handle her.'
'Bad-tempered?'
'No, I chose the wrong word. She is high-spirited. She has mettle. Rather like-well, she's a fine horse. She will be yours, if you wish her.'
'Rather like me, were you going to say? Thank you, Ilya. I thought you were going to stop complimenting me.'
'I will never stop complimenting you. And if you continue to complain about it, I will simply compliment you twice as often.'
'That sounds like a threat.'
'It is. Tess, two days ago you were about to tell me whether Yuri was right. Right about what?'
Tess shut her eyes, leaning against him, and thought of Yuri. Her sweet Yuri, gone now, but not lost to her as long as she remembered him. Though memory could never be a substitute for his presence. She tightened her arms
