around Ilya. 'It was the last thing he said to me, almost. He said that if I left for Jeds in the spring, I could still choose to come back, or I could stay a few years here and then go. He said that it didn't have to be so final.'
They rode so long in silence that they came into sight of the line of wagons, and farther, the first outlying tents of the great camp ahead and the thin line of trees that marked the river.
He pulled Kriye up. She dismounted, and he swung down next to her. First he simply looked at her. The gods knew, she understood him well enough by now to know how difficult it was for him to accept that the world did not simply bend to his will, that what he chose might not always come to pass, that some decisions were not his to make.
Then he sighed. 'Does it have to be final, Tess? Will you go and never come back?''
Tess just shook her head. She rested her hand on his cheek a moment, and then reached up to dishevel his hair. 'You are, you know.'
'I am what?' he asked, suspicious.
'Diarin. I'm not leaving in the spring, Ilya. Though that doesn't mean I can stay here forever.'
Something flashed in his eyes. 'Well, then.' He drew his saber. 'I'm tired of having to explain how it is you are my wife.'
Tess raised her chin. His blade came to rest on her cheekbone. With the lightest of movements he pulled it across her cheek. The cut stung. A thin line of blood welled up, and a few drops flowed like tears down her skin.
She drew Vasil's saber.
'Tess.' He took a step backward. Slowly, deliberately, his eyes on her hand, he lowered his saber.
The brilliance of the sun lit his face. With her eyes fixed on the blade, her wrist unaccountably steady, she marked him swiftly and lightly, leaving a cut scarcely deeper than the one on her own cheek. He touched the mark with his free hand, staring down at the blood on his fingertips. Then he lifted his hand to brush his lips, tasting the blood.
'Well, my wife,' he said in a voice so calm that she could tell it covered some extreme emotion, 'now we are doubly bound.' Then he smiled.
'You smug bastard, you're pleased with yourself.'
'Of course I am. I have what I wanted.'
Tess could not help but laugh because he said it without the slightest conceit but rather as a simple statement of fact. 'But I feel it only fair to warn you, Bakhtiian, that I am going to continue to practice saber.''
'If Bakhalo and Zvertkov agree to take you on, then I will not interfere. Tess, you're laughing at me.'
'Only because you do not like it.'
'Don't like you training for jahar?'
'No, don't like it when people laugh at you. Shall we go into camp?'
'As you wish,' he replied, a little reserved, but then, Tess reflected, he would probably never truly grow used to people laughing at him, and he would certainly never like it.
As they approached the camp, Sonia came running to meet them. 'Tess! Tess! she called, bridging the distance by shouting. 'You'll never believe what happened! Vladimir just rode in and straight up to Elena's mother's tent, and marked her.''
'Marked Elena's mother?'
'No, no, you fool, marked-' Sonia stopped short some ten strides from them. 'Tess!' She stared. Her gaze shifted to Ilya and her entire expression underwent such an unmistakable change, she looked so utterly dumbfounded, that Tess laughed and Ilya actually smiled. Sonia found her voice. 'Ilya!' Then lost it again.
'Come, Tess,' said Ilya coolly. 'We have our tent to set up.'
They walked some ten paces before Sonia came to life. 'Yes, you will need to set up your tent,' she said in the exact same tone her cousin had used, 'because you'll have to go into seclusion now. Elena will be furious, having to share her celebration with you.'
'Well,' said Tess apologetically, 'I hope Elena won't be too disappointed.'
'Then we can delay ours for a day,' said Ilya, 'so she and Vladi can have a celebration for themselves. After all, we are already married.'
'Yes, but it isn't the same as being marked.' Sonia blinked innocently. 'Is it, Ilya?'
'Certainly not,' he agreed, but the glance he flashed Sonia bore a warning.
She grinned at him, unrepentant. 'Don't worry, Cousin. It won't hurt your looks. I'm sure women will think you're twice as handsome with a scar.'
He carried it off coolly enough, though, walking through the sprawl of the camp to his aunt's tent, where Mother Yermolov had driven the wagon containing his tent. A number of people clustered here: the two etsanas, seated on their pillows beneath the awning of Mother Orzhekov's tent, and some part of their families as well as a few of the refugees from Mikhailov's camp.
There was a long moment of silence as everyone turned to stare. Mother Orzhekov raised one eyebrow eloquently. Arina hid her mouth behind her hand, trying not to look as young as she was. But Kirill, standing behind his wife, spoke first, of course. 'Well, Tess,' he said, 'are you trying to start a new fashion?' Most of the crowd laughed.
'Aunt,' said Ilya, 'perhaps you will grant permission for my wife to pitch her tent next to yours.'
Irena nodded. 'Of course, Nephew. Sonia, Stassi, Pavel, you may assist them.' Then she went back to her consultation with Arina, which clearly involved Mother Yermolov, Karolla Arkhanov and her children, and Vera, who stood beside her cousin, staring at nothing. Petya hovered nervously in the background.
Stassia's husband Pavel led Kriye away. Ilya allowed Sonia and Stassia to help pitch the tent, and he even permitted them to help Tess strike her tent and carry her belongings to the rugs under their awning. No farther would he let them, and he and Tess spent what little time remained until supper arranging the interior of the great tent. It took rather longer than it might have, interrupted frequently by kisses.
Supper proved rather lively. He sat through it without speaking unless he was spoken to. Tess enjoyed herself thoroughly, and she could not help but laugh with Sonia when an unusually large number of men, including his entire jahar and others who had enough standing to invite themselves, came to watch him bid the ritual farewell to his newly-marked wife and then be escorted away.
'Sonia. Stassia. Kira. I charge you with Tess's retreat.'
Tess's seclusion was restrictive only in that she could not leave the tent. Lanterns were lit. Children ran in and out, jumping on the pillows and throwing the blankets around. Women filtered in, bringing gifts of food and drink for the coming days, and then left again. Arina arrived, kissed her, and left. Karolla Arkhanov came in, looking wary.
'I wish you blessings,' she said.
'I have something for you,' said Tess, and gave her Vasil's clothing.
Karolla flushed and clutched these gifts against her chest. Then she looked down at her children. 'Here, little one,' she said to the girl. 'Here is your Papa's shirt for you to keep until he comes back.''
Tess hesitated. 'The baby, is that a boy?'
'Yes.' She flushed and hugged the little boy to her side.
'I think this will go to him, then, when he is old enough.' And she offered Karolla the saber. Karolla looked stunned, and she quickly took herself off.
'Well,' said Sonia, offering Tess some little sweet cakes that Arina had brought. 'But I won't ask.'
'Children.' Irena Orzhekov appeared at the entrance. 'Tess and I will speak alone for a moment.'
Sonia and Stassia shepherded the children out. Mother Orzhekov sat on a pillow next to Tess, and Tess suddenly felt self-conscious, sitting here in a tent as large as the etsana's, placed on a pillow beside her as an equal.
'I hope,' she said tentatively, 'that you don't think it presumptuous of me to have this tent, Mother Orzhekov.'
'My child,' said Irena, 'that Bakhtiian has gifted you with this tent is his right, given what he has become. And in any case, I believe from what Sonia has told me that you come from an important family in your own right, in khaja lands.'
'That's true,' Tess admitted. 'But I feel a little overwhelmed here.'
'With my nephew?'
