the khaja took tribute from us. Then a girl was taken from the tribes as a portion of the tribute, but with the help of He-Who-Runs-With-The-Wind, she stole horses from the khaja and gave them to her people, and He took her to His Mother's Tent in exchange and granted us freedom. That is why we are jaran, the people of the wind.'
'So the jaran are one people?'
'One people, many tribes, if that is what you mean. Josef Raevsky, there, the older rider, came from a different tribe to ride with Ilya.''
'But he is also jaran.'
'Yes. Look, Tess, whistlers.' He pointed up. A dark patch of birds skittered and flew far above them. 'That is an auspicious sign, to see them this far north so early in the year.' He began to count. Tess could scarcely see them except as a blot against the deep blue bowl of the sky, much less discern any individual birds.
'How much do you travel? Each year?'
Yuri shrugged as if he did not understand her question. 'We always travel. North in the spring, south in the fall.'
'Isn't it hard, moving so much?'
He laughed. 'But I love to ride, just as-as fire loves to burn. I love to see the mountains in the winter, the sea and the northern hills in the summer. Would you live forever in one place, never seeing another?'
Tess laughed, echoing him. 'No, I wouldn't.' She glanced around and caught Kirill, who was riding point, looking back at her. He waved. To her left, Vladimir stared sullenly forward, looking at no one. His necklaces jostled as he rode, slapping his chest, and the tassels on his boots swayed with the movement of his horse. None of the other men wore such finery, not now, at any rate.
To her right, the Chapalii rode in their stiff, stubborn fashion. Cha Ishii's gaze seemed fixed on his horse, but one of the other Chapalii looked across at Tess. She was sure this was the same one who had bowed to her before. What did he want of her? What did he know? She met his gaze, and he inclined his head, as much of a bow as he could manage on horseback. She did not acknowledge him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
'If you seek something wise, reflect during the night.'
At the late afternoon when they halted for the night, Fedya rode in from scouting with an antelopelike creature sprawled across the neck of his horse. He had shot it, and now took a good deal of teasing from the other men because of his prowess with a woman's weapon. Bakhtiian let the young men build a fire and agreed that those who wished to could pitch their tents as well. Tess and Yuri put up her tent and then returned to the fire. They watched while Nikita and Konstans disemboweled and skinned the dead animal, peeling the pelt whole from the pink flesh. The scent of bowels and blood flooded the air and blended with the must of grass. Pavel took the fat away to feed the horses. Tess left when they cracked open the skull. Yuri followed her, and a moment later, Kirill joined them.
'Tess. If Doroskayev's riders are coming, we'd better teach you some more about saber.' Kirill grinned at her. What little diffidence he possessed had vanished after they had left the tribe. Tess sighed. Kirill lifted a hand to his chest, mocking her sigh. 'The saber will keep you alive. You can't enjoy lovers if you're dead.'
'Kirill!' Yuri exclaimed.
Tess flushed, and was glad of the opportune appearance of Fedya. 'We're practicing over by the horses,' Fedya said, as if answering a question. 'Konstans and Mitenka are waiting.'
'Thank you, Fedya,' said Tess, and he smiled at her, as if knowing full well that she was thanking him for his intervention not the invitation. His smile had a wraithlike quality, shadowed by some unknown sorrow.
They were camped in a spring-fed hollow in the low hills through which they rode. They came now into sight of the scatter of tents pitched outside a grove of scrub trees and beyond that the huddle of horses. Bakhtiian stood talking to Konstans and Mitenka. He looked up as the others arrived and moved to intercept Tess. Kirill paused deliberately as Bakhtiian approached them, but Yuri nudged him from behind and Fedya brushed his elbow and led him on over to Konstans.
'I was wondering,' said Bakhtiian to Tess when the others were out of earshot, 'about something you said today, when we were discussing the view held by the Gallio school that words can give no true account of the past.'
'Bakhtiian, could we discuss this after dark?'
'Of course. 'The day for action; the night for contemplation,' ' He nodded to her and left.
'The Gallio school?' Yuri asked. 'It must be something he learned at Jeds. I thought you scouted.'
'Niko was with us. We talked about history.'
'History?'
'Niko is very knowledgeable.'
'Niko reads books when he can get them. Ilya and Sonia brought books back with them from Jeds. Well, I did, too, but only because they wrote me a list.'
'Ah. That explains Niko. He and I agreed, but Bakhtiian didn't.' She chuckled. 'We almost got into an argument.'
'Who won?'
'Yuri, no one wins that kind of argument.'
Yuri rubbed one hand over his eyes. Smoke and the sweet scent of meat cooking carried to them on the breeze. 'I never understood what they taught at University. Hah!' He whirled, saber out and up before he had completely turned to meet Konstans' charge. The two sabers met and sounded, a crisp ring. Tess drew her saber.
Laughing, Kirill walked over to her. 'That's right. Don't retreat. But you're too close to Yuri.' He put one hand lightly on her hip and gently pushed her two steps over. And grinned, near enough that she could see how very very blue his eyes were.
'Thank you,' she said dryly, and shifted so that his hand slipped off her hip.
'This much room,' he continued, unrepentant. 'And cover-Fedya! Now if Fedya was to come in from this direction, you'd have to cover two angles.' Fedya, coming in from that direction, showed her how to parry a side- sweep. Beyond him, outside the ring formed by their little group, a lonely figure adorned with elaborate embroidered sleeves and draped with ornate necklaces watched the practice but did not join in.
When the light faded, they went back to the fire. Dusk made shadows of the tents. The fire outlined groups of sitting and standing men. Sibirin waved to Tess, and she sat down beside him and rested her arms on her bent knees. Yuri brought her meat hot from the fire. She savored it, licking the juice from her fingers when she was done.
'Sibirin, I believe that you promised today to tell me something of your youth, what life was like when you were a boy.'
'Do you expect a man of my years to remember that far back?'
'Yes, Sibirin, I do.'
'Come now, girl. If I'm going to reveal my youth to you, you had better call me by my youthful name.''
'Did you have a different name when you were young? Or did they speak a different language then, if it was so long ago?'
He laughed, revealing deep lines at the corners of his eyes. 'No. I'm not so old that I recall the time before we had horses. But you call the young men by their given names. If I tell you of the times when I was that age, then you must call me Niko.'
'So if I was to tell you of how it might be for me when I'm older, could you call me Tess?'
'Most things are possible if one decides they are.'
'Please, no more philosophy. Tell me a story of adventure.'
