'Poor Vladimir.'
Yuri looked at her consideringly. 'Have you ever really spoken with Vladimir?'
'No. I think he avoids me. But then, you and Kirill and the others scarcely make him welcome.'
'A horse ridden too hard,' said Yuri in khush, 'is a horse ruined.' He added, in Rhuian, 'If Vladimir is not welcome, look to him, not to us. We'd better teach you to dance, Tess. There's sure to be a dance in Bakhtiian's honor. It would look odd if we kept you to ourselves. Though how much we can teach you in one afternoon…'
'I've danced before,' said Tess, but the image that came to her, thinking of her folk dancing club at the university, was unwelcome: that night, when Jacques-so cowardly that he had to choose a public place, where pride constrained her from reacting with real emotion-had told her their engagement was over, broken, while they were dancing the last waltz of the evening.
'Are you all right?' Yuri touched her on the arm.
'No, I'm fine. Just hungry. Fedya didn't bring in a kill today, did he? He shouldn't be the only one who hunts. I want to practice archery while it's light. We can dance with a fire. I'm going to get good enough with the bow to do some hunting.'
Yuri laughed at her vehemence. 'You'll ruin my good name. Very well. But you have to get Sonia's bow. Meet me over there.'
The minutes she spent fetching the bow and arrows gave her time to regain her composure. Damn Jacques, anyway; he wasn't worth agonizing over. But her anger carried over into her first course, and she shot poorly. Yuri sighed, fetched the arrows and readjusted the four ribbons tied for the target at varying heights around the tree trunk.
'You did better than that with Sonia,' he chided.
While he shot, Tess watched the water birds as they paddled aimlessly back and forth on the pond and with no warning upended and dove under the surface, vanishing, without even a ripple, for so long that one's breath stopped until they suddenly resurfaced in a flurry of wings and water somewhere else. Submerged-that was the word that haunted her. She had been submerged in Charles's life since the day she was born. She had never been herself, but always his sister, his heir, doing his work.
'Three out of five,' said Yuri proudly. 'Let's see you match that.' Returning with the arrows, he handed the bow to her. She aimed and hit.
'There. Is Doroskayev the only dyan riding against Bakhtiian?'
'He's one of the few left. Roskhel is dead now. Veselov-Ilya won him over. Zukhov, Boradin, Makhov. They're all dead, too. Boradin and Makhov died in the battle at the khayan-sarmiia. Ilya shouldn't have won that battle because they outnumbered him, but he did. Doroskayev only hates Ilya because he hates Ilya, if you see what I mean. But his tribe is small. There is one dyan left, Dmitri Mikhailov, who commands a jahar large enough and dangerous enough to threaten us. But we haven't seen him for two summers. I think he's given up.'
Tess nocked another arrow and drew. 'What about the tribal Elders? The women?'
'War is men's business.'
'Meaning women are left to clean up.' She shot, missing the tree entirely.
'It's your concentration.' Yuri rested one hand on the back of his neck. She drew again, steadying herself. 'Ilya could never have united the jaran without the approval of the Elders. After all, his own mother was the first Elder he had to convince, and if he could convince her, he could convince anyone.' Tess shot and hit. 'Do you know,' Yuri added, 'when a person stands so still, you see them best. Like your eyes. I never knew eyes could be the color of gorad leaves. Such a green.'
Her fourth and fifth arrows hit true. Yuri shot and hit five times along the length of the tree. 'You're better at this than you think,' she said when he returned with the arrows.
'For a man. It comes of having four sisters. But I always liked archery better than saber.'
'What's wrong with that?'
'Yuri!' Kirill called to them from the shore of the lake. He strode over and stopped to stare at the younger man. 'You're not actually practicing that, are you?'
Yuri hastily handed the bow to Tess, who turned to face Kirill with one hand on her hip. ' 'If you practiced, we might eat fresh meat more often.'
Kirill had a careless air about him that belied his authority among the younger men. 'It isn't a man's weapon, but it's true, on such a long trip, we would eat better. I know.' He smiled. 'We'll have a contest.'
'I don't like this,' muttered Yuri.
But the young riders took quickly to the idea: ten shots each. Mikhal immediately took the lead, with seven midhits, but this was blamed on his willingness when courting Sonia to go hunting with her.
Eventually Bakhtiian came up. Tess, finishing, found herself with five mid-hits, third behind Mikhal and Yuri. 'Do you want a turn?' she asked Bakhtiian, made bold by her success.
'Gods, contest with the rest of us, and with a woman's weapon?' asked Kirill.
Bakhtiian's face shuttered as he looked past Tess at Kirill. Birds landed on the lake, wings skittering. Kirill returned Bakhtiian's scrutiny with an even gaze. No one spoke.
'Very well.' Bakhtiian accepted the bow from Tess. 'I would never disparage a woman's prowess in archery, especially not if she had bow in hand. Not unless I had a very long head start.''
Everyone laughed except Kirill, who turned and left. Tess felt tension that she had not known was there leave her throat. Bakhtiian stood perfectly still, entirely concentrated. The dark waves of his hair matched his intense eyes and severe expression. With his arm drawn back, the curve of the bow framing him, he could have been the god of the hunt, caught forever in the instant before death. All ten shots hit between the middle ribbons.
Kirill returned, and he brought Fedya with him. Fedya was neither for nor against joining the contest. Kirill insisted.
'You don't have to,' said Tess.
Fedya shrugged. 'I don't have the energy to refuse.' He was one of the shorter riders, stocky without stoutness, with long blond hair caught back in a single braid. Alone among the men he wore a second braid, a horse-tail pinned into his hair. He also habitually wore an expression that suggested that he knew the one, awful secret of man's doom but was kind enough to hide it from everyone else. 'I don't mind. After all, I'm the only one here who can outshoot Bakhtiian.' The look he gave Kirill was ironic. But he also hit ten mid-shots.
It was growing dark. Tasha, at the fire, called to them that the food was ready. Tess did not follow the others, and Yuri sat with her, finding pebbles to toss into the pond.
'I like it here,' Tess said finally, watching the birds dive.
Yuri glanced at her but did not reply. The shifting greens and yellows of leaves stirred in the twilight breeze. Several birds flapped their wings, spraying water, and then settled.
'Fedya's as good as some of the women. I thought men never practiced archery.'
'Fedya doesn't need to practice. He sings to the bow, and it responds.'
'He looks as if he knows the wrongs of the world.'
'Fedya was touched by the gods as a child. What he knows, he'll never tell.'
They rose and walked slowly toward the fire. This close, the breeze brought the spicy scent of Tasha's vegetable stew to her. Stars bloomed one by one in the darkening sky. 'Do you mean to say…' Tess hesitated, then began again in a lower voice. 'That Fedya never boasts, or-'
'If you mean, does he talk about his lovers, no, he doesn't. For all anyone knows, he hasn't gone off with a woman since his wife died. If you made up to him, no one would ever find out through him.'
Tess halted, flushing. 'You go so fast from start to finish.'
'Tess.' Yuri laid a hand on her shoulder. The ring of firelight faded into darkness a few meters in front of them, framing the men around the fire. 'You're having a hard time of it because of things inside you, and here you are, alone with twenty-seven men. I don't count the pilgrims, you understand. It isn't healthy.'
There was a silence.
'Forgive me.' Yuri removed his hand. 'I didn't mean to offend. As your brother I thought-'
Tess began to laugh. 'Healthy!'
'Well, I don't see what's so funny. It's true.'
'Oh, Yuri. I'm not laughing at you.'
'You'll see I'm right.' He headed toward the fire.
'It's when you're being smug,' replied Tess, following him, 'that I can really see the family resemblance
