Jaran

between you and Bakhtiian.'

'I beg your pardon!'

Tess grinned. 'Now, didn't you say you would teach me some of your dances?'

'There.' Yuri pointed. The morning sun shone down on the spread of tents laid in neat lines beyond the edge of a narrow river. 'I remember this tribe. Sakhalin is etsana here, and her sister's son the dyan of their jahar. I was only a boy when we met with them last, but they are friends of our tribe. Bakhtiian says we will stay four nights with them.'

At the jahar's appearance on the rise, two men and two women detached themselves from the camp and walked up to them. Bakhtiian and Niko dismounted and strode forward to meet them halfway. After what seemed to Tess a long, drawn-out conversation punctuated with elaborate gesturing, Bakhtiian returned, leaving Nito to walk back into camp with them.

Now Bakhtiian spoke with Ishii, and Tess noted with interest that Ishii's face bore a green cast-he was displeased. But when Bakhtiian nodded and retreated from his side, Ishii sent his horse forward, down to the camp. The other Chapalii followed. Tess found Hon Garii easily enough. He rode beside another Chapalii, just behind Ishii, and behind them, the other eight rode in a mob that shifted precedence daily. In the clear light of early morning, she could discern on each of these eight the faint tattoo on the jaw beneath the right earlobe that marked these Chapalii as stewards. Born to serve, certainly, but not the lowest class by any means. Stewards alone served the nobility and had, in their turn, servants as well. That stewards made up the rest of the party, that they did work normally left to lesser castes, simply proved to Tess the importance of this expedition. Now that she had settled in with the riding, it was time to investigate, slowly, circumspectly. She had time.

She laid a hand on the knife thrust between her trousers and her belt. As if the gesture had caught his eye, Ishii glanced back at her, and she removed her hand guiltily. But he looked away again, directing his people down and to one side of the tribe's camp.

'We will stay four nights,' Bakhtiian was saying to the jahar. 'You will comport yourselves in a respectful and modest manner.' He looked at Kirill as he said this. Kirill returned his gaze blandly. With Vladimir riding just behind him, Bakhtiian led the jahar down into camp.

As Tess dismounted, an elderly woman with a baby in a sling at her hip walked up to her. 'Ah, my dear girl, I am Elizaveta Sakhalin. You are Terese Soerensen. Is that it?' She spoke khush slowly so that Tess could follow her words.

'Tess, if you will.' Tess felt comfortable with her at once.

'Yes, you will want to be with women again. My daughter-here, Konstantina!'

A young blonde woman with an unattractive face but sharp and friendly eyes came over. 'But, Mama,' she said forth-rightly, 'Tsara and I and the others are to go out to hunt today. There is that great-' The word was lost on Tess. '-just beyond the ford.'

'Konstantina. A guest! Your manners.'

'But perhaps, Mother Sakhalin,' Tess began hastily, using the only honorific she knew for a tribal etsana, and seeing immediately that Sakhalin and her daughter approved of it. 'If your daughter does not-will not mind-I hunt, go hunting, with her.'

Konstantina brightened. 'Yes, Mama. You are good with the bow?'

Tess smiled. 'No. Not at all. So I am tired of no fresh meat. Traveling with men.'

Enlightenment blossomed on both women's faces. 'Of course. Such a long journey and no herds. You will go with Konstantina. She will teach you. Then you can hunt for the jahar.'

Konstantina hustled Tess off as quickly as if she feared that her mother would change her mind, given a moment to reconsider. And into the company of women Tess was welcomed without reservation. She strode along, finding it difficult to keep up with their pace, and was given a lecture on the behavior of herds, animals, and shooting that she understood perhaps half of. The actual hunt proved more instructive. A huge herd of bovine grazing beasts milled along the river's edge. Tess crouched, and watched, and stalked, and waited, and was even allowed to shoot a few times, although none of her shots brought down any game. Of the seven women with her, six brought down kills, and three of those brought down two. Konstantina allowed her to drag in one of her kills, and with the slender, musty-smelling calf draped across her shoulders, Tess trudged the long walk back to camp and was grateful to collapse in the shade of Mother Sakhalin's great tent.

'Tomorrow,' said Konstantina, crouching beside her while they watched her brothers skin the kills, 'we will have a dance. So.' She grinned slyly. Next to her, her cousin, Tsara, a pretty, dark-haired girl, dimpled and whispered into Konstantina's ear. 'Tsara wishes to know which of these riders is the best lover.'

Tess blushed. 'I don't know.'

'You don't know! Surely-how long have you traveled with them?'

'Six hands of days, now.' Seeing that Konstantina regarded her suspiciously out of those piercing blue eyes, Tess felt constrained to add, 'In my land, it is different between men and women.'

'Of course. You are a foreigner. I had almost forgotten.'

Tsara sighed. 'But so many of them are good-looking. And they are only here four nights. How will I choose?'

Studying Tsara, whose cheek was clear of the scar of marriage, Tess reflected that such a pretty girl would have no trouble attracting lovers. 'Well, Kirill,' said Tess, and flushed, wondering why he had come first to her mind.

'Aha,' said Konstantina, watching Tess's face. 'A good recommendation, I think.'

'Mikhal is quiet and still in love with his wife. Yuri is sweet.'

'He is Bakhtiian's cousin, is he not?'

'Yes, and Fedya-'

'The Singer? But who wants a sad man?'

'He sings very sweetly,' said Tess defensively. 'He has a beautiful voice.'

'And what,' asked Tsara, 'about the one with the necklaces? He is very pretty.'

'He's an orphan.' Then, seeing their faces, she was sorry she had said it.

Konstantina waved one hand dismissively. 'An orphan. What about the others?'

'What about Bakhtiian?' Tsara asked in a low voice.

Bakhtiian. Tess's vocabulary failed her utterly. What about Bakhtiian?

But Konstantina, either oblivious to Tess's sudden silence, or sympathetic to it, shook her head decisively. 'Tsara, men like Bakhtiian are not for girls like us. You see who comes out of Nadezhda Martov's tent in the morning.'

'Oh.' Tsara's eyes went very round.

'Who is Nadezhda Martov?' Tess asked, feeling a little disgruntled.

'She is the finest weaver in all the tribes,' said Konstantina proudly. 'She is my mother's cousin's cousin's daughter, though she's rather older than you or I. You'll see.'

But Tess, going back to her own tent that night, where Yuri had pitched it for her back behind the Sakhalin tents, saw Bakhtiian sitting beside Niko and some of the men from the tribe around a distant fire, talking intently. Later, dozing, she heard him speaking with Vladimir, and she peeked outside to see him crawl, alone, into his own tent.

She spent the next day with Konstantina and Tsara and some of the other Sakhalin cousins, preparing a flat ground for dancing. Children raced around, some helping, some playing. Tess let Tsara fit a sling to her and carried around an amiable infant until it got hungry. In the afternoon, the young women lent her women's clothing, insisting that no woman ought to attend a dance dressed as she was. They braided her hair properly, and Tsara lent her one of her beaded headpieces to cap her hair and drew kohl around her eyes to highlight them. Tess felt terribly embarrassed, walking at dusk to where the bonfire had just been lit, with the accustomed weight of her mirror, free of its case this night, but without her saber. But the riders of Bakhtiian's jahar had well and truly blended into the mass of riders from this tribe, and she did not have to face their scrutiny up close. Ensconced among the women, Tess found it easy to take refuge in their confidence.

The music, as it began, sounded familiar and exciting. Tess recognized a dance Yuri had taught her, but as the women around her filtered away, seeking partners, she did not have the courage to go seek one of her own. She stood in the shadows and watched until Yuri came up to her.

'Well.' Yuri examined her. Tess blushed. 'Sonia would approve.' He left it at that. 'Would you like to