'You will be sorrier when we are done with you,' said Elizaveta Sakhalin, favoring the three captives with a withering stare.
'This is men's business,' the bold one snapped.
'Conducted within our tents? I think not. Yaroslav.' She nodded to her nephew. 'You will confine them until the Elders have discussed their fate.'
'There,' said Konstantina, startling Tess by coming up quietly beside her. 'You see, Tsara.' She angled her neck to include her cousin, who had trailed after her, both hands holding a blanket demurely around herself. 'I was right. There is Nadezhda Martov.'
Tess was distracted from watching the captives being led away by the sight of Martov arriving some steps behind Bakhtiian, decently dressed in a shift and skirt. Bakhtiian glanced back at her, aware of her presence, and then moved forward to speak with Niko and Fedya and Vladimir.
'And get some clothes on,' he said to the other men.
Konstantina chuckled. 'You see. All the women have arrived to take a look.'
Glancing around, Tess realized that a disproportionate number of the younger women of the tribe had arrived. A few whistled as Kirill came back over to her tent. His eyes were lowered in a becoming fashion, but there was no doubting the slight sauntering display in his walk.
'You, too, Kirill,' said Bakhtiian. 'Fedya, was it you caught the intruders? I thought as much. And you did well, Vladi.'
'Thank you,' said Kirill as he returned Tess's saber. Tsara laid a hand on his arm and led him away, looking smug.
'What will happen to the captives?' Tess asked Konstantina, who still hovered at her elbow. Sakhalin and her nephew reappeared to consult with Bakhtiian.
'Oh, I should think that we'll leave them for the birds. Ah, there he is. If you'll excuse me.' Konstantina strode away straight toward Yuri, Tess noted with interest, as he retreated hastily from the fray.
'No,' Bakhtiian was saying, 'I take full responsibility for this act. Had I not been here, this would never have happened. I do not want to bring further trouble for your tribe, Mother Sakhalin. We will leave today.'
Sakhalin considered and spoke with her nephew, and then they all walked off together. Vladimir trailed in their wake. Only Fedya remained, standing quite still, head tilted slightly, as if he was trying to hear or taste something on the wind. He turned slowly and walked off, toward Tess at first, and then veering away toward the edge of camp, tracking some unseen path.
'It is a beautiful tent.' Tess looked round to see Na-dezhda Martov standing four paces away from her.
'It is,' agreed Tess cautiously. 'It was gifted me by Mother Orzhekov. It used to be her daughter's.'
'Then you are, by her decree, Ilyakoria Bakhtiian's cousin,' said the woman pleasantly. 'Mother Orzhekov is a renowned weaver. Her niece wove the finest patterns I have ever seen.'
'Her niece?'
'Bakhtiian's elder sister. I knew her before she died.'
'Ah,' said Tess, not knowing what else to say.
'You are from-a long ways away?'
'I am from a-city-a place of many stone tents-Jeds…'
'Yes, I have heard of it. Ilyakoria speaks of it.'
For an instant, Tess had an uncomfortably vivid image of just when he spoke of such things to Nadezhda Martov. She suppressed it and smiled instead.
'Those are borrowed clothes, are they not?' asked Martov. When Tess nodded, she nodded in return. 'Come. Though you must ride in men's clothing, I think you will benefit from having women's clothing of your own, as well. And with your coloring-' A gleam of challenge lit her eyes. 'I know just what will suit you.'
They did not leave until midday. Bakhtiian gave them one of his khuhaylan mares, and most of the tarpans were exchanged for fresh mounts. Tess was forced to consult with Yuri on how to add her burgeoning possessions to her saddle roll: a fine suit of women's clothing gathered by Martov from women throughout the tribe. Tsara gave Tess a fine silver bracelet. Yuri managed to fit the roll of clothing on to one of the ten horses now burdened with the generous provisions given to the jahar by the women of the tribe.
'So, Yuri,' asked Tess as they rode out of the tribe, 'how did you find Konstantina Sakhalin?'
Yuri blushed crimson.
'Poor Kirill. He's sorry to be going.' Kirill was half turned in his saddle, gazing back at the cluster of women who had gathered to bid them heartfelt farewells. 'Are you?'
Yuri set his lips and refused to be drawn.
'Soerensen.' Bakhtiian pulled in beside them. He did not glance back at the tribe. 'We'll be riding forward scout.'
Tess laughed.
'Why are you laughing?' he asked suspiciously.
'I don't know,' she said truthfully, but she whistled as she urged Myshla forward to ride out with him.
CHAPTER NIME
“'The eyes are more exact witnesses than the ears.'
The sweep of grass, the clear air, the high sun; these were her day. Summer surprised them. Now the plain flowered a second time, the stalks of the flowering plants hidden, engulfed in the grass, only the petals showing like brilliant spots of emerald and turquoise, ruby and amethyst. Occasionally it rained. Herds of khey, deerlike animals that proved more placid than the migrating antelopes, provided meat.
One day, when they stopped early to take advantage of a good campsite, Tess convinced Fedya to take her hunting and was rewarded with her first kill, though she made Fedya cut its throat once she had brought it down. Together they brought back her kill and the one Fedya brought down, and so great a fuss was made over her that Tess finally escaped all the attention by going to pitch her tent with Yuri, an act no man but a brother would ever suggest overseeing.
'Fedya is almost as good a hunter as the women,' Tess said as she rolled out her tent. 'Is that why he rides scout so often? Even Bakhtiian doesn't ride scout every day.'
Yuri shrugged. 'He likes to be alone. And he has sharp eyes.'
'Yes.' Tess paused in her work to gaze at the distant fire and the figures gathered around it. 'He's so melancholy, but not sorry for himself. And he's kind.'
Yuri smiled but said nothing.
Bakhtiian now spoke very little Rhuian with her as they rode scout, using khush almost exclusively. But when they talked about Jeds and the disciplines studied at the University there, he lapsed back into Rhuian. Tess began to appreciate the breadth of his learning: conversant with all the things a jaran man must know, he had also taken full advantage of his three years at the University in Jeds. Gallio and Oleana, Narronias and the great legalist, Sister Casiara of Jedina Cloister, these Tess knew because she had read their works on Earth in order to keep her Rhuian fresh. But Bakhtiian's knowledge took surprising turns at times.
'Aristotle!'
'Well, you pronounce it rather differently. Surely you've read his works on natural history?'
'I suppose you've read Plato, too?'
'Pla-? Oh, yes, Playtok. But I never found his arguments convincing. I find his dialogue form too self- conscious.'
'Ah,' said Tess wisely, beginning to wonder what her brother had been up to these past ten years since she had last set foot on Rhui. But then, she had been too young those three years she had spent in Jeds with Charles and Dr. Hierakis, too shocked by the death of her parents, to be aware of what they might have been doing in the
