And all the Chapalii came to listen when, for ten evenings running, Fedya sang for them the long epic tale of the first dyan Yuri Sakhalin and his feud with the demons of the hills and his love for the sun's daughter.
Tess now spoke khush with little hesitation. To relieve the monotony, Kirill pretended to be in love with her, which made everyone laugh; even the Chapalii could appreciate the humor of frustrated passion. Tess marveled that no one suspected her and Fedya. Yuri said simply, 'Why should they look? Who would care, anyway?''
Bakhtiian told her more ancient stories: the coming of the people to the plains; the birth of the moon and the sun and the clouds and the wind. How mother sun and father wind gave birth to daughter earth and brother sky, to sister tent and son river. How aunt cloud and uncle moon gave birth to cousin grass and cousin rain. And they discussed Newton's universal theory of gravitation.
Tess wondered what Charles thought he was doing. She remembered his last visit to Earth, five years ago- and wasn't it five years ago that Bakhtiian claimed to have first met the Chapalii? She had been eighteen, Charles fifty-eight, looking no older than Bakhtiian did now. She took him to her favorite outdoor cafe'; it was summer in Prague, hot, but he drank coffee so she did as well, though she had never liked its bitter taste, though she wanted something cool. He sat across from her at the little cafe table, well-groomed, neatly dressed. She tended toward a diffident, sloppy casualness, and she sat warily, nervous, wondering if anyone would recognize them, dreading that always. Charles simply held his cup and mused, looking supremely relaxed. Though she was his only sister, though her first memory was of him taking her for a flitter ride, still she could never read past his surface, know his thoughts, tell his fears or his doubts, if indeed he had any. He spoke that day of his work in the Delta Pavonis system, of his efforts to keep Rhui preserved.
'I've seen records of too many civilizations ruined because a stronger, more forceful civilization swept in and destroyed them. Sometimes inadvertently. Sometimes on purpose. It's easy enough for us to say that the Rhuian natives are primitive, that it is our duty to raise them up to our level. But without respect for what they are, we will destroy them. That's the Chapaliian way, the paternalistic way they treat all of their client states. Like us.' His voice was calm and serious, never intense or passionate, but always forceful. 'When the Chapalii modernized Odys, they completely wiped out the old indigenous culture. Accidentally, of course. A by-product of civilization. All of the indigenes died.'
'Aren't there some onasiu left?' she asked, eager to show off her knowledge.
'In arcologies. That doesn't count.'
'No. No, of course not.' She flushed and took a sip of the now lukewarm coffee to cover it.
'I won't let that happen to Rhui. Odys can remain my proper ducal capital, as the Office of Protocol once reminded me was necessary to a duke-' His grin was ironic. '-of my station.' His sand-colored beard, trimmed almost to a point at the chin, emphasized the hollows of his cheeks. 'How can I complain?'
'You're still alive,' Tess said, because she knew he liked her sardonic sense of humor.
He laughed. 'Yes, and in such a beautiful, modern, expensive place. But I wonder what Odysian mythology was like. They had no moon. Imagine that. Sun for god, and only the light of the stars at night.' If one looked, this close, when he sat this still and in the glaring light of the summer sun, one could see faint lines at the corners of his gray-blue eyes. 'How I wonder.'
Then, of course, a journalist had found them, and they had been forced to retreat from such a public stage. Or had that been the time the proprietor had hidden them in the kitchens and, when the media had been sent away on a false trail, ensconced them merrily at his tables once again? 'Whatever I can do for the next rebellion, for the long haul,' the proprietor had said, and he was only half joking.
'But however much I loved the learning there,' Bakhtiian was saying, 'I never thought to stay there.'
'To stay-in Jeds?' Tess stammered, caught out by her thoughts, unsure of what Bakhtiian had been saying before, of where this conversation had come from and where it was leading. They rode slowly, following the curve of the hills.
'There was too much to be done on the plains.'
'With the jaran?'
'A people poor in reputation, unknown. How strange that I never knew that until I went so far away, and the people whom I met on my travels did not know who I was or from whence I came. Not a soul knew of the jaran.' Watching him as he stared raptly out at the far horizon, at the sweep of grass and the soft curve of the land, Tess realized that however much Bakhtiian was like Charles in being a leader, he was utterly unlike him. Where Charles concealed his strength and his power, working quietly and in tiny steps, Bakhtiian radiated his. Where Charles masked his feelings so completely that no one, not even his sister, could read him, Bakhtiian projected all of his; even when you could not tell what he was thinking, you knew it was because he wanted you not to be able to tell what he was thinking.
'But they will know,' Bakhtiian said at last, slowly, imbuing each word with potency. 'Soon we will be spoken of even in Jeds.' He glanced at her, gauging her reaction. 'We are only now coming into our time of greatness.'
'Measured against-?' It came out before she thought, but of course he did not-could not-understand her meaning: that measured against the vast reach of the Chapalii Empire, against the slow progress of Charles's plans, his campaign was trivial.
'How does one measure the good against the bad? My sister and her child died because of me. My parents died because of me. I know well enough that more of my people will die.'
Tess gazed at the horizon of green grass and blue sky, so like Earth and yet so unlike, a subtle shifting of color and shade. She felt abashed. Of course his campaign was not trivial, not to him. Not to the people who would die.
'But still you persist,' she said at last, thinking of Charles.
'Still.'
They rode on in silence.
That night at campfire Fedya persuaded Bahktiian to sing. He was slightly embarrassed but not ill at ease. He sang without accompaniment. He had a clear baritone and he sang a man's song: days of riding, little rest, the hope of a woman's smile. He knew what suited his voice and kept to it. When he finished, he grinned and began another song. The men chuckled. This was a maiden's song, and a man of the jaran who sang a maiden's song did it to mock women, maidens in particular. He sang it well. Men laughed, wiping at their eyes. Tess hid her grin, glad she sat in the shadow.
'This is the night for the quiet ones to sing,' said Yuri, looking at her.
'Yuri, you don't think I'm going to-'
'Of course, you must sing for us.'
'Good Lord.' Tess frowned at Yuri. 'You'll be sorry for this.' She stood up. 'This is the only song in khush that Yuri has taught me,' she lied. It was a man's song, about none of the women wanting to go off with him. She sang it straight-faced, managing to finish that way despite the laughter that erupted all around the fire.
'By the gods,' said Yuri proudly, 'you sang that well. You should sing more often.'
'You should teach me suitable songs.' She sat down.
Niko came over to them and crouched, still chuckling. 'You are undoubtedly gifted, child. But I'm surprised at Yuri.'
'At me?'
'At you, Yurinya. To teach a woman such a song-' He clucked disapprovingly. 'Such indelicacy in a youth shocks me.'
'But, Niko, I have four sisters.'
'That is true,' replied Niko sagely. 'We cannot fight the gods, or women.' He and Yuri sighed together.
'Of course,' said Tess. 'Blame it on the women.' She glanced up to find Bakhtiian standing behind Niko. He caught Tess's eye, and he smiled. If it had not been so dark, she would have sworn he winked. 'I suppose next you'll be saying that Sonia taught you that song and encouraged you to teach it to me.'
'But she did,' Yuri said guilelessly.
Tess laughed, and Yuri, who could never help but laugh with her, covered his face with his hands.
Niko contrived to look offended for a moment. 'You see, I am vindicated.'
Smiling, Bakhtiian crouched down between Niko and Tess. 'I would be honored, Cousin, if you would agree to teach me some of the songs you know, from Jeds and other lands.'
Tess caught in her breath, but she smiled at him. 'Only if you will teach me jaran songs.'
For an instant, she thought he drew back slightly, but then he shrugged and relaxed. 'That could be
