him.
'Damn it,' she said, ashamed of her weakness. 'I suppose it was too much to hope that you would speak Rhuian.' He stood very still, watching her. 'God-damned native wildlife,' she added in Anglais, just to make herself feel better, but even her tone made no dent in his impassivity. He simply retreated to his horse, returning to her side a moment later with a hard, flat square of bread and a damp leather pouch filled with water.
She ate the bread, but drank only enough water to slake her thirst, and offered the pouch back to him. After he had tied it to his saddle, he mounted and held out one hand for her to swing on behind him. The strength of his pull surprised her; she had to grab at his shoulder to keep from falling over the other side. What he said under his breath did not sound like commendation.
Tess bit at her lip. She put one hand on each side of his waist, the cloth of his shirt fluid and smooth under her hands. Ahead, a wind moved in the grass. He glanced back at her, moved her arms so that they circled his waist entirely, and gave a terse command-even without knowing the language, she could translate the tone of voice. She took in a deep breath and held it, because her instinct was to tears. His legs moved against hers. The horse started forward.
His entire back was in contact with her. She turned her face to one side. Her cheek pressed against the back of his neck. The ends of his dark hair tickled her eye. His back was warm, and under her hands, held open and flat on his middle, she could feel every movement of the hard muscles in his stomach, his slow, controlled breathing. She closed her hands into fists.
They rode down onto the plain. Here, away from the hills, the sky seemed even larger, as if some giant hand had pushed the horizon down to reveal more blue. They seemed so small, the three of them alone in such an expanse, invisible, surely, to any eye looking down from above, yet his sense of purpose and direction gave them significance.
She could not judge time, but soon her thighs began to ache. After an eternity she began to believe that there had indeed been some change in the sun's position. The grass continued on around them without a break. Snow glittered in occasional patches. The man in front of her neither spoke nor moved appreciably, except for the finest shifts to adjust for the horse.
A flash of brilliance sparked on a far rise, vanished, only to appear again closer: another rider in scarlet and black. This one had a second horse on a lead line, trailing behind him. Quickly, more quickly than Tess expected, the two riders met, slowed, and halted their horses.
The newcomer was a young man with bright blond hair and a cheerful smile. The smile emerged as he met them, fading into astonishment as he looked at Tess. He spoke in a flood of words, to which the dark man replied curtly. Unabashed, the younger man swung down from his horse and came over to stand below Tess. He blushed a little-easy to see on his fair skin-and lifted his arms up to her.
She flushed with embarrassed anger-he was helping her down as if she were a child. But her eyes met his, and there was something in his gaze, something utterly good-natured, that made her smile slightly, at which he blushed a deeper shade of pink and lowered his gaze. At least he was as embarrassed about this as she was. She let herself be helped down. He let go of her instantly, and for a moment she stood next to him under the censorious gaze of the dark man and felt allied with the young blond against a force impatient with both of them. Without a word, the dark man reined his horse around and left them standing there together while he rode back the way he and Tess had come.
She gaped, she was so surprised at this desertion. Beside her, the young man laughed.
'Not worry,' he said in perfectly horrible Rhuian. 'Ilya is always angry.''
'I beg your pardon!'
He repeated the words, slower this time, so that she caught them all. 'I beg pardon for my tongue,' he added, not looking very sorry about it. 'It is not so good.'
'How did you learn Rhuian?' she demanded.
He shrugged. 'I study in Jeds.'
She felt herself gaping again: this young native-nondescript except for the merry cast of his face, arrayed as barbarically as any savage, living out on a trackless plain-had studied in Jeds.
Under her stare, he dropped his gaze shyly. 'I apologize. Forgive me. I have not given you my name. I am Yurinya Orzhekov.' Long lashes shaded his blue eyes. 'But perhaps you will call me Yuri.' He hesitated, as if this request were a liberty.
Tess began to feel dizzy again and, leaning forward, she put her hand on the first thing within reach: his horse.
'Are you well? We go to camp now. Ilya says you were walking many days.'
'Yes, I…' In a moment her head cleared. 'I'm Tess. Terese Soerensen, that is. But Tess, that is what my friends call me.'
'Ah,' he said wisely. 'Can you mount?'
Under his stare, not intimidating at all, she felt it possible to be truthful. 'The last time I rode a horse was, oh, ten years ago.'
'Well, then, I will keep the lead, and you hold on. Can you manage that?'
By this time she had adjusted for his atrocious accent-his vocabulary was decent enough. 'Yes,' she replied gratefully, 'I think I can manage that.'
He helped her mount, mounted himself, and led the way forward at a sedate walk. After he saw that she could manage that much, he let his horse ease back beside hers. 'You are from Jeds?''
'Ah… yes.'
'It is a very long way. Many months' journey.'
'Yes, I suppose it is.' She hesitated to question him further on geography, for fear of revealing the wrong sort of ignorance. Instead, she chose silence.
'Ah, you are tired. I will not bother you.' He lapsed into a silence of his own, but a rather companionable one, for all that.
She let it go because she was exhausted, still hungry, still dizzy on and off. When at long, long last they topped a low rise and she saw below a perfectly haphazard collection of about four dozen vividly colored tents, she felt only relief, not apprehension. A rider some hundred meters distant hailed them with a shout and a wave, and Yurinya waved back and led Tess down into a swirl of activity.
Their arrival brought a crowd of people to stare, mostly women and children, and soon after a woman whose broad, merry face bespoke a blood relationship to Yuri. She held a child in one arm, balanced on her hip, but when Yuri spoke briefly to her in their language, she handed the child over to another woman and crossed to stand next to Tess. She called out to the crowd, and it quickly dissipated, except, of course, for a score of curious, staring children.
She looked up at Tess and smiled. It was like water in the desert. Tess smiled back.
'I am Sonia Orzhekov,' said the young woman. 'I am Yuri's sister, so he has properly brought you to me.'
'You speak Rhuian.' Tess stared at her, at her blonde hair secured in four braids, her head capped by a fine headpiece of colored beads and leather; she wore a long blue tunic studded with gold trim that ended at her knees, and belled blue trousers beneath that, tucked into soft leather boots. An object shaped like a hand mirror hung from her belt. 'I suppose you studied in Jeds, too.'
Sonia laughed. 'Here, Yuri.' Her accent was far better than her brother's, and she spoke with very little hesitation. 'We'll walk the rest of the way.' She lifted up her arms and helped Tess down. 'There. Men can never talk to any end, sitting up so high all the time. Yuri, you may go, if you'd like.' Although couched politely, the words were plainly a command. Yuri glanced once at Tess, smiled shyly, and left with the two horses.
'But did you?' Tess persisted. 'Study in Jeds, I mean.'
'You are surprised.' Sonia grinned at Tess's discomfiture. 'Is Jeds your home?'
'Yes.' The lie came easier to her, now that she realized it was the best one she had, and not entirely untrue.
'So you do not expect to see such as we studying in the university in Jeds. Well.' Sonia shrugged. The blue in her tunic was not more intense than the fine bright blue of her eyes. 'You are right. Jaran do not normally study in Jeds. Only Yuri and I, and Dina now, because Ilya did, and he thought it would be-' Her grin was as much full of mischief as laughter. '-good for us. Poor Yuri. I suppose he was miserable the entire time, though he will never say so much to me, even if I am his sister. And never ever would he say it to Ilya.'
