they spoke without words. David did not envy her her dilemma and yet he could not feel sorry for her either, not really, since she had not only chosen her own fate but seemed content with it.
She turned to Charles. 'What happened at Morava?'
Charles unfolded a canvas chair. 'Sit down. David, can you go outside and head off any inquiries for-what? — ten minutes? I want Tess and Cara to hear the basics now, so they can think about it before our council. Which I'd like to hold-oh, not tomorrow. The day after.'
David nodded and retreated. He paused by the entrance to listen.
'… and we do have the resources. We have Rhui entire.'
'But the interdiction?'
'Will hold. It could take decades for us to process the information and to put a plan into place. The underlying structure, the foundation, has to be as strong as-as bedrock. It has to be invulnerable. So in a sense, Rhui is safer this way-'
'For now.'
'How long do you really think the interdiction can stay in place? I can only hold off the inevitable for so long.'
'No, you're right. I'm just being selfish. What about the dates on the Mushai, again? My God, Charles, I realize now that I must have learned simply one line of their language, that I was learning-what? — the male language, or something. It's like turning a corner in a hallway only to find that you've stepped into a whole 'nother world. Don't you realize that I'm perfectly placed to learn both the male and the female side, if that is in fact how their culture is structured?'
'Oh, yes,' said Charles in his cool voice. 'I realize it.'
David slipped outside. Almost ran into Bakhtiian, who stood a meter from the entrance, listening. David choked back an exclamation.
'I beg your pardon,' said Bakhtiian in a tone so colorless that a Chapalii lord would have been envious of it. 'Is Tess-?' Then he hesitated, because if one listened, one could hear her voice as she spoke with Charles. But, of course, she spoke in a language Bakhtiian did not understand. 'I hope,' he added, looking David straight in the face, 'that you will find time to attend me in the morning. I have some requests to make of you.'
'Of course. If you'll excuse me.' David retreated as quickly as he could. Goddess, what did Bakhtiian want of him? Was he still holding a grudge against him because he thought David had slept with his wife? And yet, faced with such an order-even though it was phrased as a request-David dared not disobey.
The actors arrived in a flurry of sound and movement. David retreated into the safety of their company, but he was sorry to note that Diana had not come over for the party. The evening passed in a blur of conversation, and he went to bed early.
In the morning, a young jaran rider waited at the edge of the encampment. Bakhtiian had, quite kindly, sent an escort.
'Mags, you will come with me.'
'I will?'
'Yes, you will. I need a witness. I'm not going over alone.'
'Oh, here,' said Ursula, coming up. 'I'll come with you, David. You're looking a little ashen about the gills. What's wrong?'
'Nothing!' David cast a last, hopeless glance at Maggie and allowed himself to be escorted away by Ursula and the jaran soldier. The soldier remained respectfully quiet on the long walk, but his presence allowed them to pass right through the rings of guards, straight to the awning under which Bakhtiian sat. David found himself ushered to the front immediately and was, for once, glad of Ursula's companionship.
'Ah.' Bakhtiian beckoned David forward. Reluctantly, David went, keeping one eye on Ursula to see what she did and the other on Bakhtiian's sheathed saber. Tess was nowhere in sight. 'Please. Sit down. You're an engineer, Tess tells me.'
David cleared his throat. 'Ah. Yes. I am.' Ursula settled down beside David as if she were used to sitting in on Bakhtiian's councils.
'We have a need for engineers. Siege engineers. Perhaps you'll agree to ride out with me and survey the city. Any suggestions you have would be welcomed.' Without more invitation than that, he rose and beckoned to his guard. Horses arrived, led by soldiers. David saw some khaja prisoners-or at least he assumed they were prisoners-mounted as well; presumably these were other engineers, culled from the ranks of the conquered. David felt compelled by events and by Bakhtiian's proximity to go along. Ursula did not hesitate.
'This is a wonderful opportunity,' she said in a low voice to David as they mounted. 'You have an entire city to experiment on. Von Clausewitz says that 'critical examination is not merely the appreciation of those means which have been actually employed, but also of all possible means, which therefore must be suggested in the first place.'
'Ursula!' He was appalled. 'There are people in that city. I don't think Charles meant his interdiction to hold only for them and not for the jaran as well.'
'Oh, David, be reasonable. The city is besieged anyway. The war is already here.'
'That doesn't make it right.'
'Well, then, your contribution might save lives on both sides. If the jaran attack is effective enough, and swift enough, perhaps the khaja will surrender to save themselves.'
'If that will indeed save them.'
'You forget that I've been traveling with the army. Overall, the jaran are merciful to those who surrender.'
'Are they now? I wonder what your conception of mercy is. I saw how devastated the lands were, behind us.'
'That was Yaroslav Sakhalin's doing. Most of it, anyway.'
'It's still against the interdiction.'
'I beg your pardon,' said Bakhtiian, riding up beside them. 'I hope,' he said, nodding toward David, 'that you'll ride with me.'
As they rode out, all David could think of was how stupid he had been to come here at all. He could have pled illness. He could even have asked Charles to make excuses for him, but then again, maybe Charles would not have done it. Maybe Charles wanted this-not the breaking of the interdiction, but the attempt, the act, the place where the line had to be drawn and his authority thrown up against Bakhtiian's, to prove once and for all who was really in charge. Was this how Tess felt, that she was a pawn tossed about from one side to the other in someone else's game?
They rode out of camp and alongside harvested fields striped with rows of fruit still ripening. Khaja peasants plowed a fallow field under, turning up the soil.
'I was remembering,' said Bakhtiian suddenly, startling David, 'when we first met.'
Goddess, here it came. David recalled all too clearly that awful first meeting, when he and Tess had crawled out of his tent into the full sight of her husband.
'Do you recall that I asked you if you could do a portrait of my wife?'
A series of images flashed through David's mind: the port and the thousand jaran horsemen arrayed along the shore to meet them; the horrible execution; he and Diana sitting in the quiet of camp, Diana watching while he sketched… Bakhtiian.
'Why, yes,' he replied, remembering now how incongruous it had seemed at the time. 'I did a sketch of you.'
'Yes. You're a fine artist. I hope, now that you're with the army again, that you might find time to do the portrait.'
David could not respond immediately. The quiet respect in Bakhtiian's voice for David's ability, the diffident request, the nature of the request itself, all combined with Bakhtiian's formidable presence and the all-too-evident wreckage that his army had left in its wake to confuse David as to the kind of man he was dealing with.
'My niece speaks highly of you,' Bakhtiian added, as if this inducement might convince David to agree. 'You've taught her a great deal about mapmaking.'
Which he had. Thus breaking the interdiction. But that was different, wasn't it? Because she was different. David felt impelled to smile at his own hypocrisy. 'I'd be pleased to do a portrait of your wife.'
