coast, and she rode into camp with her escort in the late afternoon, hard on the messenger's heels, having made good time herself.
'You might have warned me,' said Sonia grumpily, hugging her. 'I've no celebration prepared to welcome you home.'
Tess kissed her on either cheek. 'You are my welcome, Sonia. Oh, gods, look how much Katya has grown. Is that Vasha?' She laughed. 'And who are you, young man?' she said to Ivan. 'I scarcely recognize you.' Tess shone with happiness. Sonia felt, to be truthful, unutterably relieved to have her back. She had been gone for almost nine months, and at times, Sonia had worried that she might simply decide to stay in Jeds or even to follow her brother back to Erthe. Now, Sonia saw that she had worried needlessly. This was Tess's home now.
Tess caught sight of a figure wavering under an adjoining awning. 'Good God, is that Nadine?' She broke away from Sonia and strode over. She could not embrace Nadine very well, since Nadine was by now so incredibly pregnant that her belly overwhelmed every other feature. 'Dina! How are you?'
Nadine flushed just as Sonia hurried up to forestall the explosion. But she was too late. 'I hate mis!' Nadine exclaimed. 'I just hate this!' She pushed Tess away and turned and waddled back into her tent.
Tess turned to Sonia. At once, her happy glow subsided. She looked guilty. 'Oh. Is that the way it's been with her?'
'Let me tell you,' said Sonia, drawing Tess away from Nadine's tent, 'that pregnancy has made her even more foul tempered than usual.'
Tess cast a glance back at the tent. The entrance flap stilled and hung there, heavy, cutting Nadine off from the rest of her family. 'Can that be possible? Poor Nadine.'
'Tess, my dear, you ought to save your sympathy for those of us who deserve it. And Feodor Grekov is impossible. If he's not fighting with her, then he spoils her. I can't imagine why I ever agreed with Mother Sakhalin that he would make a good husband for Dina.'
'You agreed!'
Sonia arched an eyebrow. 'Certainly Mother Sakhalin consulted me since my mother was not available. To be frank, there were other young men I preferred-a very well-mannered and clever young Raevsky son, for instance-but it might have proven difficult to persuade any of them to marry her.'
Tess snorted. 'Well, then, you got what you deserved.' She grinned, surveyed the camp, and sighed, happy again. Kolia went up to Svetlana Tagansky's daughter and the two children circled each other like two horses getting acquainted. In her competent manner, Svetlana oversaw the unpacking and the rolling out of tents, and Aleksi took the horses out to the herd. Farther back, a young woman in a Jedan gown sat stiffly in a wagon, hands clasped in her lap and her hair covered by a loose white scarf.
'Who is that?' Sonia asked.
'She's my hostage,' said Tess lightly. 'A Jedan noblewoman. Baron Santer's daughter. I thought I might marry her to Anatoly Sakhalin.'
'Anatoly Sakhalin!' Sonia surveyed the young woman, who seemed unremarkable except perhaps for the calm with which she regarded the jaran camp. She appeared to be an extremely self-possessed young woman. 'Have you asked Anatoly about this?'
'I thought I would discuss the matter with his grandmother.'
'Well,' said Sonia, with deep misgivings, 'I will see that a messenger goes out to them. Not that I don't think it's a good idea. Of course, I know who Baron Santer is.
But keep in mind that there are other young men-Georgi Raevsky, for instance-'
Tess gave her such a look. 'You're showing a sudden partiality for the Raevsky tribe, aren't you?'
'I am giving my husband the honor he deserves. In any case, I suggest you speak with Anatoly first. He just returned from the south, from his uncle's army, two hands of days ago.'
'Hmph,' said Tess, and then grinned hugely and hugged Sonia again. 'Oh, I missed you so much.' She broke away and swept her gaze around the camp. It halted on her tent, sitting there, looking silent and alone at the heart of the camp. 'But where is Ilya?' she asked, sounding rather plaintive.
'Sulking in the tent.' Sonia laughed. 'Or pacing, more like. The truth is, I think he's afraid he'll embarrass himself if he meets you in public.'
'Wise of him, I'm sure,' Tess replied, but her face had already lit. 'If you'll excuse me.' She had enough dignity not to run, but she vanished into her tent swiftly enough.
The next day, Mother Sakhalin and her grandson arrived from the Sakhalin encampment a half-day's ride downriver. Tess received them under the awning of her tent, and Sonia saw how unconsciously Tess carried authority with her now, as if she had grown used to wielding it in Jeds. It made her at once more formidable and yet more easygoing. Ilya sat beside her, looking remarkably subdued. Sonia reflected that it had not, on the whole, been an easy nine months, what with Nadine pregnant and Ilya's moods swinging wildly from day to day. They had traveled slowly back through Habakar, de-marking territories, installing governors, and sending Kirill Zvertkov to the south to reinforce Yaroslav Sakhalin in the Xiriki-khai province. Gangana had revolted and, quite rightfully, Ilya had laid the city to waste as an example to the rest. All in all, Sonia had been relieved when they reached the plains again at the beginning of summer and Ilya had announced that he intended to remain on the plains for at least a year. For almost five years he had been fighting; it was time to rest while others consolidated and pressed forward.
'Mother Sakhalin,' said Tess, 'your presence honors me. Anatoly, I am pleased to see you as well.'
Mother Sakhalin looked tired. Her grandson looked nothing like the expressive young man of almost two years ago who had won by his own exploits the right to command a jahar. He looked a little unkempt. He had let his hair grow, tied off in three braids, and his eyes had a hard, cold gleam to them now, echoed by the set of his mouth. There were stories-that he had covered himself in so much glory in the past year, fighting in the worst skirmishes and the fiercest battles, throwing himself always to the front of the engagement, that one could scarcely recount all of the tales in one evening. His jahar took the worst casualties, and every man who fought beside him had either been killed or badly wounded, and yet Anatoly came through every engagement without a scratch. And then, ten days ago, like a horse bolted for home, he had turned up at his grandmother's camp.
Now he regarded Tess Soerensen, his expression so masked that Sonia could not read his feelings. 'I want to go to Erthe,' he said without preamble.
Shocked, Sonia looked at Mother Sakhalin, and what she saw there dismayed her further. Mother Sakhalin looked not just tired but frail and old. A month ago she had not looked like this.
'But that's impossible, Anatoly,' exclaimed Tess.
'It can't be impossible,' said Anatoly stubbornly, 'if others have gone before me.'
'It is impossible,' said Tess so coldly that Anatoly shrank back from her and, abruptly, hung his head to hide his face. 'She is gone. She left you by her own choice.'
'Only because I would not go with her,' he said to the carpet. His hands lay perfectly still on his lap, except for his right forefinger, which twitched as he spoke.
'Tess,' said Ilya in his most reasonable voice, 'perhaps this is not your decision to make.' Tess shot him a look filled with venom. He smiled, unruffled by her anger. 'I suggest you allow Anatoly to address a letter to Diana, to ask her.'
'That could take months!' Tess objected. 'A year! More!'
'If Anatoly is willing to wait,' said Ilya, 'then I see no reason a letter should not be sent.'
Anatoly's head jerked up. A light sparked in him, and Sonia realized that the coldness stemmed not from lack pf feeling but from too much feeling. She had thought it the mark of a new-found cruelty. Now she thought he was just in pain. 'I am willing,' he said hoarsely, and Mother Sakhalin aged ten years in that moment.
Tess stewed. 'Very well,' she said finally. 'You may tell me what words you wish to write to Diana, Anatoly. I will write them myself and I will send the letter. But if she says she does not want you, then you must agree to consider yourself a widower and abide by my wishes.'
'Very well,' he echoed meekly. He paused. 'What are your wishes?'
She contemplated him a moment, and Sonia could see that Tess found this changed Anatoly a bit puzzling, as if he was both more, and less, than she expected. 'I wish you to marry a Jedan noblewoman and together with her act as regents in Jeds under our suzerainty.'
At these words, Mother Sakhalin rallied. 'It would be a good marriage, Anatoly,' she said firmly. 'And a proper position for you. And for the tribe.'
