'She is a great healer. There is much she can teach those of my people who are also healers. This young man, for instance, will keep the use of his arm, and since he is one of my promising young commanders, I am pleased.'
The young man had his left arm in a sling, bound against his chest, but the fingers of his left hand played with a necklace of golden beads draped around his neck, rolling the beads around and around against his palm. Now he spoke, quiet words to Bakhtiian. Bakhtiian raised his eyebrows, looking half amused and half quizzical, and turned back to Diana.
'Anatoly asks that I tell you that he is the eldest grandchild of Elizaveta Sakhalin, who is the-' He hesitated. '-I'm not sure how this would translate. She is the etsana, the woman who speaks for her tribe, of the eldest tribe of the jaran, the Sakhalin. He rides with my jahar until he gains enough experience to be awarded a jahar of his own. Which will be soon. Anatoly acquitted himself well today, leading the left flank in on the charge that broke their ranks.'
'What is a jahar?' At the sound of her voice using a familiar word, Anatoly brightened.
'A group of riders. Not my entire army, you understand, but a smaller group within it.'
'I understand. But I never heard what happened at the battle.' She hesitated. Was it even proper to ask such a thing? Bakhtiian seemed so mild, crouched here next to her. She knew the pose must be deceptive.
He smiled. 'It seems that all khaja women are fascinated with war.''
'If I shouldn't ask-' She broke off. Goddess, what if she had violated some kind of taboo?
'It is not my part,' said Bakhtiian cryptically, 'to dictate to a woman what she should and should not do. As it happened, they were all on foot, a mercenary group hired by the port towns along the coast, with too few archers to do any proper damage.' Diana could not repress a shudder, thinking of the wounded men she had seen. 'They had spears, too, and their captain seems intelligent enough. He seems inclined to shift his loyalty. ''
'To shift his loyalty? To you?' 'As I said, he seems intelligent enough.' 'But could you trust such a man? And his troops?' 'A commander uses the tools he is given. It is up to him to use them where they will be strongest. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other riders to visit.' Bakhtiian spoke a few more words to Anatoly Sakhalin and then, nodding once at Diana, rose and left them. Anatoly lifted his head to watch Bakhtiian go. His expression betrayed the fierceness of his loyalty. Then he dropped his gaze to Diana, and then away, to stare at the fire.
Diana sighed. Suddenly, she realized how achingly tired she was. The barest gleam of light tinged the horizon. Soon it would be dawn.
Anatoly said something in khush to her, softly. There was no one else at this fire. Beyond, other fires sparked and burned, but she felt wrapped in a cocoon here, she felt, strangely enough, safe. She felt so completely unthreatened, sitting beside a man she barely knew, a barbarian, above all else, who had yesterday fought in a battle that would have sickened her to see, that she could not be sure if it was exhaustion that gave her a false sense of security or if indeed he posed no threat to her. The idea seemed ludicrous. He sat there, saber lying on the ground beside him, fingers playing with his necklace.
Out in the darkness, two people strolled by, talking in Anglais. A woman's voice: 'It was textbook, I tell you. The left flank charged in and just within bowshot turned tail and retreated in the most ragtag flight you've ever seen, and, of course, the damned fools took after them, thinking they'd scared them off. I saw someone-I believe it was the captain of the mercenary troop-trying to pull them back into line, but they charged after the left flank and then, of course, got slammed by a second charge from the jaran center. Beautifully done, and whoever commanded the jaran left flank had his timing and distance down to the penny. 'When opponents open a doorway, swiftly penetrate it.' That's Sun Tzu. And they use the spears effectively enough as impact when they hit the line, but I can't fathom why none of these riders use bow and arrow.'
'I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, Ursula.' That was Maggie, sounding tired and hoarse. 'We saw the uglier end of it here.'
'Aha, do I detect the superior voice of civilization lurking in your tone?'
They faded off into the camp. A man moaned, and a woman spoke gentle words. Farther away, someone chopped wood. The rhythmic hacking soothed Diana's nerves. It was such an ordinary sound.
'Diana.'' She glanced up, startled, to see Anatoly looking at her. On his lips, her name sounded exotic and yet tentative. Somehow he had slipped the golden bead necklace off from around his neck and now he held it out in his right hand, offering it to her. He said words to her in khush, grimaced as if frustrated by their inability to understand each other, and then spoke again. A handful of syllables said quietly the first time, then repeated with vehemence.
The words were meaningless to her, but said with an intensity that people reserve for a heartfelt 'Thank you,' or 'You're beautiful.' Or, 'I love you.' The words Marco had mocked her with, that she wished she had not heard. And here sat this one, and she wished so desperately that she could understand him.
She burst into tears. Finally, after all the long hours wearing away at the wall she had constructed in order to go on this hellish day, it took only this to shatter her. She choked down her sobs and looked up at him. With the tips of his fingers, he brushed the tears off of her cheeks and touched his wet fingers to his lips, savoring their precious substance. No man had ever made as simple a gesture as this for her; layers of polished words, of fresh, expensive flowers, or sophisticated holowraps weeping of desire unfulfilled and hearts pining away; but never anything this artless and this sincere.
He said something more to her and then, to her horror, struggled up to his feet.
'Anatoly! No, you shouldn't get up.' She jumped to her feet.
He wasn't listening to her. He dipped his head, to get the necklace back on.
She stopped him. 'No.' She took it from him and settled the gold beads around her own neck. His face lit in an astonished smile, and he recalled himself and looked away.
He waved toward the tents, pillowed his head on his hand, mimicking sleep. Motioned that way, but did not touch her. He began to walk, so she had to follow. He limped badly, but he refused help. He led her to Dr. Hierakis's tent, and here he paused beyond the awning, in the half-gloom heralding dawn. Under the awning, Charles Soerensen sat with Dr. Hierakis and David and Marco, conferring by lantern light. Marco glanced up. His gaze froze on Diana for an instant, moving to her chest, where the necklace dangled, gleaming. Darted to Anatoly Sakhalin, and then he looked away, lips tight, his expression shuttered.
Anatoly spoke to her in a low voice and motioned toward the tent and made the pillowing gesture again. Diana nodded and, as if that satisfied him, he caught her gaze for a piercing instant, and then turned and limped away.
Diana took in a deep breath and walked under the awning. 'Doctor, is there somewhere I can sleep?' she asked.
Dr. Hierakis did not even look up. 'Yes, dear. In my tent. Maggie and Jo are already in there. Just be careful of the equipment.'
Diana did not look at Marco, kept her gaze away from him as she slipped past the little group and pushed the tent flap aside to go in.
'Diana? Here's a stretch of ground, and a thermal blanket.'
'Maggie. Goddess, I'm tired. What are you doing?'
'Just trying out this new program.' Maggie lay on her side. A thin slate gleamed on the tent floor, its screen lit with letters and numbers. 'It's a fairly primitive translation program from an abstract of the khush language sent to us by His Nib's sister.'
'Oh.' Diana lay down. She stared at the dark canvas ceiling above. Perhaps she was simply too tired to sleep. 'Maggie. What does elinu mean?'
'Hmm.' The sound of light tapping. ' 'Angel.' 'Spirit.' Wait, there's a longer description here. 'The Sun's daughters are elinu and they come down from the heavens to men and women who have died in battle or in childbirth-' That's egalitarian of them, I should say. '-to raise them up to Heaven.' There's a cross reference to-' Maggie went on.
Diana shut her eyes. 'Arkady Suvorin,' she whispered, so that she would not forget his name. But somehow, she doubted she ever could. Yet it was not his face she saw, drifting down into sleep, nor even Marco's, but Anatoly Sakhalin's, staring at her while he lay on the surgery table, holding on to her as if she alone secured him to the earth.
