you any children yet?'
Petya flushed. 'You must know that Vera is disgraced. It isn't-it isn't anything to speak of here.'
'Then forgive me for speaking of it. Have you any news of my wife?'
'Karolla is well. Your cousin Arina took her in.'
A gleam lit Vasil's fine blue eyes. 'And my children? They are well also?'
The tight line of Petya's mouth relaxed slightly. 'They are well. They are sweet children. Everybody loves them.'
'Of course. You're outfitted differently-all that armor. You look like khaja soldiers.'
'Things have had to change.' Petya regarded the older man warily. 'Why are you here, Vasil?'
'Even arenabekh may return to the tribes, if their etsana agrees to it. I heard that my father died. I have come to claim the position that is rightfully mine. Can you take me to Anton? He is here, is he not? I saw the Veselov standard.'
'He is here.' Petya hesitated. Then, as if he could find no excuse to refuse, he motioned to the riders under his command and they turned and escorted Vasil and his men back along the valley. Corpses speckled the grass and the fields, fleeing soldiers who had been cut down and left to die. An overturned cart blocked the road, but the riders simply rode around it, not bothering to move it. Vegetables spilled out from its bed, bruised or flattened by the impact. In a far field, a crowd had been herded together under the watchful eyes of a group of riders.
'You have prisoners,' Petya studied the two men and the boy in the middle of Vasil's jahar. 'We were just heading up into the hills to see if we could catch the general of this army. He fled the battle.'
'I have him. That one, there, and his son.'
'Ah. Sakhalin will be pleased.'
'Yaroslav Sakhalin leads the army? Bakhtiian isn't here?'
Petya's brows drew down in confusion. Then he laughed. 'You didn't think this was the entire army, did you? We're only the vanguard. Bakhtiian is coming soon with the main army. We are as plentiful as the birds, and as strong as the winter wind.'
'Then it is true,' said Vasil thoughtfully. 'Bakhtiian will conquer all the khaja lands.'
'Did you ever doubt it?' Petya blinked up at Vasil, looking naive and perplexed and utterly assured all at once. 'Did you ever doubt that he could do it?'
Vasil did not reply. Instead, Yevgeni leaned forward. 'Excuse me,' he said politely to Petya. 'But if you are with the Veselov tribe-do you know-I have a sister. She was with me, before, with Mikhailov, and I never heard what had happened to her. Perhaps you've heard of her. Her name is Valye Usova.'
'I don't know her,' Petya confessed. 'I'm sorry. But Arina Veselov might, or Irena Orzhekov. After Mikhailov died, those two etsanas oversaw what became of the women and children who were left behind.' He hesitated again, visibly, his open face betraying doubt. 'Vasil. Are you certain you will be welcome? You followed Mikhailov, after all. You tried to kill Bakhtiian. He has no reason to forgive you.'
'No reason except what lies in his heart,' said Vasil, so low that only Petya heard him.
Petya's face became a flood of emotions that he suppressed with difficulty. 'Then it's true, the things Vera said about you.' He spoke quietly and, because it was in his nature, deferentially.
Vasil snorted. 'Vera is a snake, Petya, which I think you ought to know by now, being married to her as long as you have been. She says only what she pleases, to strengthen her own position.'
'She no longer has a position. The etsanas stripped her of all rank. Arina argued against it, but Orzhekov and the elders insisted. Vera does menial work for Varia Telyegin, who treats her kindly enough, though she's nothing but a servant now.''
Vasil laughed. 'I am amazed. She endures such treatment?'
'What choice does she have?' Petya asked bitterly.
Vasil turned his head smoothly to stare at Petya. 'And after everything, after the way she treated you, after she betrayed your trust, you still love her?'
Petya pressed his lips together and turned his face away, refusing to answer.
'Here is the main army,' said Yevgeni. A scout hailed them, and Petya led them around its mass to the northwest, where they came to a ring of horses and a knot of men standing talking together.
'Ah, there you are, Petya,' called a middle-aged man, dark featured and with a pleasant, open face. 'What did you catch?' His gaze skipped over Vasil, wrenched back, and he blanched, as though he had seen a ghost. 'Vasilley,' he said hoarsely. 'I thought I would never see you again.' Then, transformed as if by the rising sun, his face lit with joy. 'You damned bastard, where have you been?'
Vasil dismounted and strode forward. The two men embraced. 'Anton.' Vasil's tone was fervent. 'How I've missed you, you more than anyone, for all the kindness you ever showed me. You look well. I'm glad to see it.' He disengaged himself from Anton and turned to regard the other five men, who watched this reunion with interest. His gaze quickly fastened on the man who stood with quiet command to the far right. 'You are Yaroslav Sakhalin?'
Sakhalin nodded, acknowledging the question. 'You are Sergei Veselov's son Vasil? It would take a greater man than I not to be astonished by your sudden appearance here, and so many years after you vanished and were presumed dead.' He examined Vasil with an intent, intelligent gaze. He carried himself easily, with the relaxed authority of a man who knows he is both important and competent. He was a man at the height of his maturity, older than Vasil and Anton, but not yet old-old enough to have a married daughter and a nephew just elevated to his own command, and yet young enough to be a dangerous fighter still. His gaze settled on Anton, reading the dyan's face, and then returned to Vasil. 'What brings you back to us, Veselov?'
Vasil did not speak immediately. His own men stirred restlessly in their saddles. Petya looked worried, gnawing at his lower lip. In the end, in the silence, it was amazingly enough Anton Veselov who spoke.
'But, of course, if you just heard of your father's death, then you must have returned to claim the jahar. You are dyan by right, if the etsana and the elders agree to the election.'
'But you are dyan, Anton,' said Sakhalin without expression. 'Bakhtiian himself approved your election. I am sure no one will protest if you petition to keep your position.'
Anton looked surprised. 'You know yourself, Yaroslav, that it isn't proper for a brother and sister to act together in authority over a tribe. They're too close. There was simply no one else to take the position. And now there is.' He nodded at Vasil.
'I have led these arenabekh for three years,' said Vasil quietly, 'and I have brought khaja prisoners that I feel sure Bakhtiian wants.'
'Arina will wish it also,' added Anton, 'that her cousin become dyan.' Vasil flashed him a smile.
Sakhalin's lips twitched up. 'Then the question becomes, will Bakhtiian wish it? Very well, Veselov. It is no business of mine. You may take your case to Bakhtiian himself.' He looked beyond the two men, at Vasil's jahar. ' 'Who are these khaja you have with you?''
'The general of the army you just defeated, Sakhalin. As well as his son. The third is an honorable soldier who fought courageously in defense of the boy.''
'You do me a service, then, in bringing them to me.'
'I meant them for Bakhtiian, begging your pardon.'
Sakhalin chuckled. 'Did you, indeed? You may take them to him, then, and save me the bother. Anton, you will have to go as well, but I can't afford to lose your riders. Have your captains report to me, until you-' Here a glance spared for Vasil. '-or your cousin returns.'
'As you wish, Yaroslav,' replied Anton. He gave Vasil a slap on the arm and a grin, and then mounted and rode away with Petya and his troop to give the orders.
'You seem to inspire loyalty, Veselov,' said Sakhalin, whether with sarcasm or admiration it was impossible to tell. He was distracted by a scout riding in. 'What news?'
'We've rounded up every khaja we could find in the valley and on the nearby slopes. There's few enough women and children-they've either fled or been slaughtered by their own army, I don't know which. What shall we do with the men?'
'Sort out those who have some skill, artisans and blacksmiths. Kill the rest.' Sakhalin turned back to Vasil. 'You'd best be on your way at dawn, Veselov. Bakhtiian is assembling the army, and he won't want any confusion about his commanders, not on this campaign. We'll be driving on through the pass in the morning. The heart of the kingdom lies beyond these mountains.' Then he turned to the man at his right, dismissing Vasil, and began to discuss supplies and fodder for the horses on the mountain crossing.
