Citadels of Fire

by L.K. Hill

  ***

  As soon as the sky grew light, the men rose and prepared to leave. No one had to tell them. Taras got his things together while eating a cold breakfast. Almas found him, and they prepared together but did not talk.

  Taras started to mount Jasper when he heard his name. A short man asked about him at the next campfire over. The man, by his clothes, was one of the riders escorting the Khan’s sleigh. Another man pointed Taras out, and the Khan’s man came toward him.

  “The Khan has asked for you,” the man said.

  Taras looked around to be sure the man spoke to him. “Why?”

  The man’s face contorted. “When the Khan asks for you, soldier, you obey.” He stomped off in the opposite direction as well as he could in three feet of snow.

  “You should go with him, my friend," Almas said. "The Khan of Kasimov is only a step below the tsar. Show him much respect.” Taras nodded and handed Jasper’s reigns to Almas.

  He caught up to the little man easily. When they reached the ornate sledge, the Khan sat in the center of the bench, wrapped in his rich furs and watching his sleek horses being harnessed. Taras hung back until the short man announced him, then stepped forward awkwardly, not sure how to behave toward a Khan.

  The Khan’s face went from bored to rapturous when he saw Taras. He slid to the side of the sleigh, motioning Taras to come closer. Taras did.

  “You are called Taras?”

  “I am, your ma—” Taras cut off. He almost said “your majesty” but this man was not a king. “That is my name, my lord.” The man nodded, not seeming to notice the slip. The Khan looked middle-aged, with a long, hanging beard. His hair extended several inches below his thick fur cap, and it held little gray in it. His face was relatively unlined, but his eyes looked tired.

  “I don’t think you are aware, soldier, that you saved my life last night.”

  Taras felt surprise. “No, my lord, I am not.”

  “When you killed that wolf, you stepped into its line of attack. It tried for my sleigh. If you had not, it would have killed me.”

  Taras thought back to the previous night. He hadn’t realized the sledge sat directly behind him, but then he never turned around to look.

  “You interest me, young man. My men have listened to your group’s gossip. They say you have ridden from England. Is that true?”

  “It is, my lord.”

  The man studied Taras intently, as though calculating carefully. Then he focused on something behind Taras and clucked his tongue in annoyance. Taras turned to see most of the other men in the group were mounted now.

  “It looks like we’re moving out. You need to find your horse,” the Khan said. “Would you consider riding beside my sleigh so we might talk as we travel?”

  “I will, my lord.”

  “Good. Go get your horse and come right back.”

  Taras obeyed, stopping long enough to explain to Almas where he would be. Almas’s eyebrows climbed, but his face remained otherwise unreadable. Taras had no idea whether he was worried or impressed. By the time he rejoined the Khan’s sleigh, the caravan had begun its slow progression.

  “So,” the Khan said, “all the way from England on horseback. That’s remarkable.”

  “Is it, my lord?”

  The Khan leaned back, his head held high as though trying to see Muscovy in the distance. “My ancestors, Master Taras, were the great Mongols. They were exquisite horsemen—invented the stirrup, you know. They could hit a fly with a crossbow from the back of a charging horse.”

  “Impressive, my lord.”

  “Yes, it is. They would have thought nothing of riding the length of Asia on horseback. Yet,” he glanced at Taras, “it is an unusual feat for a westerner.”

  Taras said nothing.

  “You are English, but you speak excellent Russian. What brought you here?”

  “My father was Russian, my lord. My mother was English.”

  The Khan’s ears perked up at this. “A half-breed, you say?”

  Taras frowned. The Khan used the term with such nonchalance that he wasn’t sure whether to take offense or not.

  “Interesting. You have lived in Russia before, then?”

  “Yes, my lord. In Moscow, as a boy.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “My father had a falling out with the grand prince, and then my mother died. I think he wanted a fresh start, so we went to live with my mother’s family in England.”

  The Khan said nothing for a time, but Taras could feel the man’s eyes on him, looking for a way to use Taras to his advantage. Taras decided to make his answers vaguer. He did not want to give the Khan any more leverage.

  “Tell me, boy, if your father 'fell out' with the grand prince, he must have been an important boyar. An advisor, perhaps?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Then you were born of the aristocracy, but you look like a soldier.”

  Taras thought carefully about what to say, trying to word his answer so the Khan wouldn’t see opportunity for himself in it.

  “I am a simple man, my lord. My parents consorted with sovereigns, but I am happy with the life of a soldier.” The Khan relaxed in his seat, seeming less eager for Taras’s answers.

  “Going for the imperial army, then?”

  “If the grand prince will have me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will. The grand prince—the tsar, now—is making much progress in Russia these days.” He glanced at Taras again. “You strike me as a man that could make quite an impact in the court, Master Taras. There is plenty of opportunity for it, if you know the right people.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Yes,” he leaned toward Taras and lowered his voice. “They say the tsar has fallen in love with a pretty little slip of a girl from the Romanov clan.”

  “Romanov, my lord?”

  “Yes.” He waved his hand in dismissal, returning to his normal tone of voice, “I’m sure you’ve not heard of them. Minor nobles. Her name is Anastasia.”

  “So he will take a wife then.”

  “Oh, not simply that. He has truly fallen in love with her. He falls all over himself for her, and there’s nothing he won’t do for her. Not that anyone is complaining. It is said she has calmed him down a great deal.”

  “Calmed him down, my lord?”

  “Yes, well, Ivan is a brutal sort of man. He’s been that way since he was a boy. With her around, he is happier than he’s ever been, and more generous. So,” he looked toward Taras again, “as I said, now is the opportunity for anyone with ambitions to make their show at court.”

  Taras smiled politely. The Khan, no doubt, had the same plan: to make his own appearance, for his own aims. “He sounds like a great man, my lord.”

  “He is. I think he will do great things for Russia.” The Khan turned to Taras and leaned forward again. “How long did it take you to ride from England?”

  Taras suppressed a sigh and concentrated on vague answers again. “Almost a year, my lord.”

  Taras thought perhaps the Khan had traveled a long time with only his escort—servants—as company. He seemed happy to have someone educated to converse with.

  “Your group reports that you joined them in the north. Did you come into Siberia from up north then?”

  “I did, my lord.”

  Taras caught an almost imperceptible pause. “And why would you do that?”

  Taras's hackles rose. The man was trying to manipulate him again. He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be truthful on this subject, if still vague.

  “My father’s family owns some land up north, my lord. When we left Russia, I was a boy but my father showed me a quaint little valley. I wanted to see it again before entering Muscovy.”

  There were hundreds of valleys in Siberia. The Khan would not be able to figure out which one, even with a detailed description. He studied Taras speculatively again.

  “And how did you find it, your little valley?”

  “I found it sol
itary, my lord. I don’t understand how a man could live in such solitude without going mad.”

  The Khan nodded. “A worthy question. I would submit, however, that the company of others can drive a man to madness as quickly as solitude.”

  Taras considered the idea, but said nothing.

  “So then,” the Khan went on, “you would, if you went to your little valley to live, bring people with you. A coterie of mistresses, perhaps, to keep you warm?”

  The forwardness of the question took Taras by surprise, but he answered quickly.

  “I suppose so, my lord.”

  He’d only missed half a beat before answering, but the Khan’s shrewd ears picked it up.

  “Oh, I think not. You are not that kind of man, are you? Well, a wife then.”

  “If my lord will forgive me?” The Khan nodded. “I doubt I will come out here to live at all. If I can make a life for myself in Moscow, as you think I can, I will have no reason to live in solitude.”

  The Khan stared at Taras in silence for a long time. He had the same weighing, calculating look as before. He stared until Taras shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. He would give anything to ride somewhere else, but walking away would offend the Khan, so he rode looking straight ahead and waiting for the Khan to speak again. At length, he did.

  “Well,” he faced front again, “you are a fascinating young man, Master Taras. Whether you know it or not, I owe you my life. I will follow your career with great interest. Unfortunately, I cannot promise you anything in return for my life, except that if you need anything, I will do my best by you. It will have to be enough.”

  “I assure you it is, my lord.” Taras hoped he never had to call in a favor from this man.

  “Glad to hear it. You have given me my life, which is my most valued possession. God willing, I will be able to be of some service to you in the future.”

  Taras suppressed a smile. The man was being sincere. “Thank you, my lord.”

  “We will reach Moscow before nightfall. Perhaps you should fall into line with the others.”

  “Of course, my lord.” Taras directed Jasper out to the side and galloped ahead to fall in beside Almas. He understood, of course. The Khan did not want to be seen to have a favorite, which is exactly what people would think if they entered the city, talking like old friends. Taras wanted to avoid that as much as the Khan. If people thought him a favorite of a man as powerful as the Khan, he would never get another moment’s peace. They would think he had the Khan’s ear, who in turn had the tsar’s ear.

  One thing he knew for sure: intrigues were something he wanted to avoid.