by Kate Elliott
“Granted willingly.” As an afterthought, all five of the women looked at Yuri. He stopped sucking on his fingers and slowly drew them out of his mouth. He squirmed closer against his mother, folded both his hands around her elbow, and hung on. “You’d better go, Yurinya. This is women’s business.”
He opened his mouth to screech, caught Irena Orzhekov’s eye, and decided against it. With a pronounced sigh, he heaved himself to his feet and wandered away, dragging his feet until he caught sight of his father. Tess watched him trot over—he had an endearingly uncoordinated lope that could not quite be dignified with the word “run”—and attach himself to Ilya’s leg. Startled, Ilya looked down at him, up toward Tess, and then scooped the boy up and set him on his shoulders. Together, they walked outside with Konstans, Yuri ducking as they went under the threshold. Yuri was already chattering away, and Tess cringed, hoping that he was not repeating in some fragmented fashion the conversation he had just heard: He had an astonishingly good memory for a five-year-old.
“We have decided to postpone the birbas for at least ten more days. There has been the usual nonsense with the Grekov tribe, who are determined to quarrel with the Raevskys, this time over right of place in the birbas,” added Kira.
All the women except Sonia shook their heads. Tess dipped her head down to hide a smile.
“Why are you smiling?” asked Sonia suddenly.
Tess chuckled. “I don’t know. Maybe only to wonder how I could have been so naive as to imagine that the four of you hadn’t planned it all from the beginning, for Feodor Grekov to mark Nadine. I just find it so amusing to see you all so irritated that it hasn’t worked out as you’d planned.”
“She has given birth to two fine girls,” retorted Sonia, nettled.
Kira snorted. “If you call Lara fine. I would call her wild, myself.”
“I grieve for the little boy they lost,” said Irena, “but nevertheless, Tess is right. The gods always find ways to remind us that we aren’t nearly as clever as we believe we are. I will have to consult with—” She hesitated, reading her eldest daughter’s expression. “Is Mother Sakhalin so ill that she can’t be consulted?” she asked, startled enough that Tess caught a hint of alarm in her voice.
Kira bowed her head. “Three days ago she fell into sleep and has only woken twice briefly since.”
Irena rose, shaking out her skirts. “Then we must go at once to her tent. After that, we will visit Arina Veselov. Tess, you will come with me. Sonia and Stassi, you will remain here now and then attend Mother Sakhalin this evening. From now until she dies, one of us should remain at her tent at all hours.”
“I’ll see that our tents are put up,” said Stassia, rising.
“Oh, Stassi,” said Sonia, “let me supervise the tents today. The sight of food makes me ill. You promised yesterday you would see to dinner until I’m feeling better.” The other women paused and examined her with critical eyes.
“Aha!” said Tess. “You are pregnant, aren’t you?”
Sonia laughed. “You know the answer to that as well as I do. But I must say, Tess, that—”
“No! I’ve had two. That’s enough!”
It was an old argument that had been raging for over two years now, ever since Yuri had turned three. Tess had avoided it for a time by going to Jeds, but on her return it had simply resumed with more force.
“Don’t tease her, Sonia,” said Irena mildly. “Although I admit I now understand why the khaja princes are so weak, and why their houses die out so quickly, if they think two children are enough to secure their line.”
Tess sighed. It was all very well to have a mother and older sisters, but it also meant that she had to bear up under the brunt of their advice and scolding.
“Come, Tess,” said Irena. Tess followed her away, making a face at Sonia over her shoulder. Sonia only laughed.
They walked toward the Sakhalin tent across an expanse of flourishing green grass. It was lawn grass, truth to tell, not the coarser plains grass that grew everywhere outside the central grounds of the park. In the year he had spent here on the site of Darai, David had devised many ingenious marvels, working with Habakar and Vidiyan engineers brought to Sarai by the army. One of them was the unobtrusive irrigation system, which was almost as marvelous as the citywide plumbing system, both of them built with the technology and manpower at hand. It was amazing what one could accomplish with enough hands and enough time and enough patience. Tess had schemed for this lawn. She would have taken off her boots just to feel the soft grass between her toes, but Irena would probably think her odd for doing so. In any case, they crossed over a small canal, skirted a line of saplings, and came to the Sakhalin tent. The sight of it sobered Tess.
Elizaveta Sakhalin was dying.
Inside, incense could not cover the sour-sweet smell of illness. Mother Sakhalin lay on pillows, breathing shallowly. She looked impossibly tiny, as if the illness itself was shrinking her. Her skin was so pale and dry that Tess was afraid the slightest touch would mark her permanently. Irena knelt down beside the old etsana and took her ancient, veined hand in her own. She regarded the old woman calmly. A Sakhalin girl hovered in the background, and the Sakhalin healer sat quietly opposite Mother Orzhekov.
Tess remained standing. She sniffed back a tear and caught a second on a finger. But she wasn’t really crying for Mother Sakhalin, although she grieved to see her so close to death. Even as Mother Sakhalin had grown old, had grown weaker, and finally failed, Tess knew she was seeing the beginning of Niko’s decline, and that was far harder to contemplate.
Niko would not thank her for interfering with the natural course of life, and yet she could not help but wonder if she ought to try to give longevity to all the jaran. Yet even with the treatments that extended youth, a swift decline set in at around one hundred and ten years. Inevitably, this scene was played out in every family, with every individual. Even if Cara Hierakis found a formula that would double the human life span, still, in the end, mortality faced them all.
The sweetish smell caught in Tess’s throat, and she gagged.
Mother Sakhalin stirred. Her hand fluttered in Irena’s gentle grip. Her eyes opened and closed and opened. Her gaze had lost its sharp intelligence; it pained Tess to see how lost and confused the old woman seemed. Mother Sakhalin glanced around the dim chamber as if looking for something that wasn’t there, and her fingers moved, clutching Irena’s hand.
“Anatoly,” she said in a hoarse whisper, “kriye, dear one.”
She fell back asleep.
Irena let go of her hand and sat back on her heels. “Kira said she was woken twice before from this sleep.”
The healer nodded. “With the same result. It is always the boy she asks for.”
Irena rose. She carried with her such vast reserves of serenity that Tess could not imagine seeing her flustered. “My other daughters will come as well,” she said to the healer. They took their leave.
Outside the tent, blinking as they adjusted to the sunlight, Irena spoke without looking at Tess. “It is hard for you, I can tell, my daughter. But I hope you remember that a woman who survives her childbearing can expect to see her husband die before her.” Tess shuddered. Irena rested a cool hand on Tess’s arm, a fleeting, comforting gesture. “But it is true that he is holding up well under the weight of his years and his vision. Perhaps the gods have chosen to grant him youth past the normal measure, so that he may better lead his armies as far as the gods want him to.” She dropped her hand and walked on, as if she knew that Tess did not want to speak of these matters.
At the Veselov tent, Arina looked peaceful enough. Her eyes lit, when she saw Tess, and she extended a hand. Tess grasped it and sat down beside her.
“You are well?” asked Tess, feeling stupid as she said it.
“I am fine,” said Arina, but she looked worn and pale, her small body dwarfed by her pregnancy. Even her gorgeous black hair hung lankly down over her shoulders as if it had lost an essential spark of li
fe.
“I wish you hadn’t done this,” Tess blurted out. “I’m very worried for you, Arina.”
Arina’s expression softened. “I am not as worried as you are. But it was nice of you to come so swiftly. You must just have ridden in.”
“Oh, gods, I ought to be reassuring you, not you, me. Everything will be all right.”
Arina smiled. “You can only say that because you have not been in camp with the Grekovs and the Raevskys arguing around you. Why, at least once a day some one or other of them comes to me to complain.”
Tess laughed, and they chatted for a while on these other, safer topics, until the healer Varia Telyegin chased her out.
“She didn’t seem to be having any pains,” said Tess when they were outside, and out of Arina’s earshot.
“They stopped just before you came,” said Varia, “but that, too, discourages me.”
“Do you truly not believe she can survive the labor?”
“She has scarcely been able to walk for eight years now. How can she be strong enough to give birth to this child? None of her other births went easily—not of the two children who yet live and certainly not the one six years ago when we lost the baby and almost lost her.”
“But that happened to me,” said Tess obstinately, “and I went on to give birth to two healthy children afterward.”
Varia only shook her head.
“There is nothing we can do,” said Irena as they walked back to the Orzhekov encampment, growing now as tents were set up beside and behind the great central tent. “Arina has been a wise etsana, for all that she came so young into the position, but she has a weakness for men. First, to let her cousin Vasil return when he had been exiled.”
“Yes, but he’s gone now,” said Tess impatiently, not liking the way Irena was looking at her. Tess suspected that Irena suspected many things about her and Ilya and Vasil, all of which were probably true.
A smile cracked Irena’s stern expression, then vanished. “And second, she badly wanted to tie Kirill closer to her by giving birth to many strong children.”
“But Kirill loves her!”
“That is true enough. I confess I misjudged him early on. I believe now that even were she never to give birth to any more children, she could not shake his affection and loyalty to her. But Arina has always lived in the shadow of your tent, Tess.”
Tess winced. “But—”
“I am not blaming you, my daughter. I doubt if Arina Veselov does either. She is far too wise and generous for that.”
“Certainly she has always been generous,” muttered Tess, feeling guilty.
“That does not change the fact that her life would have been very different if you had not come to the jaran.”
“I wish—” began Tess, and broke off. Irena regarded her evenly. Tess finally produced a lopsided smile. “I wish you wouldn’t tell me things I don’t want to hear.”
Irena stopped, placed a hand on each of Tess’s shoulders, and kissed her on either cheek. Then, without another word, she walked into the great tent, leaving Tess standing outside.
Ilya strolled up, as if he had been waiting for her. “And?”
“I’m sure you’ve heard the worst from Kira, and there isn’t any better news to replace that with. Let’s go see if the baths truly are finished.”
“You and your baths. I think the only reason you wanted Sarai founded was so that you could have those baths built.”
Tess smiled, because David had accused her of the same thing, six years ago.
They went in relative solitude: an escort of only twenty riders. She walked, the better to inspect the foundations of the fountain being built in the center of the great plaza. About a dozen men were digging here, installing pipes, and they ceased work immediately and knelt, bowing their heads, when she approached. Their subservience made her uncomfortable, but Ilya climbed right down into the pit and inspected the workings with interest. Tess watched the laborers eyeing him from under the brim of their caps, but none spoke a word except in answer to his direct questions.
“Very clever,” he said finally, climbing out. They strolled on across the oval, which was already paved in smooth stone. Tess had insisted that David site the archives, which she called the library, directly opposite the Orzhekov tent, so that the two faced each other across the white expanse of the plaza, although the Orzhekov tent was set back so far in the park that only the gold banner and the slope of the roof were visible above the screen of new trees that would eventually grow to hide it entirely from view.
Jaran guards stood impassively at the great double doors that led into the main reading room. Tess set a foot on the stairs and gazed up. The library had been the first building they had built, and they had built it in unseemly haste, taking only five years to do it. And she had business within, important business. Of all the buildings here, of all the buildings dreamt of, it was her favorite.
She withdrew her foot from the stairs. “No, I want to see the baths first.”
“You want to see the khepelli priestess,” said Ilya.
Tess shot him a glance but did not reply. Instead she kept walking, circling the elegant marble dome, a smaller version of the Pantheon, and its ringed portico and meeker octagonal annex, the scriptorium.
Behind the library stood the huge baths complex. They were a vile luxury, and Tess found them utterly enchanting. They were divided into four sections: the cold pool (which stretched outdoors), the Greater Baths, the Lesser Baths, and the Imperial Baths, together with the annexes, the lavatories and (the most obscene addition) a bank of showers.
The Imperial Baths were reserved for jaran, but at midday, except for the guards, they were empty. They paused in the foyer.
“I will wait out here, then,” said Ilya, “or perhaps go back to the archives.”
“You will not!”
Ilya glanced at their escort. “Tess,” he said in an undertone, “it is unseemly for a man and a woman to bathe together.”
“It is not. Your aunt need never know in any case.” He looked unconvinced but he hesitated, so she turned to Konstans. “Konstans. Take the men outside and place a ring around the building.”
Konstans looked amused. “Does this mean I may bring my wife here some evening?”
Ilya flushed.
“If you move swiftly, now, and don’t say anything about this to anyone else. Out.”
They went.
“I don’t—” began Ilya.
“Yes, you do. We’ve been traveling for ten days to get here. There you stand in all your dust, and the truth is, the only thing that stops you from going in with me and enjoying these miraculous baths is your own embarrassment. Ilya, your armies have swept through more princedoms than I can count, and you’re afraid that back at camp they’re going to gossip about you because you bathed with your wife!”
“You have never been scolded by my aunt for improper behavior.”
“I have, too! She doesn’t scare me. Much.” She threw up her hands. “I’m going in. You may follow or not, as you wish.”
She passed through the vestibule and walked across the silent exercise court that fronted the baths themselves. Inside, in the dressing room, she stripped. She had just taken off the last of her clothes when Ilya appeared.
“I was thinking—” he began, and broke off, seeing her naked.
Tess rolled her eyes. “You aren’t this shy in my blankets.”
Crossing into the warm baths chamber, she eased herself into the circular pool and just floated there a while, enjoying the lap of gentle waves against her arms and chest. Then she swam a slow lap, luxuriating in the warmth and the sensuous slipperiness of the water against her skin. She dove under and surfaced next to the stairs, to find Ilya sitting on the steps, half in the water, looking… uncomfortable.
“I forgot,” said Tess, suddenly illuminated. “You don’t know how to swim.” She caught back a laugh, because she could tell he was in an uncertain mood.
“Damn you.” He
took her by the arm and hauled her in against him, and Tess instantly revised her evaluation of his mood.
“Mmmm.” said Ilya after a while. “It is no wonder the khaja are so weak. We bathe in cold streams and rivers, where we certainly aren’t tempted to linger on doing this sort of thing.”
“Are you complaining?”
“Not at all.”
Even the floor was warm, because of the hollow pipes running underneath that conducted hot air from the furnace. The finest grade of stone had been chosen for these rooms, so that although the floor was hard, it had an almost silken smoothness rather akin to the flow of Ilya’s skin under her hands.
“You were thinking,” she said later, lying half on top of him, idly tracing the curves of his face with a finger, studying its lines, as she liked to. He shifted his hips, easing away from where her knee pushed hard against his thigh.
“I was thinking,” he said slowly, “that it is time for me to return to the army. The horses are fat from the spring grass, and if Kirill can push west quickly enough, we can catch the king and army of Mircassia between two pincers and so make an end to him. Then only Filis and its prince will remain between us and Jeds. We could reach Jeds by midwinter, if all went well.”
Tess froze. All of her pleasure evaporated. She rolled off him and plunged into the pool, swam across it, and clambered out the opposite side, dripping water, and hurried away under an archway and into the chamber with the cold pool, which was likewise deserted. She dove in. The numbing cold of the water stung her, and she surfaced, gasping. Waves surged out from her and swelled out under the arches that opened onto the outdoor portion of the pool, where they dissipated under the sun. She heaved herself up and sat on the lip of the pool. After a little bit, Ilya came in.
“I’m sorry,” she said before he could say anything. “You’re right, of course.”
He sat down beside her, dipped a foot in the water, and hid a wince. Then he threw himself in, shattering the surface into a thousand drops of spray. He came up, sputtering, and wiped his eyes. “Naturally you and the children will come to Jeds as soon as the way is clear.”
