by Ash, Sarah
Risa began to grizzle; Kiukiu gave her a hug, wincing as the baby bumped her sore gums hard against her shoulder. “So I’ve made up my mind. We can’t wait any longer for Gavril. We have to go on.”
“Even though you know that he and his men would lay down their lives to protect you if the Heavenly Guardians attack?”
“I don’t want them to throw their lives away in a fight against impossible odds. I couldn’t bear it if Gavril died trying to defend us.” Even as the words left her mouth she felt guilty; it was as if she was making up excuses to justify her actions. “It’s the only way to protect Risa.” She had stayed awake worrying away most of the night and she could see no other solution.
“Ma. Ma!” Risa said, hearing her name. “ Ma! ”
“Yes, Risa, I know your gums are sore. Let me put some more of that salve on them.”
But Risa pressed her lips tight shut, vehemently shaking her head. Kiukiu sighed. Risa was too clever for her own good. “I know it tastes bitter but it’ll stop the ache until your new tooth comes through.”
More head shaking. Kiukiu sighed; she would have to think up a new ruse to distract her red-cheeked daughter, just to earn enough time to pop her salve-smeared finger inside her mouth and apply the remedy.
“We need an escape plan, Chinua. Gavril can be very difficult to dissuade once he decides to do something. I wouldn’t put it past him to bring the druzhina to capture us and drag us back to Azhkendir. Can you use your skills to spirit us away, somehow if things get difficult?”
Chinua stroked his chin slowly, pondering her suggestion. “I should have asked the Magus for a handful or two of his mirror-dust,” he said. “That might have given us a few minutes to escape—but even then, on this winding track, we wouldn’t get far. I fear I may have to resort to something more underhand.”
“Underhand?”
“Tea.”
“Tea?” Was Chinua making a joke? Kiukiu wrinkled her nose at him in disapproval; this wasn’t a humorous matter.
“I have many different blends in my collection, some to stimulate and refresh the mind, a few to calm and relax. The soporific effects last for several hours. Long enough for us to reach the end of the pass where the road divides.”
“Drug Gavril and his bodyguards? Won’t they suspect?”
“We’ll have to pretend to drink it too.” Chinua said. “If I attempt anything more drastic and use my powers, it could cause a disturbance in the aethyr and draw unwelcome attention to ourselves.” He gestured to the sky.
Kiukiu understood too well who he was referring to but did not name. “Very well.” She could see no other alternative. “But they won’t suffer any long-lasting effects, will they?”
Chinua gave a little shrug. “Nothing worse than a mild hangover. Trust me.”
She had no choice but to trust him. She nodded, biting her underlip.
***
“I can see smoke further down the pass!” Vasili, excited, rose up in the saddle, pointing.
Gavril looked. A thin twist of blue woodsmoke was rising into the clear air above the tumbled rocks below. But he refused to allow himself to hope that they had caught up with the tea merchant yet.
“That could be anyone’s cooking fire.” Semyon sounded unimpressed.
“It means people to ask. We haven’t met anyone since those fur trappers back at the waterfall.”
The narrow track through the gorge, just wide enough to allow one cart to travel along it, was beginning to widen out. They must be coming to the end of the pass, Gavril realized. Some way beyond lay the wide grasslands of Khitari. He had flown over the green steppes when he and Khezef were one, the Drakhaoul’s dragon form and powerful wings effortlessly taking them fast and far—
“I can see a cart down there, my lord!” Vasili’s shout jolted Gavril out of his reverie. “Is that the tea merchant?”
Gavril looked further down the snaking track and saw a cart in a little dell far beneath them, a couple of stocky ponies cropping the grass alongside. The smoke that Vasili’s keen eyes had spotted was rising from a cooking fire.
“Why have they stopped?” Semyon wondered. “It’s not dusk for an hour or two.”
“It’s a good place to make camp for the night—and a good vantage point.” Vasili might be something of a loudmouth but he had inherited his father Askold’s practical nature. “It’s off the track but you can see who’s coming in either direction.”
Including us. Gavril was already urging Krasa onward down the track, ahead of the two druzhina. He found it hard to accept that Kiukiu and Larisa were camping out under the stars rather than staying with him in the warmth of the Azhgorod mansion. What’s driven her to take to the road? Suppose Chinua had inveigled them out of the city on some pretext, acting on the orders of his master, Khan Vachir? I never really had the chance to get to know Vachir. And he—in Drakhaoul form—was the one who killed my mother.
As Krasa reached the dell, Gavril saw a fair-haired young woman gently placing a sleeping baby in a little tea chest on the cart; an improvised crib, padded out with brightly woven fabrics in scarlet, saffron and grass green.
They’re safe. He felt his knees go weak as relief overwhelmed him. As he dismounted and went running toward them, it was all he could do to keep from stumbling.
“Kiukiu!” His only thought had been to hug her, to hold her close but the forbidding expression on her face made him stop short. “What’s wrong?”
“Didn’t Semyon give you my message?” Kiukiu stared accusingly at him. “This is something I have to do. Alone. You can’t help me, Gavril.”
I can’t help her? He couldn’t believe it was Kiukiu who was speaking so coldly to him. “I was so worried.” The words burst from Gavril in a torrent. “Have you any idea how I felt, finding you both gone? I thought you’d been kidnapped!”
“There wasn’t time to explain,” she said tonelessly.
“Why didn’t you find a way to tell me? We vowed to share everything. Everything .” Gavril heard the harshness in his own voice and saw a sudden flash of fear in her eyes. Am I sounding like my father? The strength of his anger alarmed him.
“And please keep your voice down; Risa’s teething and I’ve only just got her to sleep.”
The tea merchant appeared from behind his cart and bowed low to Gavril. “Is all well, Kiukirilya?” he asked pointedly.
“It’s all right, Chinua,” Kiukiu said without shifting her gaze from Gavril’s face.
“I’ll show your men where to water the horses,” Chinua said, retreating.
Gavril drew in a slow breath, willing himself to calm down, and asked more gently, “Why? Why did you run away?”
“Because I had a warning.” She was on the defensive; her stance, feet apart, as though braced to counteract a blow, body tensed, expression defiant. “A warning that Larisa was in danger.”
He was bewildered. “Who warned you? And what danger?”
“What was it that you said about the vows we took together?” Tears glittered in her eyes but she did not break down and cry. Seeing her so furious with him only bewildered him more. Wasn’t he the injured party, the one deserted without a word?
“This is all to do with Khulan. Isn’t it?” Kiukiu still not had answered his question and he needed an honest answer if he was to believe that she had not betrayed him. “Everything was fine until Khulan came to Kastel Nagarian. Was she sent to bring you back to Khitari? Were you forced into making a contract with Khan Vachir?”
So much must have happened to her in Khitari that she’s never revealed . . . and the Khitari shamans are said to practice obscure and forbidden rituals. Did she make a secret pact with one of them, binding her to return?
“It’s nothing to do with the khan or his family! Where did you get that idea from? Who planted that seed in your mind? I had a really horrible time when I was traveling with them.” A single sob escaped, on an intake of breath. “Even after I healed the little prince, Grandma and I were still treate
d like dirt.”
Had he forced her to confront painful memories she had tried to forget? All he wanted was to understand why she had fled.
“Kiukiu—” He took a step toward her, only to see her shrink away. Her reaction infuriated and alarmed him. He tried again. “Don’t you trust me anymore? Because all I want is for us to be together again: you, me and Larisa.”
“It’s not a matter of trust.” She was twisting a fold of her skirt between her fingers, her face averted. “Look, Gavril, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry that I didn’t tell you. But I knew that you would have done everything you could to stop me.” She raised her face to his. “I need you to trust me,” she said, her voice low, trembling but not breaking. “This is something only I can do. You have to let me go. That’s just how it is.”
“Let you go?” Gavril repeated. Was she telling him their marriage was over? Anger boiled up inside him, raw and uncomprehending. Why was she rejecting him? Again he forced himself to ignore the painful feelings she had stirred up inside him. There has to be a reason . “Are you leaving me?” But his voice broke as he asked the question he didn’t want to hear the answer to.
“If that’s how it looks to you . . .”
“How else could it look?” He could no longer hide his hurt. Every instinct was crying out within him to take her in his arms and hold her close, breathing in the scent of her skin, her hair—but the tension in her stiff, awkward stance, her averted eyes, all radiated such a strong message of rejection that he hesitated. He clenched his fists at his sides, forcing himself to pay attention to what she was saying, even though he didn’t understand it. “Is it Lord Arkhel? Has he contacted you? Is he the one—”
“Lord Arkhel?” She was staring at him and he realized from her stricken expression that she did not know. “But he’s dead.”
“Lord Ranulph Arkhel. Stavyor’s younger brother, Ranozhir. He’s been abroad for many years. But now he’s back and his men are mining for firedust in the Waste.”
“Lord Ranulph?” she repeated, saying the name as if it were unfamiliar to her. “I thought they all died. Except Jaromir. I had no idea.” Her response was so spontaneous that he had to assume she was telling the truth. So there had to be another reason.
“You’ve ridden a long way, Lord Gavril.” Chinua reappeared, flanked by Semyon and Vasili. “You must be tired and thirsty. Why don’t we all sit round the fire and have some tea?”
Kiukiu looked as if she was about to protest—but then she turned away. “I’ll bring the bowls,” she said over her shoulder.
“Can I see Risa?” Without waiting for her permission, Gavril went straight toward the tea chest crib.
“Don’t wake her!” hissed Kiukiu, pursuing him. “I told you; she’s teething again and she’s been grizzling all day.” Kiukiu hovered as he gazed down at Larisa who lay asleep tucked up in the bright woven blanket, one auburn wisp of hair twisted between finger and thumb. One cheek was bright red and shiny and she let out a halting little sigh that made him long to pick her up and cuddle her close.
“Are you sure it’s just teething?” He looked at Kiukiu across their sleeping daughter. ”Perhaps she’s missing her daddy.”
A strangely defensive look passed across Kiukiu’s face.
I can’t believe things between us have deteriorated so swiftly.
But before he could insist on his rights as a father, Chinua came past, carrying a black lacquered tray laden with tea pots and jars.
“Please invite your men to join us, Lord Gavril,” he said, smiling. “I can offer you powdered green tea from the isles of Cipangu; bitter but delicious when consumed with these sweet bean cakes. Or there’s a more robust black brew you might like to try from the northern hills of Serindher.”
“Did you say cakes, Master Chinua?” Semyon called, rubbing his hands together. “I’m famished.”
“You’ve got hollow legs, Sem.” Kiukiu brought over tea bowls: glazed earthenware, plain and practical, which she set down on a brightly woven rug Chinua unrolled on the uneven ground.
Vasili, usually so loud and self-confident around his fellow druzhina, had suddenly become tongue-tied in the presence of Chinua. He sat down beside Semyon and drank his tea without a word. Gavril sniffed the bitter steam rising from his bowl; green tea was something of an acquired taste but one he had learned to appreciate from Kiukiu. He took a sip, aware that she was staring at him and wondered what on earth he could say that might make her change her mind . . .
***
“Ugh . . .” Gavril half opened his eyes. The daylight was piercingly, painfully bright and he closed his eyes again, feeling the sun’s warmth on his eyelids. He was lying on dew-wet grass beneath a woven blanket of scarlet and saffron and the dawn sun was illuminating the little dell. His temples throbbed.
Was I drinking last night? He pushed himself up to a sitting position, gazing groggily around him. A little further off, Semyon lay sprawled asleep, Vasili next to him beside the ashes of the fire, lying on his back, mouth half open, softly snoring. There was no sign of Chinua, his cart and ponies—or his passengers.
Cursing, Gavril staggered to his feet and gazed around. He went unsteadily to the edge of the dell, gazing over the edge to where the track snaked on downward to the bottom of the pass.
“They tricked us. They’ve gone!”
Hearing his voice, Semyon stirred and sat up, rubbing his eyes like a sleepy child.
“Why didn’t we hear them go?” he asked, his voice slurred. “Vasili; you were supposed to keep watch.” When Vasili didn’t reply, Semyon booted him in the side, none too gently. Vasili turned over, lashing out with an incoherent shout.
“Wake up.”
“Ow. That hurt.” Vasili reared up, still half comatose. “What’s going on?”
“We were drugged,” Gavril said. His tongue felt thick and the words came out slowly. “It must have been the tea. And while we slept, they went on their way.”
He realized the two young druzhina were staring at him, mouths half-open, not knowing what to say. It was down to him to motivate them—although he felt so groggy he was struggling to think what to do next.
“The track divides at the end of the pass. We should split up.”
“My lady seems pretty determined to go on alone,” Semyon said.
“Determined enough to drug our tea,” added Vasili, yawning till his jaw cracked.
“I don’t need to hear that from either of you.” But what his druzhina had said was all the more irritating because it was true. Gavril picked up the woven Khitari blanket with its flower-bright colors, feeling the rough softness of the wool. Kiukiu must have placed it over him to keep the night’s chill at bay. An act of tenderness . . . or of guilt? Maybe both. He folded the blanket.
“I’m not giving up,” he said. “They can’t be too far ahead.”
***
Kiukiu kept glancing anxiously behind her as Chinua’s cart approached the end of the pass. She could see the track winding back up into the gorge but no sign yet of three horsemen. High overhead wheeled a couple of fire falcons, letting out shrill cries. Risa raised one hand toward them, flexing her fingers, imitating them with raucous little squeaks. At least she seemed to be enjoying herself, blissfully unaware of the problems she had caused her parents.
“We’re not going to outrun Gavril. Even if they’ve only just woken up, the druzhina’s horses are in good form.”
“Don’t fret,” Chinua said easily. “I have a plan. We just need to make sure we’re on Khitari ground for it to work.”
“But I know Gavril. He’ll be angry with us for resorting to such low tricks last night. He won’t understand. How much further till we’re in Khitari?”
“Trust me.”
Kiukiu gripped the hard wooden seat with one hand, clutching Risa to her with the other as the cart bumped over pot-holes. She wanted to trust Chinua. But if Gavril caught up with them before they left the pass, she knew that she had run out of ways to stop him forcing
her to return.
At last they emerged from the pass into open country. Kiukiu sat up, straining to see what lay ahead. The grasslands stretched away into a hazy distance, a lonely and empty vista that they must cross to reach the remote mountains on the far side where Anagini kept watch over the Jade Springs. Still so far. Can we reach her in time before Galizur’s envoy tracks us down?
Chinua’s ponies were sturdy and hard-working but there were only two of them and the cart was heavy. They plodded up a grassy incline. When they reached the top, Kiukiu saw that the track beyond divided into two.
“Time to call for a little assistance.” Chinua said, pulling on the reins to bring the cart to a halt.
She glanced at him and saw that his eyes gleamed amber, no longer human but piercingly keen and wolfish.
“You’re summoning your pack? But what about the ponies?”
Chinua clambered down from the bench and undid the harnesses from both ponies. He whispered in their furry ears and then gave each in turn a firm slap on the flank. To Kiukiu’s surprise, they dutifully trotted away, soon disappearing among the trees at the entry to the pass.
“Where are they going? Won’t someone steal them? Or eat them? I suppose you’ve done this before?”
Chinua replied with a brief nod. Then he flung back his head and let out a piercing howl that startled Kiukiu. She clutched Risa tight, certain that the baby would start to howl too. But Risa let out an excited chuckle and wriggled enthusiastically on her lap. It was then that Kiukiu heard a distant answering howl. She felt a chill at the back of her neck. They were coming. Chinua’s wolven brethren had heard him and were speeding to their aid.
Risa gave a sudden shriek.
Hurtling toward them in a cloud of dust were Chinua’s pack. Their eyes gleamed, unnaturally bright, even though it was day: orange and amber, stars in the gloom. To Kiukiu’s amazement and Risa’s delight, the creatures surrounded the cart, taking up the trailing ropes and straps in their mouths. She looked around for Chinua and realized that he had stealthily shifted to his wolf form for, leading the pack, was a large, shaggy male.
