Whitefire

by Fern Michaels

  Katerina’s eyes darkened. “I wonder how you would survive if you were shackled as they are for a crime that doesn’t warrant death—let us say, raping a woman, leaving her to die.”

  “Again, let me repeat myself. Rape is not considered a crime,” he said coolly, his eyes mocking her, daring her to retaliate.

  “The price you put on women—they are worthless, is that what you’re saying?” Katerina asked dangerously.

  Banyen shrugged. “A woman is a woman. For some strange reason that I can’t fathom, a woman places a very high price on her virginity.”

  “Not half as high as the price a man places on his genitals. Once a woman’s virginity is gone, it’s gone. If you were to take away a man’s ability to rape a woman or make love to her, he would die of shame.” Katerina laughed. “He would simply lie down and die. Women rise again and again.” Suddenly she stuck out her booted foot, catching Banyen behind the knee. He went down, his hands outstretched to break his fall. Katerina stood aside, her hands on her slim hips, laughing in delight. “The position becomes you, groveling in the dirt. It’s where you belong.” Turning, she walked slowly back to the yurt, her slim haunches swaying seductively before Banyen’s murderous eyes.

  Katerina’s nerves were on edge; the days were passing too quickly. She knew she had to make fast work of her selection or she would get caught in the snow and ice when she went through the Urals. Still, she forced herself to make a slow, thorough appraisal of all the men. She couldn’t afford any mistakes, now or later.

  For three days she stood near the stockade, breathing heavily through her mouth as man after man stepped forward. She let her eyes measure his form, his muscular capability, and the tilt of his head. She listened with a keen ear to his crime and stared deeply into his face with eyes that were keener and sharper than her ears. She also watched Banyen, covertly. His agate eyes gave away his feelings. When they lightened she knew he approved of her choice; when they darkened to indigo she knew he didn’t approve. For the past three hours his eyes had remained a deep, dark shade of blue, which not only amused her but delighted her. She watched carefully to see if any of the prisoners would reveal some feeling about the prince. Only Kostya, the first man she had chosen, revealed anything, and she was uncertain what name to put to his expression.

  Banyen was impatient with her lengthy, time-consuming choice of men. He listened with half an ear as Katerina ordered one of the men to flex his arm as if in preparation for a weapon thrust. He saw her eyes narrow, and mentally calculated where the weapon would have landed. He fixed his sights on a point to the far left of the stockade, where Katerina’s gaze also rested. She nodded. His impatience quickly turned to anger as she continued with her methodical system of choosing an army. “One would think you were choosing prize cattle for showing,” he snapped.

  “Not cattle. Human beings that are being treated like cattle.”

  Banyen ignored her words. “The noon hour approaches and the sun will be unbearable. Make fast work of the last or you’ll be standing here alone.”

  Katerina swiveled till she was facing him. “Don’t ever make the mistake you just did. Don’t ever tell me what to do. Do you understand? You’re here by sufferance. Remember that. You do what I tell you, not the other way around.”

  Banyen’s eyes became mere slits as he noted an amused look in some of the prisoners’ faces. Kostya eyed him strangely, as he always did, and the man named Rokal was grinning. He knew he should say something, do something, but he held back. Let her think she had him in her power. If it amused her to humiliate him in front of the prisoners, let her; his time would come. When he took her, he would do it in front of the lot of them. Then she would see how her animals would come to her aid.

  “Is that something else I should remember? The list grows overly long,” he said arrogantly.

  “Whatever pleases you,” Katerina snapped. “Remain quiet so I can finish with my selection.”

  “You have only to command and I will obey,” Banyen ridiculed as he slouched against a gnarled tree trunk. Why was she so hostile to him? He’d done nothing to her, save sling her across the horse’s back and bring her into camp. What was that strange look in her eye when she stared at him? He could feel the animosity every time she was near him. Was it just him or was it all men? What was the reason she disliked him so? He corrected his thoughts: “dislike” was too tame a word. Did she hate all men? Evidently not, he answered himself. There had been an approving look in her eye when she chose Kostya. Did she fear men? No, he answered himself again. If she feared men she wouldn’t be standing where she was now, with the plans she had in mind. No, it was himself. Why?

  His mouth tightened as he watched the swell of her breasts, the sway of her hips as she walked up and down in front of the men. He liked the look of her long legs in the tight-fitting trousers. Those legs, he knew, could be pliant or firm, whichever she chose. She could be soft and she could be hard. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did. Katerina Vaschenko had passions that he would wager had never risen to the surface. He grinned. He was just the man to unleash them and bring them to a roaring, tumultuous conclusion. His eyes widened slightly at Kostya’s look. He’s thinking the same thing, Banyen fumed. Bastard!

  An hour past noon Katerina finished her selection. She had her hundred and fifty men. She fixed a steely eye on Banyen and walked away from him. Tomorrow the prisoners would be readied for the trip back to the mountains. One more day and she would leave the camp. She turned as she heard footsteps behind her. “Women walk behind men,” Banyen said through clenched teeth.

  “If there was a man about, perhaps I would do as you . . . suggest. Seeing nothing more than a prince, I’ll continue as I am. Furthermore,” she said, turning, “I walk behind no man . . . or prince. Why don’t you go about your . . . duties and leave me alone.”

  Damnable woman! He wanted to grab her by the long, shining hair and pull her to him till he felt her body grow soft with desire. Why in hell did she have this strange effect on him? What was there about her that intrigued and heightened his desire? He wanted her, but he had wanted other women, too. What made this one so different from the others?

  A smile tugged at the corner of Katerina’s mouth as she imagined the look of frustrated outrage that would be settling over his face. He wanted her, she saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her. “Good,” she muttered to herself. Men filled with passion became reckless, foolhardy. Her eyes were merry as she shortened her stride and wiggled her hips seductively. “I hope his eyes fall from their sockets,” she muttered through clenched teeth.

  “Come with me, child, I want you to see the sun come up over the Khanate. It’s a beautiful sight, and I wish us to view it together. There are several things I want to discuss with you.”

  They walked slowly, uncle and niece, through the compound, where everything was quiet and still. A new day will begin soon, Katerina thought. And what will it bring? she questioned herself.

  The Khan pointed a pudgy finger to the east. “A new day, for both of us.”

  Katerina looked at the huge orange ball covered with what looked like gossamer wings and sighed deeply. “ It’s been a long time since I saw anything so beautiful,” she said huskily. “You’re right, Uncle, this is a new beginning.”

  “Child, tell me your reasoning as to why you didn’t want the prisoners told of your plans. It would seem a little late to tell them on the morning they are to leave. Banyen does not approve, but then, of late Banyen approves of very little of life’s goings-on. He’s been here two years now, and I still don’t know him. Your reason?”

  Katerina shrugged. “Would it have made a difference? They have no choice. They go with me whether they like it or not. This way they have less time to worry on the matter. I expect no trouble from any of them. Your prince is the one that worries me,” she said sharply. “I’m giving the men a chance to live, why would they reject the offer? Is there something you know that you aren’t telling me?”


  “No.” He raised his round head and looked at the huge ball rising in the sky. “Another week and you’ll be in the Urals, and that, my dear, is when your problems begin. You can’t beat the snows. It’s too late.”

  “There’s no cause for worry, Uncle. I’ve gone through the snows before. Mikhailo knows I’m coming. He’ll string the pass with bells, as he’s always done. You must have faith in me; I’ll succeed. Now tell what else is bothering you. I see many questions in your eyes.”

  “Your assurance that you intend to give me the colt and the filly.”

  “But that was understood and I gave you my word,” Katerina said glibly.

  “What is this hostility you have for Prince Banyen? I want to understand what it is—”

  “Don’t press me, Uncle. I loathe his mocking eyes and his arrogance. I detest his manner in regard to women, myself in particular. Evenly matched, I know I could bring him to his knees, and I think he knows it also. Time will tell. I warned you when I first came here that I will not allow him to interfere with my plans. If I have to kill him I will.” Her hazel eyes were pinpoints of flame as she gazed at her uncle. “If you think he can ferret out the secret of Whitefire, think again. Because we are flesh and blood means nothing when it comes to the horses. One wayward move on his part and he dies, is that understood, Uncle?”

  The Khan cringed at her words. He shrugged. Banyen was a man and she was a woman. He knew in his heart which of them would win. “Understood,” he said softly. “Look,” he said, pointing his arm in the direction of the stockade. “Banyen is preparing the prisoners. By the noon hour all will be in readiness. The food sacks were made up last night, and the barrels of water are being loaded on the wagons now. Blankets and carpets will also be given you. Does it meet with your satisfaction?”

  Katerina nodded assent. “It’s time then for me to speak with the prisoners. If you don’t mind, Uncle, I prefer to do it alone, but before I do that, there is one other question I want to ask you. This . . . army you have garrisoned here, is this the army you plan to use when you attack Moscow? I overheard you talking to one of your tribal elders about the high price you’ve been paying for soldiers. Where are these soldiers and how many of them are there? If you’re buying an army, why is Prince Banyen working and training these men? What does it mean? If he’s needed here with your men, why are you sending him to the Carpathians with me? No lies, Uncle, I want the truth from your lips.”

  “You are your father’s daughter, there is no doubt of that. You pick at something as a dog picks at a bone. Leave me to my reasoning, whatever it may be. I’ve agreed to your demands, and other than my two small requests, I have not badgered you.” Suddenly there was a ring of iron in the jovial voice. “Leave it, Katerina. Go, talk to your men, and then join me for breakfast in my yurt.”

  Katerina agreed and strode off, her back stiff and straight, her thoughts whirling. The old fox was clever, and sly. What was he up to? She would watch Banyen as carefully as he planned to watch her. Sooner or later he would give away his plans. Men were fools in that they thought women were stupid.

  Her voice was sharp and clear when she spoke to the prisoners. She fixed her eyes on Kostya when she spoke, and was pleased to see the light of interest in his eyes. “You men have been specially chosen by me to travel to the Carpathian Mountains. With the Khan’s permission, I’m giving you back your lives. I’m going to train you to be Cossacks through the long cold winter. I warn you now that there will be no escape from the House of the Kat. You will all remain in your chains until we get to the mountains. Once we are there, your irons will be removed and you will walk about as free soldiers. I ask that you give me your loyalty, and in turn I will feed you, clothe you, and pay you an adequate sum of money that will be yours to do with as you see fit. What you did in the past does not interest me. It’s what you do in the mountains that concerns me. It won’t be easy, I can tell you that now. I’ll talk with you again when we get to the House of the Kat.” Loud murmurings and buzzings followed her as she strode from the stockade. Her step was light, purposeful, as her stride lengthened. She could almost feel Banyen’s glittering eyes boring into her back.

  Perhaps it had been a mistake to let him see her hostility. Sooner or later he would begin to wonder why she felt as she did about him. Certainly her past actions were too strong to be laid to his tying her to a horse like a sack of flour. She would have to temper her tongue and be careful when she was around him.

  Breakfast was a somber affair. Strong, bitter black coffee, pungent goat cheese, and round, flat bread spread with honey were offered to her by the Khan, whose face was a study in blankness. Katerina wondered if he was already regretting his bargain. She remained quiet, her thoughts on Banyen and the long trek back to the mountains. She suddenly felt uneasy. It wasn’t the thought of taking the prisoners, shackled as they were, nor the fifty men from the Khan’s army with her, it was Banyen. Her uneasiness increased with each mouthful of food she swallowed. Her eyes fell to the sable carpet, and automatically she withdrew her booted foot till it rested on the plank floor of the yurt.

  Prince Banyen led first one prisoner and then another from the stockade. He himself saw to their manacles and brought each man toward the wagons with a terse order to remain quiet and be still. Low-voiced murmurs reached his ears as the men conversed and speculated in low whispers. It was Kostya who voiced the question aloud to one of the others.

  “There’s more to this venture than the woman told us. After she trains us to be Cossacks, what is it we’re to do? That, my fellow prisoners, is the fly in the honey pot. Still, she’s given us back our lives. How many of us do you think would survive the first cold spell and snowstorm in this stockade? For that we should offer thanks.”

  “She’s a woman, and we number a hundred and fifty men,” a prisoner named Dmitri said in a low whisper.

  Rokal grinned, showing short, stubby teeth. “Look over your shoulder, my friend, and tell me what you see.”

  “There will be no chance for any of us to escape,” Kostya said softly. “And why should we? The woman promised us food and money to do as she asked. I for one have no wish to die in the snows. Let us agree among ourselves that we will give this venture a chance.”

  “I vote with Kostya,” Rokal said softly. One by one the others by the wagon agreed.

  The man called Dmitri, his eyes nearly closed against the brightness of the day, watched as Banyen’s men readied themselves for the trip. Kostya is right, he decided. Later, when the snows melted in the spring and he had good food in his belly, along with gold in his pocket, would be time enough to get free. For now he would agree. Beyond that, he would make no promises, to the woman or his fellow prisoners.

  The sun beat down upon the tiny crystals of silica, heating them, making the temperature rise to a hot, uncomfortable degree. Everyone felt the effects of the heat, including the animals. The wagons stood like sentinels, waiting for the horses to be harnessed to them. The prisoners stood shackled together on the hot sand, waiting. The Mongol soldiers who comprised the guard were busy preparing their horses and wiping away the perspiration that ran freely down their bodies. The remainder of the soldiers fastened the last of the ropes, securing supplies and foodstuffs aboard two wagons. A caravan of ten wagons, two hundred men, Prince Banyen, and one woman waited, poised on the brink of success or failure.

  The Khan, with Banyen and Katerina, watched the final preparations from under a canopy, escaping the onslaught of the hot sun. “Katerina, one would think from the feel of this heat that you should have the usual ride through the Urals. Banyen and I know, however, that this is not the case. The Urals are tricky and treacherous this time of year. You feel the sleighs unnecessary trouble at this time, but I assure you, once into the Urals you’ll thank me for my foresight. Word reached me several days ago that the northern ridge is deep in snow, and your only chance is the southern ridge, even if it is longer. You still might have a chance to bypass the worst of the accumulat
ion. The men are almost finished, so if there is anything else you need tell me now,” Afstar said, concerned for her well-being. He knew her journey would be a difficult one.

  Katerina’s heart pounded as she looked at the caravan, and a momentary panic gripped her. Was she capable of the task that lay before her? Could she handle two hundred men and Prince Banyen? Were Mikhailo and the Khan right? Could she accomplish what she intended? Then, as a Mongol soldier brought up her horse, the Cosars and Volin flashed before her. No matter what, nothing would ever stop her from avenging the demise of her people and returning the Cosars to their rightful home. The image she had of her father lying dead with the others, the huts burned to the ground, was all she ever needed as a source from which to draw her strength. Each time the scene flashed before her, unbounded power soared through her body, energizing her very being with unparalleled confidence. She knew she could do anything.

  Reaching for the reins of the horse, she turned to her uncle. “I can’t think of anything else that’s needed, everything has been checked. If we’ve overlooked anything, it won’t matter once we’re on our way. I thank you, Uncle, for all you have done for me, and for all you have given me. Most of all, I wish to thank you for believing in me and what I must do. My mother would bless you many times over if she were here. She would be very proud of her brother.” Putting her arms around the Khan, she embraced him tenderly and kissed him on the cheek. Once again she looked him in the eye, and said, “With all my heart, my people, who are no more, and I thank you.”

  Katerina mounted her horse, her seat relaxed, her cat eyes sleepy and lynx-like as she waited for Banyen’s signal to start the small caravan. A patrol of twenty soldiers was to lead the way on horseback. The remainder of the soldiers would ride in the wagons behind the prisoners, Katerina would ride behind Banyen. “Are you ready?” she asked him.

  Banyen’s stallion stood before him, waiting. The prince reached out his hand to the Khan. “I’ll not give speeches of thanks. I merely wish to say I’ll be back in the spring. When I return, I wish to hear news of preparations for our attack. I need say no more. Farewell, my friend.” He released his hand from the Khan’s and leaped onto his horse.