And that was that.
Except, of course, it wasn't. Across a hundred meters' distance, a man turned to stare at Marco. Every alarm Marco had honed by instinct to its finest degree went off. Danger.
"Come," said Josef. A crowd had long since gathered to watch. An audience, of course. Somehow, Marco was no longer surprised at any twist this journey might take. He followed Josef meekly but cautiously.
The man waited for them as a prince waits. He was of middling height, but height never matters in the kind of man he was. On a whim, Marco bowed to him, with the flourish granted to the nobility in Jeds.
"You are the emissary from the Prince of Jeds," said the man in faultless Rhuian. His accent was slight but melodious. "I am Ilyakoria Bakhtiian. I have two letters and a holy relic for you to deliver to the prince." He gestured with a hand, and Raevsky extracted a leather pouch from the saddlebags of Bakhtiian's horse. "By the way." Bakhtiian said it offhandedly. "If I ever find out that you did not deliver the messages and the relic to the prince, I will hunt you down and kill you." He gave Marco the pouch.
Marco took it. For the first time in his life, he felt entirely out of his depth.
"Please," said Bakhtiian politely. "Examine each item so that you know what you're carrying."
Marco nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. He opened the pouch and pulled out the cylinder. Stared at it, knowing instantly that it was of Chapalii manufacture. And read Tess's letter. Tess.
"But I must come with you," he said, looking up. "I must get to Tess."
"Do I need to repeat myself? She said that this is important to her brother, that he needs it, not next season or the one after but now. Therefore, you will deliver it."
His men flanked him, a scatter of brilliant color, all armed, most mounted. Josef Raevsky stood to one side. But it was clear to Marco that Bakhtiian was the most dangerous of these men. That he was a man who would, who could, who had killed, a man who would not hesitate to do so again if his will were crossed.
"I understand," said Marco finally.
"Good," said Bakhtiian.
"But is Tess safe? Where is she?"
Bakhtiian looked so angry in that instant that Marco took an involuntary step back. "She is with my people," he said fiercely. He turned on his heel and began to walk away.
"Wait. Surely I can send a message to her. A gift."
Bakhtiian spun back. He looked furious. "What?" he snapped. "Write something, then."
Marco always wore the emergency kit at his belt. He had an emergency transmitter he could send to her but he had nothing to write on here, had no parchment except back at the inn. Bakhtiian said a few words in a foreign tongue, and Raevsky rummaged again in the saddlebags and brought out a book-a book! — and a quill pen and ink.
"Here." Bakhtiian carefully tore a page out of the front of the book and handed it to Marco.
Marco stared. Newton's Principia, the title page. He felt disoriented; he felt like laughing. Newton in the hands of this barbarian. He glanced up to see Bakhtiian's unnerving stare focused on him. Crouching hastily, he set the page on his knee and wrote in Anglais.
My darling Tess, your dear old Uncle Marco wonders what the hell you 're up to on Rhui, but most of all he hopes you are safe. I am sending an emergency transmitter by way of your escort. For God's sake, child, let us know where you are and that you 're well. I am not going to endanger my life at this time by trying to follow your escort back to you. And I'm sure you understand that the Mushai's cylinder must get to Charles as soon as possible. As you must. I do not understand what your circumstances are. If you are being held against your will, though it does not seem so from your letter, you can merely activate the primary codes and we will come and pick you up in a shuttle and damn the Interdiction. If not against your will, then I will only say this: You have a duty to your brother. You also have a duty to yourself. Make of that what you will. I send my love. Marco Burckhardt
Marco fished the emergency transmitter from his pouch. It looked like a little dagger, snuggled into a leather sheath. He folded the letter carefully and slid it inside the sheath, and handed the dagger to Bakhtiian. Bakhtiian took it without a word and turned and walked back to his horse.
Should he follow them? Could he, without being killed; that was the real question. He judged it unlikely. He must hope that Tess would get the transmitter; it would keep track of her whereabouts, whatever she chose to do with it. He opened her letter to Charles and read it again. Unwound the cylinder from its fabric blanket and stared. The Mushai. Goddess help them all. He'd damned well better get this back to Charles. If Tess was not safe for now in the hands of Ilyakoria Bakhtiian, then she wasn't safe anywhere.
Bakhtiian mounted and turned to stare at Marco as if memorizing his features in case they met again and Bakhtiian discovered that Marco had indeed not fulfilled his duty. And Marco had a sudden flash of insight: if this barbarian prince ever decided that he wanted to conquer the civilized lands, then Goddess protect those lands that lay in his path.
They rode away, these jaran, much to the relief of the townspeople of Abala Port. But then again, it would give them something to talk about for the entire winter. Marco tied the leather pouch to his belt and went to talk to the ship's master of the Queen Aireon about getting passage with them back to Jeds.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
"An eddy, of all manner of forms, is separated off from the whole."
A formal delegation arrived the next morning. Niko had thrown the tent flap back, and Tess saw four women approach Niko where he sat outside: an older woman she vaguely recognized, Vera, Arina, and-she craned her neck to get a better look but she had not been mistaken: it was Yeliana, dressed in a knee-length green tunic with a pair of belled trousers bagging out below, tucked into her soft boots.
To Tess's surprise, it was Arina who stepped forward. "Nikolai Sibirin, we women have decided that it is improper that your patient be so isolated. If you choose the hospitality of this tribe, then we ask her to reside in my tent. As her healer, you will, of course, be given free access."
Niko had already stood. Now he simply bowed his head. "As you wish, Mother Veselov."
Tess tried to move enough to see Arina's mother but the older woman was nowhere in sight. Niko crawled into the tent.
"What did you mean, 'Mother Veselov'?" Tess whispered.
"Arina is etsana now. Didn't I tell you? Her mother died nine days ago and was taken out to the grass these six days past. Ah, but you were-I heard it from Vladimir, who rode messages between us and the tribe until you could be brought here."
"Arina is etsana! I'd have thought Vera would have demanded that honor-"
"Hush, child. They're outside. And you must not underestimate Arina, or her brother."
"Well, I'm sick of this tent."
"Yes, you will be among women. Varia Telyegin is the healer here, and a very fine one, too."
"But you'll still stay with me, Niko."
"Of course, my child. Don't forget to thank Arina, for she must be treated with respect now.''
But upon being eased outside, Tess found her whole position, lying flat on her back and staring up at pretty, petite little Arina, who was younger than herself, to be utterly absurd. "I can't call you 'Mother,' " she blurted.
Arina laughed. "I should hope not, Tess. I'm not even married." Then she blushed suddenly and quickly knelt beside Tess. "Come. You'll be much happier with us. Here, Yeliana, can you take this corner?" Yeliana obeyed, looking too shy to speak.