Darker Jewels (18 page)

Lovell drew in his horse, staring. “How many do you think there are? I have not seen so ample a—”

“Probably two thousand or so.” Rakoczy moved his mare up next to Lovell’s gelding and sought to avoid the deepest mud holes in the road. “Speak Russian here,” he advised in that language. “We are already suspect for being foreign. If we are noticed speaking another tongue it will be presumed that we are plotting.”

“Surely not,” said Lovell in surprise, although he obediendy switched languages. “It is clear to everyone that we are foreigners. They must know that foreigners do not speak Russian, that they have languages of their own.”

“Nevertheless, speak Russian if you do not want to be seen as an enemy.” He indicated where Anastasi rode ahead of them; his voice was low. “And be very careful around that man.”

“Of course,” said Lovell, dismissing the matter with a motion of his gloved hand. “He must provide reports on what we do. He is the Czar’s servant.”

Rakoczy studied Anastasi’s broad back. “I wonder,” he said after a long moment of consideration.

Anastasi swung his arm to encourage the two foreigners to catch up to him. “You must press on,” he chided them. “Here we do not wait to seize our chance when it is presented. Hurry along, or others will take the best horses. Come up to me.” As Rakoczy and Lovell reached him, he pointed to one group of Tartars in their heavy leather-and-silk garments. “These are the traders you seek. They have the horses I mentioned to you, Rakoczy. You will find them everything I have described, and more. And they are as honest as any men selling horses.” He shouted to one of the Tartars as they approached. “How many head have you brought with you, Khelmani?”

The Tartar answered promptly, bowing lavishly and grinning. “Not too many. Six hundred. It is the end of the season.” He made an enormous gesture of resignation. “Most of these are two- and three-year-olds.”

“Thinning the youngsters before you have the spring foals,” said Rakoczy as he swung off his Furioso, his high, fur-lined, thick-soled boots sinking in the frosty mud. “Very sensible.” He did not add that it was also a way to be rid of unpromising animals before they could breed their undesirable points back into the herd. “And it makes our coming here worthwhile, to see the best of your younger horses.”

“You have a knowledgeable man in Hrabia Saint-Germain; he is expert in many things,” Anastasi promised with relish and good-fellowship.

Khelmani regarded Rakoczy narrowly, unconvinced by Anas- tasi’s endorsement. “Why would you say so? That we would thin the young ones?”

“Because I have raised horses myself, from time to time,” said Rakoczy, remembering with a mixture of fondness and repulsion the extensive stable he had maintained to the east of Rome, fifteen hundred years ago, and the villa at Trebizond, a few centuries more recently, where his estate was home to more than eight hundred horses; he had arranged for Olivia to take most of them when he was forced to leave, turning them over to her personal servant Niklos Aulirios before he and Rogerian fled east-by-south. He handed his reins to the Tartar and faced him. “I understand you have a breed we have not seen in the West.”

“There are many breeds you do not know in the West,” said the Tartar with scorn. He pointed to the nearest group of young horses, most of them dark-coated and compact. “You do not know these. Don horses,” he said. “The greatest horsemen in the world ride them.”

“They are Cossack ponies,” said Anastasi as he swung out of the saddle. Like many portly men he was light on his feet and graceful. “Good in batde and light keepers. But they are not the ones I told you of.”

Rakoczy had dealt with horse traders for centuries and he knew that it would be a mistake to appear too eager, so he strolled over to the Don horses and gave them a careful perusal. “Good legs, by the look of them, and a steady eye. But they do not hold their weight in winter, do they? The cold robs them of flesh.”

The Tartar started a long, involved explanation of the hazards of travel and the youth of the animals to account for their prominent ribs. He ended saying, “In time they become used to the cold.”

Rakoczy’s smile was very polite and his manner bordered on the diffident, but his dark eyes were implacable. “I doubt that. They haven’t the coat for it.” So saying, he motioned to another group of horses. “Tell me about these.”

“Ah, they are a long way from their home. They dwell beyond

Sarai.” The mention of the Mongol city brought a scowl to Anas- tasi’s face, but Rakoczy paid no attention to this and Khelmani offered the Russian an evil grin.

“What breed? They look very tough.” He approached the small, well-formed horses. “Desert horses, aren’t they?”

“Yes.” Khelmani studied Rakoczy, clearly reassessing him. “They are strong and hardy. They are called Karabair.” Rakoczy went closer to the herd. “How large do they grow? These appear to be small for two-year-olds.”

Khelmani spat. “They are not big, they are strong. In horses this is best.”

Lovell watched this sparring with interest. He dismounted and tugged his horse after him, making his way after Rakoczy rather than waiting with Anastasi. He looked at the Karabairs with some interest. “There is a breed that Madame Clemens has in her stable that are not unlike these.”

“Her Barbs, you mean?” Rakoczy said. “Yes, there is a resemblance.” He turned to face Lovell. “Perhaps you would like to send her a pair of these three-year-olds? There are some handsome animals here. That filly with the lead-colored coat is a promising one, and the liver-chestnut. Olivia might find them of interest.”

Lovell shrugged, his fair British face growing rosy, and not entirely from the cold. “I fear my purse will not allow such a gift, no matter how much I might wish to give it. It is regrettable that—” He looked away from Rakoczy, pretending to be fascinated by one of the Don yearlings as he used his free hand to tug the flaps of his fur hat more snugly over his ears. “And if I could afford them, how would I get them to her? No one is leaving for the West until spring, and if the war with Poland starts up again, it would not be possible to send them across Europe. The port our ships use is closed with ice, and will be until late in April, when the White Sea becomes passable. And the road will not be clear of ice and snow soon; no one wants to travel to Novo-Kholmogory. So we could not move horses north now, in any case. In the spring .. .” He faltered, searching for words that would be reasonable and save face at the same time.

“I will stable them for you, if you would like,” offered Rakoczy. “Purchase what you wish. I will answer for your selection.” He smiled slightly, a suggestion of sadness pulling down the comer of his mouth.

“Oh, no; Count, you are most gracious. But I must not accept. It would not—” Lovell protested in English.

Rakoczy overrode him in Russian. “I will make an appropriate arrangement with you, Lovell. But I think it might be wise if there were a few horses in reserve for . . . foreigners. In case we must ride for Poland or your Novo-Kholmogory port.” He regarded the Oxford scholar evenly. “What do you think?”

Lovell looked around rather awkwardly. “I should not accept.”

“But you will,” said Rakoczy, his compelling eyes lending weight to his words.

“It . . . not for kindness alone, but, yes, if it strikes you as necessary.” He looked about, feeling embarrassed for no reason he could easily explain. Whatever Rakoczy’s purpose for this unexpected generosity, Lovell knew it was not the one he had volunteered. He was about to question the alchemist when Rakoczy’s quelling glance silenced him.

“Show me some of the other horses you have while Doctor Lovell makes his selection of these,” said Rakoczy to the Tartar in an off-handed way, as if his interest in the Karabairs had vanished.

Watching this interchange, Anastasi had to stifle his own urge to coax information from Rakoczy. He followed along behind the two foreigners, doing his best to appear only mildly curious while he listened intendy to glean any item of use from their conversation. At last he said to Khelmani, “Where are your treasures, your moon-horses?”

The Tartar gave Anastasi a startled look, as if surprised that Anastasi should mention these animals where the strangers could hear. “I have brought only twenty with me,” he said at last. “Three-year-olds, all of them.”

“Ah,” said Rakoczy with sincere anticipation. “Then let me see them, for the love of God. This man”—he indicated Anastasi— “has been telling me about these moon-horses with coats pale as silver and I do not know if I can believe what he says.”

“There is nothing like these horses in the West,” said Anastasi, his square face set with determination.

“So you have assured me,” said Rakoczy with a polite show of disbelief; he had seen the so-called moon-horses before, but not for nearly a thousand years. He had ridden the Chinese cousins of the breed more than three hundred years before; he thought it ironic that in China they were called Celestial horses.

The Tartar bowed again, more lavishly than the first time. “Then come with me, worthy foreigner, and see for yourself.” Even with their fuzzy winter coats, the twenty horses were glorious, their pale hair shining that polished silver the Poles called ermine-dun, a shade between palest blue-grey and paler tan. Their long manes and tails were sadly in need of grooming. They were somewhat larger than the other breeds the Tartars were selling, and they moved with the elasticity of acrobats. “The Moon-Horses of Heaven, the team of the Chariot of Death,” said Khelmani grandly. “The Akhal-Teke.”

A warmth entered Rakoczy’s smile that had not been there a minute before. He walked toward the tie-line where the horses waited, holding out his small, gloved hand to the nearest inquisitive nose. He rubbed the next on the forehead and then moved down the line, patting each horse in turn, watching the response of each animal closely. As he made his way back toward Khelmani, he said crisply, pointing to certain of the horses as he passed. “These three colts, and these six fillies. I want to examine them.”

Khelmani stared at him, for never had a high-ranking foreigner made such a demand of him. He looked to Anastasi for guidance. “Greatness?”

Anastasi bustled up to Rakoczy’s side. “He’s foreign, Khelmani. He doesn’t realize what he is asking.” There was no way to conceal his sudden nervousness, but he made light of it. “There is no offense offered here. And he is not forbidden, exactly, to have so many.” He saw the guarded look in Khel- mani’s face and decided to change his manner. He bustled forward. “But nothing is wrong in those the Czar favors.”

“May God forever protect and guide him, and send him mercy in his trouble,” said Khelmani at once.

Anastasi crossed himself, noticing that Rakoczy did so as well. “If this were not the last horse market before spring, it would be another
matter..He
tried to think of what Vasilli would do in this situation, and discarded his conclusions at once: if Vasilli wanted to decide for the foreigners, he ought to have come with them. As it was, he, Anastasi, would trust to his own judgment.

“The Czar is about to honor Hrabia Saint-Germain. He has declared it openly. I do not think he would forbid him the purchase of a few horses. It is not as if he is a fighting man with soldiers around him.” He waved a hand in the direction of Lovell, who was still trying to select two of the Karabairs. “And he is a teacher, a scribe. He must have a horse to tend to his duties. There will be no objections.”

“If it is the will of the Czar, it is the will of Heaven,” said Khelmani, making it plain that he accepted no responsibility for anything that resulted from this arrangement.

“The Czar will praise your good sense, Khelmani,” said Anas- tasi. “You will be given the thanks of the Little Father—”

But Khelmani had held up his hand. “It is not fitting that I should take anything from the Czar,” he said very quickly, looking around as if he expected the horses to repeat what he had said in their clarion voices.

Anastasi did his best to look concerned. “But you have done much to—”

“It is not fitting,” Khelmani repeated emphatically. “If there is honor, take it for yourself and do not wish it on me.” He turned away more abruptly than he had intended, almost slipping on the mud underfoot.

Rakoczy reached out to steady the Tartar, only laying his hand on Khelmani’s back briefly. “By nightfall it will be solid,” he said without emphasis. “It is always difficult to find the right footing.”

Khelmani turned and looked at Rakoczy with curiosity. “Yes,” he said after a brief hesitation. “That is very true.”

A faint, ironic smile played at the edge of Rakoczy’s lips, but he spoke without a trace of amusement. “I am pleased we understand one another.” He gestured to the line of Akhal-Teke. “May I see the horses I selected?”

When Khelmani bowed this time there was great respect in his manner, and he made no attempt to extol the virtues of his horses. “Inspect them as you like, foreigner.” He stepped back to watch, refusing to let anything distract him.

Rakoczy pulled off his gloves, flexing his fingers against the cold. He approached the first colt he had wanted to see, reaching for the rope halter and pulling the head down to examine the head, eyes, and ears of the horse. Satisfied with what he saw there, he pulled back the upper lip and opened the jaw.

The colt, surprised and nervous, began to champ.

“No, no,” whispered Rakoczy to the young horse. “You are not with a stranger. You will not be hurt. My word on it.” He patted the pale neck, noticing the texture and length of the pale mane, and the horse dropped his head, his nose tucked into the bend of Rakoczy’s arm. “Good. Very good,” said Rakoczy.

Anastasi was a serviceable horseman who took no part in the care of his horses—those tasks were left to his servants—but even he recognized that there was something remarkable in the way Rakoczy dealt with the colt. There might be something worth learning here, he decided. He took a step nearer, watching with interest as Rakoczy continued his inspection.

“A pity there isn’t room to see him run,” he remarked when he had finished with the first colt. “He is quite satisfactory. I will deal with the others.”