The Novels of the Jaran (259 page)

Everyone began to argue at once. Finally, disgusted, Anatoly stood up. When he saw he had their attention, he spoke. “I beg your pardon,” he said politely, “but as a commander in the vanguard of Bakhtiian’s army, it is my duty to go.”

“Who is Bakhtiian?” Annet whispered.

Owen swore. Loudly. “What nonsense is this! I demand we bring the matter before Soerensen—”

“Now, Owen,” David began.

Anatoly pulled Diana to her feet. “We’ll go get Portia and go now. I see no reason to delay.”

“We? I’m not going. Portia is certainly
not
!”

“Of course we will go together. It would not be polite otherwise.” Tired of all the bickering—gods, these khaja spent most of their time discussing and debating instead of acting—Anatoly took her by the wrist and tugged her outside the room. David winked at him as he left and fluidly continued the argument with Owen.

Outside, Anatoly turned to his wife. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For defending me to Yomi.”

Diana colored slightly. “They don’t know you. They don’t know your strengths. I know how precisely you can observe. I trust you to see things as they are. Well, most things. But you’re not taking Portia!”

“I’ll thank you to understand that I would not take my daughter into any situation that I judged dangerous, Diana. You khaja do not know how to conduct a war. Any fool can see that the Chapalii are more powerful. If they have not harmed us yet, then why should they harm us now? They would have acted long ago if they meant to destroy humans. In a strong line of defense, you must probe for weakness. If a scout can’t sneak in, then you walk in openly, with respect, but keeping your eyes open. Every army has a weakness.”

“Ha!” said Diana sarcastically. “Then what is Bakhtiian’s weakness?”

They stopped in the courtyard, where they found Veselov sitting on the gazebo bench beside his two sons. They were all embroidering. Vasil glanced up and smiled winningly at them, then bent back to answer one of Anton’s questions. As if he didn’t care where they had come from or where they were going now. Valentin looked up and saw Anatoly. He bit at his lower lip and cocked his head to one side, seeming to ask if he could have permission to leave.

“I suppose,” said Anatoly slowly, “that Bakhtiian’s weakness is that he doesn’t know that anything—that all this—exists outside of himself and his vision.”

“He can’t know. Rhui is interdicted.”

“I know.”

“Oh, Anatoly.” Her hand, resting so gently on his upper arm, felt pitying more than comforting. “You never should have come.”

“I should have been kept ignorant, too?” He watched the words make her wince. “Well, perhaps I have thought that myself, but don’t you see? This opportunity is what I came for. I can feel it.” He clenched one hand and saw, beyond the open caravansary gates, Portia and Evdokia running past, following by a laughing Ilyana. “Something is about to happen. And we’re going….” He trailed off.

David emerged from the west colonnade and smiled cheerfully at him. “They’ll argue for another hour at least.”

“Good. We’ll go now, then.”

“Uh, do you have a way planned?”

“We’ll ride to the ebony gate and it will open for me.”

“You seem sure of that.”

“Such has the etsana decreed.”

Diana gave an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, David. He isn’t always this arrogant.”

“He isn’t?” David asked, and grinned at Anatoly as if only they two could share the joke; Anatoly liked him for taking the sting out of Diana’s words. She looked disconcerted. David might not be a soldier, but he was a steady companion, and wise in more than just the ways of khaja engineering.

“I will go get Portia,” said Anatoly, knowing better than to leave that to Diana. “David, we have five saddles. Should we take two more riders?”

“The more eyes the better.”

“Then who?”

As if in answer to the question, which he couldn’t have heard, Veselov stood up and sauntered over. “Is it true you’ve received a summons to attend Duke Naroshi, Sakhalin? I’ll go.”

“No.”

“But of course I will. It’s no trouble. I’ll go get my saddle now. But you will have to ask Yana herself if you can borrow her saddle.” He shot Anatoly a charming smile replete with malice. How he had found out about the whole disgraceful episode Anatoly could not imagine, but it was obvious Vasil would not hesitate to use it against him if Anatoly did not agree to whatever he wanted. Vasil caught Diana’s hand in one of his, brought it to his lips, and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. “I am sure Karolla will be happy to lend you her saddle. I’ll go fetch it now.” He dropped her hand and left.

Diana wiped her hand on her skirt.

“I’ll go talk to Yana,” said David hastily. “Meet you at the horses. And I’ll get Gwyn. If anyone can rein in Veselov, it’s Gwyn.”

“Don’t bother,” said Anatoly coldly. “Veselov is not coming with us.”

“You can’t stop him,” said Diana. She laughed breathlessly. “But I’d like to see it.”

“Meet me by the horses,” snapped Anatoly, growing more and more irritated. He stalked off, getting his saddle and gear first and then separating Portia from Evdokia where they ran around and around one of the flower beds shrieking and giggling in a game that involved horses, dragons, and Infinity Jilt, girl-pirate, on a speed yacht race from Jupiter to the Horsehead Nebula. He went out to the horse herd, and little Sosha, as he had named his new mare, came right to him. He finished saddling her as the others came up: Diana looked cross; David and Gwyn Jones each carried a saddle, and Hyacinth tagged along after them; Veselov lugged two saddles by himself. Unfortunately Valentin and Anton had decided to come with him.

Anatoly examined Hyacinth, who stood, smirking, with his arms folded over his chest, and watched Veselov cut out and saddle a horse. He realized all at once that he didn’t dislike Hyacinth nearly as much as he disliked Vasil Veselov.

“Valentin,” he said, “saddle a horse for David. Hyacinth, you’ll take the one Veselov is saddling.”

Veselov cinched up the saddle before turning. “No, he won’t. I’m going.”

“You are not going.”

A hush fell over the little group. The other men paused to watch, and Diana made a great show of sighing, with a woman’s disgust for men’s arguments.

“Listen, Sakhalin, you may be first among the tribes in the jaran, but the jaran are nothing here, and so are you.”

“You are not going, Veselov, because I say so, and because the invitation was for me, not for you. Therefore I am in command. In any case, I am wearing a saber, and you are not.”

Veselov snorted. “You never truly left the jaran, did you? Well,
I
did, Anatoly Sakhalin, and I find this pathetic.”

“You may find it anything you wish. You are not coming with me.”

“But I am.”

Valentin watched the exchange with violent interest.

Anatoly dropped little Sosha’s reins and crossed to stand in front of Veselov. He lowered his voice. “Do not make me humiliate you in front of your sons. Don’t think that I can’t.”

Veselov dropped his voice as well. Out of the corner of his eye, Anatoly noted David drawing the others away, busying them with the horses. “What are you going to do? Challenge me to a duel?”

“Do you even have a saber anymore?”

That
made Veselov bridle. “Of course I do.”

“Who would win such a duel?”

“You would. But these khaja don’t care for such displays. You are the one who would look bad, for pressing such a fight on me. I know how to play by khaja rules, Sakhalin. You don’t.”

“I know how to win, Veselov, and I intend to. You are only one more obstacle in my path.”

“My, my, the little Sakhalin has ambition.”

Anger flared and then, oddly enough, died. Veselov’s insults abruptly lost their power to disturb him. He wondered, suddenly, how David, or even Diana, would handle Veselov. “What do you want?”

“A private audience with Duke Naroshi.”

“Why bother to come with us, then? You won’t get that now.”

“You’re a good looking man, it’s true, but you’re nothing compared to me. Why shouldn’t Duke Naroshi notice me, even in a crowd?”

At that moment, revelation struck Anatoly: Veselov was a madman. Not like those Singers who, having absorbed too much of the gods’ wisdom, could no longer walk straight nor speak in tongues that humans could understand, but in a tedious, small way: Unable to see past his own beauty, praised too much for charm and looks, Veselov had ceased seeing any of the world that existed outside of his own self. He thought he
was
the world.

“That is true,” said Anatoly, dropping his voice to a whisper, “so you can see why I can’t allow you to go with me. I am on a mission for the army, Veselov. I can’t afford distractions.”

“That could be true,” agreed Veselov thoughtfully. “But so far I haven’t managed to gain the duke’s notice.”

“You are trying too hard. Or perhaps he isn’t interested in having a new courtier.”

“That must be it. A whisper can be more gripping than a shout.”

“Then you’ll wait?”

Veselov hesitated.

That was all Anatoly needed. He got the others mounted and they were away before Veselov could change his mind. Portia sat in front of her father, delighted to be riding.

“What did you say to him?” David and Diana and Hyacinth asked, and then laughed, because they had said it all at once.

“What was necessary.”

They rode out to the rose wall, and Anatoly let Portia handle the reins, telling her secrets about horses, and about this mare in particular. When they reached the great block of ebony stone, Anatoly pulled up in front of it. Feeling foolish and confident together, he raised his right hand and announced to the air and the wind: “I wish to travel to the Garden of the Thousand Petals of Gold.”

The stone opened.

The barge waited. They led the horses up the ramp. Hyacinth’s mare balked, and Anatoly had to go back and coax her up. As soon as they were all on, a cloudy skin sheathed the barge. The deck under them thrummed, and they moved forward under the wall. It was more like a tunnel, the wall was so thick, and when they came out the other side, rain began to pound on the gelatinous dome raised over their heads. Through this skin, they saw murky shapes, buildings, perhaps trees, and there, in the distance, towers. The rain came down so hard that it roared in their ears. The temperature changed at once. The air here was steamy, laden with the smell of lush and rotting vegetation. It made him sweat.

“Is it always like this?” he asked when he had gotten over his surprise.

“Yes,” said Diana.

“Yes,” said Hyacinth.

“But we’ve only made three trips,” said Gwyn. “That’s not a very big sample.”

“It’s gooey.” Portia touched the dome and then tasted her fingers.

Diana yanked Portia’s hand out of her mouth and wiped it on her skirt.

“Here,” said David. “The two times I came along we turned at a forty-five degree angle
here
.”

They did not turn.

Anatoly gave little Sosha’s reins to Hyacinth and walked up to the prow, leaning against the railing. In the world outside, it rained, heavy drops drumming down in sheets. At last a pale building loomed in front of the barge and as they passed under an arch, the rain stopped pounding above them. The barge stopped, sinking down to the ground, and the dome retracted. It was still raining, but here the rain was only a fine mist. They looked out over a vast courtyard surrounded by the distant bulk of a white palace crowned with onion domes and spires. In the center of this courtyard rested a square pool, so big that the Chapalii walking on its farther shore looked no taller than hand’s height. The barge sat under a gateway of horn, carved with glyphs and evidently grown either from the earth or scavenged from some gigantic monster. The pool was lined with trees whose golden flowers drifted gently down into the water, dappling it with petals. Rain stirred the surface of the water, which shone a pellucid blue under the dome of glossy clouds that covered the sky. The air smelled strange: spicy, too rich, cutting at the throat. Portia sneezed.

An island sat in the middle of the lake, its banks brilliant with flowers. It was a small island, dominated by the rush of color along its shoreline and by a belvedere sitting alone in the middle of the island, the still center of this silent scene. Nothing stirred out there. Distant figures moved along the far bank, but they seemed unaware of the presence of these human visitors.

Anatoly took little Sosha down the ramp and the others followed him. He gave the reins to Hyacinth and walked out to the bank of the pond. A lip hung over the edge. Moss grew over the white stone to brush the water. A wave rose, and suddenly a shell-backed creature broke the surface and swam over toward them. Everyone except Anatoly stepped back prudently. He merely watched as the creature came to a halt before him, its shell rising up out of the water until it lay even with the lip of stone. It had six flippers, a beaklike face, and its green shell was flat and chased across with elegant patterns.

“Is there a boat?” David asked, peering around.

Anatoly hoisted Portia up into his arms and stepped out onto the back of the creature.

“Anatoly!” Diana cried.

The creature began to swim, heading for the island, and Portia laughed with utter delight. “Look, Papa! It’s eating the petals!
Gulp
.”

Anatoly laughed, hugging her closer to him. Rain misted down around them, but it was too light to be bothersome. Behind, Diana called after them, then David, but he felt it beneath his dignity to turn and answer. In any case, he was not sure enough of his footing that he wanted to risk moving. The creature swam evenly, eyes just at the level of the water, and cut through the water with becoming efficiency. Looking down, Anatoly could see only blue, endless blue, as if the lake was one facet of an enormous, fluid gem filigreed with an endless shifting pattern of crystalline raindrops. He had no idea how deep the lake was.

A single path cut down through the banks of flowers on the islands. The creature deposited them there, and there Anatoly turned to see how his forces had chosen to position themselves: Hyacinth and Gwyn had stayed with the horses; Diana and David had found transport of their own.