The Novels of the Jaran (304 page)

“No, thank you,” said Anatoly curtly, but he did not move away immediately. He liked David, for one, and for another, the other man might inadvertently grant him more information about Ilyana that could prove useful: Such as where to find her.

David tucked his feet up under himself on a bench and looked guilelessly up at Anatoly. “So what’s it like? I hear the emperor made you a prince? Met any Chapalii princes yet? I hear you made record time to Chapal and back, and that you got all kinds of transport information and that you agreed to let Charles stay in control of Rhui, for now, and that you’ve been cooling your heels on the
Gray Raven
for the last couple of months and gathering information and scouting out a site for a central—well, a palace, I’d guess you’d say.”

“I was thinking of Mongolia, or Dzungaria. You’re well informed.”

“I have to be. As do you. What will you do after you’ve met with Duke Naroshi?”

Anatoly flushed abruptly. Irritated with himself, he spun and walked over to the gazebo. The latticework was shattered at the base; that he
had
heard about. “Do you have any suggestions?” he asked, to cover his discomfiture.

“More questions than suggestions. I wish you’d let me know you were coming; I’d have prepared a specific list.” He sounded aggrieved.

“I can stay for nine or ten days,” replied Anatoly ingenuously, planning already where he would go into seclusion for the traditional nine days; in the catacombs, perhaps. He did not want to stay anywhere near the room he had shared with Diana. It might remind him of her. Of course he had no tent. “My grandmother died,” he said abruptly, sitting down on the bench beside David. “I got the news when I was at Odys.” How soon would his sister Shura receive his message? Would she come to him? “Perhaps I will have some of that wine.”

“I’m sorry,” said David.

Duke Naroshi arrived while David was fetching the wine.

Anatoly heard a craft approaching, but he did not stir from the bench. He was learning things about these Chapalii: Let the lower ranks come to you, unless you want something urgently, in which case you could go wherever you damned well pleased, as long as your path did not take you into direct contact with another prince.

David came in with the bottle just as Naroshi entered the courtyard and knelt before Anatoly. Anatoly felt more than saw David stop, waiting about ten paces behind and to his right. He could almost smell the faint scent of wine in the dry air. Two glasses chimed softly together.

“Duke Naroshi,” said Anatoly, acknowledging him.

“Your grace. I am honored by your presence.”

Anatoly examined the Chapalii duke in the harsh light of the afternoon sun. His eyes were quite large, the most prominent feature in his face. A hood covered most of his head and his robes draped him from neck to toe, but Anatoly caught a brief glimpse of dark slits along his neck, like those he had seen on the Teardrop Prince. Only the skin on his face revealed anything of him, and he remained pale, controlling himself. His mouth remained fixed, except when words emerged.

When Anatoly did not reply at once, Naroshi went on. “I assure you that I am proceeding with all due haste in removing my retainers from Earth and the other daiga territories, from Sira, Ophiuchi-Sei, Eridanaia, Hydra,
In-tali-kono-ah
, and Small Rings. From Concord. From all stations and interstitial colonies.”

Anatoly glanced back at David, wanting to ask: And what the hell am I going to replace them all with? Instead, he set his hands on his thighs and leaned forward toward Naroshi. “I want to see your sister Genji.”

A hint of red stained Naroshi’s skin, but faded before Anatoly could be sure he had seen it. Was Naroshi amused about something? “I beg your pardon, your grace,” the duke said in his colorless voice. “Not even a prince of the realm may enter those halls, nor summon a female. Please accept a thousand thousand apologies from my mouth, that I may not obey your wish in this.”

“I will go see her, then.”

Naroshi bowed his head a little lower, as if to signify that this, too, was forbidden.

“Damn it! I have to see her.” Forcing himself to calm down, he regarded Naroshi coolly. He must not get angry at Naroshi. That would be not so much bad manners as poor governance.

“Perhaps I may convey a message to her, your grace.”

“All right, then. Perhaps you know the answer. I believe your sister has been watching me while I travel, watching me while the ship I travel on is within the singularities, the windows. Can this be?”

“Ships are not the only vehicles for traveling on the great web, your grace, although most creatures are limited to this mode.”

One of the glasses shattered on the paving stones. “Oh, shit,” muttered David.

Stunned, Anatoly finally winched himself around to see David staring gape-mouthed at the Chapalii duke. Shards of glass lay strewn around his boots, slivers winking in the sunlight. “Well,” said Anatoly, looking back to Naroshi, “so Genji can somehow travel along or through the singularities without leaving this moon?”

“It is a female mystery, your grace. Only those who know the secrets of the deeper tongue can travel the web.”

“Are allowed to, or are capable of?” David murmured.

“And of those who know the deeper tongue, only the builders can fathom the net.”

“If your sister Genji has taken Ilyana Arkhanov on as some kind of apprentice, then does that mean she will teach Ilyana to, uh, fathom the net?”

“I beg your pardon, your grace. Although you are elevated above all but the other Yao by the Yaochalii himself, yet you and the others of your kind are still daiga. Animals are bound to the physical world. Is it not true that you can see only in the realm of what you call visible light, except with the aid of your brittle tools? As for the rest, you must ask this of your cousin yourself. She is not of my house, therefore I may not speak to her.” Naroshi lifted his head. “Unless you seek to give her into my house by marrying her to me.”

David hissed a sudden breath in through his teeth.

Anatoly shuddered, looking at this alien creature. But surely Naroshi had no… sexual designs on Ilyana. To him, surely, she would simply represent a powerful alliance with another princely house, a triumph for his house, for his prince. Who was, of course, the Teardrop Prince. Who had already stated his enmity toward Anatoly and
his
tribe.

“No,” said Anatoly. “No. I think not. But I would like to see her, if you know where she is, if she is with your sister.”

Naroshi waited for a moment. His gaze strayed to the broken latticework and back to Anatoly. “I am sure that my sister is already aware of your presence here. Is there more, your grace? Another way I might serve you?”

“No. You are free to go.”

When he had gone, and his craft sailed off into the late afternoon sky, David sat down and laughed weakly. “Oh, Goddess, I don’t know what gave me a worse turn, finding out that Genji can maybe travel through the singularities on her own, or the thought of Ilyana being married to that chameleon. Oh, Lady. Even if it was a nice Earth boy, it would
not
be what the poor child needs right now. Getting married, I mean. But I just could not reconcile that cold fish Naroshi with an ardent bridegroom having lascivious thoughts about his young bride. Like Himalaya’s daughter, who was so beautiful that Shiva was tempted to love her divine body for a thousand years.

Then Anatoly made his first mistake. Surprised by David’s babbling, he looked him right in the eye.

David was no fool. Nor was human nature any mystery to him. He jumped back to his feet, wine bottle and remaining glass hanging limply from his left hand. “Don’t you dare! She doesn’t need that. She’s too young.”

Anatoly bristled. “Staking out your ground?”

“She’s sixteen years old! She’s a child.”

“My grandmother was married at—”

“And her mother Karolla had had a child by the time she was sixteen or seventeen, yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before. But this isn’t the jaran, in case you need reminding.”

“I can do what I want.”

“What the hell am I talking about?” said David suddenly, setting the bottle and glass down on the bench. “This isn’t truly about Ilyana, is it, however attractive she certainly is? This is about Diana. For which I am very sorry, Anatoly.”

“I don’t want your pity!”

Anatoly whirled and ran out of the gate. He went out to the horses, but Little Sosha was gone, and he had left his saddle on the yacht in any case, in his haste to come downside. Swearing under his breath, he began to walk across the grass toward the ruined caravansary, the only place he could brood in peace. Shadows lengthened around him. By the road, the night-flowers began to open, their scent mingling with the smell of grass and an odd flavor in the air, one that hadn’t been here before. Looking up, he realized that the air above no longer wore the faint shimmer that betrayed the presence of the dome. So many things he had failed to notice, in his haste to come downside. Insects buzzed. A horse neighed, calling out, and he turned to see Little Sosha, at a distance, galloping toward the herd. Behind her came a barge. He waited.

As he knew it would, it halted before him and Ilyana walked hesitantly down the ramp. She stopped in front of him, cocking her head to one side. Then she blushed and with an effort did not look away from him. He had forgotten how beautiful she was.

He drew his saber.

She paled and took a step back, one foot coming solidly down on the ramp. The barge did not move, floating in the air, ready to receive her.

“Don’t,” she said. That was all.

“Oh, gods,” said Anatoly, and shut his eyes. While they were shut, he sheathed his saber. When he opened them, she still stood there. She was still beautiful. She was so young, and yet not young, having been marked by death and exile. “You have to marry,” he said finally.

“Oh, gods!” She rolled her eyes and grimaced, no longer shy of him. He could see himself transforming in her eyes into another meddling adult. “I don’t have to marry. I don’t have to take a lover unless I want to. And I’m sorry about the flower night, but you know that my mother lied about it. Not that I wouldn’t have picked you under other circumstances—” But that was too much. She faltered, collected herself, and glanced toward the distant caravansary, as if willing David to come to her rescue.

Anatoly realized that he was jealous of David. But that was a morass he did not want to step into, yet.

“I’m sorry about Diana,” she said finally. “I feel really bad for you. I know you…loved her.”

He looked away, unable to endure her sympathy.

“But…I was thinking, about Evdi. Maybe Evdi could be with Portia. Maybe there could be some kind of arrangement, with…Evdi’s parents, that she could be fostered out. I think it would be better for her, and I bet Portia would like it.”

“It’s a good idea,” he said without looking at her. “I’ll see.”

“And Anton,” she pressed. “Maybe Hyacinth and Yevgeni could foster him for a while.”

“Yes,” he said automatically, thinking it was a good idea before recalling that he ought not to approve. But he did approve. “Do you like it here, Yana?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah. Genji told me something really strange today, but interesting. It’s true you’re a prince, isn’t it? I mean that the emperor said you were one.”

“It is true that he has acknowledged that I am a prince of the Sakhalin. What did Genji tell you?”

“Well.” He heard her feet rustle in the grass as, gaining confidence, she stepped off the ramp again. “She said that the empire is like a grid, all staked out and growing to fill the lines, the…space, I mean the grid that’s already staked out. I’m not quite sure what she meant, except she talked about the net, it’s like the grid in nesh. Does it make any sense to you?”

Anatoly clenched his hands. A slow smile spread onto his face. “Yes, it does. A bit of sense. It’ll make more sense to others. What if she’s talking about the transport system, the singularities? That would imply that the Chapalii constructed, or created, the singularities themselves, that they’ve already sown them, staked out the net, and now the empire is just growing to fill it. Except how far does it extend?”

“I dunno. Genji says the Mushai was her brother, one of her brothers, I mean. He was an earlier brother than Naroshi.”

“But according to what we understand of Chapalii history, the Tai-en Mushai’s line was made extinct.”

“That’s what she said. She made it sound like there were other brothers between the Mushai and Naroshi. Like she only has one at a time, like she controls when they appear, or something.”

“You must ask her further about this.”

“I know.”

Struck by the confidence in her voice, he almost laughed. Here she spilled this vital intelligence, information that even he couldn’t get, that generations of civilized khaja had not discovered, and there she stood, not truly a woman yet by jaran custom but old enough to be a woman, once she chose to cross over. He studied her, although it was not quite good manners to do so. She folded her arms over her chest and regarded him in her turn, steadily. Any man would be honored to be chosen on her flower night.

But Anatoly had a damned good idea, at this moment, that he wouldn’t be the one.

“Are you truly happy here?” he asked instead. “I can take you somewhere else, see that other arrangements are made….”

She threw up her hands in disgust. “None of you want to believe me. I
am
happy here. I’m where I belong. When it’s time for me to leave, I’ll go, to wherever I need to go next, but this is where I need to be right now.”

“Then I will leave you, Cousin,” he said, inclining his head toward her as a man does toward a woman, to show his respect, “although I hope you will give me a full accounting of all that you have learned, all that you do learn, from Genji. You are our only window into her world.”

“I know, and I understand.”

So he left her and walked back, alone, to the caravansary.

“What will you do now?” asked David, kindly not alluding to whatever may have happened between Anatoly and Ilyana, out on the grass.