To the High Redoubt (25 page)

Surata said nothing but held on with determination as Arkady kicked his gelding to a fast trot. For once the mules were willing to move, and they both broke into a jagged, rocking canter as Arkady got them away from the inn and its visitation of mice.

Chapter 13

At Tana there was a constant confusion, with merchants from all quarters of the world—Greeks and Byzantines from the fallen empire; Arabs, Turks and Persians; a few Egyptians; traders from Moskva and Kiev and Kazan—gathered there on the edge of the Sea of Azov, for the purpose of selling and exchanging wares.

In an outburst of pleasure at the variety around them, Arkady bought three changes of clothes for each of them, rationalizing this extravagance as a good precaution. “The Egyptian cotton will do well on the long trek from Sarai to Samarkand, where it is hot and the sand is mixed with salt. This”—he lifted his second ensemble—“is Byzantine and should do me very well when we are riding. It looks prosperous without appearing rich, and the armor is good. I think that the mail is old-fashioned, but it is versatile and it doesn't need a squire to help me into it. This for you”—the garment was also old-fashioned, of patterned silk from Antioch—“will do you well when we are in cities or other places where a great many people gather. No one will approach or insult you in garments like this. I'll show you how to wear them, so that you can dress for yourself.”

Surata could not help laughing. “What else have you got?”

“The last I bought from a merchant from Smolensk. He has brothers who are priests there, and they are anxious for him to purchase goods for them. I have a priest's habit, and a nun's. They will help us while we travel.” He wished she could see these last two, very dark, woollen garments with belts and crucifixes with the two straight bars at the top, and an angled one further down. “I'll show you how to handle the things so that you can convince others that you know the rites of the Christians.” He knew that he was fairly ignorant of the Orthodox ceremonies, but he was determined to continue in this plan. “While we're by ourselves, we can decide when it will be best to wear the clerical garments.”

“The further east we go, the fewer Christians we'll find,” she pointed out, not entirely convinced that this ruse would work. “Think of what could happen among followers of Islam. They are already battling with Christians. Might it not be dangerous to appear as members of Christian clergy where Islam rules?” She did not expect an answer, but Arkady gave her one nonetheless.

“You're right, for some of the places we must go. But there are others where it would be to our advantage to be
any
sort of clergy, so that we may excuse ourselves from battle or from joining with other company that might be more dangerous than these robes are.”

She shrugged. “Well, later today, you can explain the significance of the dress to me. That should be the first step in any case.”

“You're not convinced it will work, are you?” He respected her enough that this question was quite serious.

“No, I'm not. It's too chancy, but if you think we'd be safer, you are the one who has fought most of your life, and you know far more than I about avoiding conflict. That is why you are my—”

“—Champion; yes, I know,” he countered with impatience. “For the time being, I also have travellers' cloaks for both of us. I trust you won't object to wearing them?”

“No, not at all. I've wanted a cloak for…some time. I thought…” She broke off, her face very still. “We must be careful tonight, Arkady-immai. There is danger waiting for us. The Bundhi is searching for us, and it would be simple enough for him to…” Her hands came up to her face, covering her blind eyes. “I
hate
this darkness!
I hate it!
To be able to see only in the other place, where no one needs eyes…It's impossible!”

Arkady, distressed at her outburst, came quickly to her side and took her in his arms. “Surata, no. Don't let yourself give way to despair. For my sake, if not for yours.” He kissed her hair, then her forehead. “With determination, we can prevail, but if you abandon our fight before it has even begun, what will we do then?” He felt how fiercely her sobs tore through her, and that caused him more anguish. “Surata, please.”

She did not respond at once, but when she did, she had brought herself back under firm control. “I didn't expect this would happen. You will have to pardon me for carrying on in this way.”

“Everyone has times on a long campaign when it presses them. You're no different than a green soldier. But Surata, this is just the beginning of the fight. Until now, there was no campaign. You will have to watch yourself, or you will be exhausted long before we reach the Bundhi or Samarkand.” He held her less tightly and took a more comradely attitude.

“And if the Bundhi reaches us first? The mice were little more than an entertainment, a warning that our presence was known, and our intent understood. The Bundhi has done nothing difficult yet, that I am aware of. That frightens me, as well,” she went on in a hesitant way. “I know that the Bundhi is capable of…much more than…a sea of mice. He had great power. It could be demonstrated in weather or enemies or animals or…anything. I know that I should be able to recognize him and his agents, but what if I don't? What if I fail to…see? It's possible, Arkady-champion.”

“That shouldn't bother you,” he said, hoping to cheer her up. He realized that her new worries were well-founded, and he could not deny that she had good reason for her concern.

“Don't dismiss me so easily,” she told him with some spirit. “I don't want to be killed, or worse. It could happen, more easily than I want to think it could. If you won't listen to me, and help me to take precautions, then we might as well turn around now, and go back to the West, where I will be your slave for as long as you find me…desirable. After that, it will not matter.” She pushed away from him.

“For the love of Saint Michael!” he exclaimed. “What's come over you? For almost three weeks, you can say nothing but how urgent it is that we get to Samarkand and that place beyond it, so that we can engage the Bundhi in combat. Now that we're on our way, you're talking as if we had already been defeated. What's the matter with you?”

Her hands knotted together and she remained stubbornly silent for a little time. “Arkady-immai, I don't want to see you hurt or harmed. I have been raised to this battle, but you're not born to it as I am, and…you're from another people, another country, another faith. You have no reason to risk so much.”

“Yes, I do. I'm your champion, remember? You've been telling me that since before you could speak my name. If that's the case, then your battle must be my battle as well. Right?” He was secretly deeply touched that she had so much concern for him. With the suggestion of a chuckle, he reached for the cloak he had bought for her. “Here. You might as well try this on. I think it's long enough, but I couldn't be sure when I bought it.”

She grasped the sand-colored garment. “Arkady-immai…”

“It's cut very full, so that you can roll up in it at night if you need to,” he went on, as if he had not heard her.

“Arkady-immai, let me speak,” she said very quietly.

“All right.” He stood facing her, looking into her face, wishing that he could see her thoughts in her eyes instead of the blankness that was there.

She began slowly, chosing her words very carefully. “You have shown me much…consideration since you bought me. Sometimes more consideration than I wanted or needed, but that's of small matter now. You have accepted our joining and our venturing to the other place, and so far you have not complained. But soon it will be more hazardous. That avalanche was just the beginning, to be sure we were aware that the Bundhi knew of our presence. It was not…when I realized that you had been bruised by the falling rocks, I was very troubled.”

“Any soldier knows that he can be hurt in battle. A bruise is nothing. I've had worse than that during training, let alone in battle.” He swung his arm. “It's fine now, Surata. Nothing lasting, just a bruise. You're overly worried on my behalf.”

“No, I'm not,” she said, frowning. “You haven't seen what can become of those who oppose—”

“Stop that,” Arkady interrupted her. “You're frightening yourself. If you must be frightened, let the Bundhi do it himself; you're doing his work for him.”

Surata laughed unhappily. “You're right, Arkady-immai. I know you're right. But…I've been thinking about what happened to my father and uncles, and it
does
frighten me.”

“Then think of something else,” he advised. “Why am I telling you this? You're the one who should be saying this to me. You're the one with the understanding of what thought and all those other things can do. Have you forgot everything you ever learned?”

She brought her head up. “Are you accusing me of…” She could not find the right word.

“I'm not calling you a coward, if that's what you're worried about,” he said, taking a milder tone with her. “But you are not being sensible about this. You're succumbing to all the things you know are not right, and you're excusing yourself because of your memories. All of us have memories, Surata. We must deal with them as best we can.”

This time she was much chastened. “I…ask your pardon, Arkady-immai,” she whispered.

“There's nothing to pardon. You're spooked, that's all. It happens to all of us, one time or another.” He changed tone with her again. “The cloak?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, lifting the wadded fabric in her hands. “It goes around the shoulders, doesn't it?”

“And ties at the neck and over the heart. There are two long ribbons you use…” He reached out and took them, wishing he could demonstrate the tieing for her.

“I'll do it,” she said gently, not a trace of rebuke in her voice. “You just wait a bit, won't you, while I work it out. When we travel, I will have to fend for myself. I should start now.”

Arkady nodded, then said, “Yes, I suppose you're right.”

Surata struggled with the unfamiliar garment; it was difficult to adjust the voluminous folds so that the cloak was properly balanced on her shoulders. “It is very warm,” she said, approving of the cloak. “At night I'll be glad of it, but during the day, it might be too much.” She untied the ribbons in the front. “I had these wrong, didn't I?”

“You did,” he said, looking down at the scuffed toes of his boots.

“If I make that mistake again, you must correct me,” she told him as she pulled the cloak off. “I won't improve if you don't correct me.”

He remembered the many times his teacher had made him repeat exercises with his weapons for exactly the same reason. “All right, I'll tell you.” His promise did not come easily, and he wondered if it was because he knew how bitterly she hated her blindness.

“Arkady-immai,” Surata said, breaking into his thoughts, “you let yourself worry about the wrong things. If you are afraid to mention my blindness, then I will become ashamed of it. If I had lost a hand in battle, you would not think twice of it. You would help me when I needed your help and you would encourage me to excel where I could. Wouldn't you?”

“Possibly,” he hedged. He wanted to take her in his arms and soothe her, vowing that she would never have to suffer for her blindness, giving her his word that he would be her eyes and her hands for as long as he lived. None of these sentiments reached his lips, and his hands stayed at his sides.

Surata smiled wistfully, the corners of her mouth not quite turning up properly. “I wish…”

“Yes?” Absurdly, he hoped that she would be the first to speak, to offer assurances and oaths to him.

She shook her head. “Never mind. Let me inspect these other garments you've brought. And tell me which you want me to wear when we leave tomorrow.”

Arkady swallowed his disappointment. “Well, here the religious robes would be best. By the time we reach Sarai, there may be other clothes we ought to buy.”

“And the gold? You have been free with it, Arkady-immai.” She was not critical, but curious.

“There is no reason to worry about poverty yet. We are not in danger of running out of money for quite some time.” He patted the pouch that hung from his belt. “Soldiers know how to haggle. And how to forage, if it comes to that.”

“Beyond Sarai, it may. There may be a trade route through the desert there, but it is a bleak land, from all I have been told of it.”

“Bleak,” he said. “A stretch of desert and salt marshes by the old sea.”

“There are tigers that follow the caravans, feeding on stragglers.” She paused, giving him time to consider this. “They might follow us, since there are only two of us, and the mules would be a good meal for a tiger.”

“And the Bundhi?” Arkady asked.

“Yes, he might use them. He likes them, respects them. They are so good at killing.”

“I have heard that,” he said in a neutral voice while he thought back to the tales he had heard of the enormous striped cats that would fix you with their hard stares and sap your will before they attacked. Legend was that if you threw a glass ball in front of them, they would become fascinated by the reflection they saw and mistake it for their young, and would abandon the hunt. Arkady did not want to put that theory to the test.

Surata reached toward him. “Arkady-immai, I would not fear for you if you meant nothing to me.”

“I know.” He took her hand in his and bent to kiss it.

By that night, the worst of their fears were forgotten, and they enjoyed a lavish meal before going up to bed. In the dark they lay side by side, hardly touching under their blankets.

“Surata?” Arkady ventured after they had laughed about the pompous way an old Greek merchant had ordered the porters around in the taproom.