The Law of Becoming: 4 (The Novels of the Jaran) (63 page)

“Stefan!” Warmth swept her, she was so happy to see him. She set down the buckets.

A moment later, he embraced her, surprising her with the strength of his greeting. He kissed her, swiftly, and she pressed against him for the comfort of it. He broke away, whispering apologies.

“Ah, gods, I beg your pardon, Jaelle. Please forgive me. I’ve been thinking of you constantly. Are you…well? Unharmed?”

“I am fed enough and left alone. But what of you, Stefan? Where are you? What has been done with you and the others? Princess Katherine—Katerina—speaks every day of wanting news of you, but she is allowed none, only assurance that Prince Vasil’ii is well.”

“Didn’t she see Ilya once?”

“Yes, but they could not speak together. Prince Janos remained with them the entire time.” He had taken two steps away from her. She closed the gap and set a hand on his arm, then laid her head against his chest. He stole an arm around her back and breathed into her hair. Unlike most men, his grasp was gentle. But she could feel in the way his body moved against her that he desired her body.

He whispered her name again and kissed her hair, wrenched himself away. “It’s no use. There isn’t time for this. Who knows when we’ll be able to meet this way again? Vasha is being held in the tower. There. It’s called the King’s Tower, and in the room beneath, his many soldiers are quartered. I sleep with him there. Ilya and Vladimir and Nikita and Mikhail are chained up at night down below, although sometimes Ilya is allowed to sleep in the solar, the room below Princess Rusudani’s chamber. That one, there, the tallest tower. Prince Janos has his own rooms, but I think he only uses those for speaking with his steward and others who come in about their business. Ilya says that every night Janos goes up to Rusudani’s chamber. Vladimir and Nikita serve the princess as well, carrying water and firewood, other chores. They are almost always with Ilya. Mikhail serves Vasha, as do I. Now tell all this to Katya, so she can be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

He lowered his voice even more, and she leaned closer to hear him. He smelled faintly sweet, especially against the dour odor of the stables. Jaran camps never smelled as rank as this castle. “For anything that might happen.”

“What of the other man? The other soldier?”

Stefan shook his head curtly. “Stanislav Vershinin, you mean. We lost him on the road. He couldn’t walk to keep up, so some of the guards sold him to a farmer for three chickens and some grain for their horses. But he’ll have an easier time escaping from there than we will from here.”

“If he lived.”

“He favored the leg more than it hurt him. He knew the risk he was taking. Someone had to try to escape to get the word back to the army.”

Voices sounded from the great hall. A lantern swayed to a slow pace as two guards came along the inner ward.

“Jaelle.” Her name was like a sigh of hope on Stefan’s voice. “If we escape, will you come with us?” He kissed her again. Then, the confession torn from him by the night air and the chance meeting, he said, “I love you.”

“Who’s there?” someone called.

“Where is that slave?”

He broke away, sidled farther into the shadow, and disappeared from her view. In a daze, she hoisted up the buckets and set off for the Widow’s Tower. Two guards hastened up.

“What happened to you?” they demanded.

“I lost my way.”

They escorted her back, and she lugged the buckets up the stairway, not noticing their weight. Setting them down inside the room, she just stood there.

“What’s wrong?” Katerina asked, coming over to her. She took one of Jaelle’s hands in her own, chafing it. “You’ve gone all pale.”

“I saw Stefan.”

“Stefan! How is he?” Light flared in Katerina, like hope leaping across a chasm to find a new home. “What did he have to tell you?”

Disjointedly, Jaelle relayed his news.

Katerina clapped her hands together. “You must try to meet him again. I’ll send you to the well tomorrow night at this time. Surely he’ll come again then, hoping to meet you.”

Surely he would. He had said that he loved her. “May I sit down, my lady?” she said weakly.

“What
is
wrong? You’ve not taken ill have you?” Katerina led her to a chair. “You mustn’t take ill, Jaelle. You’re all I have.”

You’re all I have.
“He said he loved me,” Jaelle whispered, then cursed herself for saying it.

“Oh, yes,” said Katerina blithely. “Stefan’s been pining after you for months. I would have thought you’d noticed it before. I thought you must not care for him, since you never asked him to become your lover.”

“A woman does not ask—What do you mean? You knew?”

“Stefan told me. We grew up together. We’re almost like cousins, really, although, well, he’s very sweet, Stefan, and he’ll become a great healer just like his grandfather Niko is, in time.”

It was too much. Jaelle began to cry quietly. “What does he have to gain by it?”

“Who?”

“Stefan. To say that he loves me.”

“He has nothing to gain by it! He just loves you, that’s all. Why is that so strange?”

Because no man had ever before said, ‘I love you.’ And truly, no one had ever said those words. No one, ever in her life.
She did not know what to think, what to say, what to do, what to feel. So, being practical, she wiped her cheeks dry and sniffed down the last few sobs.

“I beg your pardon, my lady.”

“Ah! You khaja are impossible. Here, we’ll heat some of that water and you can wash your—”

They both heard the footsteps coming up the stairs at the same time. Katerina pulled Jaelle to her feet and like comrades they turned together to face the door. Janos entered. He dismissed his two guards as soon as they had set a new flask of wine down on the table beside the board and set torches burning in the wall sconces.

“We will play again,” he announced, and sat down.

Katerina, amazingly, laughed and took her place. Janos made the first move. Katerina countered.

“You are a skilled player, Princess Katherine,” said the prince after a bit, “and bold, for a woman.”

“You are immodest, for a man, Prince Janos, and like most khaja men your brash manners have done nothing to improve your game.”

“We shall see whose game is stronger.”

It grew so quiet in the chamber that the pop of the fire was the loudest sound in the room, that and the faint jingle of Katerina’s bracelets and anklets and the tumble of wine into the cups as Janos poured, and poured again. He concentrated more on the game now, but after a time it became obvious even to Jaelle that Katerina was winning.

The princess sat back after she took his castle and tilted her chin back arrogantly. “If you would not drink so much, you would play better, Prince Janos. But I would still win.”

He jumped to his feet and scattered the pieces with a sweep of one hand. “It is not the wine that confuses me.” That quickly he circled the table and grabbed Katerina by the shoulders before she realized what was happening. “You are the most glorious woman I have ever seen.” Her mouth dropped open. She looked confounded. He pulled her to her feet and kissed her hard on the mouth.

She wedged her hands in between them and shoved him away, but he pulled her back into him. She jerked her head to one side so that his kiss touched her eye.

“How dare you! You swore to your mother that I would be treated with honor.”

He looked genuinely surprised. “I have treated you with honor! Be thankful I didn’t send you to my father.”

“And what might your father have done? Surely he would not have treated me this improperly.” She half twisted out of his grasp.

He let her go, and she staggered back, looking a little stunned. “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I forgot that you are an unmarried woman and not accustomed to a man’s advances.” Now he took her hands in his. “My father has a rare and terrible temper, Lady Katherine. You will do much better with me, although it’s true I can’t offer you marriage now that I am married to Princess Rusudani.” He looked over at Jaelle and signed to her to turn down the bed.

This speech had the effect of rendering Katerina speechless. She was, finally, beginning to look nervous.

“Our children will be raised as if they were legitimate, and since any sons I have by Rusudani will inherit her portion, there is no reason I can’t settle some of the lands and vassalage I received through my mother onto the sons you bear.”

The truth was, Jaelle thought, that Katerina appeared struck dumb, as if she simply could not comprehend what he was saying to her. It was an incredibly generous settlement, although, of course, words meant nothing. A pragmatic woman at this point would demand that he set down these promises in writing, so that she could hold him to them should his infatuation wane. She wanted to tell Katerina so but dared not speak.

He took Katerina’s silence for assent and bent to kiss her.

She elbowed him hard in the stomach and tore away from him. “I have not given you permission to touch me!”

Gasping for breath, he straightened up. “I don’t need permission! You are my concubine now.”

“I am not a concubine. You will leave my tent—my chamber—now. I wish to see no more of you tonight.”

“
You
wish—” He grasped her elbows and dragged her toward the bed, while she kicked at his legs, pulled free, only to have him wrestle her down onto the coverlet. She was strong, but not as strong as he was.

“Jaelle!” she called, as if expecting Jaelle to aid her.

Janos stood, one knee on the bed, pressing her down, but he looked up and found Jaelle, who stood immobile by the fire. It took only a glimpse of his face to see that he was headed into a rare fury. “Go!”

Jaelle fled the room.

Just as she reached the lower landing she heard a crash, and she flinched as if she had been hit. She ran back up the stairs but halted on the landing. Through the closed door she listened, feeling sick inside. Grunts, a hollow thud, a woman’s gasp; he cursed; something banged loudly to the floor. The unmistakable crack of a slap to the face. Katerina swore at him in labored gasps. Fabric ripped. Something was dragged over the floor, followed by another thud, and then Janos swore again, sounding even angrier.

The struggle went on and on and on. Why didn’t she just give in? How could she be so foolish? Janos wanted to treat her well, that was clear; Jaelle knew that his offer was unbelievably lavish, torn from him no doubt by his desire for her and, as it was with so many men, the ridiculous belief that the one thing he could not have was worth more than the treasures he held in his hands.

After a while Jaelle could not stand to listen anymore, and anyway, the two torches in the stairwell were failing. She picked her way carefully down the stairs and waited.

And waited.

It was dark in the lower chamber. Sounds from above were muffled by the plank flooring and the carpet. Torchlight flickered under the door to the outer stair. It was cold. She heard the guards talking outside. Mildew wafted out of the shadows, and she coughed. The damp air of coming winter seeped in through her kirtle. She had not thought to take her cloak. She sneezed and wiped her nose.

Upstairs, the door scraped open. Light gleamed on the stairwell, pooling and expanding as someone came downstairs. When Janos, holding one of the torches, came into the lower chamber, Jaelle gasped. The play of shadows gave him a grim look. His lower lip bled. It looked bitten through. His clothes hung all at random, and his fine tunic was not belted now; as he passed Jaelle, she realized that it was torn, a gash on the left side. His hair looked as if a storm had blown through it. His left ear trickled blood, and he favored one leg. He pounded on the door.

“Open up! Get me some wine!”

The door opened. He stamped out, his fury a palpable force that lingered even after he was gone. The door shut, and the bar grated down, thunking into place. Jaelle groped back up the stairwell, which was now black as pitch.

In the upper chamber, two torches threw inconstant light over the room, which lay in shambles. Katerina lay on the bed, dressed only in her undershift, silent, staring at the dark cloud of the bed canopy above her. At first Jaelle thought the shadows marked her face with peculiar shapes, but it was a bruise, already purpling, on her cheek. She had a black eye. Soft noises came from the bed. After a moment, Jaelle recognized them: Katerina was weeping with rage.

Jaelle brought water and a cloth and dabbed down Katerina’s swollen face, washed her hands and arms, and lay a cool cloth over her blackened eye. Then, from all over the room, she gathered up Katerina’s clothing, most of it torn, some just scattered as wind scatters leaves over the ground. She set the chairs and table upright and searched out the game board and pieces, counting them off. Two were lost: one had gotten flung into the fire and was scorched. She pushed a new log onto the fire and let the heat warm her face.

Behind her, the bed creaked. Jaelle started up, but Katerina had only heaved herself up onto her elbows. Moving stiffly, she rolled off the bed and stood up. She moaned and swore softly in her own language, then limped toward the fire. She made it as far as the carpet before she sank down into a despondent heap on the floor. There was no mark of virginity on the coverlet. The chamber smelled of sweat and exertion. Outside, a hound yelped and stilled. One of the torches guttered out, smoke steaming into the chamber and dissipating.

Half of Katerina’s hair hung down loose, the kind of hair that gives pleasure to the hands and skin. The other half was still braided.

Jaelle took a comb from the chest. “Let me fix your hair,” she said softly. Kneeling behind Katerina, Jaelle tentatively touched the end of the last braid, then, more bravely, un-braided it and began to comb out Katerina’s long, thick hair. Katerina sighed and leaned back against her. She was no longer crying and slowly she relaxed. The heat of her skin through the thin undershift warmed Jaelle far more than did the heat of the fire.

There was no hurry. Slowly, Jaelle combed it out, breathing in its scent, like the distant grass of the plains. Katerina found one of the game pieces, a bold knight, stamped down in the fringe of the carpet. The firelight flickered over them, and all the while as Jaelle rebraided her hair, Katya scraped the beautifully carved piece on the plank floor, back and forth, back and forth, until its face was obliterated.