CHAPTER THIRTY

Widow's Tower

When the town and the bluff the castle stood on came into sight, Jaelle knew at once that Prince Janos was a man to be reckoned with, if she had ever for a moment thought otherwise. The town was not overly large—Jaelle had seen larger on the caravan routes, cities fattened by trade—but a stone wall ringed it, gapping only where cliffs plunged down to a river.

A stone castle, whitewashed so that it stood out like a beacon against the green-brown hills of autumn, thrust castellated towers skyward: White Tower. The army followed the road down to the town gates and they passed in procession through the town and on up a slight rise to the castle itself. It had no gatehouse, but the forecourt was defended by two of the great towers and Jaelle saw no other entrance except through the walled town.

The army dispersed in a welter of comings and goings. A grand lady came out into the forecourt to greet Prince Janos.

"My son," she said, lifting him up from where he had knelt before her. Her voice was rich and deep and she looked truly pleased to see him. A fine linen scarf covered her hair, but the bird's feet at her eyes and the lines creasing her forehead betrayed her age well enough. Her hands were white and uncallused. Coolly, she surveyed Princess Rusudani and the prisoners. Her gaze even caught for an instant on Jaelle, measuring her, and Jaelle tried as best as she could to make herself unobtrusive.

Smoke rose from the kitchens. The doors to the great hall were thrown open as a line of servants carried rushes inside. Jaelle noticed at once the stink of an enclosed place, cows and horses in their bier, a mews off to the left, a kennel of hounds yipping in chorus.

"My lady," said Janos obediently. "I have brought home my wife, Princess Rusudani, daughter of Prince Zakaria of Tarsina-Kars."

Rusudani inclined her head as one equal greets another. "Your majesty."

The lady lifted one eyebrow but did not otherwise admit surprise. Jaelle was beginning to see where Janos got his temperament from. "Let us be frank, Princess Rusudani. You may address me as Lady Jadranka. I am mistress of my son's castle but queen no longer. With the coming of the jaran, King Zgoros found it possible with his new alliance to put me aside in favor of a new bride. But you will find our quarters princely enough, I believe, and I have in my household several young women of good birth who will make fine attendants for you."

Rusudani went white at the mouth, but she did not reply. Perhaps she felt further betrayed.

"Who are these others?" asked Lady Jadranka, nodding to the jaran captives, Vasil'ii Kireyevsky and the princess, who stood in the midst of guards, still in chains.

Janos gave a short bark of laughter. "The Bakhtiian is dead, my lady. That is his bastard son, and the other— You will recall that my father petitioned the jaran for a royal bride."

"I recall it with pleasure. The Sakhalin prince refused his request with great contempt."

"Bring her forward," ordered Janos.

Jaelle admired Princess Katerina for the dignity with which she walked forward in such hostile surroundings.

"This woman is Katherine Orzhekov, cousin to the Bakhtiian and a princess of the jaran tribes."

The two women measured each other, Lady Jadranka with frank interest and Katerina with the proud arrogance that all her people wore, even in such circumstances as these. But Jaelle found her attention drawn to the other participants: Vasil'ii Kireyevsky did not watch the interaction at all, because he was too busy examining the walls and the court and the layout of the buildings; Janos stared at Katerina with a hungry expression on his face, and Rusudani watched her husband, her face as blank as a sweep of new-fallen snow.

"My lady," said Katerina finally in Taor, "I throw myself on your mercy and beg that I will be treated as befits the honor and respect due me as a woman."

Lady Jadranka's other eyebrow went up. "You are an educated woman. Is it true that the Bakhtiian's wife is the Prince of Jeds?"

"It is true."

The other prisoners, including Bakhtiian, stood much farther back, by the gate, but Princess Katerina did not glance toward them.

Lady Jadranka looked back at her son. "I will have the servants clean out the top room in the Widow's Tower. She will need attendants."

So it came about that Jaelle was sent with Princess Katerina as her serving woman.

"This is truly a prison," said Katerina. She paced out the round chamber, pausing at each of the four narrow windows to peer out. A fire burned in the hearth, but she shuddered as if she were cold and went to sit on the carpet. She seemed not to notice the sumptuous furnishings, the bed curtained with fine hangings, a table and brocaded chairs, a pitcher and basin for washing, even a gilded chamber pot and a carved chest filled with furs and gowns and undershifts. Tapestries depicting a hunt hung over the whitewashed walls. "Do you know where they've put Vasha?" Jaelle shook her head.

"The other prisoners?"

"When I go down to draw water for you, my lady, I will try to find out."

"Thank you."

Jaelle could not move for a moment, she was so surprised to be thanked. Then she gathered up her skirts and negotiated the twisting stair that led downward. The first landing opened out onto the chamber below, swept clean and used now for storage. She crossed it, pounded on the door, and the guards let her out onto the outside stairway that led down into the inner ward. She took her time at the well, hoping to see one of the prisoners, and she was rewarded at last when Bakhtiian himself came to the well with two buckets hoisted over a pole. He halted, recognizing her, and set down his buckets while a castle servant pulled water up from the well.

Without looking at her he said, in a low voice, in Taor, "Where is Katerina?"

The servants at the well glanced at him curiously, at his voice, at his outlandish and rather tattered clothing, stained and crumpled from the long march. He walked with a slight limp, he was thinner, but otherwise he seemed strong enough.

Rather than answering, she stared pointedly at the Widow's Tower and then took water when her turn came and returned to the tower.

"I saw ..." Jaelle hesitated. "I saw the man who was so badly wounded, my lady. He was getting water at the well. He asked about you. As for the others, I dared not say anything to him."

Astonishingly, Katerina laughed, if rather dryly. "Just like a common slave. I doubt it amuses Cousin Ilya to be treated that way. Well, you must see what you can find out about Vasha, where he is being held, in what condition, and about the others, too. I will ask Prince Janos or his mother, or Rusudani, if the priest may be given leave to visit me each day." She pushed herself up and paced once around the chamber again. "Gods, is there nothing to do in this place? No wonder the khaja are weak, made captive by their own walls."

Evening came, with a tray of food but no inquiries, no company. Katerina scorned the bed and slept on the servant's bed, a hard pallet tucked away under the frame. Forced to use the great bed, Jaelle slept in a luxury she had never experienced as a free woman—only now that she was, again, a slave.

In the morning, the guards brought food. No one came to see them. After they ate, Katerina tried to help Jaelle gather the dishes together.

"No, my lady, you must not. It is my duty to serve you."

Katerina flung herself down full length on the bed, sinking into the coverlet, and watched Jaelle as she collected the dishes onto a tray. "You were a whore before," Katerina said suddenly. "Did you do this kind of thing then, as well, or just lie with men?"

Jaelle's hands froze. Finally, she set down a cup and turned to face the princess. "I beg your pardon, my lady."

"Whatever for? Aunt Tess taught us all about khaja customs. Did you want to be a whore? Is that something khaja women want to be? Or were you a slave—"

"I was a free woman until Prince Janos took us! My service was paid for!" Frightened at her own outburst, Jaelle knelt. "I beg your pardon, my lady."

"I was going to say, were you a slave who had no choice?" replied Katerina mildly, clearly not offended. "I just wondered, how a woman would come to be a whore, that's all. Forgive me if it's not a thing that should be spoken of."

"I must take this downstairs." Jaelle took the tray away, much shaken that a princess would address her as familiarly as any caravan woman addressed another. Just before she reached the landing she paused, hearing voices in the empty chamber beyond.

"Was it wise to marry the princess out of hand like that?"

A man laughed. "And you the one who encouraged me to pay that faithless bandit to remove her from the convent in the first place, once we heard about the death of her cousin? I took the opportunity that came to hand."

"True enough, Janos, but I wonder what she was doing at Urosh Monastery with the Bakhtiian?"

Feet sounded on the wooden planks of the flooring. Jaelle took a step back up the stairs, shrinking against the stone wall, but the footsteps receded, back toward the other side of the chamber.

"The jaran are not fools. They can see as well as we can that she is a prize, now that all of King Barsauma's children are dead, and her own brothers killed. She is the closest thing King Barsauma has to an heir except the nephew who is supposed to be either a simpleton or an invalid."

"Well. She is your wife now, but it seems to me you somewhat regret the act."

"I do not regret what she can bring me."

"She's well mannered and educated. She's a handsome enough girl. You can't have expected that."

"She spends most of her time on her knees praying! Or reading out of The Recitation. Once she has given me a son, I'll be happy to leave her to God."

"You want the jaran princess, Janos. That is obvious enough."

"God's Love, Mother, but you know very well that no man is known to have wed or even lain with a woman of that people."

Lady Jadranka chuckled as any mother might laugh at her child's sweet foibles. "Presumably a man of that people has."

"I meant a civilized man, of course," he said impatiently.

"Which makes her a rare prize for you, then. She's pretty enough, too, I suppose, if as brazen as a whore."

"Mother!" There was a telling pause. "You didn't see her framed in the torchlight in the church, with her bow drawn back as if she knew how to fire it." His voice caught and deepened, and Jaelle suppressed a chilled shudder. She knew what that tone of voice meant, in a man. "I've never seen anything like her before."

"No doubt that makes her more interesting. Princess Rusudani is much better bred. You don't intend to send the jaran girl to your father?"

"Of course not."

"You must not anger him, Janos."

"I will never forgive him for putting you aside."

"I am grateful for your devotion, my son, but nevertheless it would be foolish to anger him."

"She is mine, Mother. Fairly won in battle."

"She is a princess."

"I will treat her respectfully."

"See that you do. She begged me for my protection, and God judges harshly those that turn aside from the path of mercy."

"I will show her the respect and honor due a woman in her position."

"Let me see her first. It would be more fitting."

Dust caught in Jaelle's nose and, too quickly to stop herself, she sneezed. Knowing the sound betrayed her, she took a breath for courage and went on into the room, but Lady Jadranka and the prince barely glanced at her as she took the tray by them and left it with the guards.

"You may show me up," said Lady Jadranka as Jaelle passed back by her, and Jaelle escorted her up the stairs while Janos waited below.

Katerina sprang to her feet with relief when the older woman entered. "I give you greetings," she said in Taor.

"You have everything you need?" asked Lady Jadranka, seating herself gracefully in a chair.

Katerina paced back and forth on the carpet. "How long must I stay up here?" she demanded and stopped in the center of the carpet. Lady Jadranka inclined her head, saying nothing, and Katerina began to pace again. "So it is true I am to be kept a prisoner. Do you mean to cage me here forever?

I am sure my grandmother would gladly ransom me and the others."

"It is not my decision, Lady Katherine. I am chatelaine of my son's castle, nothing more."

Katerina went over and took hold of one of the bed posts, gripping it tightly. "Ah, gods," she said in her own tongue, looking around the chamber as if to measure its dimensions. "The company of my own kind, my lady. The priest, to speak the prayers of my people with me in the morning, as is fitting.

My cousin, Vassily Kireyevsky."

"These requests I will bring before my son."

Exasperated by something in Lady Jadranka's reply, Katerina went over to the window and leaned out, but she could not even fit her head through the opening. It was only, truly, wide enough for an arrow to be shot out. She turned back and sat down in the bench built into the recessed stone. "A loom? I could pass the time weaving."

"A loom!" Lady Jadranka brightened. "Yes, that is something I could arrange immediately."

"And books," added Katerina, pressing her advantage.

"Books? Can you read?"

"Of course I can read. I can do accounts in Taor and I can read Rhuian and somewhat in Habakar.

I could learn another language, perhaps the one that is spoken here."

Because she stood nearest the door, Jaelle heard the scuff of boots on the steps before the other women did. She whirled around in time to see Prince Janos enter the room.

"Books," he said musingly. "It surprises me that a barbarian can read."

Lady Jadranka rose at once, out of deference for her son, but she also shook her head slightly, as much amused as irritated.

"It should not surprise you," snapped Katerina, glaring at him. Her fine pale hair was pulled back in four braids, bound with ribbons, and her chin jutted out stubbornly. Jaelle trembled, fearing how the prince would react.

He simply laughed, walking a half circle around her and looking her over, which annoyed her even more. "Does this chamber displease you, my lady?"

"Any prison is displeasing, as you surely must know."

"Alas, I cannot set you free, but perhaps your time here can be made less tedious."

"Let me visit my cousin, Vassily Kireyevsky. Let the priest of my people visit me, to speak prayers with me."

"I will consider these requests."

Katerina caught back a gasp. She looked furious. She was remarkably handsome when she was angry. Jaelle blushed suddenly and looked away from her.

"I beg you, my lady," Katerina said to Lady Jadranka, "let me see my own people."

"You must speak with my son."

Katerina had enough dignity, just, to vent her anger by sinking back down onto the window bench.

Like any young caged creature as yet untamed, she had flurries of spirit followed by despondency.

Janos turned to his mother and spoke in his own language, which he knew Katerina could not understand. "If you will excuse us, my lady, I would like to continue this interview in private."

"Do nothing in haste, Prince Janos, which you will have cause to repent later." Lady Jadranka crossed the chamber to take Katerina's hand in hers, briefly, before she left the tower. Jaelle stayed by the door.

Janos circled in closer to Katerina and came to a halt four paces from her. She did not look up at him but rather at her hands. "Do you really wish for books? Can you read?"

"I can read. I wish for something to relieve the tedium. Surely you can understand that."

He took one step closer to her. Jaelle watched as he lifted a hand toward her hair, thought better of it, and lowered the hand. "Very well. I will bring you a few things myself."

Her startled glance upward seemed to satisfy him. He stepped back, took his leave, and went off down the steps.

Katerina sagged back, wedging her shoulders into the arrow loop. "What am I going to do? I'll go mad trapped in here."

Jaelle stirred the logs in the fireplace, not knowing what else to do. A shower of sparks sprayed up and died, and the woodsy smell of the fire comforted Jaelle. The rest of the day passed, but they saw no one. Jaelle fetched water for washing, but she saw none of the prisoners by the well. Food was brought to the guards and given her on a tray to carry up the stairs, and down again, together with the chamber pot, which was brought back later washed clean. The sound of feasting came from the great hall that night, but no one broke the monotony by visiting them.

In the morning Katerina toured the windows six times, peering out each one for a glimpse of town or hill beyond. Two of the windows looked out onto air, where the tower hung above the drop off to the river, and it was possible to see the river's flowing water and the far bank, even, if one pressed far enough into the crack, to see the curve of the river around the great bluff on which White Tower rested. Finally, Katerina came to rest on one of the window benches, her back to the outside world.

Jaelle busied herself shaking out the clothes from the chest. Katerina seemed uninterested in their fine quality. The smell of fur pervaded the room, and though it was chill, Jaelle hoarded the firewood she had carried up the stairs for a later, colder day. She shook out the gowns, enjoying the feel of the cloth, which was of a superior weave. Katerina sat silent, but Jaelle could feel her brooding, like a storm about to break.

"Did you ever live in a castle such as this?" asked Katerina suddenly.

"No, my lady. I was born a long way south of here, in a place called Cellio. There it is hot in the summer and mild in the rainy season, but I never saw snow until I came north with the caravans."

"Cellio! Isn't that a town in Fills?"

"Why, yes, my lady, it is." Surprised, Jaelle looked up at her.

"What were you doing there? Your coloring.. . ." She broke off and glanced away, almost shyly, then looked back. "You look more like a northerner. Aunt Tess says that in the south where the sun is brighter it burns the skin and hair darker. I have seen women and men whose skin is as black as if they had rubbed themselves all over with coal. But your hair is light, like mine."

Jaelle folded the gowns and replaced them in the chest. The silence dragged on, and Katerina regarded her with such rapt interest that finally Jaelle found herself feeling sorry for her. Jaelle had herself never lived as luxuriously as this. But a plush cage was still a cage, after all. Hesitantly, she began to talk.

"My mother's father sold her to a merchant when she was a child. She was brought south, where light-haired children brought a better price, and bought by Lord Tacollo's father, who died soon after.

Some man in the villa where I was born got her with child, with me, that is. That is where I grew up, in a nobleman's villa. She was the nurse for Lord Tacollo's children. I was allowed to sit in on lessons with them for a time."

"And then?"

Jaelle clasped her hands together and stared down at her knuckles. The scars on the backs of her hands told the story well enough. "Then other things happened, my lady. They wouldn't interest you."

"How can you know what would interest me? If I didn't want to know, I wouldn't ask!"

Jaelle's gaze flew up to her. Even in broad daylight the room was dim because the windows were so narrow, but not dim enough that she could not see the pale drape of Katerina's hair and the flow of her blouse and skirts down over the stone. She had taken off her boots, and her bare feet peeked out from under her skirts and the belled cuff of her striped undertrousers. A number of slender gold bracelets wreathed her left ankle, making a soft music every time she shifted her leg.

"Must I tell you, my lady? Do you command me to?"

"Of course not! I would only like to find a friend, here, and it is usual for friends to want to know something of each other. You do not belong here either, do you?"

"No, my lady."

"I wish you would leave off calling me 'my lady.' I am usually called Katya. What would happen to you if you had not been sent here with me? Would you still serve Princess Rusudani?"

"I don't think so, my la—. I don't think so. It is not fitting that a common woman like me serve a princess."

"Then what could you do?"

Jaelle shrugged. "All towns have a marketplace, and there are always men who will pay a woman to lie with them."

"Do you like it?"

"Do I like it? I am free, my— That is, I was free, to make my own transactions. I would rather travel with the caravans and choose my own service than be a slave, even in the finest mansion, as my mother was."

"I meant, what is it like to lie with a man when he pays you? Does he love you? Is the payment only to make him have pleasure, or is there any pleasure for yourself? It must be strange. My mother always said that a woman should never take a man into her blankets whom she would not care to speak with in the morning, and I suppose it was poorly done of me to take Andrei Sakhalin—" She spat suddenly on the stone floor. "His name soils my mouth. But still, it was only out of ill temper that I did it. I must say, he scarcely gave me any pleasure at all, he was so intent on telling me about how important he was. He talked the whole time!"

The words came quickly, and Jaelle found them confusing. "You are a widow?" she asked finally.

Katerina touched her own cheek. "No."

"But you speak of having lain with men."

Katerina shoved herself up from the bench and began to pace again. "I hate this room. Gods, I hate it. All these khaja things are so heavy and so imprisoning. Why shouldn't a woman take a lover if she wishes to? A girl becomes a woman by taking a lover, isn't that true with the khaja as well?"

"When a girl is married—"

"Are you married?"

"No."

"You see," said Katerina triumphantly. "Your ways are not so different from ours. How could they be? Even if Aunt Tess says they are."

Katerina's pacing made Jaelle dizzy. "An unmarried girl who took a lover would be disgraced,"

Jaelle said. "She would never find a husband. Her own people would cast her out on the street for bringing shame to her family."

Katerina stopped pacing. Her expression altered. It took Jaelle a moment to recognize the emotion: Pity. "Is that what happened to you?"

Jaelle laughed harshly. "I beg your pardon, my lady, for speaking so freely, but I think your ways must be very different from ours. I never had any hope of being married. I was a slave, first in my master's house and then for a time in the mines. I was whipped often enough for trying to run away. It was only by the grace of Our Lady the Pilgrim that I chanced to grow into a face pretty enough to attract the attention of an old merchant. I traveled north with him, and he taught me Taor and a few other languages, including Yos, which is the language spoken in all the princedoms in this region. He treated me decently and fed me well. When he died after an illness, I took some of his coin, only as much as I needed, and after that I was free to sell myself along the caravan routes. But free. It was a better life than the one I had before. May She be praised for Her mercy, for it was by Her will that I escaped the other life."

"That is terrible," said Katerina.

Jaelle did not know what to reply. Katerina's sympathy troubled her. Below, she heard someone arrive, and she went to the door and opened it. Prince Janos came up the steps, carrying two books.

Katerina sprang up at once, her face alight—for the books, Jaelle thought, not for the man, but Janos watched her with greedy eyes and stood over her, one hand resting possessively on the back of the chair in which she sat down to examine these treasures.

"This is a copy of The Recitation," Katerina said, opening its pages with reverence, drawing a hand down the parchment as if to caress it.

His fingers twitched on the back of the chair, but he did not touch her. "Princess Rusudani gave me this copy for you. She has asked if she may visit you, to discuss the word of God."

"Of course. I would welcome her visits." But Katerina said it absently, turning to the other volume.

"What is this?" She read aloud, sounding out the script. "The Description of Travels in the Lands of the Yossian Peoples?"

"You can read."

She looked up over her shoulder at him. "Why should I lie about such a thing as that?"

He smiled down at her. "My mother spent some years in retirement, before I came of age and she came here to act as chatelaine of the lands I inherited from her. She translated this work."

"Your mother did that? Then she must truly be an educated woman, my lord."

He smiled further and ran a hand down one of her braids, twining it into his fingers. Her face stilled.

She took hold of his wrist, pulled his hand away, and stood up, moving away from him. Janos looked startled.

A guard clattered up the stairs. "Lady Jadranka begs leave to address you, my lord," he said.

Janos hesitated, then made polite good-byes to Katerina and took himself off. The guard loitered for a moment, eyeing Jaelle, and he patted the small purse looped to his belt meaningfully and winked at her, then hurried after the prince.

"Now I understand why my cousin Nadine dislikes khaja men," said Katerina explosively. But she went back to the table and sat down in front of the books. "Will you teach me the language they speak here, Jaelle?"

"Of course, my la— Of course."

"I could teach you how to read."

"What use would it be for me to know how to read?" Jaelle blurted out, then thought better of it, seeing Katerina's disappointed expression. Certainly the poor girl just wanted something to do to pass the time. "Of course."

But even with this, and the books, to occupy them, there was still too much time to fill.

The next morning, Prince Janos came again, but this time he brought an unexpected visitor and an escort of four guards.

Katerina leaped to her feet, but said nothing, nor did she rush forward to greet the visitor. It was Bakhtiian. Jaelle thought he looked somewhat neater than he had at their other meeting, as if he had taken some pains to repair his clothing and at least wash his face and hands.

At once, he and Katerina began to speak to each other in khush.

Prince Janos casually slapped Bakhtiian with the back of a hand. "While I am here, you will speak in Taor."

"I cannot pray in Taor," retorted Bakhtiian, steadying himself from the blow, or perhaps for a new one. He did not flinch from the prince's stare.

"Then you will pray silently, or not return here."

"Do as he says," said Katerina suddenly, and Janos's gaze fastened on her. That gaze betrayed something to Jaelle, who had learned over the years to measure men's desire carefully, in order to protect herself. Perhaps Janos feared the two jaran would communicate information to each other that might be dangerous, but that was not the real reason he laid down such prohibitions. He was jealous.

He wanted no attention paid to her that he could not share in, no attention, at least, paid to her by another man. Jaelle shivered, abruptly afraid for Katerina.

"You have seen my cousin Vassily Kireyevsky and prayed with him as is fitting?" Katerina asked.

"I have."

"You have not been treated ill, I trust, priest of my people."

To this he did not reply, but his eyes flashed. "Prince Vassily asks after you," he said instead.

"Tell my cousin that although I am confined here against my will, otherwise these khaja treat me with the honor that befits a woman."

"I will do so."

Their gazes met. Janos watched this communication avidly.

Katerina broke off the look first and glanced toward the prince. "We will pray now."

She knelt. Never, in her time among the jaran, had Jaelle seen one of them kneel formally for prayer, but now both Katerina and Bakhtiian did so, side by side, hands resting on their thighs, and stared into the distance, into the stone which imprisoned them. Janos was patient. He waited them out.

After a while they rose, and Janos signaled to the guards to take Bakhtiian away.

"I thank you," said Katerina to Janos when Bakhtiian was gone. "How is my cousin, Vassily Kireyevsky?"

"Well enough." He circled in closer to her, placing a hand on the table next to where hers rested.

She looked at him deliberately and drew hers away. "You need not fear for him, Lady Katherine. I have a special interest in treating him courteously. We play dars, castles, and he is teaching me khot."

"I can play castles."

Janos chuckled. "Truly you are a woman of unusual parts. It is not a woman's game."

"What a stupid thing to say! Of course it's a woman's game, and a man's game. It's just a game."

"Do you ever think that it might be unwise to insult me?" Janos asked quietly.

"Do you ever think it might be unwise to imprison me? My mother and grandmother will not take kindly to this."

"You are only a woman, Lady Katherine. However much it may grieve them, what can they do?"

With that, looking irritated, he left.

"You must not anger him," said Jaelle.

" I must not anger him! Perhaps he should act like a proper man and not anger me. His immodesty is disgraceful!"

"My lady, I don't think—"

"These khaja are all barbarians!"

"He could have you killed! Don't you understand! You belong to him now!"

"I belong to the Orzhekov tribe, not to a man!"

Jaelle threw up her hands. "You're aren't with the jaran now. Listen to me, Lady Katherine. You are his concubine now. You must make him wish to treat you well."

"What is a concubine?"

The depth of her ignorance astonished Jaelle. At times, it was possible to think of her like any other woman; many of the women on the caravan routes spoke Taor with accents, so that was nothing new.

But now she reminded herself that Princess Katerina was truly a foreigner. "A woman who is kept by a man as a mistress, as a ... wife, without marrying her."

"How is that different from being a whore?"

"A whore is paid for her service."

Katerina winced. "Well, he may think whatever he wishes of me. I am not taking him to my bed."

"That may be, my lady, but he intends to take you into his."

"Ha! Let him try. Barbarians!"

Jaelle opened her mouth to reply and thought better of it. She sighed and turned aside instead. "I will go down to the well to fetch water, Lady Katherine."

A whole day passed with no visitors. The next morning proved busy, however. Princess Rusudani arrived with a train of elegant serving women, and Katerina listened politely while Rusudani read from The Recitation and one of the commentaries.

Later, Lady Jadranka came upstairs with servants carrying a loom, which was assembled while Katerina watched raptly. As soon as they had left, Katerina began to prepare the loom, singing happily to herself. Into this gentle domesticity, in the late afternoon, Prince Janos arrived with a servant behind him carrying a finely carved wooden box with enameled hinges.

Katerina chose to ignore him, so he watched her for a long while.

"I suppose,," he said at last, "that now that you have your weaving, you won't wish to play castles."

Katerina halted at once and came over to the table, where the servant had set down the box.

Without asking for permission, she opened it and examined the pieces, laying them out in proper order on the white and red squares inlaid into the board. "Which side do you prefer?" she asked, sitting down in one of the chairs.

He smiled. "The choice is yours, Lady Katherine."

She let him move first. The servant set out cups and wine, and Janos drank heavily, Katerina sparingly. She played with great concentration. He looked up too frequently, watched her too much.

Indeed, Jaelle thought it amazing, the speed with which Katerina won the game.

"Where did you learn to play?" Janos asked, leaning back in his chair. Under the table, his boots crept up against Katerina's legs, and she shifted her legs away.

"From my Aunt Tess, although she isn't really that good. I played certain travelers, scholars, merchants, whomever I could find who came to Sarai, and others, out with the army."

"You traveled with the army?"

She lifted her gaze and smiled, not kindly, right at him. "I fought in Yaroslav Sakhalin's army for two years, my lord. I have killed many khaja men, those who thought they could win against the power of the jaran armies. They could not."

He laughed, not quite believing her. "Surely a princess of your line would be married by now."

"I have been spared that, at least."

He leaned toward her over the table, his fingers reaching for her sleeve, which she swept out of his grasp. "Is it true that you rode with the army?"

"Of course! Most young women serve for two or three years as archers. After that, most of them go back to the tribes to marry."

He stood up so abruptly that his wine cup tipped over, but he had drained it dry and nothing spilled out. For the first time he looked agitated. He paced to one of the window loops and stopped with his back to her. "So you could have shot me, there in the church of Urosh Monastery?"

"I could have. Princess Rusudani stayed my hand. That is the only reason you aren't dead now."

He turned back. Jaelle could no longer read the expression on his face, but it disturbed her. He walked out of the room without saying anything more.

Katerina stared after him for a time. Then she bit her lip and began to rearrange the pieces, back to their starting points. "Do you want to learn to play, Jaelle?"

"You should let him win, Lady Katherine."

Katerina folded her hands thoughtfully on the table, gazing first at the board and then up at Jaelle. "I don't think he's the sort of man who wants to be let win." A small smile turned up her mouth. "We will see if he can manage to win by his own efforts."

"You are playing a dangerous game."

Katerina shrugged. "What else is there to do?" She toyed with the pieces, moving them against an invisible opponent. "On campaign we used to find khaja men for me to play, and others for an audience. They always wagered against me, because I was a woman. Mariya and I won a lot of coin that way, and some chickens, and trinkets, and even a slave once, a little girl whom we gave over into Mother Sakhalin's care. So don't think I don't know how to play."

"That isn't the game Prince Janos is playing! He means to make you his mistress."

"I'm not a fool. I can see that he desires me. But his mother has granted me sanctuary, so there is nothing he can do except try to win me in his crude way. Khaja men have no subtlety. Now can we talk of something else besides Prince Janos?"

Jaelle bowed her head obediently, but she was afraid now, more than ever, for herself and for Katerina.

Because of the prince's unexpectedly late visit, Jaelle went late to the well. It was already dark.

Two of the guards at the door propositioned her. As she waited at the well, she considered what they had suggested. Wouldn't it be wise to store up some coin, a few useful items, against adversity? But there were few places where she could find privacy for that sort of thing. As she walked back past the great hall, a man called to her in a whisper from a shadowed corner of the outside wall.

"Jaelle!"

She knew that voice. She glanced around. Shadows had thrown the whole inner ward into gloom, and there were only a few people around. Lights bloomed in half of the great towers. The cold air chilled her hands where she gripped the metal handles of the buckets. Water sloshed out, dripping on her boots, as she hurried into the shadows.

"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, unbraided 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.