Free The Novels of the Jaran by Kate Elliott

for future resource exploitation, when such times come, as they undoubtedly will. One cannot sit forever on such wealth as this planet holds.”
    Faced with her brother’s flouting of his own rules, she could scarcely claim to be righteous—after all, she had come to Rhui, and to this pass, with no one’s permission but her own. “Very well, Cha Ishii. There is some justice in your claims, although you will understand that I must report this infraction. Nevertheless, since I will be journeying with you, if you and your party behave appropriately, I will ask that the penalties be softened.”
    “You are most gracious, Lady Terese.” He inclined his head to signal his obedience. She could read neither his tone nor his skin to give her a clue as to what he was thinking now. “If I may ask your indulgence, I have ablutions to perform.”
    “You may.” She watched him bow and back away into the tent, followed by the two remaining Chapalii, and then she turned and walked back toward camp. His quick acquiescence made her uneasy, but what could he do now that she was here? Kill her? She dismissed the idea as quickly as it occurred—it was simply too alien and revolutionary an idea to the chapalii psyche as she knew it. Hierarchy was too ingrained for one of lower rank to consider doing harm to any person above him. She had only to wait and watch, listen and be patient. Eventually they would betray their true purpose for being here.
    At the top of the rise she paused to look back, at the round, tall white tents of the Chapalii and then at the men examining the horses. She could not be sure any of them was Yuri. One man detached himself from the group. By his walk and his dark hair and by the single-minded purpose of his stride, she guessed it was Bakhtiian—coming to talk to her. She started forward as fast as she could at a walk, not wanting to seem to run. She had no desire whatsoever to talk with Bakhtiian, not yet. She had a story to get straight, facts to invent. More than anything, she had to absorb the Chapalii’s presence here and what this meant to herself and to her brother. If Charles were here, he would know what to do. But Charles wasn’t here. It was up to her. And I’m not the right person to be his heir. She wanted to glance back to see how close Bakhtiian was but she refused to let him know that she knew he was following her. Why can’t Charles see that? I don’t want this work.
    Then what do you want? It was a mocking question, thought at herself, but the answer appeared unexpectedly, although it was the answer to a different question. Tess saw Sonia, walking at the edge of camp with a boy, midway in age between the babe-in-arms and the older girl, in reluctant tow. She saw Tess and halted, smiled, and then, looking past Tess, smiled broadly.
    “Tess.” As soon as Tess was close enough, Sonia took the boy’s dirty hand and pressed it into Tess’s.
    The boy, who had been wailing insincerely a moment before, snapped his mouth shut and gazed up in awe at Tess with eyes as blue as the summer sky. “You’re tall,” he said. “You’re as tall as my papa.”
    Sonia chuckled. “Vania, your manners. Tess, is that Ilya I see? He looks quite angry.” She seemed quite cheerful. Tess did not have the nerve to turn around enough to see the contrast between Sonia’s fair, blonde prettiness and her cousin’s harsh, dark features.
    “I don’t suppose you can hide me? I don’t want to talk to him right now.”
    Sonia’s eyes widened in surprise. “Then don’t talk to him. But here, you just stay quiet.” Tess took a step back, turning, as Bakhtiian came up to them.
    “I would like—” he began without preamble, ignoring Sonia.
    “Well, Ilya, what is it you would like?” The curtness in Sonia’s tone shocked Tess. Yuri had practically slunk away from Bakhtiian’s anger.
    Bakhtiian himself ceased speaking for three whole breaths together. “I beg your pardon, Sonia,” he said in a softer tone.