Why did she have to defend herself like this? And why must she do it so damned badly? "Because I love him," she said in Anglais.
"Love is a compelling reason," said Charles in Rhuian, and Ilya shifted his gaze to Charles. "But alone it is not always sufficient. I think it isn't all that is keeping you here."
"What do you mean by that?" demanded Ilya. Whatever ease had existed between the two men at the beginning of the conversation vanished, evaporating in the heat of Ilya's question.
"Ilya," said Tess.
"I'm getting the Scotch," said Cara, "and I expect you two to behave yourselves until I get back." She rose and strode off to her tent.
Charles raised his eyebrows. His gaze caught on Bakhtiian's, and a moment later the two men smiled stiffly at each other.
"Serves you right," muttered Tess. Cara returned with the bottle of Scotch and four sturdy glass tumblers. Ilya held up the one she gave him and turned it, watching the light splinter and catch in the crystal.
"This is beautiful." He lowered the glass so that Cara could pour a splash of the liquor into it. With the others, he lifted it and drank. Tess lowered her glass and watched him, saw his eyes round at the potency of the alcohol. He choked back a cough and took another sip, cautiously this time.
Cara chuckled. "Now," she said, "you will come with me, Bakhtiian. I have a few things to show you, and some questions to ask about your army's medical logistics."
Ilya looked at Tess, and she sighed and nodded. He rose and obediently followed Dr. Hierakis.
"It's an interesting culture," said Charles, watching them go. "And rather admirable, in its way."
"Yes, well," she replied sarcastically, "Francis Bacon will soon put an end to that."
"You don't approve?"
"He'll never use the clock. They just don't think that way.''
"Doubtless," said Charles, sounding sardonic in his turn, "in the Great Chain of Philosophic Being, their culture ranks far above our own."
Stung, she tossed the book with purposeful disregard onto Ilya's pillow. It landed next to the clock. "You know it's ridiculous to compare cultures in that fashion.''
He looked serious all at once, and Tess did not know what to make of his expression. "Tess, I have faith in you that you would not have stayed with the jaran if they were savages."
But his sympathy made her feel worse. She curled her hands around the tumbler and stared at the Scotch, swirling it around in the glass. "They're killing a lot of people, Charles. Lots of people. Hordes of them."
"As will I, if I lead another rebellion against the Chapalii Empire. That's my choice, isn't it?"
Tess set the glass down on the rug. She could hear Cara talking softly behind her, and Ilya's softer replies. "Charles." She wrapped her fingers together, unwound them, and let them fall to her lap. "You made a choice to make a cause the center of your life. I can't live that way. Someday I'll come to the end of my life and when I look back, I know what measure I'll make of how well I lived. That measure is in the lives I lived beside."
"But someone must live for the cause. Or else we remain slaves. Well-treated slaves, it is true, but slaves nevertheless."
"You're right, of course. I never said I wouldn't do my part. But you've given up everything else for your work and I can't-I won't-do that. Otherwise my life is a desert-nothing." She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him, to judge him, but he merely watched her, unfathomable. "If anything of me lives on after I'm dead, it will be my linguistics work, and, I hope, children as well."
"You've thought about this a great deal."
She steepled her hands and rested her lips on her thumbs, then raised her head to look at him again. "I've torn at myself. Half of me says that I must give myself entirely to your work, that it's my duty to you, my duty to humanity, that's most important. It's a litany that runs through my head. But what use would it be for me to sacrifice myself for that? I'm not a leader. I'm not like you. Or like Ilya, for that matter. I don't want to be a leader, I'm not cut out to be one. I can contribute in other ways. I will. But I won't give up my family to do so." She said it with passion, and only a moment later realized how it must sound to him.
"As I've given up mine?" he asked, and she could not tell if he was hurt, angry, or amused.
"I don't fault you, Charles. I never said that. You're doing what you have to do. I don't think there's anything else you could do. Like Cara-her research is the heart of her life. Everything else is a hobby."
"Including me?"
Tess bent down to pick up the tumbler and drained it in one gulp. The heat of it seared her throat, but the burning gave her courage. "Including you. That knife cuts both ways. It's why the two of you are so well-matched."
Now Charles did smile, and Tess relaxed slightly. "I see my baby sister has grown up."
"I'm a little older. Not much."
"And yet, you married a man who has dedicated his life in the same way I have dedicated mine."
"Yes." Her smile was sardonic. "The prince's sister must marry a prince. There was another man I fell in love with, another man of the jaran, but I would never have married him. Once I met Ilya…" She shrugged. "In the end, I suppose it was inevitable."
"How old is he?"
"By their calendar, which runs in twelve year cycles, he's thirty-seven." She gave an ironic nod toward the clock. "However accurate their time-keeping is."
"But, nevertheless, well into the prime of his life. He'll die, Tess."
It was like being slapped. All she could do was try to hit back. "Are you willing to wait him out? Knowing he'll die soon enough and then you can get me back?"
"I meant," he said mildly, "that he'll die sooner than you will, barring any accidents. Much sooner."
She twisted her hands together and glanced back at Dr. Hierakis's tent. Cara and Ilya stood talking together outside the tent, and as if he felt her gaze, Ilya turned their way, looking at her as he always looked at her, so intently, so intimately, that her own feelings rose fiercely to meet his across the gap. With an effort, she turned back to Charles. "Don't you think I know that?" she asked bitterly. "Don't you think I remember that every damn morning? And every night, after he's fallen asleep?"
"I'm sorry," said Charles, but whether for her pain or for the specter of Ilya's premature death, by their standards, she could not be sure.
Cara and Ilya returned. "But surely you'll ride with the army," Ilya was saying. "There is so much more you can teach my healers."
"I don't know. Charles?" Cara sat down again, but Ilya remained standing.
"I need to go to the shrine of Morava," said Charles.
Ilya's gaze flicked from Charles to Tess and back to Charles. "I can send a small jahar with you, if you wish to ride north now. Then you can follow us south, if you will, or return to the coast and sail back to Jeds, if that is your desire."
"I need to take Tess with me to the shrine."
"That is impossible."
Charles stood up. "Of course it is not impossible. I need her to translate."
"I remind you that you are in my camp." Ilya's voice dropped and its very mildness was threatening.
Charles smiled.
Tess had a horrible premonition that Charles was about to say something rash-something like, / remind you that you are on my planet-and she jumped to her feet and placed herself between the two men. "Stop it. Damn you two, stop it. I'll make my own choice. Sit down."
Neither sat. No one spoke. Tess did not know what to say, so she simply stood there, feeling the force of them one on each side. Like Jiroannes through the bonfires, she felt the pressure of their attention on her, the force of their equally strong personalities brought to bear on her, and she was caught in the middle. If she had ever thought for an instant that these two men could compromise, then she had been sorely mistaken.