Nikos, still stunned by the blast, and shocky with the pain of his shattered arm, tried to roll over. He was too weak. Mud slopped around his face, and he felt the hillside quiver.
"Jusuf?" His voice was so weak, he could barely recognize it.
The Khazar turned, his dark eyes slitted against the rain. Nikos gestured weakly at the hill above them. Jusuf looked up, seeing nothing but fire, dark trees, and an ebon sky. Then he squinted again; the trees were swaying, toppling over even as they burned fiercely. A haze of smoke and steam billowed up into the sky, joining with the clouds.
As he watched, a tree, its crown burning merrily, slid sideways and crashed into one of its fellows. Then Jusuf felt the quiver under his feet and heard the rumbling of boulders grinding under the earth. The entire slope above them, loosened by rain and the eroding influence of the Oath, had separated. The Khazar looked around wildly, seeing the burning villa suddenly rush toward them. He cursed, a dreadful oath of his people.
Thira
This is Herakles," Thyatis said with a grin. "He is the only man allowed on Thira, for he serves the Matron of the Island, and the Goddess."
Shirin smiled back and ran a slim hand along the curving prow of the ship. It was a single banked galley, no more than forty feet long, with sleek flanks and a wickedly sinuous line. Two deep steering oars were slung at the back, and it was built low to the water. The flanks were Miletian oak, carefully carved and bent to form the hull. A black varnish covered the ship, both the planking and the seating on the low rowing benches. Thyatis swung up onto the railing and dropped inside. The ship trembled, even at her weight. Shirin followed, her sandalscalfskin with long, thin lacings that ran up to just under her kneesqueaking on the deck. The whole vessel breathed speed and power.
"There are no other men on the island?" Shirin considered this and found it pleasing.
"No- nor have there ever been." Thyatis walked aft and stepped up onto a bench set behind the two steering oars. She sat, folding her legs under her. The Roman woman was clad in the dark green tunic, bronze greaves and arm-brace of one of the parthenos of the Order. A round straw hat hung at her back from a thong looped around her neck. Shirin came up to stand by her, but she leaned on the stern rail and looked out into the lagoon that lay behind the ship. The Khazar woman was wearing only a short cotton shift, bound at the waist with a belt of pale-brown leather, and her hair was braided back in a single thick ponytail. She had spent the day in the training circle, sparring with the other students. Her first examinations were coming up soon.
Herakles was nestled in a deep-mouthed sea cave that opened out onto the central lagoon of the island. Once, ages before, a cyst had formed in the flank of the ancient volcano. Over eons of time, the shell-like walls of the cavity had worn away until, at last, the sea spilled into the lagoon. In time, the Sisters had come and found the island and made it their home. Then the opening had been carefully widened and improved. Two quays of black basalt had been built out into the cave, providing mooring for the ships that plied the waters of the Mare Aegeum on the business of the sisterhood. This late in the day, the sun had already fallen behind the towering cliffs that ringed the lagoon, plunging the center of the island into a twilit gloom.
Still, from the back of the galley, Shirin could see the sky- fading to purple and deepest blue- reflecting in the quiet waters of the lagoon. Even here, in the cave, the sweet smell of the sea and the flower gardens of the hidden city reached her. The Princess marked the quiet that had settled upon them, rocking gently in this ship of war. So like Thira, she mused, filled with unexpected moments of solitude.
She turned, looking down upon her friend. Thyatis was sitting quietly, her legs crossed in the manner favored by the teacher Mikele, watching Shirin with troubled eyes.
"Oh, such a look you give me! Are you sad?" Shirin sat and took Thyatis' hand in her own.
"I will miss you," Thyatis said, her lips quirking down on one side. "I wonder if we will see each other again after I go."
One of Shirin's eyebrows crept up toward her rich dark hair. She frowned. "You had better return," she growled, squeezing Thyatis' hand. "I'm not going to spend the rest of my life cooped up on this island- as restful as it may be. Too, you and that mean uncle of mine have spirited my children away. I miss them terribly."
Thyatis smiled wryly and raised Shirin's hand- slim and dark- to her lips. "I know you miss the little ones," she said, "and all of us will be back together as soon as it is safe. As soon as I reach the Duchess I will find out if the Eastern Emperor is still hunting for you. If he has abandoned that stratagem, we will all go to Rome together."
Shirin cocked her head to one side and pointed with her chin. "They cannot come here? Wouldn't it be safer on the island? Rome must be a very hive of intrigue, even in times of peace. I know you hold this Duchess in great trust, but these are my children."
Thyatis laughed and brushed a tangle of curls over her shoulder. Shirin was half standing again, her eyes flashing in almost anger. " Pax! Pax! Your daughters could come, but Avrahan and little Sahul could not. We will meet Jusuf and Nikos and the others in Rome, then find someplace safe for you to raise them up."
"Perhaps," Shirin said, sitting down, her face serious. "Have you thought upon what we will do- being together, raising this familybeyond just these moments? Our time on this island? Escaping these troubles that now circle us around like dire wolves in winter?"
Thyatis' face blanked for a moment, her thought turned inward, but then her eyes cleared and she nodded slowly. "Yes, my love, I have thought on it." Thyatis took a small cedar box out of her blouse. It was a deep red and delicately carved with winding flowers and tree trunks. A copper clasp held it closed. She held it for a moment, looking at it, and then offered it to Shirin. "I once spoke with your cousin Dahvos about the customs of your fathers, while we were mewed up in an attic in Tauris. He said that among your people it is customary to give a parting gift to those you love, something to indicate you will return and that they are close to your heart while you are away."
Shirin took the little box and turned it over in her hand. Her deep brown eyes looked up, and Thyatis felt a little shock at her gaze. The Princess was smiling, the hidden smile that meant the most to Thyatis.
"Among my people," Thyatis continued, clasping her hands together nervously, "we have no matching tradition, or any way for a woman to express to another woman what she might feel. But here, on the island, there is the hand-fasting that one Sister may make to another. Such things are sealed with a token. This: this I brought for you out of the house of dreams, out of Ctesiphon. I saw it, and knew that it was meant for you."
Shirin opened the box and her eyes lit up and the cupid's bow of her mouth curved into a smile. She reached inside and drew out a fine golden chain. At the end of the chain, set into a simple curve of white gold, was a single perfect bloodred jewel the size of Thyatis' thumb.
"The Eye of Ormazd," Shirin breathed in delight. She held it up, and the jewel caught the light of the torches at the end of the quay, shining like a fallen star. Golden red light played on her face, highlighting her high cheekbones and the curve of her neck. "The rarest of jewels- the fire opal of the uttermost East. The wedding price of Shapur the Victorious to his lover, the Queen Yehana of Balkh. Carried out of fallen Amida by the warrior king in his greatest triumph. Worth a kingdom-"