The Beloved Scoundrel

CHAPTER 12

February 25, 1812

Rengar, Kazan

Smell it, Marianna.” Gregor lifted his head and sniffed enthusiastically. “There are no scents on earth like the ones here in Kazan.”

Marianna obligingly sniffed, but she could tell little difference from the scents here and those at Domajo and Southwick. “Very nice.”

“You needn’t be polite. We all know Gregor suffers from an incurable malady,” Jordan said as he joined them at the rail of the ship. “He believes that even the air in Kazan is sweeter, the horses bigger and faster, and the people stronger and more intelligent.”

“I believe it because it is true,” Gregor protested. “You will see, Marianna.” He took her arm and pulled her toward the gangplank. “Come, Jordan, why are you tarrying?”

“The horses have to be saddled and unloaded.” He followed them down the gangplank. “The palace is over four miles from the dock. It would be pleasant to have some form of transportation, don’t you think? Even though Cambaron horses are only adequate compared to Kazan’s vastly superior horseflesh.”

“Palace?” Marianna asked.

“If we’re to receive help, we must petition the ravin,” Jordan explained. Then, as he saw her worried frown, he added, “It’s only a formality. Kazan has no desire to let Nebrov keep a weapon that could be aimed at them.”

“This has gone on too long,” Marianna said. “We don’t need another delay.” The journey from England had seemed to last an eternity, stretching her nerves to their limits. The idea of having to linger in a foreign palace was unbearable.

“There’s a possibility that there may also be some information waiting for us,” Jordan said. “Janus is watching Nebrov, and he has orders to send identical messages to the ravin at the same time he sent them to me.”

“There they are.” Gregor strode toward the horses being led down the gangplank. He soothingly stroked the nose of his big stallion. “Here we are on hard, firm ground again,” he crooned. “You will be much happier now.” He swung onto the saddle. “Come, let us go.” He didn’t wait for them but spurred ahead down the cobblestone street.

Marianna shook her head in wonderment. She had never seen Gregor so full of joy. His scarred face had been luminous. “He’s so happy.”

“He’s home,” Jordan said simply.

“He must care a great deal for you to stay in England.”

He lifted her onto her saddle. “I know that fills you with amazement, but, yes, he does care about me.” He swung onto his horse and nudged him forward. “And, of course, there is always the matter of duty. Gregor always does his duty.”

In spite of the mocking words she became aware of an odd tension suddenly charging him. It dawned on her that he could be mitigating the difficulty of getting the ravin’s help. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong. Everything is perfect. Ask Gregor.”

“You don’t like Kazan?” Her forehead knitted in perplexity. “But isn’t protecting Kazan the reason you’re determined to get the Jedalar?”

“I never said I didn’t like Kazan. It’s far more home to me than Cambaron.”

The words were restrained, almost noncommittal, but there was something beneath them, something in his expression. Then she realized what it was. Why, he truly loved this country. In spite of his mocking words regarding Gregor’s passion for his homeland, his feeling was just as deep. But, being Jordan, he would not lift his mask to reveal it. “It’s not at all like Cambaron.”

Nothing could be less like that rocklike bastion of power than this city. Exotic onion-shaped towers and tall, graceful needle-thin spires abounded here. Instead of the sod or stone houses she was accustomed to seeing in the English countryside, the principal building material here appeared to be wood. Nearly all the houses and shops were flat-roofed and similar in design, but each had its own stamp of individuality, such as a lacy carving on a window box or colorful tiles on a doorstep. As they picked their way through the marketplace, she noticed each booth or stand had its own copper or porcelain samovar over a small fire.

She pointed at a tall flumelike structure at one side of the market where crowds of people had gathered. “What is that?”

“An ice slide. Every town and village in Kazan has at least one.”

She watched a little boy careen madly down the ice-coated funnel and land in a thick bank of snow. He picked himself up, whooping joyously as he ran around to get in line at the ladder again.

“Alex will love it.” she said eagerly, without thinking. “Can we-”

But Alex was not here. Alex might never-

“Yes, he will,” Jordan said firmly. “We’ll probably never get him off it.”

Hope. She must not despair; they still had hope and determination. Looking away from the children on the slide, she quickly changed the subject. “Gregor says the reason you hate Napoleon is because you love Kazan. Is that true?”

“Gregor has a habit of simplifying things.”

“Is it true?”

He shrugged. “I suppose it’s true.”

“Why? It’s not your country.”

“Because I wasn’t born here? Cambaron was given to me. I chose Kazan.”

“It’s so… different.”

“More than you know.” He smiled crookedly. “The first months I was here, I hated it. The people of Kazan didn’t realize what an honor it was to have me in their midst. They cared not a whit for my title or my money. I was not a savant, nor had I proved myself in battle. Therefore I was nothing. It was a very chastening experience for the spoiled hellion I was at the time.”

“Why did you stay?”

“There were reasons.” He grimaced. “One of which was anger. I would not be considered of unimportance. So when Tartar raiders descended on Kazan, I went with Gregor and his men to the steppes.”

“War?”

He nodded. “Kazan is nearly always at war with someone. Our land is rich only in minerals, but we have a valuable sea link to the Mediterranean.”

“Our land?”

“It became mine on the steppes. I bought it with blood.”

She shivered at the simple words that revealed so much. Those wars had changed him, hardened him, burned away the softness, and left him one with these strange, brutish people.

He was looking at the fluted towers of the distant palace, and she again became aware of some indefinable emotion seething just below the surface.

“Are you apprehensive about meeting with the ravin?”

“Not apprehensive.” His tore his gaze away. “Let us say, a trifle disturbed.” He spurred forward. “Come. At the speed Gregor is traveling, he’ll be sitting in the audience chamber before we even reach the palace gates.”

Gregor was not sitting in the audience chamber; he was pacing impatiently as Marianna and Jordan walked into the room. “I’ve sent a message that we are here. It should not be long.”

“Not unless it’s deemed wiser to keep us waiting,” Jordan said. “One never knows.”

“You are being unfair,” Gregor told him. “She will come.”

Marianna felt a ripple of shock. She?

“Jordan seldom feels it necessary to be fair to me. You should know that by now, Gregor.”

Marianna turned toward the doorway and the woman who had spoken.

Another shock, this one of stunning proportions. She knew this woman. She had spent hours studying that strong, beautiful face. It was older now, with tiny crow’s-feet at the corners of the slanted green eyes, but it was still beautiful and even stronger.

“I’m always fair to you. I’m merely cautious. You know how I hate to be disappointed.” Jordan came forward and lifted the woman’s hand to his lips. “You look lovely as always and perhaps even a little younger.”

Jordan’s mother. Marianna continued to stare in astonishment. Jordan’s mother had died when he was only a baby, and yet, looking at the two standing side by side, Marianna had no doubt they were mother and son.

“Of course I look younger,” the woman said. “I’ve decided I shall never grow old. Next year I intend to order all the clocks in Kazan stopped.”

“And all the calendars burned,” Gregor added. He lumbered toward her. “I shall see to it personally.”

A brilliant smile lit her face as she turned to him. “Gregor. Have you been well?”

He nodded. “Well enough.”

“With the tiny exception of a knife wound in his chest,” Jordan remarked.

The smile faded from her face. “Who?”

“Nebrov’s man, Costain.”

Her expression hardened. “Did you kill him, Jordan?”

“Not yet.”

“Why not? Do it yourself, or I will see that it’s done.”

“I believe the matter concerns me, Ana,” Gregor said mildly.

“Be quiet, Gregor. I’m not too pleased with you either. You must be getting feebleminded to let yourself be wounded by that vermin.”

She was the one who was being unfair, Marianna thought with irritation. “He was not feebleminded. There were seven men,” Marianna interjected. “And he walked six miles in the snow after they wounded him.”

The woman turned her head. “Ah, you have a champion. You must be Marianna Sanders.” Her keen glance raked Marianna from head to toe. “Gregor wrote me a good deal about you. I would like to see the window you did of me.” She grimaced. “Though that’s the only part of Cambaron I shall ever want to see again.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I would have been dead, if I’d stayed there.” She turned and stared challengingly at Jordan. “It was strangling me.”

Jordan ignored the provocation. “Marianna, I’m honored to present Her Majesty, Ana Dvorak, Ravin of Kazan.” He smiled. “And you’ll be delighted to know you don’t have to curtsy. It’s not the custom in Kazan. A mere inclination of the head to show respect is all that’s required.”

“Providing that one feels such respect,” Ana Dvorak said with irony. “I suppose that Gregor’s wound is connected to the message I received from Janus three days ago?”

“You’ve had word?”

She nodded. “Come with me and we’ll talk.” She turned to Gregor. “Find her suitable quarters. Sandor is somewhere about. I will see you at supper.” She impulsively reached out and touched his arm. “I’m not entirely unpleased to see you, mado.”

“You are very pleased to see me,” Gregor corrected.

She chuckled. “Perhaps.”

Marianna turned to Gregor as soon as they departed. “Why does everyone at Cambaron think she’s dead?”

“Because she wished them to think it. We planned it very carefully so that everyone would believe she drowned in a boating accident. That way there would not have to be a body.”

“We?”

“She needed me. I helped her.”

The sentences were spoken with utter simplicity as if his helping Ana Dvorak could be the only course of action whenever her need for him arose.

Gregor led her from the chamber. “Ah, Sandor.” He hailed a bearded young man hurrying down the corridor. “The ravin wishes quarters for the belka. Near the garden, I think.”

“Certainly.” Sandor inclined his head respectfully to Gregor. “If you will follow me?”

“What is a belka?”

“It is an outsider, anyone who does not belong to us.”

The term was certainly fitting. She had never felt more the outsider than in this strange land. She returned to the subject Sandor had interrupted. “Why did she wish them to think her dead?” she asked Gregor as they followed the young man down a labyrinth of corridors.

“She told you. She could not bear it.” He shook his head. “She should never have gone to Cambaron, but she was young and willful and would not listen. Her blood was hot, and when she met Jordan’s father, she thought only of-” He stopped and nodded his head at Sandor a few yards ahead. “I should not say more now. The ravin should be spoken of with respect before her subjects.”

The ravin, Jordan’s mother, the woman who had come back to life. Marianna’s mind was whirling as she murmured, “Jordan said his mother departed this life when he was two.”

He chuckled. “Did he indeed? Jordan never likes to lie.”

“She left him. She left her child.” She shook her head. “How could she do that? If she wasn’t happy, why didn’t she take him when she left Cambaron?”

His smile faded. “He was the future Duke of Cambaron. She would never have been permitted to take him with her. She was not even allowed to take him for a walk without a maid in attendance. She would not have been permitted to leave herself, so the deceit was necessary. She knew Jordan would be well cared for and never want for anything.”

Except a mother.

Everyone walks away eventually.

When Jordan had said those cynical words, she had never dreamed he had also included his mother.

“Do not condemn her.” Gregor’s gaze was on her face. “It was not a good thing she did, and it brought her much pain. But, for Ana, it was the only thing to do.”

She remembered the impression of challenge and tension she had received when Jordan and his mother had confronted each other. “I don’t think Jordan understands that either.”

“The emotions between them are not easy to define. They are much alike.”

“When did he learn she was alive?”

“When he was a lad of nineteen. We had been watching and receiving reports on him through the years, and Ana decided we could wait no longer.” He grimaced. “He was rapidly acquiring all the vices of his father and putting them to use with all the vigor of his mother. She sent me to England to school him.”

“Will this be suitable?” Sandor threw open a door and stepped aside. “If not, there is another down the corridor that overlooks the fountain.”

She barely glanced at the luxurious chamber, receiving only a vague impression of pale gold draperies, light, and space. “No, this will be fine.”

Gregor smiled. “Very good, Sandor. Thank you.”

Sandor inclined his head and quickly strode away.

“I will see that your bags are brought to you.” Gregor added gently, “I know that all of this is a little bewildering for you, but this is a fine place. You will like it here. I look forward to showing you my homeland.”

“We won’t be here long. We’ll have to leave for Montavia almost immediately.”

“It does not take long to love Kazan.” He turned. “Rest now. We usually eat at twilight. I will come and escort you to the dining hall. Do not worry about any other surprises, Ana will see that we dine alone tonight.”

When she was alone in the room, she moved over to the bed.

Rest? Besides her worry and tension regarding Alex, her mind was whirling with implications of the scene that had just taken place. Resentment, challenge, unquestioning affection, and loyalty had all been present in that audience chamber today, none of which should have had this impact on her. She was here to save Alex, not become involved in the tangled lives of others.

Everyone walks away eventually.

She would not feel sorry for that child who had been abandoned. Understanding did not bring justification. Jordan had no right to try to cage her to assure himself that she would not leave him. He had not even displayed regret and as much as said he would make the same attempt after he had freed Alex for her.

Everyone walks away…

Jordan and his mother were standing talking by a huge recessed window when Gregor and Marianna walked into the dining hall. The last purple-gold rays of twilight surrounded them, and Marianna was again aware of how much alike they were. The same tall, strong body, the dark shining hair, the boldness, the wariness.

Jordan looked up and saw her. He politely inclined his head to the ravin before he crossed the room toward them.

“You’re comfortably settled?” he asked.

She nodded. “What message from this Janus?”

“Costain delivered a captive to his estate at Pekbar three days ago.”

“Alex?”

“It was night, and Janus wasn’t able to get a good look at him.”

“It has to be Alex.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now we eat a fine dinner.” He took Marianna’s arm. “And tonight we sleep well so that we’ll be rested for our journey to Montavia tomorrow.”

“We must make plans,” Marianna said impatiently.

“I have a few ideas I’ll need to mull over. We’ll discuss them in the morning. The ravin is furnishing us with a large troop of men to accompany us.”

He had addressed her not as Mother but as the ravin. He was deliberately distancing himself from her, Marianna thought as she glanced at the woman standing by the window. Ana Dvorak’s shoulders were thrown back, and she was staring indifferently at them. Yet Marianna had the impression she was not truly indifferent. Lonely? No, that was too absurd. In her white satin gown and glittering emerald coronet the woman was everything that was bold and regal.

“Seat Marianna, Jordan.” Even as he spoke, Gregor was moving across the room toward the ravin. “I will sit by Ana. We have many things to discuss.”

Marianna watched as Gregor bowed and said something to Jordan’s mother. She threw back her head and laughed, her expression coming vibrantly alive. He took her arm, escorted her to the head of the table, and seated her with elaborate courtesy. Every word, every gesture, reflected a familiarity of long standing.

“They know each other well,” Marianna murmured.

“From the cradle,” Jordan said. “They grew up together. They’re distant cousins, and Gregor’s father was the captain of the guard in the Dvorak household.”

She looked at Gregor’s scarred face. “Was Gregor in the army too?”

“For a number of years, but when Ana Dvorak became ravin she made him chief adviser.”

“I don’t understand how your mother could become the ravin. Gregor said she was only a noblewoman when she married your father.”

“In Kazan the throne doesn’t automatically pass from father to son.” Jordan seated Marianna far down the table from Gregor and his mother and then took the place across from her. Distance again, she thought absently.

Jordan continued, “Kazan is surrounded by potential enemies and can’t afford the indulgence of a weak or foolish ruler. The Council of Nobles choose one from their ranks who they judge will be the strongest ruler. When the former ravin died, there was no ruler for two years until they finally chose Ana Dvorak.”

“A woman?”

“Dorothy would be scandalized by your surprise,” he said. “I’m sure she would be delighted that Kazan offers women an opportunity to prove their worth.”

“I’m equally delighted.” She added pointedly, “It’s just not common practice for men to be fair. Even in Montavia this could not be.”

“The council decided she had proven herself. After her father died, she had ruled her own lands for ten years and made them flourish. She rode at the head of her vassals and repelled bandits and raiders from across the border. She built bridges and aqueducts. She took care of her sick and even opened a hospital here in Rengar. Yes, she was without a flaw.” He smiled sardonically. “Of course, there was that small mistake of a marriage in England, but that was of no account. The ceremony was not performed in the traditional Kazan manner, so it clearly was not binding.”

“But she didn’t marry again?”

“No.” His smile became mocking. “After being wed to my father, I’m sure she had quite enough of marriage. It would only have gotten in her way.”

“You resent her.”

“Do I? It’s a possibility. I also admire her. She’s a brilliant woman. She rather reminds me of you.”

“Me?” She shook her head. “I’m nothing like her.”

“You have the same vitality and intensity.” He paused. “And the same appetite for pleasure.”

The sensual words came out of nowhere, catching her off guard and bringing the physical response that he had so carefully cultivated during those days at the hunting lodge, the tingling between her thighs, the swelling of her breasts. The mask was suddenly off, and this was not the man who had carefully tamped down any hint of sexuality on the journey from Cambaron but the totally erotic being he had been at Dalwynd.

He smiled as he read her expression. “Don’t be alarmed. I intend to keep my promise. I just thought I’d remind you it’s still there, waiting. For both of us.” He glanced at the servant who had appeared at her side bearing a silver tray on which were arranged an assortment of baked meats. “Try the chicken. The ravin’s cook has created a lemon sauce that’s quite superb.”

He wants her still.” Ana bit into a chicken wing with delicacy and gusto, her moody gaze on Jordan and Marianna. “This is not usual for Jordan.”

“Marianna is not usual,” Gregor said. “And neither was what he felt for her.”

“I see nothing so unusual about her.” She frowned as she studied Marianna. “Why is she fighting him?”

“Do you suppose it could be because she regards him as the enemy? She loves her brother, and she holds Jordan responsible.”

“He will get the boy back.”

“And there’s the small matter of the Jedalar we are trying to steal from her.”

Ana dismissed the argument with a wave of her hand. “We are in the right.”

“Right is usually in the eye of the beholder.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “There are problems, but most women are taught to be guided by their bodies, not their minds.”

“Marianna is not ‘most’ women.”

“You said she let herself be taken by him. She is clearly a young woman with a young woman’s passions.”

The conversation was making him uneasy. At first he had thought he had seen signs of envy, but now he realized Ana’s feelings were far more complicated. “The battle is between them, Ana. You cannot make a gift of her to him just because he wants her. You sent me to England to make sure he was not spoiled by getting everything he wanted.”

“This is different.”

It was different only because Ana wanted it to be different. “How would you have felt if your husband had possessed a mother who wanted him to have you, regardless of your inclination?”

“There was no question of that,” she said bitterly. “They all hated me in England.”

“For good reason. You were rude and wild and wanted your own way. You cannot trample over people and expect them to love you.”

She glared at him. “I don’t trample over people.” Scowling, she then amended her own statement. “Well, not as a common practice.”

His laughter boomed. “I admit you’ve grown gentler over the years. Now, you are more like a pouncing tiger than an attacking lion.” He looked at Marianna again. “She did a splendid panel of a tiger that reminded me of you.”

Her attention returned immediately to the previous subject. “Jordan is generous and can be very charming. There is no reason he should not have her. She could not find a better lover or protector.”

His laughter faded as he saw where she was drifting. There would be trouble if she decided on this course. He said slowly, “You cannot buy him, Ana.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not trying to buy him.” She lifted her chin. “I have no need to buy anyone.”

“That is true. Now believe it yourself.” He lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “He will come to you in time.”

“Will he?” Her lips curled bitterly. “When I am old and gray and pitiful? I’ve waited too long already. What does he want of me? I cannot be anything but what I am.”

“Be patient. You’ve hardly been a sweet and sacrificing mother,” Gregor said mildly. “Any more than he’s been an understanding, forgiving son.”

“I don’t want his forgiveness.”

“Then what do you want from him?”

She was silent a moment and then said haltingly, “He need not be so cold. It would not be too much to expect friendship, would it? After all, we do have a common goal.”

He could sense the hurt she would never show Jordan. He wanted to reach out and touch her in comfort, but he knew she would not accept it. This wound went too deep. “It will come in time.”

“You said that before,” she said impatiently.

“Ah yes, you fear gray hair and creaking bones. But how can that happen when I’m going to burn all the calendars?”

She smiled reluctantly. “Would you really do that for me, Gregor?”

“Of course. Do you wish for a fountain of youth? I will venture forth immediately and find it for you.”

“I’m not sure I would like to be young again. I was very stupid when I was young.”

“We are all stupid before we gain experience.”

“You were never stupid,” she said softly. “You were always exactly as you are now.” A shadow crossed her face. “Were you truly almost killed?”

“No, I’ve had far greater wounds. All the blood frightened Marianna.”

“I won’t have you die,” she said with sudden fierceness. “Do you hear me? I won’t have it. What would I do without you?” She grimaced as she realized what she had said. “You see how selfish I am. I’m not sure you’re right regarding my improvement in character.”

“It is all you. The bad and the good combine to make the whole. It is the entire Ana Dvorak that matters.”

She looked down into the wine in her goblet. “The entire Ana Dvorak has certain needs that you do not fulfill. Are you going to come to me tonight?”

“No.”

Her hand tightened on her goblet. “I will not wait forever for you.”

“This is very good wine. Your own vineyards?”

“Yes. You injure my pride by your refusal. Other men desire me.”

“I desire you.” He smiled at her. “How could I not desire you? You are everything that a man could want in a woman.”

“Then why do you- I will not humble myself again like this.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you know that no one loves you as I do. You are curious to know how it would feel to bed a man whose love is as great as mine.”

She smiled beguilingly. “If you truly love me, you will come to my bed.”

“It is because I love you that I do not. Sadly it is as bad for your character to indulge your every wish as it was for Jordan.”

“I am not Jordan.”

She did not realize how much she resembled Jordan in this moment. Green eyes glittering with annoyance, the beautiful mouth tight with willfulness, the explosive energy lying just beneath the surface. The only difference was that Jordan masked his emotions beneath that air of cynicism, and Ana hid hers behind a wall of pride.

“No, Ana,” he said gently.

A mixture of disappointment and anger flared in her expression. “I’m not a nun. Do you want to know how many men I have had in my bed since last I saw you?”

“No, I do not want to know.”

“When I go back to my rooms tonight, I will send for a man who does not find me-”

“No, you will not.” His gaze met her own. “Not while I am here.”

“You cannot expect me to-” She broke off and then nodded jerkily, her voice uneven, “Not while you are here. Never while you are here.” She glanced quickly away from him. “You are a very difficult man, mado.”

“I am a very simple man.”

“Who must always have his way.” She squared her shoulders and smiled recklessly. “Well, I will not be defeated on all fronts. I think I must see that Jordan is made happy, if I am not.”

He should have known she would return to do battle. “You took away his mother, and now you wish to provide him a mistress to soothe the hurt? It is not a trade you can make, Ana.”

“You will not allow it?”

He nodded at Marianna. “She will not allow it.”

Ana’s gaze raked the delicacy of Marianna’s features, the fragility of her small body. “I doubt if she’s a match for me. I think I must accompany you on this journey to Montavia. Nebrov will hesitate to attack if I am along.”

“I am not so confident.”

She smiled brilliantly. “And besides, I must be there to protect you in case your wits fail you again. Yes, I will definitely go to Montavia.”

He opened his lips to argue with her and then closed them. Perhaps Ana should go with them. Marianna’s will was strong enough to resist Ana’s coercion, and, for all he knew, Ana’s effort might bring about the prize she wanted most in the world. A common goal, she had said, meaning the defeat of Napoleon, but now Marianna offered the possibility of another common goal.

Poor dove, he was about to offer her up to the tigers.

“Why are you not arguing with me?” she asked warily.

“But I want you to go to Montavia.” He smiled at her and added with complete truthfulness, “I always want you with me, Ana.”

The morning was frigid, and the breaths of the horses milling about the courtyard were like plumes of smoke. Marianna was mounted and waiting impatiently when Jordan came out of the palace.

He was dressed all in black even to the seal fur on the collar of his cloak, and he appeared lean, tough, and faintly sinister in the early light.

“Good morning.” He mounted his horse and gathered the reins. “I regret to keep you waiting, but I was having a discussion with the ravin. It seems she’s going with us.”

She frowned. “Why?”

He shrugged. “Who knows? What she says isn’t always what she means.” He took stock of the waiting horsemen. “But she apparently meant it when she said she’d furnish us with quite a large troop. This is almost an army.”

“How long are we going to have to wait for her?” she asked.

“Not long.” His gaze returned to the palace. “There she is now.”

Ana Dvorak looked very much like the warrior in her stained-glass window, Marianna thought, as she watched the woman mount her black stallion and then ride toward them. The ravin was not wearing armor, but her back was straight, her seat on the horse magnificent, and her manner bold and autocratic.

“I don’t suppose you’ll reconsider? This is not necessary, you know,” Jordan said as she reached them. “There’s no use putting you in danger as well.”

“I’m touched by your concern. But I do think it necessary, and I rule here, not you, Jordan.” She gestured for him to ride ahead. “Now run along with Gregor. I wish to speak to the belka.”

“Why?” Jordan asked.

“I’m merely being cordial to a guest. You gave me no opportunity to become acquainted with her last night.”

Jordan hesitated and then glanced inquiringly at Marianna.

Sweet heavens, Marianna thought, he was behaving as if the woman were going to cut her throat. She was not sure she was looking forward to becoming acquainted with the ravin, but there was nothing to fear.

“Go on,” she said curtly.

He shrugged and nudged his horse into a gallop.

“He is very protective,” the ravin said as she guided her horse along side Marianna’s. “It is a fine quality in a man.”

“If one wishes protection.”

“Don’t be absurd. A woman always needs protection.”

“Do you?”

“I’m the ravin. I have an army to protect me.”

“And before you were the ravin?”

Ana Dvorak burst into laughter. “Very well, I admit it. I would have hung a man up by his toenails if he’d offered me protection.”

“Even Gregor?”

Her face softened miraculously. “Gregor will not listen. He never offers, he just gives of himself.” She frowned. “But I am not here to talk of Gregor, and I’m not here to answer your questions.”

“You said you were here to become acquainted, Your Majesty,” Marianna said.

“No, I’m here to tell you that you should take Jordan back to your bed.”

Marianna’s eyes widened in shock. “I beg your pardon?”

She shrugged. “I’m not like Jordan; I have little subtlety. Men are prone to dance around a problem, when confronting it would bring an instant solution.”

“And I am a problem?” Marianna asked carefully.

“You’re angry with Jordan, but it’s nothing that can’t be resolved. It’s foolish to ruin your future over a present dispute. Of course, Jordan cannot offer you marriage, but you’ll find him a very generous protector.”

“Oh, will I?”

“And if you don’t trust him, I’m prepared to ensure that you’re well cared for when he leaves you. I will give you a comfortable income and a lovely house here in Kazan. Gregor says you’re very fond of your brother. I will see that he gets a fine schooling and an opportunity to succeed in any career he chooses.” She looked intently at Marianna. “Is there anything else you could ask?”

“Yes, I wish to ask one more thing.” Marianna’s voice was shaking with anger. “Did he tell you to speak to me?”

“Jordan does not tell me anything. I make my own decisions.” She studied Marianna’s expression. “You’re very angry. I don’t think you’re prepared to be reasonable.”

“Reasonable? You consider it reasonable for me to become a whore at your bidding?”

“I did not- Well, perhaps I did, but it was for your own good.”

“And what if I had offered you the same suggestion?”

“In your circumstances I would have considered it a fine-” She stopped and then said bluntly, “I’m not in your circumstances. I want this for Jordan.”

“You’re just like him,” Marianna said in disbelief. “Nothing matters but what you want.” She drew a deep, shaky breath. “No, thank you, Your Majesty. I don’t want your fine house or your son. All I want is your help in getting Alex back and then to say goodbye to both of you.”

Ana took in Marianna’s face and blazing eyes, then gathered her reins. “No doubt worry over your brother has made you a trifle overwrought. Think about it. I will talk to you later.” Her gaze slid away from Marianna before she added, “It would be best if you did not tell Jordan of our discussion.”

“Why? I’d think you’d want him to know how helpful you’re being to him,” Marianna spat.

“I did not succeed yet. One does not boast of failures.” She kicked her horse into a gallop and rode toward the head of the column.

Marianna was shaking so badly, she could barely sit her horse. Anger. Yes, it was anger that was almost making her ill. What did she care if the ravin considered her worthy only of a temporary place in Jordan’s life? She wanted no place at all. None of the other words had cut or disturbed her.

“Take deep breaths.” Gregor was beside her. “And think of cool, clear water. It sometimes helps.”

Marianna took a long, deep breath. It did not help.

“What did she say to you?”

“She offered me a fine price to become her son’s whore.”

He sighed. “I thought as much. Ana has always been overly blunt.”

“Blunt? I wonder why they ever chose her to be ravin. She could start a war just by being in the same room with a foreign envoy.”

“True.” He smiled. “But she is usually not this bad. Her emotions are getting in the way of her thinking. She is becoming desperate.”

“Desperate” was the last description she would use for the arrogant woman who had just left her.

“You do not believe me, but she is desperate.” Gregor cast his eyes on Jordan at the head of the column. “She loves him. She has always loved him.”

“You don’t desert a son you love.”

“You are as hard as he is,” Gregor said. “He has never forgiven her. When he came to Kazan the first time, she thought he might relent, but there has always been a barrier.’

“And she wishes to bridge it with me?” she asked incredulously.

“She is desperate,” he repeated. “And determined. Be wary of her.”

“Tell her to be wary of me,” Marianna said grimly. “I’m not a bone for her to throw to her son.”

“You are angry with her, and that is right,” Gregor said. “But also try to understand her. Sometimes she is like an impatient child. Ana has led a hard life and made many mistakes, but she will give everything when called upon. She has always been my friend, and I’ve never had a better one.”

“I don’t want to understand her. I don’t want her for my friend,” Marianna said. “And I don’t want to be another of her mistakes.”

“I am not doing well here.” Gregor grimaced. “I will go and talk to Ana and see if I can do better.”

Marianna watched him ride toward Ana Dvorak.

She had known all along that Jordan would never offer her marriage. Everyone knew a duke had to make a great marriage, and besides she wanted no permanent liaison with a man who would try to dominate and cage her. The ravin’s words meant nothing to her. She was only angry that the woman had insulted her by assuming she was not worthy of being anything but a toy to be enjoyed and then thrown away.

She was not a toy. She had worth.

It was not hurt or shock that she was feeling. It was only anger.

What have I done now?” Jordan asked. He dropped down beside Marianna on her sheepskin pallet beside the campfire. “It must be something particularly horrendous. You’ve been glowering at me all day.”

“I’ve not been glowering. I’ve scarcely seen you today. As far as I’m aware, you’ve done nothing other than be yourself.”

He flinched. “Ah, what a wicked condemnation.”

“Besides, what you do is of complete indifference to me as long as it doesn’t affect Alex.”

He gave a mock shiver. “The winds are cold tonight.” He looked at his mother sitting across the fire with Gregor, and his expression became grim. “If I haven’t committed any major sins, it must be the ravin. What did she say to you today?”

Marianna’s gaze followed his to Ana Dvorak. The ravin was staring at Marianna with proud defiance. Marianna knew she could not hear what they were saying, but she had the impression there was fear beneath that pride. A fierce rush of power coursed through her. She knew Jordan would be angry at his mother’s interference. With a few words she could drive the wedge between them deeper. She could soothe her own stung pride and receive a small portion of vengeance.

“It must have been something fairly poisonous,” Jordan said. “Was she telling you of my iniquitous past?”

She would tell him. Why should she protect the woman? She was no martyr to take punishment and turn the other cheek. What did she care if there was something childlike and vulnerable about the ravin in this moment?

“Well?” Jordan asked.

Mother of God, she could not do it, she realized with frustration. “Why should she have to tell me about your past? Everyone knows how badly you behaved. Still behave,” she corrected herself. “Does it please your vanity to believe the only subject of conversation is yourself?”

“Are you saying it was not?”

She glanced again at the ravin and then at the fire. “She’s an arrogant, unpleasant woman, very much like yourself. She irritated me with her lack of respect for my craft. She doesn’t understand that to create a work of art is just as important as ruling a country.”

His expression lightened. “A grievous sin. I agree the ravin is more prone to value a well-disciplined army than a fine painting. You must educate her regarding her duty as patron of the arts.”

“I won’t be here to educate her. Do it yourself. She is your mother.”

“Is she?”

“Yes, you cannot deny she is your mother by not addressing her as such. Or is that only another way to sting her?”

He stiffened. “You just said she was arrogant and unpleasant. Why are you defending her?”

“I’m not defending her. I’m merely remarking on your foolishness. I don’t care about the conflict between you. You obviously resent her for leaving you. Perhaps you’re right. I had a mother who loved and cherished me. I’m not familiar with cold, self-serving women like the ravin.”

“She may have many deplorable qualities, but she isn’t cold, and as for self-serving, she’s served Kazan well at some sacrifice to herself.”

“Stop waffling and make up your mind. Are you going to forgive her for her sins or not? Is she worth your affection or isn’t she?”

“I do not waffle.” A frown creased his forehead. “Stay out of this, Marianna. This is none of your concern.”

“I’m not trying to interfere. It is nothing to me.” Yet, to her frustration and amazement, she realized she had been trying to interfere. After swearing to avoid involvement, she had jumped headlong between them. She quickly changed the subject. “How many days will it take us to get to Montavia?”

“Another two days to reach the northern border,” he said absently, still frowning. “Nebrov’s lands are located in northeast Montavia. His principal residence is Pekbar, which is two days’ ride from the border.”

“Then we’ll be able to start negotiating with Nebrov within two days,” she said, relieved.

“No.”

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“The negotiations won’t start until you and Gregor reach the steppes a day later. He doesn’t know you’ve created a new Jedalar yet. You’ll set up, and Gregor will send a message to Pekbar for Nebrov to come to you. He’ll tell him that you’ll trade the Jedalar for Alex instead of yourself.”

“What if he doesn’t agree?”

“I don’t believe there’s any doubt he will agree. Time is growing short, and it will be much more convenient having an already completed Jedalar than just a craftsman who has to be coerced into doing the panel. Pekbar is surrounded by mountainous terrain.

When he accepts the trade, you’ll tell him the window is too large and fragile to take overland, and he must come to you at your camp on the steppes. You’ll specify he has to bring Alex for the trade.”

“You know he won’t bring Alex.”

“No, but he’ll come himself. He won’t risk having the Jedalar smashed again, and since he knows Gregor would be a fool not to have a substantial force with him, he’ll have to withdraw a sizable number of his own army from Pekbar to crush any resistance.”

“You think he’s going to steal the Jedalar and still keep Alex?”

“I think he’s going to try to steal the Jedalar and take you as well.” He paused. “He wants not only the Jedalar, but also the woman who knows everything about it.”

She had been working her way to that same conclusion. “Then I’m to be the bait while you raid Pekbar and free Alex.”

He nodded. “Gregor will take half our forces for your protection. I’ll take the other half, and go to Pekbar and get the boy.”

“How?”

“With a force this size there are many options.”

“You’re going to attack the castle?” She shook her head. “That sounds too dangerous for Alex.”

“Not as dangerous for Alex as it is for you. We’ll need at least a day to get Alex away and safe over the border to Kazan. Perhaps more. If you and Gregor can keep Nebrov from suspecting we’re going to make the attempt, we’ll have a better chance of succeeding.”

She nodded. “Very well.”

“You’re accepting this too calmly.” His tone was edged with uneasiness. “It may not be that simple. We still don’t know how Nebrov found out about the Jedalar or how much he knows. He may even know which panel contains the map.” He paused. “And I don’t have to tell you how vicious he can be when he’s frustrated in getting what he wants.”

No, he didn’t have to tell her, and she was not at all calm. She shivered as she realized she would soon see Nebrov. She would be as close to him as she was to Jordan right now. She smiled with effort. “I’m not worried. I’ll have Gregor and all those fine soldiers of the ravin. That’s more than I had when I last encountered him.” She looked away from him. “It all seems very hazardous. What if something goes wrong?”

“I can’t promise you that it won’t,” Jordan said quietly. “But it’s the best plan that I could devise. If you can think of a better one, let me hear it. You call me vain, but I wouldn’t let Alex die for my self-love.”

He was not closing her out; he was letting her have a part in saving Alex, she realized with a surge of warmth that banished a little of the dread. She said haltingly, “I was angry. It could be that you aren’t vain.”

His lips turned up at the corners. “I appreciate the measure of doubt.” The faint smile disappeared. “You agree to the plan?”

“If you can think of nothing safer for Alex.”

“I can think of nothing safer for either of you.” He added harshly, “Do you think I want you in danger? If I thought you’d agree, I’d have had Gregor meet with Nebrov and send you back to Rengar.”

“You said Nebrov wants the Jedalar and me. The bait would not be as tempting.” She shuddered. “No, it has to be me.”

“Then we’ll meet here on the Bordlin steppes in four days’ time.”

“Four days…” For bad or good, in four days it would all be over.

Her gaze went to the purple mountains to the south that marked the border between Kazan and Montavia. Alex was beyond those mountains.

Alex and Nebrov.