‘Yes. But because of your action we might all be dead. What would that have achieved?’
‘But we are not dead. And we saved her.’
‘Through luck. A soldier may need luck on occasion, but we would rather not have to rely on it. I am not asking you, Renya, I am telling you: you will not do it again!’
‘I do as I please,’ she said. He struck her open-handed across the face. She hit the ground hard, but rolled to her feet with eyes blazing, fingers curled into talons. Then she saw the knife in his hand.
‘You would kill me, wouldn’t you?’ she whispered.
‘Without a thought!’
‘I loved you! More than life. More than anything.’
‘Will you obey me?’
‘Oh, yes, Tenaka Khan, I will obey you. Until we reach Skoda. And then I will leave your company.’ She turned on her heel and strode back to the campsite.
Tenaka sheathed his dagger and sat down on a boulder.
‘Still the loner, eh, Tani?’ said Ananais, stepping from the shadows of the trees.
‘I don’t want to talk.’
‘You were hard on her, and quite right too. But you went a little far – you wouldn’t have killed her.’
‘No. I would not.’
‘But she frightens you, doesn’t she?’
‘I said I didn’t want to talk.’
‘True, but this is Ananais – your crippled friend who knows you well. As well as any man. You think that because we risk death there is no place for love? Don’t be a fool – enjoy it while it’s there.’
‘I cannot,’ said Tenaka, head bowed. ‘When I came here, I could see nothing but Ceska. But now I seem to spend more time thinking of … you know.’
‘Of course I know. But what happened to your Nadir code? Let tomorrow look to itself.’
‘I am only half-Nadir.’
‘Go and talk to her.’
‘No. It is better this way.’
Ananais stood up and stretched his back. ‘I think I’ll get some sleep.’ He ambled away back to the camp, stopping where Renya sat staring miserably into the fire.
He squatted down beside her. ‘It is a strange thing about some men,’ he said to her. ‘In matters of business or war, they can be giants; wise to a fault. In matters of the heart, they are like children. Now women are a different matter; they see the child in a man for what it is.’
‘He would have killed me,’ she whispered.
‘Do you really think so?’
‘Do you?’
‘Renya, he loves you. He couldn’t hurt you.’
‘Then why? Why say it?’
‘To make you believe it. To make you hate him. To make you go.’
‘Well, it worked,’ she said.
‘That’s a shame. Still . . . you shouldn’t have loosed that arrow.’
‘I know that!’ she snapped. ‘You don’t need to tell me. I just. . . couldn’t see them kill a baby.’
‘No, I wasn’t over-keen myself.’ He glanced across the fire to where the woman lay sleeping. The black giant, Pagan, sat with his back to a tree, holding the babe against his chest. The child had reached a pudgy hand from its blanket and curled it around Pagan’s finger, while he was speaking to it in low, gentle tones.
‘Good with children, isn’t he?’ said Ananais.
‘Yes. And with weapons.’
‘A real man of mystery. Still, I am watching him.’
Renya glanced at the bright blue eyes beyond the black mask. ‘I like you, Ananais. I really do.’
‘Like me, like my friends,’ he said, nodding towards the tall figure of Tenaka Khan as he made his way to his blankets.
She shook her head and returned her gaze to the fire.
‘That’s a shame,’ he said again.
*
They rode into the village two hours after dawn. Galand had scouted ahead and reported that the soldiers were setting off towards the south and the distant spires of Karnak. The village was gutted, charred timbers oozing dark plumes of smoke. Bodies lay here and there, while around the edge of the burnt-out buildings ten crosses had been erected, from which hung the village council. They had been whipped and beaten before being nailed to the beams, finally their legs had been broken, causing their battered frames to slump and cut off the air supply to the lungs.