Whitefire (28 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Whitefire
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Katerina's tone was soft, almost heartrending in its simplicity. “What else could I have done? I warned him, I warned all of them, and because I am a woman they ignored me. There is no other answer. The man is dead and they blame me. The prince blames me; he says I'm now happy that I proved myself right in the eyes of the men and that it took the senseless death of Valerian to make this so. How can I take the blame for something that isn't my fault? We rode out, you and I, and we brought him back; there was nothing else to do. And now he lays next to Grandfather, waiting for the snow to melt for decent burial. I've already done something I swore I wouldn't do, and I hate myself for it. I compromised myself and didn't punish the others when they refused to follow my orders. The Mongols will listen only to Banyen now. I don't know if it was the right or wrong decision; I only know that I could not bear to see the look of blame they held in their eyes for me. They
all
think it's my fault.” A lone tear dropped to her tightly clenched hand, and she looked at it in surprise. Tears were for children and frail, sickly women. She was neither, she told herself. She was the Kat.
 
Gregory marveled at the Cosars' slim-legged beauty. “Each of you,” he muttered, “is worth his weight in gold, and if I can't figure out what to do with you, all my dreams will be nothing but clouds drifting in the wind.” His mind raced with the gruesome thoughts of Ivan and the scenes he had witnessed in Moscow.
He squared his strong, muscular shoulders as he stroked one of the white geldings. “You may be a pleasure to look upon, but I would much prefer to look at gold and kopecks,” he said harshly as he left the animal's pen.
As Gregory walked along the snow-covered road, he noticed that the Terek village was settling down for the night. The full moon was low in the east, casting shadows on the earth, multiplying the Cosars to twice their number. Fury ate at him as he lumbered along, anger at his circumstances, hatred for Ivan and his national mental condition. The Czar was obviously insane—a lunatic, as the people said. He feared Ivan would remember how he had tricked him. If he did, he would probably send men after him and his band. He flinched as though from a wound and continued his walk. The Czar would conveniently forget the bargain they had made. Could Ivan even remember the original plans, conceived nearly a year ago, when he was lucid? Gregory recalled there had been a fanatical light to his eyes even then, when he made his proposal. He had been blunt to the point of insult.
Gregory could still hear the Czar's words: “I'm fully aware of your love of vodka, women, and parties. For this you need many kopecks, and your village is poor. I can promise you more gold than you ever dreamed possible. And all you have to do is secure the breeding secrets of the Whitefire bloodline. Failing that, I'll settle for the horses themselves.” They agreed and the bargain was sealed within moments.
“He thought me a fool,” Gregory muttered. “He came to me because no other Cossack would give him the time of day when the sun was high overhead.” Gregory knew his reputation as a ruthless, vicious fighter must be well known if it had made its way to the Czar's ears.
Gregory's mind continued to race. There were other people who would pay handsomely for the Cosars. Afstar, Khan of Sibir, was busily buying men and horses. There would be no haggling with the old Khan; he would agree, as would many others, to deplete his treasury for the Cosars.
Satisfied that the cold, starless night held no surprises, he settled himself on a fallen tree trunk and lit his pipe. When he had it going to his satisfaction, he puffed contentedly. He needed time to ponder and decide which choice would be the wisest. His decision made, he watched as the spirals of smoke circled overhead. It would be the Khan versus Ivan.
The quiet night, his short walk, and the comfort of his pipe helped settle his speeding thoughts. Now all he needed was a woman and a jug of vodka and he would be completely at peace. A vision of a long-legged beauty in the next village floated before his eyes. He could almost feel the softness of her proud, high breasts and her sensuous lips on his.
Stuffing the smoking pipe into his shirt pocket, he made his way to the stable and led his horse out into the snow-covered compound. He looked around the village and waved to one of the guards. “There are other things in life beside gold and horses.” He laughed as he took off down the long, winding road.
Chapter 17
T
he moment the last of the vicious storms abated, Kusma readied the sleigh and personally escorted Halya to Volin to meet the guide from the mountains. Halya shivered inside the luxurious silver-fox robe she wore as she strolled among the gutted huts in Volin. She turned to look at Kusma and demanded to know what had happened to the village. Kusma himself looked around and felt saddened.
“So many of our people died here for the horses. It's always the Cosars. The Kat and his horses were a living legend, a legend that now ends. Perhaps one day this village will be rebuilt and it will live again.”
“How will this happen? Who will come here to live, and if there are no horses, how can they live?” Halya asked as she drew the rich fur closer about her.
“Other Don Cossacks will leave their villages. Wanderers will settle here, and if Katerina Vaschenko makes up her mind, she will bring the elder Cossacks from the Carpathians and they will make this village live. As to the horses, I have no answers for you. Perhaps there are more of the magnificent whites in the mountains.” He shrugged as his eyes took in the vast terrain around him. “We Cossacks live one day at a time. In our own way, we are fatalists.”
Halya smiled. “I can understand what you say, for I, too, am a fatalist. What will be will be. One can move in one direction, but if it's not preordained, it will not happen.” Quickly she changed the subject and smiled again at the muscular Cossack with the dark eyes. “You have my thanks for arranging this meeting. I don't know what will happen or if I will hear good news or bad news when I meet this woman you call Katerina, but I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. It means everything to me.”
Kusma grinned. “You've thanked me adequately already. I shall not forget. Mount up, your guide approaches. Can you hear the horse?”
Halya narrowed her eyes and squinted against the brightness of the blazing snow. She shook her head.
Kusma laughed. “From boyhood the sound of a pounding horse is one of the things a Cossack listens for. We do it unconsciously. One would think there is nothing to hear in deep snow, but the ground gives off its sounds. Many dispute this, but within minutes you will see a rider approach. Turn your eyes to the end of the village and you will see that I'm right. It appears that Stepan is eager to leave my brother's shelter to take you back to the mountains.”
Halya laughed outright when she shaded her eyes with her hand to see a streak of ivory whip down the road and come to a roaring halt bare inches from her mount.
Stepan drew in his breath at the sight of the beautiful fair-haired woman atop the sorrel. His eyes sought Kusma's. The man shrugged elaborately, a shrug that clearly stated the woman was now Stepan's problem. Mine and Katerina's, he thought sourly.
“I will stable the sorrel in my village and you can claim him on your return,” Kusma said to Halya.
He motioned Halya to slide from her horse and mount the white stallion called Darkfire. With a long, lingering look around the gutted, snowcapped village, Stepan patted Wildfire on his neck, and the horse reared back and took off, his hooves sending the thick snow backward. Darkfire, in his wake, thundered and pounded after the lead stallion. Halya hung on to the reins, positive her neck would be jarred from her shoulders.
For two days they rode, stopping only to feed the animals and for a brief rest. No words could be spoken between Stepan and the woman, and Halya felt uneasy at his strange silence. Stepan felt nonplussed. While he was not experienced in the ways of women, he knew she was going to be a problem for Katerina and the prince. And the one with the flower-blue eyes. Poor Katerina. Just as the Mongol and Katerina were fire and ice, this woman would be nothing but trouble compared to the Kat. Already he could see Prince Banyen taking her to his bed and ravaging her, the way men like him did. She looks so delicate and so pretty, he thought. One would want to cradle her fair head to his chest and whisper sweet, soft words in her ear. Poor Katerina. Would she come out second best with this woman? It was a mistake. He grimaced as he remounted and waited for Halya to do the same.
An hour before they cleared the pass, snow began to fall and the sky was black and ominous. Wildfire kicked up his heels and snorted in delight. It was impossible, but Stepan swore that the animal's stride increased with the swirling snow. Halya, petrified, clung to Darkfire's mane for dear life, trying desperately to understand how the animal beneath her could travel at such an ungodly speed in the deep accumulation.
Wildfire reared up and brought his hooves crashing against the stout doors of the underground stable. Daintily he backed off and waited patiently. When the doors swung open, he rose again on his hind legs and snorted long and loud, the conqueror returned with his bounty.
Katerina raced into the stable and immediately threw her arms around Wildfire's neck. “You did it! I knew I could depend on you. It took a long time, but you succeeded. Good boy!” she crooned as she tightened her hold on the horse's neck. “And you, Darkfire, see that you didn't unseat your rider.” She rubbed her cheek against the horse's head and whispered soft words. The stallion whickered in delight as the woman slid from his back. Stepan led the animals away with a last fond pat from Katerina, who then turned to Halya. “Welcome to the House of the Kat. Come with me and I'll give you some hot tea.”
Halya nodded. She was so cold. She wondered if she'd ever be warm again.
In the large, cozy kitchen, she let the fox cape slide off. Katerina drew in her breath. How beautiful she was, with her golden hair awry, stray curls clinging to cheeks flushed rosy red. Emerald eyes sparkled as she looked around before sitting down on the bench. Her voice, when she spoke, was soft and melodious.
“I'm Halya Zhuk. Princess Halya Zhuk,” she corrected herself. “I want to thank you for allowing me to come to this fortress. I seek information about my brother, Prince Yuri Zhuk, who was sent to your village of Volin the spring of last year. I know he is dead, but I wish to find out how he died, and why, and who killed him,” she said sadly.
Katerina's hand trembled as she poured tea into a mug for the princess. She heard the words and she understood them. A princess. A beautiful princess like in the stories her mother used to tell her. Banyen was a prince. A handsome prince in the same fairy tales. And according to the ageless fables, they would live happily ever after. Now she understood the look in Stepan's eyes. He pitied her and felt sorry for her. I must be ugly, she thought, if Stepan is worried for me. She forced her hand to be steady as she set the cup in front of Halya and then sat down to still the shaking in her legs. How beautiful her hair was, all bright and shiny like golden summer wheat. And her dress—never in her life had Katerina seen anything so pretty. Katerina's long, slender hands stroked her coarse, tight-fitting pants, and she suddenly wanted to cry.
“Will you help me? Do you have information about his death? Was anything said to you about his killers? I must know,” Halya pleaded, tears glistening in the bottle-green eyes.
Katerina swallowed hard. She would have to tell her. Tell her that her brother was dead by her hand. She cleared her throat and spoke quietly. “You must realize now that you're here you will have to stay until spring. The snows, the worst of them, have already started and last till March. Until now the snow has been intermittent, but this is the blizzard time. There is no way I can send you back, for to do so would only endanger the animals. We'll make you comfortable and do our best by you.”
“I understand, and I cannot ask for more. I am truly grateful that you allowed me to come here. I mean you no harm and will do nothing to make or cause you trouble. But you must tell me what you know of my brother. I sense that you know and that you don't wish to speak of it. Please, I implore you.”
Katerina decided she liked the princess even though she envied her rich clothing and beautiful face. How she felt about her brother was love, the same kind of love Katerina had felt for her father. She nodded slightly. “Your brother came to our village in the late spring, as you said, and bought many horses for the Czar. My father, in a fit of anger, canceled the contract. I cannot lie to you and make up some excuse about why he canceled it. He found . . . he saw your brother and me . . . what I'm saying is that your brother and I made love and my father came upon us. He misunderstood. Yuri tried, as did I, to explain to him that what he thought he heard was not . . .” Katerina raised her hands helplessly. “He canceled the contract, and I was brought before the Cossack council and ostracized. Yuri left to return to Moscow with the intention of returning for me at the end of the summer. He never came. I waited and waited. The night before we were to leave for the mountains I was away from the village, and it was raided, all of our people killed and the horses stolen. There are those who say your brother was at fault and there are those that blame me. It was not your brother's fault. Nor was it mine. I don't know who did it, but I plan to find out. Your brother did nothing wrong except to make love to me, if that's wrong. Sometimes I no longer know what is right and what is wrong.”
“But Yuri never returned to Moscow. Where did he go, what happened to him?” Halya asked anxiously.
Katerina moistened her dry lips and reached her hand across the table and touched Halya gently. “Listen to me. After our village was gutted I left for Sibir. I was watering my horse when I heard a noise in a clump of shrubbery. When I investigated, I saw your . . . your brother. He was without a tongue and without fingers. He was near death. I don't know who it was that . . . I asked him if it was my father or my people and he shook his head no, but he couldn't tell me who did it. His eyes pleaded with me to kill him. I did. I'm sorry, but I could not let him lie there and suffer and die such a wretched death. I couldn't let the vultures circle overhead for him to see. If I had to do it again, I would.” Tears streamed down her cheeks as she waited for Halya to comment.
“Thank you for telling me. No, you couldn't do less. Did my brother love you?” she asked huskily.
“He said he did, he said he would return for me and we would go to Kiev to live,” Katerina said simply.
“Then you are as much my sister as if he married you,” Halya said, getting up from the table and coming to put her arms around Katerina's neck.
Silent tears coursed down both their cheeks, and it was Katerina who smiled tremulously and said, “I never told anyone. I couldn't. I never killed anyone before. I don't know how I managed to. . .”
“Don't speak of it anymore. It was what Yuri wanted. I don't blame you, and therefore you must not fault yourself. It's over, and hopefully one day we'll find the person responsible and then it will be righted. Let us speak of other things. Tell me of this giant fortress surrounded by monolithic trees as far as the eye can see. Tell me of those beautiful animals we rode here. Allow me,” she said, pouring Katerina tea and more for herself. “Drink this and we'll both feel better.” Katerina nodded gratefully as she sipped at the scalding liquid.
It was Banyen who found them laughing and giggling like two schoolgirls when he arrived for the evening meal. Katerina watched as his eyes traveled over the princess approvingly.
There was no mocking look in his eyes and no sneer on his full, sensual mouth as he stared at the princess. Katerina watched as his eyes traveled the length of her and came to rest on her full breasts, which jutted from her lavender gown. It was obvious that he liked what he saw, and it was just as clear that the princess liked him also. She smiled warmly and introduced herself, to Katerina's discomfort. The green eyes sparkled and her moist lips parted, showing perfect white teeth. Banyen bowed low over her hand and then brought it to his lips. Bastard! Katerina seethed. He could charm the skin off a snake.
Dinner was a miserable, torturous affair for Katerina. She felt out of her depth as the princess charmed Banyen with amusing stories of her life in Moldavia and of the great Terem Palace in the Kremlin. Banyen sat like a lovesick boy, drinking in every word she spoke. Even to Katerina's untrained ear it was evident that they had much in common. It bothered her and she didn't know why. Lost in her own miserable thoughts, she was jarred from them when she heard Halya ask how Banyen got the scar on his cheek. She smiled coyly and said she was sure it was a fierce war wound. Banyen smiled sickeningly and said yes, that was how he got it, from a fierce soldier bent on cutting him down. Katerina almost gagged at the blatant lie and rose from the table. Banyen's eyes laughed at her as she tucked the coarse shirt into the band of her trousers, her breasts jutting forth with her tense, muscular movement. She matched his look and said coolly, “Another time you can regale our guest with tales of your . . . heroics. For now, you are to take the center ring with one of the recruits.” Furious with herself, she continued, “It would be interesting to know how the fierce . . . soldier came out during the battle.”
“Second best, of course. I won, I always win.” He laughed as he reached out a firm hand to help Halya to her feet. “If you have no objection, we can have the princess observe my expertise.”
Having Halya in the arena was the last thing Katerina wanted, but she gave in and nodded. Halya smiled as Katerina strode ahead, she and Banyen following in her wake. Damn! Why did he always manage to get the best of her? She prayed that it would be Kostya who met him in the middle of the ring, and she prayed that he would run the bastard through till his blood ran like a river.

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