"Scotch?" Oh yes, Scotch.

"I suppose," said Ursula, drifting by on the edge of the conversation, "that they drink fermented mare's milk out here."

Tess blinked. "At festivals. How did you know? They call it-" She took a sip of the scotch, made a face, and huddled back over the computer slate, seduced by its promise. "Oh, if I only had a modeler, I could compile a full translation model in all media, networked through . . . h.e.l.l, through Rhuian, Anglais-not Chapaliian, of course, the Protocol Office doesn't let you interlink Chapaliian-Ophiuchi-Sei."

"But we do have a modeler with us," said Maggie.

"You do! This is wonderful!" At that moment, Tess glanced up to see that everyone was beaming at her in relief, as if they had only now been rea.s.sured that the poor misguided thing had been rescued from the barbarians intact.

At that moment, Tess decided to get drunk.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

That Charles seemed willing to sit by and watch his sister drink herself into oblivion appalled David. There she sat, the center of attention, tossing off the Scotch as if it were water. What drove her he did not know, but he recognized well enough the desperation the action stemmed from.

He sidled over to Diana, who was talking to Jo Singh and Rajiv on the outskirts of the group. She glanced his way, excused herself, and met him on the edge of the carpet.

"Diana, you seem skilled at creating diversions-"

She looked past his shoulder at Tess. Tess was laughing at something Cara had said even while her hand groped for her cup again. "I can see that an exit is called for."

"Bless you, Diana. Did anyone ever tell you that you're a angel?" She flushed abruptly and, to his surprise, looked embarra.s.sed and unhappy. "I'm sorry. My stupid tongue."

"No, it's not your fault. But David, she looked so marvelous riding in on that horse, so .... so competent and adventurous and confident. Did you hear the way she lit into Maggie's program? Nicely, of course, but it's clear she's brilliant with languages."

David chuckled. "The Rhuian complex we all learned from was written by her at the age of twenty-one."

Diana's eyes widened. "Is that true? I've never learned a language faster than through that matrix. It made the connections so obvious. But then why is she-" She hesitated, and David could see that she very much wanted not to say anything negative about Tess Soerensen. He glanced back to see Tess shift on her stool and almost overbalance and fall off. Cara steadied her and shot Charles a meaningful glance, but Soerensen ignored her.

"I don't know. But I remember when I won top honors from middle college and the accelerated slot to apply to the Tokyo School of Engineering-which is the most compet.i.tive, the best of the best-and they threw a big party for me at my village. I felt like a fraud, because I hadn't worked as hard as the other kids in my region and the ones at Yaounde College. All their praise sounded cheap because I knew the truth even if they didn't. So I got drunk."

"That's funny. I got admitted on my first audition at nineteen to the Royal Shakespeare Academy in London."

"That's young, isn't it?"

"Very young, these days, and I always felt guilty about it. Some people accused me of having connections, but I didn't. But then, I never wanted to do anything but theater, and lots of them had already spent time in the holos. Still." Diana considered the party under the awning. A clot of actors had invaded, and since at least three of them-Hyacinth, Anahita, and Jean-Pierre-were already drunk, Tess did not stand out so painfully.

"Oh, I don't mean to say that she feels like a fraud, or feels guilty, but that she feels something, and that it's driving her to this. If you can-"

"Pull focus off of her, that's what you want, of course."

"Yes, that sounds right. Then I'll ease her out and take her back to wherever it is she sleeps."

Diana sighed. "I wonder what her life is like, with the jaran."

David snorted. "Dirty, cold, and harsh. Don't get any wishful illusions here."

"They don't seem so barbaric to me."

"After what we've seen? The wounded? And Bakhtiian executing that man for rape?" David gazed out at the camp beyond, at the tents and the occasional fire, stretching out so far on either side that he could not see the end of it. He had good night vision and as he stared, he saw a single figure crouched in the gap between Soerensen's enclave and the jaran camp, watching them. He felt cold up and down his back and then shook his head, impatient. Of course they would watch Soerensen's camp. Why shouldn't they?

"It's all right." Diana laid a hand on his elbow, a brief warmth, and removed it again. "I'll go. Do your part, but you'll have to be quick. What I have in mind won't last long."

She eased back into the throng and before David realized what she was about, she had started a loud argument with Anahita about somebody named Grusha. Anahita at any time was a formidable presence. Drunk, she was uninhibited, and David marveled as Diana applied just the right words to manipulate Anahita into dragging Charles into the argument.

David circled around and came up to Tess from behind. Cara still stood there, hovering like a protective mother. When she saw David she looked relieved. He put his hands on Tess's shoulders.

"Come on, Tess," he said in a low voice. "Time to go home." Cara helped him lift her up and steer her out from under the awning and into the covering darkness between the two large tents. Tess stumbled on the level ground and swore in a foreign language.

"You're drunk," said David.

"I know," she said.

"Let me help you back to your-to wherever you sleep."

She shook her head violently, tripped over her own feet, and would have fallen if David hadn't caught her. "No. No. I don't want them to see me like this." She went on, sounding angry, but she had lapsed into khush, and he couldn't understand her.

"Cara, your tent?"

Cara frowned. "I have equipment out that's not in place yet. Put her in your tent, and you sleep in mine."

"Cara, we are both adults. I think we can manage to sleep together without-"

"David. May I remind you that we are in a foreign land, whose customs we do not know?"

"Lady in Heaven. She's not one of them. If it was some young jaran woman ... all right. All right. I'll tuck her primly in and retire to your tent. Or Charles's, if it comes to that. Or wherever it is Marco sleeps. I suppose you're right, although I can't imagine why they would care and how they would know.'' Then he recalled the distant sentry. "Or, anyway, why they would care. She's a foreigner, too, after all."

"David."

"I'm going." He led the unprotesting Tess to his tent, going on a brief side trip to their portable toilet, which they were using until he could devise something more permanent. For an instant, listening outside the tiny square tent, he thought he was going to have to give Tess instructions on how to use the thing, but she emerged at last, staggering and catching onto him for balance.

He tried to talk to her. She did not reply. He was not entirely sure she understood him. She seemed morose more than anything, but at least she was not crying. David hated crying drunks. He helped her inside his tent, sealed her up inside the sleeping pouch, and retreated.

By the time he got back to Charles's tent, the party had moved on. He could hear its remains over in the Company enclave. Hyacinth was singing an obscene song in his grating falsetto, with one of the women-Oriana, perhaps-providing the contralto descant.

Charles and Marco sat alone under the awning, in darkness. "Well?" Charles asked when David appeared.

"I'm disgusted." David chose not to sit down.

"Yes," said Charles. "I don't remember Tess getting drunk habitually when she was at the university, and she certainly wasn't particularly happy there."

"Not with her," snapped David. "With you. You just sat by and let it happen."

Charles arched an eyebrow. "It is not my part to dictate Tess's behavior."

Marco made a noise in his throat, a short, caustic laugh. "Just her life."

"Do I scent a mutiny?" Charles asked good-naturedly.

Marco sighed and leaned back in his chair, balancing it on the back two legs.

"No. You're right, of course. You can't afford to lose her."

"What the h.e.l.l are you two talking about?" David demanded. "Why would you lose Tess?"

"Where is Tess?" Charles asked.

"In my tent, sleeping it off."

Marco slammed down his chair. "David, you'd better move her. Here, or into Cara's tent."

"Cara wouldn't take her. I'd hate to wake her up."

"No, it's fine," said Charles. "You can sleep here, David."

"Charles." Marco stood. "I don't think this is a good idea, unless you deliberately want to set up your authority against his."

"But I do, Marco. That's just the point. Within our encampment, we will act according to our laws. It is only once we step outside it that we acknowledge theirs.

Once their laws penetrate our world, then we have lost Tess. Don't you see?"

"So you'll make a point of it now. And what about our poor David?"

"Yes," broke in David, bewildered. "What about poor David? What are you talking about? What do jaran laws have to do with losing Tess?" He paused. "And furthermore, why are you even bothering to jockey power with Bakhtiian? He's nothing. He's not even important."

Marco cast a measured glance at the jaran encampment. "Try telling that to the people whose countries he's overrunning. Or to him, for that matter.""You know what I meant. I meant compared to the Chapalii Empire. To s.p.a.ce.

You haven't answered my question."

Marco tucked his hands into his belt and whistled softly.

Charles pulled off his gloves and stood up. "Tess is married to Bakhtiian, under jaran law. Now, I'm going to bed." He went inside. The tent flap slithered down after him.

"Sit down," said Marco congenially. "You look awful."

David sat down. He stared blankly at the night sky, at the stars. He could even trace a few constellations. Then he jumped to his feet. "She's sleeping in my tent!"

Marco laid a hand on his arm and, firmly but inexorably, sat David back down again. "Don't you see? Charles wants to make it clear that Tess is one of us, not one of them. Let her stay."

"With me as the sacrificial victim? No thank you."

"G.o.ddess, David, do you think for a minute Charles has any intention of letting anyone in his party get hurt?

How is Bakhtiian to know it's your tent she's sleeping in, anyway? Or that she's sleeping here at all?"

"Why didn't you tell me!" David demanded.

"Sorry, I was under oath. I really am sorry, David."

Easy for him to say. "His wife." David formed the words as if they were alien, and taboo. "His wife."

"Go to bed," said Marco kindly, and left him.

David slept soundly and without dreams, but he woke at dawn. He crept out of Charles's tent into the quiet of their camp. Beyond, the jaran camp was full of life. He went to use the portable and to wash: inside the little tent, beside the commode, he had rigged up a sterilizing and recycling unit for wash water. The water was bitterly cold, and he wandered outside into the cold dawn to pace out the size block he would need to set up the solar minis. How to disguise them? What water source was the jaran camp using? How did they remain supplied? Was this a permanent camp, or did it move?

Ursula el Kawakami came up, looking revoltingly awake at such an early hour.

"What do you think, Ursula?" he asked. "Do you think this is their permanent camp? Or that they move?''

"Of course they move. 'They commonly feed many flocks of cows, mares, and sheep, for which reason they never stay in one place.' That's Marco Polo. And this can't be the entire army, although I'll get a better sense of their numbers when we tour the camp today. Foodstuffs and fodder for the animals alone would deplete any one area within weeks. Days, perhaps. This is a good site, though. Well chosen. Good gra.s.sland for the herds, and a river about half a mile to the south. Can you mock me up a map so I can get an estimate of how close we are to the settled agricultural lands to the south? My sense is that Bakhtiian has control over the western seaports and is consolidating his control over the southern borderlands now."

David chuckled. "In other words, I shouldn't build anything permanent here."

Ursula surveyed the square tent that the actors called The Necessary. "Certainly I think this is elaborate enough. It isn't as if we're on some kind of safari vacation on Tau Ceti Tierce, after all. This is-"

"-an interdicted planet." David settled his left hand on the back of his neck and contemplated the ring of canvas tents belonging to Soerensen's party. His four tiny name braids, dangling from the nape of his neck down to brush his shoulder blades, tickled his knuckles. "Yes, I know. Well, if you'll excuse me . . ."He escaped from Ursula's uncomfortable presence and walked over to his tent to see if Tess was awake.

She was. She was lying on her stomach with the heels of her palms cushioning her eyes.

"h.e.l.lo, Tess." He crawled into the tent and knelt beside her.

"I have a headache," she said without moving her hands. But her Anglais was precise and clear. "Where am I?"

"In my tent. Oh, ah, this is David."

She made a disgusted noise in her throat. "I know it's David. What am I doing here? Never mind, I know the answer, and I would be churlish not to thank you for taking care of me. I must have made a fool of myself."

"A bit. Luckily some of the actors were drunk, so you weren't alone. And you were among friends."

"Thank you. So rea.s.suring." Tess slid her hands away from her eyes and flinched, even though the only light in the tent came through the open flap. "Lord, how late is it?"

"It's early. Just after dawn."

She wiggled out of the bag, pausing to let him unseal it for her, and got herself up on her knees. Considered. "Well, the damage isn't too bad. My head pounds, but I don't feel sick to my stomach."

"Small favors. Tess." He hesitated, wanting to ask her if it was true, and instead sealed up the sleeping pouch and rolled it up into a neat cylinder.

"Plumbing," said Tess suddenly, not appearing to notice his unease. "Civilized plumbing. That's what I remember from last night. Where is it?" She clambered out of the tent and stood. David hurried out behind her. "That's what I miss more than anything. And hot showers. They're remarkably clean, you know, the jaran, and practical about it, but still. ..."

She went on, but David did not hear her next words. She had her back to her brother's tent. She could not see the little emba.s.sy that waited outside Charles's awning. But the emba.s.sy could see Tess and David.Eight people. All jaran. Three soldiers whose faces David recalled from the journey from the coast. The silver-haired man who had been at the healer's conference yesterday. Three women, two young, one elderly. And Bakhtiian.

Who had just seen Tess and David emerge from the same tent.