“He used to talk more and laugh more,” said Shurik. “We sparred together every day. He would tell me if he had a new trick to disarm me, or if he was fed up with the food, or if he thought an elder was full of gas. Now he barely looks at me. And it’s not just me. He hardly talks with anyone.” He trailed his hand on the ground, clearly struggling not to betray his hurt.
“To be fair, he spends most of the daylight hours teaching me,” said Kyra. “It doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”
“This happened before you came here,” said Shurik. “Rustan was sent to take down a mark in Tezbasti. When he came back, Astinsai made him drink Rasaynam. I don’t know what he saw, but it must have been bad, because he’s not been the same ever since.”
He gazed into the distance, his mouth compressed in a hard line.
“What do you think happened in Tezbasti?” asked Kyra, but she had begun to put two and two together. Something had gone wrong with the mark and he blamed himself for it. No wonder he was so grim all the time.
Shurik pulled at a stalk of grass and twined it around his finger. “I don’t know what happened. He won’t tell me. I tried to get him to talk once or twice, and had my head bitten off as a reward. But let’s not talk about him anymore.” He glanced at Kyra. “Let’s talk about us. Do you think we can use the Akal-shin door to get away from this place?”
Kyra stared at him in disbelief, too stunned by the turn of conversation to respond.
“We could go anywhere we wanted,” he continued. “No one would be able to follow us. I wouldn’t mind setting myself up on a farm somewhere, with nothing to worry about but the rain.”
Despite herself, Kyra smiled. Shurik had grown up on a farm in the fertile Peral River delta, and a part of him still yearned for it, especially in this barren land where it was a struggle to grow anything.
Shurik caught her hand. “You smile. Surely you know by now how I feel for you. I love you.”
Kyra withdrew her hand quickly, hot and uncomfortable. “Shurik, you do not love me. I happen to be the first girl you’ve met in ages, and so you believe yourself to be in love. What you’re suggesting is crazy.”
“You are not the first girl I’ve met,” he said. “I’ve seen women in Yartan, Kashgar, and Tezbasti. Some were quite beautiful and I admired them from afar. I forgot their faces as soon as I left town. You are different. I see you when I close my eyes. I think of you even in my dreams.” He caught her chin and drew her face to his. She gazed at him, mesmerized by the play of emotions on his face.
“Do not say I cannot love you,” he whispered. “Say instead that you can learn to love me.” He bent down to press his lips on hers. Kyra was so startled that a moment passed before she jerked her head away.
And looked right into Rustan’s cold blue eyes. Kyra stared at him in consternation. He stood opposite them, leaning on the woody stem of an ephedra, looking as if he had swallowed some of Astinsai’s bitter spineroot brew. How long had he been standing there, watching them?
I wasn’t really kissing him! a part of her wanted to scream. But another part said—What business is it of his? Let him think what he wants. It doesn’t matter.
But it did matter. It mattered when Rustan said, “I thought you wanted to continue your lessons this afternoon. It appears that I was mistaken.”
He walked away, silent as he had come, as always. Kyra gazed at his retreating back in dismay, wondering if she should go after him and say that yes, she wanted to continue her lessons. Suppose he refused? She became aware that Shurik was speaking:
“. . . always interrupts us at the wrong time. It’s almost as if he’s spying on us. Thinks he’s an elder already, I suppose. We’ll be well rid of him when we’re out of here.”
Kyra glared at Shurik. This foolishness had gone further than she had thought possible. It was time to set the boy straight, before things got out of hand. She stood up and dusted her robe. Shurik rose and tried to embrace her again but this time she deflected his arms and stepped away with a warning look.
“You will not try to kiss me again,” she said. “If you do, I’ll hit you. Hard.”
Shurik raised his hands, and a look of innocent protest entered his face. “I’m sorry, Kyra. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” His tone became warmer and he stepped toward her. “Have I told you how beautiful your eyes are? They are the color of—of the desert after rain. I could drown in them.”
Kyra backed away, fighting a sudden impulse to laugh. “Stay away from me,” she said severely, holding up her hand. “And listen well, because I’ll only say this once. I am not running away with you anywhere. I have my duty, even though you seem to have forgotten yours. No more talk of love or pretty eyes. I do not love you, Shurik.” Seeing his crushed expression, she added in a gentler tone, “I like you, though, and I hope we can continue being friends. But only if you give up this foolish love talk.”
“If you like me, you can one day love me,” said Shurik. “Don’t frown. I’m not going to kiss you again. But I’m not going to stand aside and watch you die on Tamsyn’s blade either. I want us to have a chance together. As long as you’re safe and alive somewhere, I can bear us being apart, because I know we’ll meet again. Give it up, Kyra. There must be another way for you to get back to your Order.”
“There is no way other than a duel,” said Kyra, exasperated. She had been over this many times, both with herself and with him. “Tamsyn killed Shirin Mam. She has the elders of Kali in her thrall. The only thing that protected me from her, letting me escape, was Shirin Mam’s katari.”
“Which you still have,” Shurik pointed out, changing tack. “If you must duel Tamsyn, then use Shirin Mam’s blade instead of your own. You will have a far better chance of winning.”
Attractive though this idea was, Kyra had discarded it long ago. “It is not lawful to use any weapon but your own in a duel,” she said. “I will leave Shirin Mam’s katari in Rustan’s safekeeping before going to Sikandra.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Shurik. “Why would you give it to him? The one thing that kept you safe from the Hand of Kali!”
Kyra hesitated. How could she tell him that Shirin Mam herself had asked this of her? “I can’t explain,” she said. “But I know in my heart it’s the right thing to do.”
“The right thing is to protect yourself by any means possible,” said Shurik. His face had gone red and he spoke with effort, as if trying hard to stay calm.
“I’m sorry,” said Kyra. “I cannot use Shirin Mam’s blade. I must face Tamsyn armed only with my own katari.”
“If you will not listen to reason, there’s no point in talking with you,” said Shurik coldly. He walked away before she could say another word.