Swords From the East (41 page)

A change came over the boy's expressive face.

"Soon the Great Commissioner will be no more than a chained bear. But he himself has forged the chains."

"Riddles! What are you doing here?"

"I am a prisoner, and I wait."

"For what?"

"A scourging."

Alashan related how he had been seized and put into his present quarters-the other rooms of the house being occupied by clerks, officers, and friends of Kichinskoi. Billings reasoned that the pristof wished Alashan kept as near him as possible-a valuable hostage for the good conduct of Ubaka Khan. Also, Kichinskoi could report his capture of Alashan, by whatever means, after Beketoff's carelessness had permitted the escape of the boy from Astrakan.

"He has said he will lash me," went on the Torgut, the blood darkening his cheeks, "as a lesson to the Tatars who attacked the Cossacks. Nay, they were but boys; and the soldiers fired the first shot. So the Great Commissioner would lash the son of Ubaka, who is the grandson of Ayuka, who was Master of the Golden Horde, child of the royal race of Genghis Khan. Kai-it is so. But the knout will not be laid upon my back."

"I am not sure you do not deserve it, Alashan."

"Nay, you will protect me."

„I1„

"Aye, they will come when the night is half gone. It is nearly time."

"Indeed, I will do no such thing."

Billings shook his head decisively. Whether merited or not, the whipping of the boy was beyond his power to prevent.

"You will do it. Until dawn you will protect me."

Alashan laughed merrily, and Billings was surprised because he had never known a Tatar to laugh.

"And at dawn I will ride, free, from this house and these walls-aye, though there be a great, stupid yak with a musket outside your door, and three thousand like him within call. And you will go with me, as my lord brother should."

A sound of iron-heeled boots in the passage stiffened the boy's lips. All in a moment his eyes widened, and he grew whitish around the mouth.

"They are coming with the knout, Captain Beel-ing. Hurry, lock the door."

On the doors of the pristof's house there were bolts on both sides for locking in prisoners or bolting out thieves as circumstances might require. Billings had already noticed this, but made no move to obey.

"You will not let them use the knout on me," persisted the stripling. "Look-"

For the first time Alashan removed the large velvet cap trimmed with fur. A flood of glossy, black hair descended upon the Tatar's slim shoulders and slipped down to the bed itself.

The olive cheeks that had been pale grew softly red. Billings knew that most of the Tatars wore a kind of long mane of hair; but this mass of curling locks belonged to a woman, and the face was that of a woman.

A rap resounded on the door. Billings glanced at the rusty bolt, and thrust out his boot against the lower edge of the door.

"Excellency," he heard a soldier say, "we will take away the Tatar prisoner, if you will have the kindness to open to us."

At the same time he felt that the heavy door was tried from without. It did not give.

"In a moment," he called over his shoulder. He looked at Alashan.

"Captain Beel-ing, I am not the son of the Khan. Do you think the Horde would give the son of a chief to another king? Nay, 1 am only a girl."

As she spoke she tore off the voluminous khalat that had been about her shoulders.

"In the name of mercy, you must believe me. My name is Nadesha, and when the order came for Alashan to go to Astrakan, I said I would go instead. I have Persian blood in me, I know the ways of the Russians, and I had wit enough to slip out of any noose they made for me."

"Agreed to that," whispered Billings. "Are you the daughter of the Khan Ubaka?"

"Nay, I am Nadesha, the child of Norbo, who is Master of the Herds. Word came tome to escape from Astrakan. God was kind. You aided me. So I made you my anda. Today I came with Norbo to see if that old buzzard Kichinskoi was really ordered to make slaves of the Torgut youths. It is so. You do not think I am a girl?"

Hereupon Nadesha, who had unbuttoned the cotton jacket she had worn under the khalat, began to jerk at the neck of her shirt with anxious fingers.

"You must not give me to the soldiers, who would strip me and take me to Kichinskoi when they find I am not Alashan-"

"Hold on! Enough!" Billings's ruddy cheeks grew redder. "I believe you."

"Excellency," came the summons from without. "Open the door and we will not trouble you more."

Billings searched the room with his glance. A collection of weapons belonging to Mitrassof had been removed when Nadesha was installed; there was left only the bed, the stool, an ikon on the wall, and a miscellaneous mass of fine though soiled garments piled by the skins.

At his whispered order, Nadesha ran through this array of velvet and satin clothes, but no woman's attire was to be seen among the spoil of Mitrassof's forays. She looked at Billings, who frowned.

It was hard enough for him to be suspected of conspiring with the Tatars, without having to deal with a fair young witch. Witch! He could see Kichinskoi and Father Obe burning her, because her presence here certainly savored of magic, and it was more palatable for the official to claim that he had been bewitched than befooled.

Nadesha took matters into her own hands swiftly enough. She thrust her khalat into the pile of garments, took off her boots-too large for her bare feet-and shook down the masses of glossy hair over her shoulders. Then she kicked out the candle.

"Come in," she called pleasantly, no longer simulating the deeper voice of a boy.

A Cossack sergeant pushed open the door-Billings withdrawing his foot barely in time-and entered, followed by a soldier bearing a stained and smoky lanthorn.

"Come, Alashan," he growled, holding the dim light high in order to peer at the two occupants of the room.

Nadesha laughed and cracked her fingers. The lanthorn was moved over to her while the soldiers inspected her; then it was thrust about the bare room, finally coming to rest over Billings, who had not stirred.

"Where is the son of the Khan?" demanded the sergeant.

Receiving no answer, he looked under the bed upon which Nadesha kneeled, hugging her toes. Palpably, the room did not contain anyone else.

The sergeant went out. Voices ensued. The sentry came in, glanced around, peered at Nadesha, searched under the bed, and finally pushed his bayonet into the pile of clothes in the corner. He even lifted the skins on the floor.

Then he faced the sergeant and scratched his hair.

"I saw Alashan go in, but he is not here now."

The Cossack inspected the hole of a window.

"Large enough for a weasel," he muttered. He saluted Billings. "Excellency, have you seen Alashan, the Torgut?"

"No."

"When did this maiden come in?"

"She was here when I arrived."

This brought more bewilderment to the sheepish sentry. No one, he said, had been in the room when they put Alashan there, not six hours ago. Nor had anyone except Captain Billings entered since.

Very angry was the sergeant.

"If Alashan has escaped again, you'll be eaten by the crows, and I'll have my nostrils torn."

More than a little amused, Billings listened to the debate going on between the two. The pristof should be summoned. No, the pri.stof was asleep and he would consign to the strappado anyone who awakened him now. Well, then the officer in command of the watch. A fine thing, that-to put their heads in the noose before it was tied. Colonel Mitrassof? He was out with the patrols.

"Sergeant," observed Billings, leaning back against the wall with folded arms, "if you have finished with your questions, you might find time to reflect that an officer may sometimes desire to talk to a pretty woman undisturbed."

"Yes, excellency." The man drew himself up and saluted.

"Undisturbed."

"Pardon."

The Cossack prepared to leave, glaring about him suspiciously.

"Sergeant, for your own sake, make your report to Colonel Mitrassof and no other."

Billings listened and was sure the two remained outside his door. Although bewildered, the soldiers were not minded to release the prisoners-for Billings would now be watched. He was committed now to getting Nadesha out of this mess. Lighting the candle, he saw that the Tatar girl was curling up in the blankets, preparing to go to sleep.

"Not a bad idea," thought Billings, and sought the skins on the floor.

Although he dozed, one ear was conscious of the coming and going of feet outside the door. He had fastened the inner bolt. Presently the feet began to run through the passage; he was aware of shouts, the hoofbeats of a horse outside the house. A touch on his arm wakened him.

Nadesha had put on the khalat but without binding up her hair. He could see her only vaguely by the glow of sunrise through the window.

"Come, brother," she whispered.

Billings was alert at once, aroused by the tumult in the castle. Looking from the panes of mica in the window, he whistled softly.

Against the spreading crimson of sunrise in the east there rose numberless columns of smoke. The whole sky was full of these black pillars, so that the very dawn was the hue of blood. Listening to the outcry in the castle, he made out fragments: "The Tatars have risen ... The world is burning up ... Where are the Torguts? Their villages are burning."

Standing tip-toe beside him, Nadesha stared at the conflagration. She uttered a soft cry, of lament or joy, he did not know which. Tugging him after her, she drew back the bolt and pushed open the door.

The sentry faced her, dull with lack of sleep, his musket at the ready. Billings halted, but Nadesha knocked up the gun with a quick motion-she moved as swiftly as an animal-and drew from within her cloak a long pistol. Billings recognized it as his.

Thrusting the weapon into the soldier's beard, she backed him against the wall of the corridor.

"You little vixen!"

Billings caught at her, but she slipped away, running fleetly in her bare feet. The mapmaker dashed after her, leaving the sentry fingering his weapon and cursing, not daring to shoot for fear of hitting the officer.

Down the passageway they went, into an empty hall and through a door that gave upon a lighted chamber. This proved to be the office of Kichinskoi, and the pristof himself sat at the table.

He wore a purple dressing-gown, and his hair was tousled. He was alone. As Billings ran into the room, the door was swung shut behind him and, wheeling, he saw Nadesha standing against it, flushed with triumph, a pistol in each small fist.

With her bare feet planted wide, her tangled hair falling into her gleaming eyes, the girl was a veritable wildcat. Kichinskoi stared at her with surprised anger, until comprehension came to his alert mind.

"You are Alashan!"

"I am Nadesha, child of Norbo, Master of the Herds. Listen to my word, you, who would chain the Torguts like a bear-who would eat of the fat of the bear and wear his skin to keep you warm."

She gestured with a pistol, and Kichinskoi pressed back in his chair. Billings could see the pristof's tongue moving spasmodically. Owing to the tumult in the castle, it would avail the man nothing to shout. Nor, by the discipline he enforced among those under his rule, was there a chance that anyone-except Mitrassof -would enter without permission.

Kichinskoi was cornered and he was helpless. Billings had an idea that in her present mood Nadesha would think nothing of pistoling them both.

"Blind!" the girl's cry went on. "You and your Empress would make slaves of the free-born. Fool! You did not see that we will not submit. Many there were who brought the truth for your hearing. You shut your ears. Now, have you seen the smoke in the sky?"

A nod from Kichinskoi, who was gathering his wits about him.

"The Torguts are burning their villages; the bear is throwing off its shackles. We are marching-now-to the east; we are riding to our homeland. The clan of the Torguts will go back to Lake Balkash and beyond to the river Ili, where you cannot follow. The Khan has chosen-yesterday after your word."

She cast a fleeting glance out of the window that was mellow with sunrise. Kichinskoi started.

"Impossible!" he muttered. "A year's journey, and-two hundred thousand souls." His eyes narrowed. "You would be attacked by your enemies, the Baskirs and the Black Kirghiz. Why, the snow-"

He almost laughed, feeling that the girl was deceiving him.

Nadesha smiled tauntingly.

"We have chosen, pristof. This is my word, from the council of the Torguts. If you send your soldiers to turn us back, there will be war, and a river of blood upon the snow from the Volga to Balkash. I have said it."

With the pistol still in her hand, she raised it to her forehead and then dropped it to her lips in mock salaam.

"I could slay you, my fine boar, but you are already dead. My lord Beketoff already is driving a racing sledge to St. Petersburg with a word for the ear of your Empress that will stretch you out under the snow."

Jumping up, Kichinskoi stared at her as if Nadesha had been truly a witch.

"You see, pristof," she said calmly, "I have learned a lot at your school." To Billings she added, "If you want your pistols, my little anda, come and get them."

With that she was gone through the door as swiftly as she had come. Billings guessed that the girl would not stay within the building. She must make for the stables and secure a horse-if she could-as her best chance of freedom, before Kichinskoi's men overtook her.

Knowing better than to try to pursue her, Billings ran out of the other door, through the dining-hall and the courtyard. Behind him Kichinskoi remained pale and rigid as if he had seen his death sentence written on the wall.

Billings found the gray light obscured by mists over the drill ground. Soldiers were running to stations, Cossacks who buckled belts and slid into overcoats as they ran. From the watch-tower a bugle blared. The men paid no heed to him, or to Nadesha.

As he had hoped, the captain sighted the long cloak and flying hair of the girl disappearing into the mist. She was looking back over her shoulder. Somewhat to his surprise, she was heading not toward the stables but to a gate through which horsemen were coming and going freely, men from the mounted patrols coming in and couriers going forth. The usual strict scrutiny was relaxed owing to the absence of both Mitrassof and Kichinskoi and the general disturbance caused by the conflagration.