"Forgive me if I'm not impressed by the amir's kindness," she said dryly. "But at least you managed to survive. Did the British government arrange for your release from prison?"
"Hardly. They were quite willing to assume that I was dead," Ian said, not quite able to conceal his bitterness. "My sister and her husband came to Bokhara and rescued me from that damned hole by sheer bluster."
Laura's eyes rounded. "Your sister?"
"Juliet is rather remarkable. If you like, I'll tell you the whole story later, but now I want to carry out Pyotr's last request." Ian leaned over to his baggage and extracted a small rectangular package, then handed it to Laura. "He asked me to see that you got this if I ever had the chance. Since I knew where your stepfather was stationed, I decided to deliver it in person."
She unwrapped the waterproof covering to find a small Russian Bible. The volume was a work of art, with a cover of tooled leather and a hand-painted frontispiece that depicted the Virgin and Child in the distinctive style of the Orthodox Church. But the greatest value lay in the fact that every available inch of blank paper was covered with penciled words written in Russian.
"It's Pyotr's prison journal," the major said. "He wanted you to have it."
She thumbed through the Bible, aching inside at the knowledge that her only uncle had written these words, and now he was dead. "Have you read what he wrote?"
Cameron shook his head. "I learned some spoken Russian from Pyotr, mostly curse words, but I don't read or write the language at all. Can you decipher it?"
She stopped on a middle page and studied the Cyrillic script, which was so small as to be almost illegible. "My Russian is still fluent and I'm familiar with Uncle Pyotr's hand since he wrote me regularly, but this is almost like a code. He seems to have used abbreviations and left out words to save space." Brow furrowed, she slowly translated, "I think this says 'God be thanked, company has arrived. An Englishman, more's the pity, but better than nothing.' " She smiled, then bit her lower lip. "I'm sorry. I'm sure he didn't mean it as an insult."
"You needn't apologize for Pyotr. I was equally unenthralled at finding myself sharing quarters with a Russian officer. But in time I realized that I could not have asked for a better companion in adversity.''
She sighed. "You knew him far better than I did. To me, Pyotr was a magical figure, not quite real. He would swoop in every few years bearing gifts and telling tales, I remember one story about a great bear that traveled the ice fields of the north searching for the Pole Star. Instead, he found a princess named Lara. The next day, Pyotr was gone again." Remembering, she ran her palm over the gilded leather, wishing she could draw out the essence of her uncle. "Thank you for bringing me this. It helps a little to have something of his."
The Scots burr in Cameron's voice became more pronounced. "I'm sorry he isn't here in person. If he hadn't sacrificed himself, perhaps he would be. Juliet and Ross would not have left Pyotr in prison if they had found him alive instead of me."
Hearing the guilt and regret, Laura said, "But you told me Pyotr was very ill. He always had weak lungs, so he probably would not have survived the extra time in prison."
"There's no way to be sure of that," Ian said tightly. "Neither he nor I were physicians. He might have been strong enough to last another six months."
The pain in the major's voice made Laura feel a fleeting sense of kinship with him. Pyotr and Kenneth might be beyond grief now, but their survivors would be suffering for a long time. "You mustn't blame yourself for living," she said gently. "If you hadn't, I might never have known what happened to my uncle, nor had this to remember him by." It didn't go far enough, but she was too drained to manage more. "I'd better get dressed. As you said, it's going to be a difficult day."
* * *
For Laura, the hours passed with the distorted, heightened reality of a dream. By the time she had dressed in her one dark gown, the headman of Nanda had arrived. After praising Kenneth's justice and wisdom, the headman offered a burial site on a hill overlooking the small local river. Two "untouchable" women came from the village to help Laura prepare her stepfather's body for burial. She was grateful for the women's sympathy and experienced help, and was unsurprised to learn that they had come at Major Cameron's request. His aid was nothing if not practical.
In a hot climate, burials took place as soon as possible, and all too soon it was time to take Kenneth Stephenson to his final resting spot. His wrapped body was carried on a bamboo bed borne by eight men. In a Hindu family the pallbearers would be close relatives, but these were a mixture of Kenneth's most senior servants and volunteers from the village.