And they cared very much. They were eager to see me humiliated, or at least most of them were.
When I thought about it, I felt sick and scared inside. I was no warrior, raised to take pride in my prowess with a bow. I was just… me. I had only learned to shoot to help provide for my mother and myself. It was a way of life, nothing more.
“That is the best reason of all, Moirin,” Batu said firmly to me. “Survival. Do not worry. Whatever happens, you will not embarrass yourself.”
“No?”
“No.” His kind eyes crinkled. “I am aware of the games that were played in the deep of winter. It has always galled the young men of my tribe that they cannot defeat you in this sport. Do you think that we are so unskilled that we cannot hold our own with the best of the Great Khan’s men?”
“No.” I smiled at him. “Batu, with your kindness and generosity, I am quite sure you are the best of the Great Khan’s men.”
He blushed and averted his head, which I found utterly charming. I would have kissed his cheek, except I knew it would scandalize him. “I have asked everyone to cull their arrows to choose those with the straightest shafts and the finest fletching. We will do our best to make sure you have arrows that fly true.”
I was touched. “I will try not to disappoint you.”
“You could never disappoint me, Moirin,” Batu said in a gentle voice. “I wish you well.”
I spent many hours practicing away from the campsite, honing my skill. Alone, I was better able to concentrate, and I found that the discipline that Master Lo had taught me served me well.
On the day before the archery contest, Bao rode out to meet me. Although it was hard to be apart, we had continued to be circumspect. There had been little contact between us since it had been decreed that I would be allowed to compete. My heart and my diadh-anam leapt inside me at his approach, and I knew he felt the same.
We found ourselves smiling foolishly at each other, both of us self-consciously aware of it, yet unable to help ourselves.
“So,” I said.
“So,” Bao echoed, dismounting. “It is almost upon us. I will be glad when this is over, Moirin.”
My anxiety returned ten-fold. “So will I, but, Bao, please don’t count on me to win! Truly, I think the odds are very much against it.”
“They are,” he observed. “Almost no one is wagering on you. And yes, I know it is unlikely. It is only that it is our best chance of seeing the matter resolved peaceably.”
I was relieved that he wasn’t putting unreasonable expectations on me. “What happens if I do lose? Other than the gloating.”
“I don’t know,” Bao admitted. “Erdene tells me that her father has promised to hunt me down like a dog and slit my throat if I leave without his permission.”
That didn’t do much to alleviate my anxiety. “I see.”
“At least she is speaking to me, which is an improvement. Whatever you said to her, it helped.” He gave me a curious glance. “What did you say to her?”
“I told her I understood how she felt,” I murmured. “I told her I had once loved a man who could not give his heart to me.”
Bao’s eyes widened with indignation. “You compared me to that stupid ass Lord Lion Mane?”
“Aye, I did.” I raised my brows at him. “I know you didn’t intend to hurt Erdene. Nonetheless, you did.”
“I know, I know!” He sighed. “And I am sorry for it.”
“I know.” I steered the conversation back to more pressing matters. “Bao, I’m serious. If I lose, what will we do?”
He smiled ruefully. “If the Great Khan’s threat is sincere, I think there is only one way we can evade his pursuit. We can’t outrace a Tatar hunting party. Have you seen them ride?”
“Aye.” I nodded. “You mean for me to call the twilight.”
“Yes.” Bao’s smile faded. “And I know you are concerned about your ability to shield both of us within it long enough. I am, too. I remember how difficult it was for you with the princess when we climbed toward White Jade Mountain. Believe me, I do not like to ask. It is a piece of irony, Moirin. Before… before I died, when I had decided I would offer to leave Master Lo’s service, it was because I meant to protect you.”
“Only that?” I asked.
“No, of course not.” His eyes softened. “Also because of your noble instincts and generous heart, and yes, your beauty, and the way you revel in pleasure, and many other things large and small. But you’re impulsive, too, and all these things combined make you a danger to yourself.”
“I’m not impulsive,” I muttered. “I have an inconvenient destiny, that’s all.”
“And you are impulsive,” Bao repeated, ignoring my disclaimer. “Anyway… it is a piece of irony that I can do nothing to protect you here, but must rely on your skills and gifts to save us both from a dangerous situation I created.” He looked unhappy. “I am not making a very good start as a heroic protector like the ones in your tales.”
“Close your eyes,” I said to him.
“Why?”
I blew out my breath. “Just do it!”
He obeyed, and I summoned the twilight, folding it around us both. Bao opened his eyes to a world gone silvery, dim, and lovely.
I touched his face. “I do not recall asking for a protector, my stubborn magpie. And before you take the entire blame for our troubles, I will remind you that I created the problem by coming after you.”
Bao smiled. “Impulsively, yes.”
“Oh, fine.” I slid my hand around to the back of his neck, tugging his head down so I could kiss him.
Naamah’s gift sang within me as he kissed me back, one arm around my waist. His other hand pressed against my back, claiming me firmly.
We made love on the twilit steppe, and it was gentle and magical.
Never before had I been able to surrender to pleasure without losing my grasp on the twilight. It was different with Bao. He carried the missing half of my divided soul within him, and I could hold us both in the twilight as easily as I could myself—as easily and naturally as breathing.
“Moirin.” He whispered my name against my throat, his hand parting my thighs. “It is so beautiful here.”
“Yes,” I whispered in reply, my back arching as his fingers teased my slick cleft.
Bao lifted his head, his gaze intent on mine. “Is it like this beyond the stone doorway?”
Ripples of pleasure ran through me. “Even more so.” I gazed back at him, seeing the flickering penumbra of his aura. “It is everything bright and dark all at once, everything in the world.”
“Everything?” He moved over me.
I spread my thighs wider to welcome him, feeling the bonfire of the spirit as our diadh-anams joined in full. “Everything.”
All through our lovemaking and beyond, I held on to the twilight, not losing it even in the throes of climax—not mine nor his. In the aftermath of love, I lay with my head on Bao’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and watching the silvery grasses move slowly in the breeze. Everything seemed to move more slowly in the twilight.
Time passed differently in the spirit world, I remembered. When I had gone through the stone doorway, days had passed without my knowledge.
Bao’s warm breath stirred my hair, and his arms were warm around me, strong with corded muscle.
It felt good.
I didn’t want it to end.
“Moirin,” he said at last, his voice reluctant. “We should go.”
“I know.” I forced myself to sit upright. After we donned our clothing, I took one last, deep breath of the twilight, and then let it out, releasing the magic.
The world returned in a rush. It was late—later than I had reckoned. The setting sun hovered over the horizon like a great orange orb, staining the grasslands with ruddy light, throwing our long, stark shadows before us.
For the first time in days, I felt calm.
“I can do this,” I said to Bao. “If I fail on the morrow, we
can escape into the twilight. I can hold it long enough.”
He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. “Yes, you can.”
SIXTEEN
Pull!”
I eased the bowstring back—gently, gently. The sturdy yew-wood bow my uncle Mabon had made for me bent obligingly. The fletching of the arrow I had nocked tickled my earlobe—vulture feathers, from one of the arrows borrowed from the members of Batu’s tribe.
I eyed the distant target, gauging my angle. I did my best to ignore the fact that my heart was hammering inside my chest.
“Loose!”
I loosed the bowstring.
A puff of errant wind blew as my arrow arced into the sky—mine, and six others. Against all odds, I had shot well enough to reach the penultimate round.
Now, I sucked in my breath.
Six arrows thudded into six leather targets stuffed with wool. I winced, seeing I had missed the crudely painted red circle on mine. I had misjudged the wind and the angle.
Two had pierced the circle, one dead-center, the other slightly off. Three others had missed by a wider margin than I had.
The watching crowd of Tatars murmured. The judges conferred.
“You, and you.” An officious fellow serving as the judges’ liaison pointed at the two men who had shot best. When he came to me, his mouth tightened. “And you. Now, you will shoot one by one. Ten paces!”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Ah, gods! If it hadn’t been for the sense of calm I’d found yesterday, I was quite sure my nerves would have undone me. The riding archery contest had taken place earlier. I’d watched the competitors shoot from the saddle at a row of dangling rings while they raced at a flat-out gallop. They were incredibly accurate, and I resigned myself to the fact that there was no way I could truly compete against the best of the best here.
But so long as I had the knowledge that Bao and I could escape into the twilight, that I could hold it long enough to keep us both safe, it didn’t matter.
As a result, I had shot fearlessly and well in the early rounds of the standing archery contest. Over a hundred men took part, shooting in groups of a dozen at a time. For each group to partake, half passed on to the next round and half were eliminated. With each successive round, we retreated ten paces from the targets.
Again and again, I found myself placing within the top half of my group. It wasn’t until the number of competitors had dwindled to a mere dozen that I’d begun to wonder if I could win, and my anxiety returned in full force.
That was also when my opponents began to grumble and mutter about magic, and the officious liaison had come to inspect my bow.
Was it charmed? I truly had no idea. Mayhap my uncle Mabon had whispered some arcane charm into the very wood and sinew. I did not know the extent of the small gifts of magic the Maghuin Dhonn possessed. Mayhap there was some secret in the way he had seasoned the wood. Mayhap the secret lay in the powerful resilience of the wood itself, or the sinews or the glue.
Whatever the truth, Bao was right. It didn’t look remarkable and there was nothing for the official to find. After testing my bow for himself and finding that it shot no more true than the archer’s skill, he shrugged and handed it back to me.
Now…
Now there were only three of us, and I had begun to sweat. Oh aye, if I lost, there was still the twilight. But now that victory was actually within reach, I could not help but think how much better it would be if the Great Khan were forced to grant my boon, and let Bao and me go freely.
The steppe was a vast expanse of open land to traverse. I had no doubt that there were skilled trackers among the Khan’s men. Even having discovered that I could ward Bao as easily as myself, it could be a long, long time to hold the twilight. And there would be no room for error.
The first of my remaining two opponents stepped up to the mark. He nocked an arrow and drew with the unique Tatar grip, using a ring on his thumb to pull the bowstring, the muscles of his heavy shoulders bunching. He was a strong, burly fellow, and if the contest were to be decided on distance alone, I had no doubt that he would prevail.
It wasn’t, though. Accuracy counted.
With a grunt, he loosed the bowstring. His arrow sank into the distant target, landing on the outer rim of the red circle. His supporters cheered and shouted.
It was the second fellow who worried me the most. He was lean and taciturn, and he shot with great accuracy and ferocious concentration. It was he whose last shot had been dead-center. He took his place at the mark, drawing his bow with fluid precision.
Another gust of wind blew as he loosed his arrow, more lively than the first. Even so, his arrow pierced very close to the center of the target. My last opponent gave a little sigh, and an unexpected, courteous bow in my direction.
Holding my bow loosely, I toed the mark. The onlookers had grown quiet. I didn’t dare look at them, not even my few supporters, fearful of losing my own concentration.
I had missed the circle on my last shot. This one could mean the difference between safe passage, no matter how reluctantly granted, and deadly pursuit.
I chose the straightest shaft in my quiver, the one I had left for the end, nocking it carefully. Gently, gently, I hooked my forefingers around the bowstring and drew it back beyond my ear.
My heart thudded in my chest, and my extended left arm trembled, my knuckles pale where I clutched my bow’s grip. Beneath the thick Tatar coat I wore, trickles of nervous sweat trailed down my skin. A fitful breeze rose and fell, tugging at my hair.
I fixed my gaze on the distant target. Gods, it looked far away and small!
There were no official commands to be given in this final round. A handful of spectators took it on themselves to remedy the situation.
“Loose!” someone shouted; and scores of other voices took up the chant, seeking to unnerve me. “Loose, loose, loose!”
I ignored them.
I breathed the Breath of Wind’s Sigh, drawing it up behind my eyes, remembering all that Master Lo Feng had taught me. I meditated on the calm I had found in the twilight. I willed my body to be still and quiet. I willed the world to be still and quiet.
The fitful wind died, and I loosed the bowstring.
My arrow arced into the blue, blue sky. Too high, I thought for the space of a heartbeat, my chest constricting. Once again, I had misjudged the angle.
And then my arrow completed its arc with consummate grace, falling to pierce the very heart of the red circle on my target.
I stood staring in disbelief.
The Tatar beside me, the taciturn fellow I’d reckoned my worst competition, clapped me on the shoulder. “Well shot, lady.”
I swallowed. “I didn’t… the wind. I was lucky.”
He shrugged. “There is always luck. The gods favored you today, and you deserved it.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
The others were not so gracious. There were jeers and boos, and cries of sorcery. But it was done. The judges confirmed it and the official announced their decision. For the first time since I’d reached the final dozen, I dared to glance in the Great Khan’s direction.
Although the Great Khan Naram was a short, stocky fellow with bowed legs, he had a commanding presence nonetheless. His broad face was impassive, but his body language radiated disapproval, his bowed legs planted, his arms folded over his chest as he stood amongst his wives and children, watching the contest. Even as I wondered if I should approach him, he beckoned to one of his warriors and spoke to the man.
The warrior nodded and trotted over to me. “The Great Khan wishes to confer with his shamans,” he said. “He will send for you tomorrow.”
Given no choice in the matter, I bowed. “I await his summons.”
The Great Khan clapped his hands, turning to depart. Bao left his entourage and came over to congratulate me. He halted some feet away from me, and I felt the familiar-strange sensation of intimacy as our diadh-anams intertwined. Although Bao was taking ca
re not to gloat, his eyes shone with pride.
“Gods, that was well done, Moirin,” he said in a low, fierce voice.
The victory didn’t feel as sweet as I would have reckoned. “Why does the Khan want to confer with his shamans?”
Bao shrugged. “He knows what boon you will ask. I suppose he wants to talk to them about releasing me from my marriage vows.”
“Oh.” I relaxed a little.
“You should go celebrate with your tribe.” He nodded toward Batu and the others. “They are nearly bursting with pride.” He gave me a smile filled with rare, genuine tenderness. “I feel the same way, but I will wait until the Great Khan’s boon is granted to show it.”
I smiled back at him. “Tomorrow, I hope.”
“I hope so, too,” he agreed.
Due to the amount of resentment in the camp, our celebration was muted, but it was heartfelt nonetheless. Many, many bowls of airag were consumed, the frothy, fermented mare’s milk all Tatars loved.
In the late hours of the night, Batu gave me a drunken, fatherly embrace. “If all goes well tomorrow, I hope you will be happy with your young man.”
“Thank you, Batu.” This time, I did plant a kiss on his cheek. “You have stood as a father to me, and I will always be grateful for it.”
It had been a long time since I’d drunk spirits of any kind; and too, I’d been too nervous to eat much that day. Although I did my best to keep up with my adopted Tatar tribe, the celebration was still under way when I gave up and staggered to my pallet, my head swimming with airag.
I felt dizzy, drunk, and more than a little nauseated; but I felt good, too. The warmth of the tribe’s response had let me savor my victory. As soon as the walls of the ger ceased the semblance of spinning around me, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
It seemed as though only a few hours had passed when one of the tribeswomen shook me awake—Solongo, her name was. I propped myself up on one elbow and squinted at her through the haze filling my head.
“The Great Khan Naram sends for you, Moirin,” she whispered. “He wishes to see you now.”
Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 02] - Naamah's Curse Page 11
