“Enough!” Hasan Dar caught Bao by the front of his tunic, yanking him partially upright. “If that’s what ails you, you’ll live,” he said grimly. “You’ll want to die for a few days, but you’ll live. Tell me, are there other assassins coming?” He gave Bao a shake. “Tell me everything you know!”
I winced, but I couldn’t blame him. My lady Amrita’s life was at stake, and mayhap Ravindra’s, too. “Please, tell him anything that might help, Bao,” I said. “Trust me, you definitely don’t want the Rani Amrita’s death on your conscience.”
“What is it with you and royal ladies?” he complained, squinting at me. I had the urge to shake him myself, but Hasan Dar did it for me. “All right, all right! One moment! It is not urgent yet.” Bao gestured feebly toward the north. “They will wait a few days until they’re sure I failed, then they will send another. Not one you expect. Divyesh Patel is his name, and he will come by day. His weapon is poison.”
Hasan Dar lowered him. “You’re sure?”
Bao managed to nod. “Put a guard on your stores now. Alert your kitchen staff. Don’t let them admit any strangers, don’t let them serve any food or drink that hasn’t been under lock and key. Sooner or later, Divyesh will approach one of them.”
“Oh, I will do better than that!” Hasan Dar looked thunderous. “I will personally taste every dish that is prepared for their highnesses until this poisoner is caught.”
“No, no, my friend.” Amrita had entered the room unannounced, attended by several more guards. She looked ashen, but resolved. “I brought this danger on myself, and I will not allow you to risk yourself. I will taste my own dishes, and Ravindra’s, too.”
“Highness—” her commander protested.
She raised one hand, silencing him. Reluctantly, he acquiesced with a bow. She frowned at Bao. “It is the opium-sickness that ails him?”
“So he says,” I replied.
Amrita glanced sidelong at me, raising her brows. “I take it you did not sense his presence as he approached this time.”
I shook my head. “No. Kamadeva’s diamond, and… well.” I could not say aloud that the overwhelming relief of Naamah’s grace had distracted me even from the approach of my own divided diadh-anam, but it had. “No, my lady, I did not.”
Her mouth quirked. “I will send for the physician, eh? Perhaps there is something that may help your Bao through the worst of the pangs.”
“That would be good,” Bao said through gritted teeth, shivering violently. “Thank you, highness.”
Roused from sleep, the bleary-eyed physician came to examine Bao and confirmed it was opium-sickness. “Very little will help, I fear,” he said apologetically. “Give him peppermint tea to soothe his stomach when the vomiting begins. Beyond that…” He shrugged. “Your system must cleanse itself, young man. How long has it been since last you took opium?”
“Two days,” Bao muttered. “I think.”
The physician patted his shoulder helpfully. “Expect to feel like dying for a few more, then. But it will pass.”
After ordering a second bed brought into my chamber, as well as clean linen and sleeping attire for Bao, who was sweating through his woolen tunic and breeches, the Rani Amrita returned to the hidden room with her escort of guards.
She took me aside, first. “I must admit, I feel a bit foolish, Moirin,” she murmured. “If you had known your Bao was coming, I would not have made the offer I did, nor would you have accepted it, I think.”
“Then I am glad I did not know,” I said honestly.
“You do not mean that!” Amrita admonished me. I smiled at her. She tilted her head and reconsidered, flushing slightly, not entirely displeased. “Or… perhaps you do, eh?”
I touched her cheek and stroked it gently, letting my fingertips linger against her skin. “Out of the kindness of your heart, you gave me a very great gift, my lady, and Naamah’s blessing is on you because of it. I hope you are not sorry for it.”
She shook her head. “Not sorry, no.”
I smiled again. “Well, then. Nor am I.”
This time, Amrita smiled back at me, looking tired and worn and beautiful. “You are more than a little bit of a bad girl, Moirin. Go and tend to your bad boy. I think you must deserve one another.”
When she had gone, I turned back to find Bao regarding me with half-lidded eyes, dark crescents glinting in the lamplight. “Ha!” he said. “I knew it.”
I pointed a finger at him. “You do not have leave for blame, my stubborn boy. You let Jagrati make you her toy.”
“You would have, too,” he said. “I saw it. Only—”
“Only my lady Amrita refused to allow it.” I knelt on the bed beside him, tugging at his sweat-sodden tunic. “So. If nothing else, we have established that I have far better taste in royal ladies than you do. Although I must say, your wife Erdene still loves you, and she proved helpful in the end.”
“Did she?” Bao smiled faintly. “I’m glad.”
“Yes.” I tugged harder, to no avail. “Lift your arms, won’t you? Else I’ll have to summon Hasan Dar to aid me.”
Bao shifted obligingly and lifted his arms, and at last I was able to ease his soaked tunic over his head, removing it.
I caught my breath.
There were new markings on his corded forearms—fresh, stark, and unfamiliar. Vivid black tattoos inked onto his skin in a complicated zig-zag pattern that forked like lightning, each turning marked with a symbol in a strange alphabet. Remembering old tales, I wondered if they were part of some charm or spell that further bound him to the Spider Queen.
I traced the pattern. “Bao? What is this?”
“What?” He glanced at his forearms. “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “It is the path through the maze to Kurugiri, Moirin.” He lifted his right arm a fraction. “This way is up.” He let it fall, and lifted the left. “And this is down.” An involuntary shudder racked him. “Do you think it will be helpful?”
I kissed him, reckoning it was best done before the vomiting began. My diadh-anam sang happily within me, reunited with its missing half.
“Yes,” I said. “Oh, yes!”
SIXTY-FIVE
Bao was miserable for days.
He trembled and shook, racked by bone-deep pains. He tossed and turned and sweated, unable to find ease, unable to sleep. There was vomiting and worse, as though his body sought to expel every foreign substance within it along with the dregs of the opium he had smoked for months.
It was perhaps the most spectacularly unromantic lovers’ reunion in the annals of history.
Still, he had done something no one else had ever done. He had walked away from the Spider Queen and Kamadeva’s diamond of his own will, breaking the spell that bound him to her.
And he had brought the secret of the path to Kurugiri with him.
Hasan Dar was cautiously elated. The entire palace remained on high alert, watching for the Falconer’s elusive poisoner. Guards in civilian clothes were posted over every storeroom, watched over every well, accompanied the Rani’s cooks to the market. Meanwhile, the commander took counsel with the Rani and her clever son, trying to forge a plan that would take advantage of the maze’s key.
Bao’s presence was kept a secret that we might not alert our enemies to his betrayal. Let Tarik Khaga and Jagrati think he had failed, that he had been captured or slain, and the nature of his tattoos remained a mystery.
In between bouts of agony, Bao told Hasan Dar everything he knew about Kurugiri’s vulnerabilities.
Some of the news was good. Due to the stronghold’s apparent unassailability, the Falconer didn’t maintain anything like an army, relying instead on his impenetrable maze and over a dozen skilled assassins.
The bad news was that the path was narrow and twisting, filled with switchbacks and blinds in which assassins could lurk alone or in pairs and defend the path against an oncoming army. Superior numbers would prevail in the end, but gaining the peak would come at a steep cost.
And the Spider Queen a
nd Kamadeva’s diamond awaited at the top, a danger not to be underestimated a second time.
Throughout his ordeal, I tended to Bao and did my best to ease his suffering. The Rani’s physician was right, nothing really helped, but at least I could change his sweat-soaked linens and clothing, give him peppermint tea to drink, and see that his chamberpot was exchanged for a clean one—the cursed Jagrati’s harsh words on the matter of human ordure ringing in my ears as the latter task was accomplished.
My lady Amrita was right. I did not disagree with what Jagrati had said. The stench of ordure could be washed away. It was foul deeds that made a person unclean.
Amrita visited several times a day, bringing Ravindra with her that he might witness Bao’s suffering and appreciate it as a cautionary tale, lest opium tempt him one day. I was not entirely sure it worked, for despite Bao’s obvious misery, Ravindra was more interested in and awed by his feat of swinging from the branch of a sprawling banyan tree in the garden to gain my balcony.
“That was a very long leap, Bao-ji,” he said with respect.
“Heh.” Bao flashed a grin at him, the first one I’d seen from him since he arrived. “I know, highness.”
“Were you afraid of falling?” Ravindra inquired.
Bao scoffed. “I never fall.”
Amrita shook her head in mild despair. “I fear he is not such a very good influence, your bad boy.”
“No.” I ruffled Bao’s damp hair. “But he seldom boasts in vain.”
Despite her gentle teasing, it was clear that Amrita too was kindly disposed toward Bao, solicitous of his suffering, and grateful for the warning and incredibly valuable information he brought.
Bao liked her, too. “Better be careful, Moirin,” he murmured after their first visit. “Your White Queen, she will be jealous of that one.”
I winced in unexpected pain.
“What?” He searched my face. “I’m sorry, was that cruel to say?”
“No.” I dipped a clean cloth in a basin of cool water, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “No, you couldn’t have known.” The words brought a lump to my throat, but I forced them out anyway. “I learned in Vralia that Jehanne died giving birth to a daughter.”
He caught his breath in a sharp hiss. “Oh, Moirin! I am sorry.”
I nodded my thanks. “You always liked her, too, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” Bao smiled a little. “She did whatever pleased her, and never apologized for it.”
“Like Jagrati?” I asked carefully.
His face clouded. “I do not want to talk about her yet. After all, you haven’t told me half of what happened to you in Vralia.”
“Nor will I, until you’re recovered.” I wrung out the cloth. “Fair enough.”
“No, not like her,” Bao said after a time. “Your Jehanne, she was not angry at the world. There was no hatred in her, only much passion. Also, she saved you from that conceited Lord Lion Mane,” he added. “And she gave much honor to Master Lo. So yes, I liked her, and I am very sorry she is gone.”
I wanted to ask him more about Jagrati, but it would wait until he was ready. And I had not told him the whole truth about Vralia yet, because I was afraid it would send him into a fury that would delay his recovery. My stubborn peasant-boy and I had a great deal to talk about.
For now I was just glad to have him back.
On the fourth day after Bao’s arrival, two things happened—both of them good, for once. The first was that the worst of the opium-sickness seemed to have passed, leaving Bao weary and drawn, but no longer racked with pains or afflicted by sweating, nausea, and worse.
I was grateful.
The second thing was that Hasan Dar’s disguised guards had caught the poisoner Divyesh Patel.
Thanks to Bao’s advice, they had been on the lookout for any strangers selling edible goods in the markets of Bhaktipur—and that was exactly what they found. One slight, nondescript, unprepossessing fellow who approached the Rani’s kitchen staff with an enticing offer of fresh-caught river fish, plump and gleaming.
The Rani’s staff dickered.
The slight fellow smiled when they came to accord, handing over his fish.
I daresay it took him by surprise when Hasan Dar’s guards seized him, discreetly pushing up his sleeves to look for the tell-tale markings of tattoos on his forearms. By all accounts, Divyesh Patel did not fight or protest when they hustled him away. He was an assassin, not a warrior, and poison was his weapon.
My lady Amrita asked Bao to confirm his identity, and although he was a bit shaky on his feet, he did.
The little poisoner paled when he saw him in the throne room. “You!”
“Me,” Bao agreed.
Divyesh Patel was indignant. “You betrayed her?”
“No,” Bao said softly. “I traded a lie for the truth.” He glanced at the Rani Amrita and her son, Ravindra. “There are two kinds of men in Kurugiri, highnesses. Those who sought to serve with their killing arts, and those caught in her web through no fault of their own. This one…” He gestured at the poisoner. “He is one of the former.”
Amrita twined and steepled her fingers in a complex mudra, one that inspired trust. “Is that true?” she asked the fellow gently. “I beg of you, do not fear to answer. No one is beyond redemption.”
The little poisoner coughed, bending over double and bringing his fist to his mouth. Bao swore and spun into action, his staff a blur as it swept in a horizontal arc. Something went flying and clattered on the floor. Bao’s staff caught Divyesh Patel behind the knees, upending him. Before anyone else had a chance to react, he had the butt of his staff poised to crush the assassin’s throat.
“What…?” Amrita was on her feet, her voice trembling slightly. “What was that?” I moved quickly to her side and she took my arm, her nails digging into my skin in an effort to maintain her composure. With her free arm, she held Ravindra close to her side.
“Poison dart, I believe,” Hasan Dar said grimly, holding up the object that had gone flying, a hollow tube.
“Oh, gods!” She shivered.
“You want me to kill this one?” Bao inquired.
“No.” The Rani’s commander gestured to his guards to form a protective line between Amrita and the assassin. “Not until I’ve had a chance to question him at length.”
Pinned beneath Bao’s staff, Divyesh Patel flailed suddenly, his hands scrabbling at his throat. Bao swore again and gave him a sharp jab in the chest, but it was too late. The assassin hadn’t been trying to escape. There was a pin-prick of blood on the side of his throat, and a tiny needle jutted from a ring on his right forefinger.
He’d taken his own life.
Whatever it was, the poison acted quickly. The fellow jerked once, then stiffened. A little froth came to his lips, and his eyes rolled back in his head.
“Is he… dead?” Ravindra whispered.
“Probably.” Bao prodded the corpse with his staff, then glanced at Hasan Dar. “Better you cut his throat and make sure. He knows lots of poisons, this one. Maybe even one that makes it only look like he’s dead.” He leaned on his staff and exhaled hard, grinning wearily. “Lot of action for my first day out of bed.”
Ravindra gazed at him with shining eyes. “I think you just saved my mother’s life, Bao-ji!”
“I think you did,” Amrita agreed. Releasing my arm, she approached Bao and took his left hand in both of hers, pressing it warmly. “Thank you very much indeed for your swift and courageous action.”
Under her lustrous regard, my incorrigible peasant-boy actually blushed. “You are welcome, highness.” He shuffled his feet. “I hate poisoners. One of them killed me, you know. And… I fear you are only in danger because of Moirin and me. So I will do anything I can to protect you.”
“And I am grateful for it,” she said gravely, pressing his hand once more.
His blush deepened.
I raised my brows and smiled at him.
“What?” Bao scowled at me. “Don�
�t smirk at me, Moirin. We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to figure out how to save the Rani and her son.”
“Yes, my hero,” I said. “We do.”
SIXTY-SIX
Around and around we went, trying to conceive of a plan that would get us up the path to Kurugiri without sustaining untenable losses, and deal with the problem of Kamadeva’s diamond at the top.
Hasan Dar, Amrita, and Ravindra hadn’t had any success, the latter chastened and made uncertain by the failure of his first plan.
Bao’s knowledge was helpful, but it didn’t eliminate the obstacles facing us. I listened as he discussed the treacherous path with Hasan Dar, sketching out the likeliest places for assassins to lay in waiting on a map based on his tattoos.
“The problem is that they will always have the higher ground,” he said. “See, here, here, and here. We will always be coming around blind corners, where they can pick us off one by one.”
I thought of an offer I had made Snow Tiger once when we faced an ambush—and a warning my mother had given me. “Unless they can’t see us,” I murmured.
Bao gave me a sharp look. “Your twilight.”
I nodded.
“No.” He shook his head. “No, Moirin. I will not risk you again.”
“No, I do not like it either,” Amrita said unhappily.
“What is she talking about?” Hasan Dar asked, bewildered.
It was easier to show him than explain. I had them close their eyes and summoned the twilight, wrapping it around Bao and me, then letting it fade before their open eyes. Ravindra and Hasan Dar stared in awe; the Rani Amrita, who had seen me call the twilight before, just looked worried.
“And you could kill a man thus concealed?” her commander asked. “Or Bao could?”
My mother’s words echoed in my thoughts. It is a grave gift and one never to be used lightly. Only to sustain life. Do you ever use it for sport or any idle cause, it will be stripped from you.
Snow Tiger’s, too, her voice gentle and firm as she refused my offer. What you suggest is dishonorable.
But when I glanced at Amrita’s beautiful, worried face and her son’s thin, clever one, I knew I was willing to take the risk. “I could. I cannot speak for Bao.”
Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 02] - Naamah's Curse Page 43
