“Oh, the hell with destiny!” I gasped.
Bao laughed deep in his chest.
On and on it went. In my little cabin, we made love a half a dozen times in a half a dozen different ways, all of them good, until we were both gleaming with sweat and thoroughly wrung out. I could feel the presence of Naamah smiling on me, her smile filled with grace. The bright lady was content.
So was I.
“Do you think he knew?” I asked, my head resting on Bao’s thigh, near his lolling phallus. I traced its veined length with one fingertip, feeling it twitch under my touch, unsure if I had the energy to see if I could awaken it one more time. “Master Lo, I mean.”
He gave me a look. “Of course. Don’t you?”
“Aye.” I met his gaze. “So… why?” Bao shrugged. I took a firm grip on his phallus and tugged. “Why?”
He yelped. I let go.
“All right, all right!” Bao sighed. “That I cannot tell you. But I will tell you something else if you like. You want to know how I became Master Lo’s magpie?”
“Mm-hmm.”
He folded his arms behind his head, leaning against the pillow. “In the circus, there were stick-fighters. By day, they perform like a dance. All part of the show. At night they take wagers and fight with towns-people, make better money. Sometimes there are good fighters in the village and they lose. Only one man, Brother Lei, he never lose no matter what. His name, it means thunder.” He shrugged again. “I wanted to learn stick-fighting. I ask Brother Thunder to teach me.”
I propped my chin on my hands. “Why?”
“Those fighters, everyone look up to them. They do what they like. An acrobat, it’s not such a good life. Not so much respect. I wanted to be a fighter. Maybe it is in my blood, I think. I wanted it like a starving man wants food.” Bao smiled wryly. “Also I was in love with Brother Thunder’s daughter, Lin. I was thirteen and stupid. So I ask and he say, ‘You be my peach-bottom boy, I teach you.’ ”
“Peach-bottom… ?”
Bao gave me a sidelong glance. “Uh-huh. Brother Thunder, he say if ever I beat him fair, no more—” He supplied the lewd gesture.
I swallowed. “How long?”
“Two years.” His expression was cynical. “I beat him fair. Then I ask Lin to run away with me.” He shook his head. “But she was angry at me for destroying her father’s reputation. People made fun of him for losing to a boy.”
“Did she know about the—?” I gestured.
“No.” His face softened. “Lin, she loved her father. I couldn’t tell her. Too much shame for everyone.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“So.” Bao blew out his breath and flexed his hands together. Muscles in his upper arms tensed and rippled. “I ran away alone to Shuntian. There, I fight for myself. I give myself a new name. At first everyone wants to fight me because I’m young. But I keep winning more than losing, getting better and better. There was this gang. One by one, I beat them all. It took years, but I was patient. Then one day, I beat the leader. The next day, I was the leader.”
“What sort of gang?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Usual kind. We made merchants and people give us money to protect them whether they need it or not. Beat up their rivals for money. That sort of thing. Pretty good living for a peasant-boy sold to the circus.”
“Oh.”
The cynical look returned. “Not so sure you like me now, huh?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But I’m listening.”
Bao looked away. “So maybe five, six years go by. Good years, I think. Anything I want. Wine, women. Whatever I like. I don’t even have to fight so much. Everyone, they know I’m good. Nobody want to challenge me. One day, Master Lo, he comes to this place, the square in Shuntian where the stick-fighters meet. He says he looks for a companion for this long journey to the land of angels. Someone clever to help him in all things, someone bold who did not fear danger. Someone humble and willing to learn about the Way.”
My diadh-anam flared in memory. “And you knew!”
He shook his head. “I laughed. Everyone laughed. In Shuntian we said the great Master Lo Feng has lost his mind. Why else would he ask a bunch of no-good thugs for help?”
“Oh.”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded. “Two days later, this boy comes to me. Some peasant-boy from the country. He asks me to teach him to fight. Young—not so young as I was, but young. Fourteen, fifteen. Still like a willow. He wants to learn from the best.” Bao pursed his lips. “I made him the same offer Brother Thunder made me.”
I sat up and shivered, withdrawing instinctively.
“I don’t know why,” Bao mused. “Only he reminds me of me. That stupid boy who wanted to be a stick-fighter so bad he was willing to do anything to learn. And I wanted to punish him for it.”
A long silence stretched between us. “Did you?” I asked at last.
“No.” He gazed into the past. “The boy took off his clothes. Now he looks like a plucked chicken, shivering.”
I saw the memory surface in his thoughts. A naked boy, trembling, the narrow blades of his shoulders hunched in fear. And Bao…
“You walked away,” I said softly. “You walked away from all of it.”
It didn’t seem to surprise him. “Yes. For some reason, all I could think of was Master Lo Feng’s offer. Maybe he knew what he was doing after all. Maybe it was meant for me. I was clever and bold, but I had forgotten how to be humble, and I never had any teacher who was kind and wise. I wanted to be someone different. So I walked away from that boy, from that gang, from that city. I took my best staff. Nothing else. I even left behind the name I had given myself. I took back the baby-name my mother called me.”
I said it aloud. “Bao.”
The light in the cabin had grown dim. His eyes glittered. “Now you know. You ask why Master Lo seeks to join us together with his medicine. I don’t know. Maybe he thinks you will hate me if you learn the truth first.”
“No.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think so. I think mayhap he knew you needed to speak of this, and I needed…” I flushed. “Well.”
Bao laughed.
I smiled. “You walked away. How can I hate you for somewhat you didn’t do? As for the rest…” I shrugged. “You did what you set out to do. You’re not that person anymore.” I thought a moment. “Did you ever hear the tale of the stolen D’Angeline prince?”
“No.”
So I told him the story of Prince Imriel de la Courcel, who was stolen by slave-traders as a boy and subjected to unimaginable horrors in distant Drujan before being rescued by two of the realm’s greatest heroes. I told him how Prince Imriel wrote openly in his memoirs of struggling to be a good person despite the memories that haunted him; and how he had grown up to become a great hero in his own right, saving Terre d’Ange from an insidious peril.
Bao listened intently. “I know some of that story,” he said when I’d finished. “There was Ch’in women in that place. Drujan.”
I’d forgotten. “Aye, that’s one of the things that piqued Master Lo’s curiosity about Terre d’Ange, wasn’t it?”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded, thoughtful.
I rubbed my eyes, fighting a yawn. It was late and I was tired; I had a vague memory of someone knocking politely on the door hours ago with an offer of dinner. Now it was almost pitch-black in the cabin.
“Sleep,” Bao said immediately. “I’ll go.”
“Stay if you like,” I offered.
He hesitated, then climbed out of bed and fumbled for his clothing. “No. You need to think about what I told you. I was not like the prince in your story, Moirin. What I did, I chose for myself. And what I chose to make of myself was nothing more than an ordinary thug.”
“Not so ordinary,” I said sleepily. “At least you were a prince of thugs. Bao, are you really afraid I have a destiny that’s going to swallow you whole?”
“Uh-huh.” An unexpected grin glinted in his shadowy face. “
Only now I think maybe it’s worth it.”
FIFTY-SEVEN
In the bright light of day the next morning, both Bao and I were afflicted by the self-consciousness that can accompany a sudden shift from familiarity into intimacy. He flushed when I emerged from my cabin, busying himself with boiling a kettle of water on our small brazier. I watched his strong, sinewy hands as he poured the water for Master Lo’s tea, remembering how good they’d felt on my breasts.
“Ah!” Master Lo sipped his tea with pleasure. “So?”
Bao and I glanced at one another. He cleared his throat. “Ah… very tonic, Master.”
“Very tonic,” I agreed. “Master Lo… why? You told me once that it was best to let go of desire.”
“So I did.” He regarded me. “I believe I underestimated its force in your nature. Your desire for Raphael de Mereliot led you into folly; and yet if I understand what I observed, your desire for Queen Jehanne led her to a greater peace and wisdom. It may be that the gods of Terre d’Ange have their own ways of guiding their children to harmony.”
“All ways lead to the Way,” I said, remembering what he’d said yesterday.
Master Lo inclined his head. “Even so.”
“What about me?” Bao asked.
His mentor eyed him tranquilly. “It would have happened sooner or later, but you have a stubborn and contrary streak, my magpie. I thought you needed a push.”
Bao gave him a skeptical look. “Hmm.”
“Is anyone complaining?” Master Lo inquired. “Because the sounds I heard for many hours do not suggest a pair of healthy young people with anything to complain about.”
This time, I flushed.
Bao grinned at me. “No,” he said. “You?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Good.” Master Lo blew on his tea and took another delicate sip. “Then let us practice the Five Styles. After yesterday’s excesses, perhaps a little discipline and guidance would not go amiss after all.”
It was hard to concentrate. I was too aware of my body, indolent with lingering pleasure after a long drought. I peeked under my lashes, studying Bao’s calm face with its high, wide cheekbones, wondering again how it was I hadn’t noticed he was beautiful. He could be so calm, so still, and yet there was somewhat wild and untamed at his core that appealed to me. I thought about what he’d told me last night. Of his own will, he had walked away from his former life and had chosen a path of humility, but it had done naught to diminish the fierce pride within him.
That, I thought, was very interesting.
“Moirin.” Master Lo chided me with a word.
I closed my eyes.
After a moment, Master Lo sighed. “Bao.”
I opened my eyes to see Bao contemplating me under half-closed eyelids.
“I fear I have unleashed the whirlwind,” Master Lo said with rueful good humor. “Go. Enjoy one another. I shall paint, and we will attempt this again on the morrow.”
If anything, it was better today. There wasn’t the driving urgency that Master Lo’s tonic had imparted, but I’d always had ardor to spare and Bao certainly wasn’t lacking. With his acrobat’s body and his disciplined will, he was a very, very good lover, as skilled and inventive as any D’Angeline.
“Who taught you Naamah’s arts?” I asked him afterward, wondering if it would draw forth any further dark revelations.
“Married ladies.” He smiled lazily at me. “Rich wives bored with their husbands. I make them feel dangerous and exciting. And I like knowing a lowly peasant-boy makes them squeal with pleasure.”
“Charming,” I commented.
“You asked.” He shrugged and picked up the little crystal bottle beside my bed, toying idly with the stopper. “Like you said, I’m not that person anymore.”
I sat up quickly and touched his hand. “Don’t, please. It was a gift.”
Bao set the bottle down carefully. “From the White Queen?” he asked. I nodded. “Do you miss her?”
“Aye,” I said softly. “I suspect a part of me always will.”
“What about him?”
“Raphael?” I shook my head. “No. No, what was between us went so bad. I don’t know, mayhap it never was good. I try not to think about him. And when I do…” I shuddered, remembering the Circle, the spirit Focalor, Claire Fourcay’s death, the subtle flicker of lightning I thought I’d glimpsed in Raphael’s eyes when it was over. “There’s a part of me fears it’s not finished between us, Bao. Even though I’m halfway around the world from him. And whatever’s left to be played out, it’s going to be bad.”
His face darkened. “I wanted to split his head open for what he did to you. I wish I had.”
“You’re jealous!”
“Maybe.” He gave me one of his sidelong looks. “Of him, anyway.”
I was curious. “Why not Jehanne?”
Bao laughed. “Might as well be jealous of the moon for shining as be jealous of that one,” he offered in a philosophical tone. “No, Lion Mane, that was different. He had a gift. Even Master Lo thought so.” He spread his hands, gazing at them. “Healing hands. It would have been enough for me. Not him, not after you came.”
“I know.” I laced my fingers with Bao’s. “I like your hands.”
“Fighter’s hands.”
“Lover’s hands, too.” I kissed his hardened palms. “Did you love any of them at least a little bit? Your rich wives?”
“No.” He was silent a moment. “There was a girl, though. Not Lin. Another girl, when I was older. In Shuntian, a merchant’s daughter. Her amah used to bring me messages. Once we met in secret. I climbed a wall into her family’s garden. She swore she loved me. I thought I did. We made promises to one another.” He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Didn’t happen. She married another merchant’s son.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic!” The revelation delighted me. “Despite everything, you are! I’m sorry. But it’s true, isn’t it?”
He scowled. “I was.”
I showered his face with kisses. “You still are. Are you in love with me?”
“No!” Bao held me off, laughing. “Not yet, you crazy witch-girl. Are you?”
“No,” I admitted. “But I’m warming to the notion.” A thought struck me. “Bao… do you suppose Master Lo Feng has ever been in love?”
I thought he would say yes or no, but instead Bao looked thoughtful. “I don’t know,” he said at length. “Whether you believe it or not, Master Lo has been alive longer than anyone’s memory. There is a rumor that he had a wife, once. And a rumor that he loved her very much.” Both shoulders lifted and fell. “If it is true, he never speaks of it.”
“Not even to his magpie?” I asked.
His hands slid up my arms, calluses making me shiver. “No,” Bao whispered against my lips, kissing me. “Not even to his magpie.”
I breathed in the scent of red-hot metal and kissed him in return, feeling a little dizzy. “Oh, well.”
Bao shifted me expertly, pulling me atop him. “Want to try falling in love again?”
I wriggled. “Gods, yes!”
It was a long journey and our efforts were prodigious; and yet we spoke of love more in jest than not. Despite his teasing and his comfortable demeanor in the bedchamber, there was a part of Bao that remained guarded. I daresay the same was true of me. I was at ease in Bao’s company in a way I hadn’t been with anyone since Cillian; and yet the realization of that truth evoked sorrow. I’d loved Cillian, but not enough. And I’d scarce given myself a chance to grieve for him before flinging myself at Raphael de Mereliot, convinced he was my destiny.
Raphael…
I’d been a useful tool to him, nothing more. It was true, and it was galling to acknowledge. He’d used my desire to his own ends. I’d let my yearning for destiny and his healing hands blind me to the truth. Raphael had never really cared for me, never wanted me. Only what I could do for him.
And then there was Jehanne. Against all odds, there was Jehan
ne, my unlikeliest of rescuers.
I daresay she was right; if I had stayed, matters between us would have changed sooner or later. She was fickle and vain and everything her critics claimed. And I wouldn’t have been content forever with a seat at a banquet table where I was never more than a guest. In the end, it wouldn’t have been enough.
And yet…
It had ended too soon.
Betimes I watched the waves swell and break around the ship, bright foam sparkling on their crests, and thought of Jehanne. Tasting the salt-spray on my lips and wondering if she’d driven any chambermaids to tears since I left. Wondering at the tides ebbing and flowing in her body, wondering at the rising swell of her belly. Counting the days and weeks and months on my fingers and thinking, Not yet.
I wished I were there.
I’m here. I’d said that to her when she was frightened. And I’d meant it. I’d meant to stay as long as she needed me. Instead, I’d left her as she’d always known I would. Jehanne had forgiven me for it. She’d forgiven me before it happened. For all her foibles, despite the mercurial temperament that made me smile, she had a vast and passionate heart. And she had loved me. No matter what else happened, that would always be true.
I missed her.
So Bao and I danced and sparred and bedded one another, Master Lo’s magpie and his witch, both of us nursing our bruised and scarred hearts.
We sailed through calm seas.
We rounded the tip of a continent and sailed through battering storms and rough seas, where I thought I might die. And when we did, when the ship the size of a city was dwarfed by the pitching waves it rode, its hull and ribs threatening to crack beneath the massive pressure, I was grateful for Bao’s strong arms around my waist.
“What happens?” I gasped. “What happens to you if you die?”
He tightened his arms. “No one’s dying today.”
“But what?”
Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 01] - Naamah's Kiss Page 44
