Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 01] - Naamah's Kiss

by Jacqueline Carey

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Fairly spoken, my necessary inconvenience. I will seek to be worthy of the honor yonder thugs accord me, as well as the venerable Lo Feng and his apprentice.”

  “Good.” I hesitated, lowering my voice. “My lady… is it true that Master Lo is a hundred and seventy years old?”

  Snow Tiger shook her head. “I cannot say. But my father has known him since he was a boy, and he says Lo Feng was ancient even then.”

  “I wonder how old Black Sleeve is,” I mused. “He had to have been born a very long time ago if his mother died of old age.”

  “True.” She shuddered. “For all that I have pondered the matter, I cannot grasp why a man would do such a thing. Why would he set such terrible events in motion?”

  “I don’t know,” I said slowly, thinking of Raphael de Mereliot. “Some losses cut deep and the wound never heals. He must have loved his mother very much to blame his father for her death. And ambition can be a dreadful force, warping all it touches.”

  “Like Lord Jiang.”

  “Yes.”

  The princess was silent and I held my tongue, knowing she was thinking once more of her wedding night. I had no words to assuage the memory of that blood-soaked horror. “I must believe as you do that there is a greater purpose in this,” she said presently. “You are right, to believe elsewise is to invite madness.” Her slender fingers caressed the scabbard in her lap. “But there is vengeance, too. I must confess, it would please me very greatly to send Lord Jiang Quan to his death for sacrificing his son to such a fate. Black Sleeve, too.”

  I didn’t doubt her; nor could I blame her. Still, something in her implacable tone made my blood run cold, reminding me that she had torn a man apart with her bare hands.

  The dragon stirred. I would never harm you.

  “I frightened you.” Snow Tiger turned her veiled face toward me. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to. Tell me… tell me something pleasant. Tell me…” She paused, rethinking her choice. “Perhaps it would be best not to speak of your fondness for Master Lo Feng’s apprentice.”

  I eyed her. “I think that’s wise, my lady.”

  Beneath the edge of her veil, she smiled. “Tell me more about your licentious D’Angelines. Tell me about this Queen you served. You said she was very beautiful?”

  “Oh, aye.” I smiled, too. “You might not think so. It is a different kind of beauty than one finds in Ch’in.”

  “Like you?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Jehanne was fair, very fair. Not only her skin, which was as white as milk, but her hair, too. It was the palest hue of gold I’d ever seen. Strong-willed as she was, she looked so very fragile and lovely. And her eyes were blue-grey, like… There is a flower, but I don’t know its name in your tongue. Only… only it wasn’t the color, it was the way they shone when she was glad. Like stars.”

  “Enough to make all the birds in the sky sing at once?” She sounded amused.

  I flushed. “You did ask, my lady. I take no comfort in being mocked. Strange though it may seem to you, I did love her very much. And in her own way, my lady Jehanne showed me great kindness.”

  “I did not intend mockery.” Her head tilted, considering. “Nor have I shown you much kindness, have I?”

  “Not always,” I murmured. “But you have more pressing matters at hand.”

  “Yes.” Snow Tiger paused. Behind her veil, it seemed as though she were frowning in thought. “That does not make it just. I think… I think perhaps you are doing your best to be a friend to me, Moirin. If I do not always accept it with grace, it is because I have never had a friend before,” she said simply. “Servants, tutors, companions at arms, yes. Never a friend.”

  My eyes stung. There was no trace of self-pity in her words, but there was an unspoken ache of loneliness. “I will try to be a worthy one if you let me, my lady.”

  Whatever the princess meant to say was drowned out by the sound of approaching hoofbeats, riders coming hard and swift on the road behind us. Her hand closed on my upper arm, fingertips digging in hard enough to bruise.

  I glanced out the window.

  Riders—Imperial riders.

  Two of them raced past our company, not even deigning to give it a second glance. They were not looking for monks. The third hesitated, drawing rein. His impatient mount danced, the Imperial banner affixed to the back of his saddle fluttering. I took a deep breath, yearning to summon the twilight. Suddenly, our meager disguises seemed foolish and inadequate. All he had to do was bid us lift our veils. My green eyes and the half-D’Angeline cast of my features would give me away in an instant, and Snow Tiger… ah, gods. I could sense the dragon within her beginning to panic at the prospect. I feared it would end in blood, a great deal of it.

  It seemed impossible that he would not suspect us.

  And yet he didn’t.

  The rider’s gaze skated over us, quickly dismissing the contents of the carriage. Two veiled country women in modest attire, one clutching the other. It was quite simply beyond his ability to imagine that the daughter of the Son of Heaven would ever lower herself to travel thusly.

  “Honored Brother!” he shouted at Master Lo. “Have you heard the news? His Celestial Majesty’s daughter has vanished. Have you seen aught to report?”

  “I have not.” Master Lo raised his begging bowl with serene composure. “Alms for a pilgrim’s blessing?”

  Coins rattled into his bowl. “Wish us luck!”

  Master Lo bowed. “Of course.”

  The rider heeled his mount and raced onward. The dragon’s alarm ceased to rise. Snow Tiger released her death-grip on my arm. I rubbed it, wincing. “He looked right past us, didn’t he?” she marveled. “We were right here, and he looked right past us!”

  “So he did,” I agreed, dizzy with relief.

  “How very curious,” she said thoughtfully. “I was not entirely convinced this plan of yours would work. But not expecting to see me thus, the courier was quite thoroughly incapable of doing so. It is a lesson to remember. If I am ever to serve…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Has Ch’in ever been ruled by a woman?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes.” It brought her faint smile back. “Yes—and no. There have been a number of powerful women who have risen to rule in deed, if not in name. But until my father, no Emperor has ever dared appoint a female child his heir.”

  “It is a brave and honorable thing his Celestial Majesty does,” I offered.

  The princess’ head tilted into her considering pose. “There is one benefit to your frequent insolence,” she commented. “When you tell me something I wish to hear, I have no doubt that you are speaking your mind in truth. Perhaps that is a hallmark of friendship I must learn to value.”

  I laughed.

  Snow Tiger leaned against the backrest of the carriage, and I had the sense that she had closed her eyes behind her thick veil. “Tell me another story, Moirin. Tell me tales of your shapeshifting bear folk and your scandalous D’Angelines.”

  Clearing my throat, I obliged.

  In hushed tones, I told her tales my mother had told me when I was a child, tales of how the Maghuin Dhonn crossed the world when it was covered with ice, claiming fair Alba for our own. I told her how we had welcomed and taught the folk that had arrived after us, and how they had repaid our kindness with tribute, until the Tiberians came with hard steel, stone roads, and foreign diseases. I told her the tale of the mighty magician Donnchadh, who had taken on the shape of the Great Bear Herself and suffered himself to be tormented for sport at the hands of invaders, until he burst loose his chains in the arena and climbed the stands to slay the Tiberian governor.

  She liked that story.

  I told her the most glorious and scandalous tale of Terre d’Ange that I knew, the tale of Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève, the courtesan-spy who rose from obscurity to save her nation from invasion and insurrection, and the warrior-priest Joscelin Verreuil who was her companion.

  Mornin
g wore into day while I spoke, and day into early evening. Three more times, Imperial couriers passed us by, dashing to and fro on the road. None of them paid us any heed. By the time we halted for the night, I’d talked myself hoarse once more, and I’d ceased to flinch at the sight of the Emperor’s insignia.

  Bao poked his head in the window. “We’re going to make camp. Is that all right, my lady?”

  The princess inclined her head. “It is.”

  “Moirin?” His voice softened. “Is all well?”

  I raised my veil and smiled at him, resisting the urge to rub his stubbled scalp. “Aye. And with you?”

  He grinned. “Ten Tigers Dai is complaining of blisters, being unaccustomed to walking for any length of time, especially in sandals. Tortoise’s belly is growling with hunger because he is unaccustomed to going without food for more than two hours. Both of them are angry that Kang is skilled at driving the carriage. Master Lo and I are fine.” He raised his begging bowl, jingling it. His dark eyes gleamed beneath strongly etched brows. “Got some alms, too. Pretty good plan, huh?”

  “Pretty good,” I agreed. We smiled foolishly at one another until the dragon rumbled in my thoughts and the princess stirred uneasily. I raised my eyebrows at him and jerked my chin in a significant manner, and Bao withdrew in haste.

  “He’s a bit like a warrior-priest, I suppose,” Snow Tiger said dubiously. “At least in guise.”

  Tired, I stifled a yawn. “Only in guise, my lady. In other ways, Bao is quite impossible. I have no idea why I like him so.”

  “And yet you do,” she observed.

  “True.”

  With permission from a nearby farmstead, we made camp under a stand of pine trees. The farmer’s wife, shy and blushing, brought a tray of steamed dumplings out to us. I watched Master Lo charm her effortlessly while Bao instructed the others in the manner of setting up the cunningly crafted tent of oiled silk and bamboo we’d brought to shelter the princess. The men would sleep in the open like the humble monks they pretended to be.

  I heard the farmer’s wife inquire tentatively after the purpose of our journey and tensed as Master Lo began to explain that the Lady Chan Song was on a pilgrimage to offer prayers to a very famous effigy of Guanyin in the south—Guanyin of a Thousand Eyes, who had appeared to Lady Chan in a dream and promised to cure the blindness that afflicted her. We had concocted the tale to justify our general destination and explain the impenetrable veil the princess wore, but hearing it told to a stranger for the first time, it sounded a feeble lie to my ears.

  But once again, my fear was mislaid. The farmer’s wife merely nodded in understanding. Casting a sympathetic glance in Snow Tiger’s direction, she whispered a promise to pray for her. With that, she left us.

  Despite the initial success of our venture, it was a relief to be away from prying eyes. I removed my hat and veil, breathing deeply of the pine-scented air and listening to their vibrant, healthy thoughts. The princess removed her hat, too, tying the blindfold she preferred in place. Master Lo sat in quiet contemplation while the younger men argued over the best way to prepare our meal.

  “I have cooked for Master Lo ten thousand times!” Bao’s tone was aggrieved. “I know how he likes his meals!”

  “It is not only Master Lo Feng we cook for tonight, Shangun,” Tortoise said in a placating manner. “You use too much ginger root, too much garlic. It is too much yang for the Noble… for Lady Chan. My father was a cook. I know.”

  “He’s right, Shangun,” Ten Tigers Dai said mildly. “Less garlic, more bean curd.”

  I stole a glance at Snow Tiger and found her smiling. “Do I hear your hardened thugs quarrelling over the best way to prepare my dinner?” she inquired.

  “You do, my lady.”

  “How very strange my life has become.” For the first time, she sounded more bemused than disturbed by the notion.

  Whether or not the balance of yin and yang in the resulting dish of noodles and broth was a harmonious one, I couldn’t have said, but it was good. It made me laugh to see the hungry stick-fighters looking surreptitiously at the princess, waiting for her approval before eating. To her credit, she was gracious with them. Bit by bit, they began to ease in her presence.

  Afterward, they indulged in a bout of sparring. It seemed strange to me that monks travelling a path toward enlightenment would engage in such a violent practice, but Master Lo assured me that it was not uncommon.

  “It is a useful method for focusing mind and body and spirit.” His eyes twinkled. “I think you do not come from a meditative folk, Moirin.”

  “Not in the way you have taught me,” I agreed. “And yet…” I thought about my childhood, filled with endless days of solitude and wilderness, and the simple pleasure it had brought me. “The Maghuin Dhonn live very close to nature, Master. In a way, it is a kind of meditation unto itself.”

  Master Lo inclined his head. “I do not speak against your truth. Many of the greatest sages of the Way have found wisdom and enlightenment in returning to a lifestyle your people never left.”

  Listening to the sounds of staves clattering, the princess fingered her sheathed blade and looked wistful. “Would that I could take part in their practice.”

  “Can you fight without eyes to see?” Master Lo asked. She nodded. “Then why not?” He glanced around. “Dusk comes soon. Beyond this copse, the trees block the view from the farmhouse. The roads and fields are empty. There is no one to see.”

  Her blindfolded face turned toward him. “Are you certain?”

  “Of course.” He raised his voice. “Bao! I have a task for you, my magpie!” He waited while Bao left off coaching Dai and came over. “The princess wishes to spar.”

  Bao pursed his lips, glancing at her. “Is that wise, my lady?”

  Her hands shifted on the scabbard, gripping it as though it were a short staff. “I will not draw steel.” A bright edge crept into her voice. “Are you afraid?”

  He began to scoff, turning it into a circumspect cough instead. “On the one hand, I am concerned that the glorious and celestial entity whose spirit is housed within you does not wish me well.” His tone took on a smooth answering edge. “And on the other hand, if the dragon restrains himself, I fear I might injure you, since your sight is compromised.”

  Snow Tiger did scoff. It seemed insolence in fighters was a thing to be tolerated. “As for the latter, I assure you, there is no need to fear. As to the former… Moirin? Will you speak to the dragon?”

  I sighed. “You’re not to harm Bao. Let her highness fight her own fight. This is only for sport, for play. Do you understand?”

  Yes. The dragon sounded offended. I am not foolish. I know he is an ally. It is only that I do not like the way he looks at you. She needs you much more than he does.

  Whether or not the princess heard him, I declined to translate the last part. “He says he understands.”

  With dusk beginning to fall over the recently harvested field, Snow Tiger paced off a rectangle on the far side of the pine trees, marking the corners with a thrust of her scabbard. “These are the dimensions of my living quarters,” she said to Bao. “I know them well. Remain within them and I promise there will be no question of compromise.”

  He bowed, bringing his staff to a horizontal position. “As my lady wishes.”

  I’d caught a glimpse of the potential grace and beauty inherent in the sport when Bao fought Dai.

  This was on another level altogether.

  To be sure, they were unevenly matched. With her dragon-possessed strength, the princess could have shattered Bao’s longer staff with a single full-force blow. But nor had she reckoned on his acrobatic skill. Quick and precise though she was, he could easily have taken greater advantage than he did of her sightlessness.

  Back and forth they went, weapons a blur, the resulting clatter faster and more staccato than I’d ever heard. Within seconds, Bao’s battle-grin had emerged. He pressed her hard, vaulting effortlessly over her and letting her know wi
th an impudent tap he could strike her from behind if he wanted. Snow Tiger didn’t smile, but her expression took on a fierce brightness that echoed his. Her green robes flared as she whirled and spun, glowing an unearthly emerald in the fading sun. She pressed him, too. When they locked staff and scabbard, she pushed hard enough to let him know she could break it.

  The other stick-fighters gathered to watch in awe.

  In an odd way, I was jealous, reminded of the feeling I’d had watching Raphael and Jehanne together after I’d bedded them both. At the same time, it made me happy to see them both so glad.

  My life, too, was passing strange.

  By mutual accord, they left off, both breathing hard. Snow Tiger inclined her blindfolded head to Bao. “You are skilled indeed. Thank you.”

  He bowed. “It was an honor, my lady.”

  SIXTY-NINE

  Thus began the pattern of our days on the road.

  Imperial couriers raced to and fro, passing us coming and going. Betimes they stopped to make inquiries of Master Lo or one of the others; betimes they passed us without a flicker of interest. Impossibly and consistently, they paid not the slightest heed to the veiled Lady Chan Song and her veiled maidservant. Merchants and other travellers paused to exchange gossip, and betimes offer alms in exchange for blessings.

  None of them were interested in Lady Chan and her maid, either.

  During the day, I endured the carriage and did my best to entertain the princess with tales. Our company begged and bartered for food, making camp on the outskirts of friendly farmsteads. In the evenings, the stick-fighters honed their skills, the blindfolded princess sparring among them.

  They warmed to her.

  It wasn’t that their sense of awe at her presence among us was diminished, but it thawed considerably, turning into a complex mix that encompassed admiration, pride, and a possessive protectiveness.

  Of me, they remained wary.

  Betimes, it frustrated me. “Why?” I demanded of Bao. I gestured at the princess, who was talking with a tongue-tied but delighted Ten Tigers Dai. “Truly, am I more unnerving than her?”