Mayhap it was that simple.
Well and so, there was one way to find out. Rising, I called in the horses, tethering them close. I paced around my camp in a circle, glancing at the sun and marking the cardinal points of the compass in my mind.
I needed anchors.
Where that thought came from, I could not say; but it arose unbidden in my mind, the image of the compass rose now linked with that of an anchor rising from the deep, dripping with saltwater and seaweed.
Stones in the river called to me.
“All right,” I murmured. “All right, then. Stone and sea and sky, and all that they encompass. The life of the flesh is in its blood. Let us see, shall we?”
The horses watched with pricked ears and curious eyes as I shucked my boots and waded into the river, hoisting my skirts. I selected four smooth, fist-sized stones, carrying them in the apron of my skirt as I waded back to shore.
I spared another glance toward the horizon.
Still empty.
Drawing the dragon-hilted dagger that my princess Snow Tiger had given me and Bao’s princess Erdene had restored to me, I set the sharp point against the ball of my left thumb and pushed, grimacing at the sting as it pierced my skin. A bead of blood welled and gathered there. I dabbed it on one of the river-stones. Another rose to take its place, another and another, until all the smooth stones were anointed.
I stuck my thumb in my mouth, contemplating them.
Anchors.
The word felt right, the stones felt right. Beneath the mildly curious gazes of my horses, I retraced the steps of my circle, placing one blood-smeared stone at each of the four cardinal points of the compass.
I retreated to the center, and summoned the twilight.
The anchor-stones flared to life, setting and holding the cloak of the twilight within their compass. Even when I released my conscious hold on it, it remained in place.
“Ha!” I felt a fierce grin split my face. “I am learning, Great One,” I said, bowing toward the west where the Maghuin Dhonn Herself resided. “I am Your child. Always and always, I am trying to do Your will, no matter how hard I find it. And always and always, I am grateful for Your gifts. I will try…”
I heard hoofbeats.
Glancing toward the east, I saw a rider approaching, a lone rider, small and sturdy in the saddle.
Erdene.
Late though she was, she hadn’t lied. She had come alone. I saw the familiar shape of the yew-wood bow my uncle Mabon had made for me slung over her shoulder, the battered canvas satchel I had carried for so long tied to her saddle. I watched her slow her mount, gazing about nervously as she neared my campsite.
I blew out my breath, deliberately banishing the twilight and extinguishing the anchor-points.
A sharp gasp escaped her. “Moirin!”
“Aye, my lady.”
“I’m late,” Erdene said simply, dismounting in the bright sunlight. “I’m sorry. And you’re… real.”
“So I am,” I agreed. “And you are no oath-breaker. I apologize for doubting you.”
She handed over my bow and quiver, and set about untying the satchel. “I cannot say I blame you.”
I ran my fingers over the well-worn wood of my bow, reveling in the smooth feel of it. “Tell me about this Falconer.”
“His kingdom lies in the Abode of the Gods.” Erdene tugged the satchel free and hauled it over to sit cross-legged opposite me.
I took the satchel and gave her an inquiring look. “Oh?”
“It’s the name of a mountain range to the south,” she said. “A very, very large and deadly mountain range.”
“I see.” I untied the mouth of the satchel and began removing and examining its contents.
“Everything is there.” Erdene’s tone was stiff. “I didn’t steal anything.”
“I didn’t think you did,” I said mildly, smoothing the square of silk embroidered with bamboo that Bao’s half-sister had sewn. “I am taking stock and reuniting with old friends, that’s all. Tell me more. Why is he called the Falconer?”
Erdene watched me lay the other items on the cloth square. “His stronghold is high in the mountains, inaccessible to anyone who does not know the secret path. Many have tried seeking it, and all have died. Only the Falconer, the Spider Queen, and their stable of assassins know the path.”
I raised my brows. “Spider Queen? Assassins?”
She nodded, her round face grave. “The Spider Queen is his wife. Together they train the finest assassins in the world. His falcons, you see.”
“I see.” I felt a little ill. “And who do they kill?”
“For a price, anyone.” Erdene watched me peer into a small purse, counting coins. “That’s the most valuable thing you own, you know.” She pointed to the Imperial jade seal medallion I’d laid on the embroidered square. “You could trade it for almost anything to someone seeking guaranteed safe passage across Ch’in.”
“I’d rather not,” I said.
She shrugged. “Think on it. There is but one passage south through the Abode of the Gods—the Path of Heaven’s Spear. And you do not have coin enough to purchase the services of a caravan.”
I set down the purse and examined my mother’s signet ring with a pang, reminded once more how far from home I was. “I’ll manage.”
“No, you won’t.” Erdene shook her head. “You have your magic, and it is clear you have skill at living in the wild. It is not enough. Believe me when I tell you you will die in the mountains without guides.”
“All right. Tell me more,” I said. “Why would this Falconer have sent for me? And why is his wife called the Spider Queen?”
“He demands things that catch his fancy,” she said. “Sometimes famous jewels for his queen.” Her mouth twisted. “Sometimes legendary beauties for himself. If they are not given to him, he sends his assassins—and his assassins never fail. They are all fiercely loyal, for the Spider Queen has some magic that keeps them in her thrall.”
“Like a spider in its web,” I murmured. Erdene nodded. Now I felt more than a little ill. “Do you think that’s what happened to Bao?”
“I don’t know.” She looked sick, too. “When he left… when he set out after you, I was certain he would catch up to the Falconer’s men long before they reached his stronghold, and that he would find a way to free you. He’s very clever and very stubborn, you know.”
“I know.” My throat felt tight. “But I was on my way to Vralia instead, and there were no men for him to catch up to, so he must have gone all the way to the Falconer’s stronghold…”
“And the Spider Queen’s lair,” Erdene finished my thought.
We gazed at one another in silence.
“Do you really mean to go after him?” she asked at length, looking and sounding terribly young.
“Aye, I do.”
Erdene took a deep breath. “There is someone who may be able to help you. The Lady of Rats.”
“Rats,” I repeated.
She gave me a wry smile. “I’m sorry, I cannot remember their names properly. They are all foreign, and until you vanished, these were but tales told on a long winter’s night, brought by northern Bhodistani traders and repeated to pass the hours. But she is real. She is a widowed queen whose husband was killed by the Falconer’s assassins when he refused to surrender her. Her kingdom is in a valley below the Falconer’s, and she is his enemy.”
“Why rats?”
“It is said they follow her.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Falcons, spiders, rats… my lady, how much truth do you reckon there is to these tales?”
“I don’t know,” Erdene said steadily. “I have heard tales of a jade-eyed witch who freed the Emperor of Ch’in’s daughter from a dragon’s curse, brought a dead man back to life, and dazzled a thousand others into losing their memories. How much truth do you reckon there is to that tale?”
“Some.” I smiled ruefully. “The memories were offered freely. The curse wasn’t the d
ragon’s doing, and it was Master Lo Feng who restored life to the dead man.”
She swallowed. “Bao truly died?”
I nodded. “Bao truly died.”
Her face was vulnerable. “I didn’t know.”
“He should have told you,” I said quietly. “And I will say again, I apologize to you. I didn’t know about you, either.”
“No, I know.” Erdene sniffled. “Stupid boy!”
I laughed.
Through her tears, she summoned a faint smile. “You must love him very much. I thought I did, but I would never undertake such a quest.”
“Oh…” I glanced toward the south where Bao’s distant diadh-anam guttered, still and always calling to mine. “You might if your bedamned destiny insisted on it.” Rummaging in my satchel, I found the last item I was missing—the crystal vial of Jehanne’s perfume, her parting gift to me. Tilting it, I could see that a bit of liquid remained. The cut facets caught the bright sunlight, refracting it into tiny rainbows. My heart ached anew at the loss of her. “And where last I called home, nothing but grief awaits me.”
“It’s pretty, that bottle,” Erdene offered in a soft tone. “And the scent smells so very, very nice.”
“Yes, it does.” I put it away, back in the satchel. “Thank you, my lady. You didn’t have to do this. I am grateful.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.” I busied myself repacking everything. “But I am grateful nonetheless. Is there more you can tell me about this menagerie of enemies and allies I face?”
Erdene shook her head. “Nothing useful.”
“I should be going, then.”
“How do you plan to cross the desert?” she asked.
I blinked at her. “Desert?”
“Yes, Moirin.” She gave me an impatient look. “Beneath the shadow of the Abode of the Gods, no rain falls. It is all desert. Do you know the route to the caravanserai?”
“No,” I admitted.
She sighed, scraping a patch of overgrazed earth clear. “I will draw you a map. Fix it in your mind, and do not wander into the desert alone, or you will die before you reach the mountains.”
We knelt and leaned our heads together over the map Erdene sketched in the dirt. She laid out the route clearly, describing and indicating landmarks, and I did my best to fix it in my memory.
“You describe it well,” I said when she had finished.
Erdene straightened and rested her hands on her thighs. “I studied the map with Bao before he left.”
“You aided him?” It surprised me.
“Yes.” She looked away. “I was angry at him, but what my father did was wrong. And I suppose…” She gave a little shrug. “You belong together, you and Bao. No matter how much it hurts to admit it, it is true. For whatever purpose, the gods have joined you. When you came, I saw a fierce passion in him I had never seen before. He loves you, not me.” A wry smile curved her lips. “As you see, I am no thief, to keep what does not truly belong to me. I would rather know Bao was happy with you than miserable with me.” She looked back at me. “I did not know my father had sent you to Vralia, I swear it.”
“I know,” I said.
“Was it terrible there?”
“Yes.” I couldn’t read her expression. “Terrible in its own way. I was lucky to escape alive. If it would please you to know that I suffered, I did.” I glanced at the map. “Although I suspect there is more suffering in store for me.”
“It doesn’t please me.” Bowing her head, Erdene fidgeted with the sash wrapped around her long coat. “Once upon a time I thought it would, but it doesn’t. What you said to me before about not being ashamed of love and desire… Before all this happened, before my father betrayed you… it helped. And it helped to know you had once loved a man who did not love you in return, too. It made me feel less of a fool.”
“I’m glad,” I said. “And I do not think you are a fool at all, my lady.”
Lifting her head, she smiled a crooked smile. “Even though I still love him?”
“Especially so,” I said firmly. Getting to my feet, I extended my hand to her. “It takes courage to love.”
Erdene took my hand and rose. Her gaze was clear and earnest. “I don’t want Bao to die, Moirin. You’ll do your best to find him?”
“I will,” I promised.
Surprising me again, she gave me a hard, fierce hug. I returned the embrace, wrapping my arms around her small, stalwart figure. Short as she was, the top of her head barely came to my chin.
And I understood why she had kept my things as a reminder of Bao. We shared a connection to him. This was as close as I would get to my stubborn peasant-boy for a long, long time.
And I had a long, long way to go.
With a sigh, I released her. “Unless you have more wisdom to impart, I should be going.”
She shook her head. “No, no more.”
I bent and kissed her cheek. “Thank you.”
“May all your gods be with you, Moirin,” Erdene said soberly. “I fear you will need them.”
So did I.
FORTY-EIGHT
For once, my impulsiveness had not led me astray. Without Erdene’s directions, it was very possible I would have wandered into the desert, underestimating its rigors, and found myself trapped there. Wary of the Great Khan’s enmity, I’d become accustomed to avoiding people. I felt safer alone, especially since I had discovered the secret of fixing anchor-stones to conceal my campsite beneath the twilight while I slept.
But when at last I reached the far verges of the southern steppe, my first glimpse of the stony, barren expanse of the empty desert that lay beyond the grasslands convinced me that Erdene was right.
I turned eastward, riding along the edge of the barren desert, following my memory of the map that Bao’s abandoned Tatar bride had sketched in the dirt.
Erdene had guided me well; I had been right to trust her.
So it was that many days after our encounter, I found myself amidst a sprawling caravanserai on the outskirts of the desert, where traders from Ch’in, the Tatar territory, Bhodistan, and even Khebbel-im-Akkad bartered and traded, arranging for passage in a babble of competing tongues.
As used as I’d become to solitude, it intimidated me; and too, there was the lingering fear that someone loyal to the Khan would recognize and betray me. There weren’t many women among the caravans, and my green eyes and half-D’Angeline features marked me. I thought of summoning the twilight to hide me while I took the measure of the place, but it was difficult to navigate through dense crowds unseen. And, too, it would only be delaying the inevitable. So I made camp some distance from the vast city of tents and gers, and entered it warily on horseback.
People, so many people! And there were milling horses, and tall camels with two humps on their backs, an animal I’d only ever seen before in a royal menagerie. Scents from scores of cook fires filled the air, and there was a steady stream of folk watering animals and filling skins and barrels at the river that seeped sluggishly into the barren desert.
I had to own, it was all a bit overwhelming; and now that I’d seen the desert, the task ahead of me seemed more daunting than ever. There was a part of me that yearned to turn tail and flee.
It was possible. I wasn’t far from the Ch’in border. I still had the Imperial seal in my possession. I could travel east to the nearest gate in the Great Wall and present it, and all my difficulties would be over. To be sure, the Divine Emperor was a pragmatic fellow who thought of his country first. Having survived a civil war that could have torn his empire apart, I knew he would not risk sparking a fresh conflict by launching a quest into Tatar territory and beyond to retrieve one errant peasant-boy—but he would see me safely home.
That much at least, he owed me.
All I had to do was abandon Bao.
The Imperial army would grant me an escort to Shuntian. It would be a great pleasure to see Snow Tiger again. She was more than a friend, and she would understa
nd the profound sense of loss I would feel better than anyone else in the world. And I had no doubt that for my services rendered to the Celestial Empire, her father, Emperor Zhu, would commission a greatship to take me home, carrying me thousands and thousands of leagues across the sea.
And, yes, Jehanne was gone; but at least in Terre d’Ange I would be reunited with my lovely, gracious father.
And across the Straits, in Alba, my mother. My private, taciturn, much-beloved mother, who had sent her only child off to an unknown destiny. If I died in the desert or the mountains, she would never know what had become of me.
If I gave up, I would see her again. See her face alight with joy, hear the lilt in her voice as she called me by the old, familiar endearment in my birth-tongue, a tongue I’d not heard spoken since I left.
I’ve missed you so much, Moirin mine.
Just the thought of it brought tears to my eyes—and yet my diadh-anam flared in violent alarm.
Far, far to the south, its missing half flickered feebly.
I couldn’t give up. As appealing I might find the notion in a moment of weakness, I couldn’t. I couldn’t turn away from the call of my diadh-anam. I couldn’t leave Bao to suffer and die at the hands of this bedamned Falconer fellow and his Spider Queen.
So I gave myself a moment to wallow in self-pity; then I wiped my eyes and summoned my resolve.
Emerging from my reverie, I realized there was a Tatar boy some twelve years old staring at me with disturbing intensity, his dark eyes scrutinizing every detail of my person. When I returned his gaze, he turned around and raced away, dashing through the corridors of tents.
That didn’t bode well.
My thoughts were a jumbled mess. I glanced around, spotting the nearest encampment of Ch’in traders, wondering if it would be wiser to flee, or to ask them to grant me sanctuary based on the Imperial medallion. Technically, I was still in Tatar territory, but this was land that had been often disputed and currently existed in a state of uneasy truce for the purposes of trade.
If I fled…
I could summon the twilight and conceal my camp, but for how long? And how would I ever cross the desert if I did?
Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 02] - Naamah's Curse Page 32