She told me about growing up in the coastal Bhodistani city of Galanka, where her family enjoyed great prestige. Her noble father had been the liaison to the D’Angeline embassy, which was how she had come to know my own father’s folk before she was pledged in marriage to the Raja of a tiny valley kingdom far, far away to the north. Amrita was the eldest daughter in a large, sprawling family, and her voice grew wistful when she spoke of them.
“Will you ever return there, do you think?” I asked her.
“No,” she said simply, her gaze settling on Ravindra. “My kharma is here.”
I nodded, understanding.
Amrita taught me more of the mudras, the ritual hand gestures that focused the mind’s thoughts and the body’s energies, tapping into the vast harmonies of the world. It was not unlike the meditation Master Lo had taught me, and yet I could not begin to achieve Amrita’s fluid grace, nor the sense of power that emanated from her slender hands when she took a pose. As clever as he was, not even young Ravindra could come close to matching his mother’s grace and power.
Still, I tried.
And in turn, I taught them both the Five Styles of Breathing. It was not an unfamiliar discipline, for there were similar teachings in Bhodistan. Even so, both of them found the rhythms difficult to master.
I found myself missing Bao.
It was foolish, in a way; I missed him all the time, the yearning of my diadh-anam as persistent and constant as a sore tooth. But trying to teach Amrita and Ravindra reminded me of how it had all begun.
Bao and I sitting cross-legged, our knees brushing, listening to Master Lo’s tutelage aboard the greatship.
We had gone from reluctant companions to comfortable ones, bonded by our long journey together and our mutual respect for Master Lo, then drifted sideways into genuine affection. I missed that familiarity and comfort. I missed his cheerful boasting. I even missed his teasing.
All of which made it that much harder when the Falconer’s messenger returned to deliver Tarik Khaga’s reply to our gambit.
Once again, the Rani granted him an audience with Ravindra and me in attendance, and once again, we heard him out. It was a brief reply.
“His majesty Tarik Khaga offered to release the young man Bao from his service,” the fellow announced. “Bao declined his offer. He refuses to go. There will be no trade.” He gave a thin smile. “His majesty’s demand stands as issued.”
“Very well,” the Rani Amrita said in acknowledgment. “Go, and return in a day. You shall have our response.”
And once again, we retired to take counsel.
Although I hadn’t really expected a happier outcome, still, it was disheartening. Amrita rubbed the back of my neck, consoling me while Ravindra pored over the chessboard. “Bao’s will is not his own, Moirin. You know this to be true, for he would have already found a way to you.”
“I know. It’s just…” I sighed. “If I could just see him, talk to him… surely it would be enough to break the spell.”
“That is what we will demand, then,” Ravindra said calmly, moving a white pawn. “We will refute the Falconer’s claim as a lie, and demand that he send Bao to Bhaktipur so Moirin may hear him refuse his freedom in his own words.”
“Do you think he will agree?” I asked dubiously.
“No.” Ravindra advanced a black pawn. “I think Tarik Khaga will invite you to Kurugiri to hear Bao’s response in person.”
“Ah!” Amrita reached down to advance a second white pawn. “And we will propose a meeting of both parties on neutral ground, eh?”
“Where both of us will seek to trick and betray the other,” Ravindra agreed. “And that will be very interesting!”
“Perhaps, jewel of my heart, but you will not be there to see it,” his mother said in a firm tone. “If it even comes to pass. You are trusting a great deal to the belief that Tarik Khaga and his queen will play this game.”
“Yes, Mama-ji. I am.” He steepled his fingers in the thinking-pose. “But the Falconer’s men could not find you when they tried, thanks to the hidden room. That failure will be on his mind, and I do not think he is a man who likes to fail. And also remember, since they know of Moirin’s magic, it is likely that they know she can make herself unseen, and very impossible to find and abduct on hostile ground. So I think yes, they will play the game and hope to trick us.”
Amrita studied the board. “So, young chess-master! You have thought out a strategy two moves ahead of our opponent. Knowing you, I suspect there is at least one more.” With one finger, she nudged a third white pawn into play, raising her brows at her son. “What is the third?”
Ravindra smiled. “An ambush. Only we must plan it now, before it is a possibility in their minds.”
“My lady, my young lord…” I shook my head. The thought of either of them coming to harm made me feel ill. “This is growing too difficult and too dangerous. I cannot ask you to take such risks. Better I should go to Kurugiri.”
“No!” mother and son said in unison, exchanging a glance.
“But—” I began.
Amrita sighed. “It is not only for you, dear one, nor for your young man. I said before that the shepherd dare not abandon his flock to hunt the falcon. But what you have given us here…” She made a gesture I didn’t know. “It is a chance to lure the falcon into a trap, and I think it is a chance I cannot ignore. Perhaps this is what the gods intended in sending you here.” Her face was very serious. “What does your bear-goddess say?”
My diadh-anam shone like a beacon, and I could not lie about it. “It seems She agrees,” I murmured.
“Tarik Khaga had my father killed, Moirin,” Ravindra said in a subdued tone. “And many other people, too. Will you not let us try?”
“Aye,” I said reluctantly, fearful at the thought of risking them. “I will.”
The following day, the Rani Amrita delivered our response to the Falconer’s messenger, her demeanor calm and dignified.
“I fear the dakini Moirin mac Fainche does not believe your master’s words,” she said in a vaguely apologetic tone. “She requests that his majesty Tarik Khaga send the young man Bao to Bhaktipur that he might deliver his refusal in person. Only then will she accept this edict that there may be no trade.” Amrita gave a slight, helpless shrug. “Forgive me. As I said before, the dakini Moirin is not mine to command.”
The messenger pursed his lips and glanced at me.
Summoning my mother’s best glare, I folded my arms and glowered at him under my lashes. As an added measure, I called the twilight. Although I could not vanish into it with his gaze on me, I felt it sparkle around me.
The Falconer’s messenger turned pale, his throat working as he swallowed nervously. For the first time in four encounters, he was a bit afraid.
I was glad.
He bowed to Amrita, palms pressed together. “I will convey your message and return with a reply, highness.”
SIXTY-ONE
Waiting, waiting, and more waiting.
Gods, I hated it!
My lady Amrita was not idle. Guided by her preternaturally clever son’s counsel, she met with the commander of the Royal Guard, which was the nearest thing to an army that Bhaktipur had. Together, they chose a spot in neutral territory suitable for an ambush, a plateau above the valley of Bhaktipur, but below the peaks of Kurugiri. It had enough open space to inspire trust, but there were copses of spruce trees that would hide a mounted battalion with a bit of creative effort.
A battalion of fifty skilled riders and archers was dispatched, hurrying to make camp and conceal it before the possibility of such an action might arise in our opponents’ minds. It was important to remain three steps ahead of them.
We waited.
On the advice of the commander of her guard, we confined ourselves to the palace grounds, and Amrita and her son abandoned their sleeping-quarters to pass their nights in the hidden room her husband had commissioned before he dared to wed a beautiful, young bride.
I had to own, it was a clever design. Young Ravindra must have inherited his head for strategy from his father. The steep, narrow stair that led to the hidden room was concealed behind an elaborately embroidered wall-hanging depicting the goddess Durga on her tiger. Nothing about the architecture of the palace suggested it was there.
The room itself was small, but not unpleasant. It even had a balcony that looked out onto an interior courtyard garden with a fountain at the center, filled with growing plants, and birds and monkeys, too. Amrita invited me to join them, but I refused, feeling I’d already imposed more than enough on their lives.
I tried setting ward-stones around my room as I had learned to do travelling across the Tatar steppe, but the charm didn’t work in a man-made dwelling. At least my own balcony was high and inaccessible; and clever Ravindra came up with the idea of stringing bells to the outer door of my own sleeping-chamber, so that if anyone were to succeed in forcing the lock, the clamor would awaken me before they entered, and I might summon the twilight.
In a week’s time, the Falconer’s messenger returned with the expected reply, delivering it with relish.
“His majesty Tarik Khaga agrees that the dakini Moirin is entitled to hear Bao’s refusal from his own lips,” he said smoothly. “His majesty invites her to accompany me to Kurugiri as his honored guest.”
Clearly, the Falconer’s messenger reckoned this was a counterstroke of masterful strategy on the part of the forces of Kurugiri. The Rani Amrita furrowed her brow and looked troubled, letting him believe she was at a loss for a response. “As ever, it is the dakini Moirin’s choice,” she said carefully. “Again, we will take counsel. Go, and come back tomorrow.”
He bowed, and went.
There was no need to take counsel this time. Our plans were set. Amrita would have liked to use the day to make another round of temple offerings, but her commander of the guard, a handsome fellow named Hasan Dar, was adamant about not venturing beyond the palace walls.
“Tarik Khaga may tire of this game you play with him, highness,” he said earnestly to her. “For all we know, he already has, and his assassins lie in wait. There are too many people in the streets, and it is too difficult to protect you. Please, take no risks. Make your offerings at the household altar. The gods will understand.”
Reluctantly, Amrita agreed; and we heaped the household altar high with garlands of dried flowers, offerings of food and incense.
A day later, the Falconer’s messenger returned, and Amrita delivered our final edict to him, a surprisingly stern note in her musical voice.
“Given your master’s history, the dakini Moirin does not believe this offer is made in good faith,” she said. “And I agree with her. So! We refuse.”
“Then—” the messenger began.
Once again, my lady Amrita raised her right hand in the pose of fearlessness, silencing him. “I offer a compromise. I propose a meeting of both parties on neutral ground. Do you know the plateau beneath the Sleeping Calf Rock?” she inquired.
He nodded warily.
“Very good.” She gave a brisk nod in reply. “Let us meet there, your master and I. The dakini Moirin will accompany me, and your master will bring this young man Bao. No weapons on either side. Each of us will be escorted by no more than ten unarmed guards. At a distance of five hundred paces, we will each exchange a guardsman to verify that both parties have honored these terms. Do I make myself understood?”
“Yes, highness.” The messenger licked his lips. “What do you expect this meeting to accomplish?”
I answered for her. “I expect to persuade Bao to leave your master’s service. If he does, I will honor my word and offer myself in his place.”
His gaze slid sideways toward me. “And if you fail?”
I called the twilight, wrapping its subtle dazzle around me. “I will not fail.”
The Falconer’s messenger looked away.
“I am weary of this game,” the Rani Amrita announced. “No more demands, no more offers. I will await your master on the plateau in one week’s time. Go, and tell Tarik Khaga the Falconer that that is my final word.”
“Yes, highness.” He bowed to her. “I will do so.”
Five days later, we set out for the plateau.
I was sick with unease. It seemed a good plan, but it was a dangerous one, too. With our hidden battalion, we would outnumber Tarik Khaga’s men six to one; but the battalion would have some distance to cross once the signal was given, and Khaga’s men were likely to be skilled assassins, one and all. Hasan Dar and the nine guards he had chosen to escort us were exceptional warriors, trained to fight with any weapon or none, but they were not assassins. And I had learned during my time in Bhaktipur that the Falconer was not the first to hold that dubious title, oh, no.
No, it was a hereditary mantle. For many generations, there had been a Falconer in Kurugiri, amassing years of knowledge of deadly killing arts. Until the advent of Jagrati the Spider Queen, none had killed save for hire.
This Falconer, Tarik Khaga, was different. Worse. He killed on a whim—his, or his Spider Queen’s.
It was a surety that his men would have weapons hidden on them—subtle weapons, garrotes and throwing knives, mayhap poisoned darts like the one with which Black Sleeve had killed Bao.
I was afraid for myself, but the insistent blaze of my diadh-anam told me I had to go. More so, I was very afraid for the Rani Amrita, and I wished very, very much that she would not undertake this venture.
“I have to go, Moirin,” she said calmly when I sought to dissuade her. “It is clear now that the gods sent you to me. It is my kharma.”
“I do not see why you must risk yourself personally!” I said in frustration. “There is no sense in it.”
Amrita was silent a moment. “I felt the same when my lord Chakresh insisted on facing the Falconer’s assassins with his men,” she said presently. “He insisted it was a matter of honor and duty. Now that the same choice is upon me, I understand.” She laid a hand on my arm. “Please, do not quarrel with me, Moirin.”
Reluctantly, I acceded.
It was an auspicious day when we set out, clear and bright. The Rani Amrita bade farewell to her son in private and for the first time, I saw Ravindra as a child in truth. His narrow shoulders shook as he embraced his mother and wept, his tears dampening the cloth of her sari. She held him close, kissing the top of his head.
“Be brave, jewel of my heart,” she murmured. “I will draw strength from your courage.”
Ravindra straightened. “I will do my best, Mama-ji.”
We made our way through the streets of Bhaktipur in a splendid procession, surrounded by a hundred guards and dozens of attendants. Only ten guardsmen would accompany us to the plateau, but Hasan Dar meant to take no chances until it was necessary, especially in the crowded streets of the city.
I rode beside Amrita in her palanquin. Folks pressed as close as the guards would allow, tossing flowers and calling out blessings. Others begged the Rani not to go, echoing my sentiment. They didn’t know about the ambush, of course, but they knew she meant to meet with the Falconer, and they were afraid for her.
When the outskirts of the city gave way to orchards and farmland, we abandoned the palanquin for horses and set out across the valley. Despite my pervasive fear, I was glad to be in a green, living place once more, and no longer cooped up behind the palace walls. I breathed the Breath of Trees Growing, willing my nerves to be calm.
An hour into our journey, I felt a shift occur that made me catch my breath, my diadh-anam flaring sharply inside me. Amrita glanced at me with concern. “What is it, Moirin?”
“Bao,” I whispered. “He’s moving, coming closer.”
Her eyes widened. “You can tell this?”
I nodded. “Not over very vast distances, but this is near enough that I feel it. He’s coming.”
Amrita smiled. “Then that is very good news, is it not?”
“I don’t know.” Although I could sense it
drawing closer, Bao’s diadh-anam didn’t quicken with eagerness like mine did. It was as sickly and guttering as it had been for all those long months since I’d first sensed it in Vralia. I had been certain, so certain, that once we were together, no thrall could hold him. Now I wasn’t so sure. “I hope so.”
All throughout the day, pace by pace, I felt the distance between us lessen. I wanted to be joyful at the prospect, but I was too anxious.
By the end of the day, we had ascended into the foothills at the northern end of the valley of Bhaktipur. The warm lowland temperatures vanished quickly. Solicitous attendants brought long coats of padded, embroidered silk for Amrita and me to wear. We made camp in a meadow, where they erected tents of brightly colored silk, striped and merry. It was a festive scene, but the mood was somber. On the morrow, only twelve of us would continue—the Rani and I, and Hasan Dar and his nine handpicked guards.
Although I had no appetite, I tried to force myself to eat, reckoning I needed my strength. In contrast, Amrita ate more heartily than I’d ever seen her.
“Stop worrying, Moirin,” she said, pressing a bit of flatbread with curried lamb and tangy achar on me. “Whatever will happen tomorrow, will happen. It does no good to worry about it.”
I sighed. “I know.”
“So young to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders!” Amrita teased me gently, coaxing a reluctant smile from me. “I think you have been doing just that for far too long, young goddess,” she added in a more serious tone. “But you are not alone here. I am with you, and Hasan Dar and his men will protect your life as my own.”
My throat tightened, and tears stung my eyes. “Thank you, my lady Amrita.”
I was grateful, so very grateful to her; and yet I wished she were a thousand miles away, because if any harm befell this kind, beautiful, and brave Rani whom I had grown so quickly to love, I would spend the rest of my life regretting it.
I prayed it would not.
SIXTY-TWO
Kushiel 03 - [Moirin 02] - Naamah's Curse Page 40