by Zoë Archer
Thalia did not open her eyes until she heard the rustle and shift of the blanket. When she did look again, he had moved so that the fire was between them. In his hand was a piece of sodden paper. He tossed it into the fire, and the flames hissed and sputtered briefly before consuming the paper entirely.
“What was that?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Something unimportant.”
Thalia saw he would speak no more on it, but watched as he lay on his back, and stared up at the roof of the cave that had been cold and damp but was now impossibly close, impossibly warm. Thalia also lay down and pulled her own blanket around herself as tightly as she could, as though swaddling herself. Restricting her movement. Keeping her from getting up and lying down beside him.
This had been one of the most draining days Thalia had ever experienced. Chased by a deadly storm, fighting a flood before helping to save Batu from drowning, revealing the secret world of the Blades. And Gabriel’s kisses, his touches, whose power eclipsed everything else that had come before.
As she fell into an exhausted sleep, Thalia wondered if, on this journey, the greatest threat would come from the Heirs, or from herself.
“Tell me where we are going.”
Thalia glanced over at Gabriel riding behind her. They had set out before dawn and ridden in silence. She took the lead, Batu held the middle, and Gabriel kept watch from the back. Her few attempts at conversation had died, so she had resigned herself to listening to the birds call to one another as they wheeled in the clear sky. She had been wondering if he was angry with her, but she would not apologize for protecting herself from certain injury. Now, at least, he was breaking the silence that had accompanied them for most of the day.
“The message from Tony said that we were supposed to ‘seek the woman who feeds the tortoise,’” Thalia said.
“I’ve a feeling there’s more than one tortoise in the whole of Outer Mongolia,” he answered dryly.
“Yes,” she agreed, “but I doubt any of them would harbor one of the Sources, whatever it is. But there is one place where I think we can find a special tortoise.” She looked around, as if the Heirs might be hiding behind some scrub, eavesdropping. But, of course, Gabriel had already done a thorough reconnaissance of the area, and she knew with confidence that it was secure. Even so, she lowered her voice. “The city of Karakorum. It’s another day’s ride from here.”
“And do the Heirs know of this place?”
“Doubtful, otherwise they wouldn’t have tried to beat it out of me. It seems that their Mongol is more concerned about his own interests than the geography of his home country.”
“Not much of a home to him, if he’s willing to sell its treasure to the highest bidder.”
“He should be horsewhipped,” Batu said angrily. “That yamaa is no son of Mongolia.”
“If we ever find him, Batu,” Thalia answered, “we will give you that privilege.”
Batu held up his tashuur, the whip all Mongol horsemen carried. “With this, I will take the skin off his miserable face.”
Gabriel looked at Thalia, one eyebrow quirked. “He’s just bloodthirsty enough to be a naval officer.”
“Not so surprising, since Batu claims to be a direct descendant from Genghis Khan, himself,” Thalia said with a laugh. “But, given that the Great Khan sired probably whole cities of children, almost everyone in Mongolia is his descendant.”
Refusing to be baited, Batu merely sniffed and held up his tashuur again with a threatening air while Gabriel chuckled. Thalia wondered if this meant that the tension between them had gone. She surely hoped it had. It would be a long journey to Karakorum otherwise.
Everyone fell quiet until a few minutes later, when Gabriel sped up so that his horse was beside Thalia’s, and said, “I don’t usually kiss or fondle the men I campaign with.”
Thalia looked at him and was relieved to see him genuinely smiling. She had thought him attractive before, but the smile transformed him into something mythically handsome, which was less of a relief. “And do they kiss or fondle you?”
“They try,” he said with a negligent shrug. “I’m devilishly good-looking.”
Honest laughter bubbled up from inside her; she felt release from the tension she had been carrying.
“Thalia.” She still had not gotten accustomed to his speaking her name, and it curled warmly in her belly. “I’m not sorry for what happened last night.”
“I’m not, either,” she said, though that wasn’t entirely true. She was only sorry because she had been given a glimpse of a country she could not explore. “However, you have to understand, Captain—”
“Gabriel,” he reminded her.
“You have to understand, Gabriel,” she continued, “that it cannot happen again.”
He looked chagrined, but not, it turned out, with her. “Damn,” he muttered. “Been out of decent company too long. I forget that a bloke isn’t supposed to paw a woman he fancies.”
She felt absurdly happy that he should admit to fancying her. Still, it could not lead anywhere outside of her own secret, feminine gratification. Perhaps there was a way that ladies usually let men know that they did not welcome their amorous attentions, but Thalia had never learned it. Her father, it turned out, had not covered that when supervising her education.
“Let’s just stay focused on the task at hand,” she said. It was the best she could do without inventing a complete fabrication or, worse, telling him that he could easily leave her heart battered and bleeding without much effort on his part. She understood men enough to know that such a confession would strike a man dumb with terror. “We have enough to concern ourselves with. Agreed?”
He cursed some more. If he ever did plan on mixing with “decent company,” as he called it, something would have to be done about his language. That was a topic for another time, however.
“Agreed,” he finally grumbled.
That should have made her feel better. But knowing that she would never again experience the marvel that was Captain Gabriel Huntley’s kisses, Thalia didn’t feel at all better. She felt…lonely.
At the very least, after she and Gabriel had settled matters between them, the travel became less fraught with internal tension. Thalia did not lose her awareness of him, not at all, but it was an awareness with which she could come to terms. The whole of the day was spent riding in watchful readiness should the Heirs attempt another strike against them. They skirted around several ails to ensure speed and secrecy, even though Thalia wanted nothing more than to rest and enjoy some hot food and tea. Once they had reached Karakorum, it would be easy enough to replenish their supplies at the nearby monastery of Erdene Zuu. For now, they had to settle for rationing out their remaining borts and aaruul and try to ignore both the monotony and scarcity of their diet.
The past months in Urga had robbed Thalia of some of her usual stamina. When she and her father had lived out on the steppes, days of riding hard would not bother her. But city life had softened her. So when it came time to bed down for night, Thalia tumbled into an immediate and dreamless sleep. Somewhere, out on the steppe, the Heirs were watching, waiting, and that alone should have kept her awake. Yet having Gabriel nearby, knowing that she and Batu were both safe while he was around, allowed her to give in to her fatigue completely. One moment, she had closed her eyes, the next, she was being gently awakened by Gabriel’s hand on her arm, dawn light gilding his shoulders. She couldn’t think of a better way to greet the morning.
“We should reach Karakorum today,” Thalia said after she had rinsed her mouth with water.
“Thank God,” Gabriel muttered. “I’ve nearly pulled out half my teeth chewing on that dried mutton.”
As Thalia swung up into the saddle, she grinned. “The Mongol horsemen used to soften borts by putting it underneath their saddles as they rode. We could try that to make it more palatable.”
Gabriel made a face. “Dried mutton and horse sweat? Even enlisted men were fed better. It’s grounds for mutiny.”
“I hope not,” Thalia answered. “Flogging is so time consuming.”
By late afternoon, they had entered a broad valley, through which flowed the Orkhon River. Thalia had been to the Orkhon Valley before, but its beauty always filled her heart with lightness. Small stands of trees clustered on riverbanks bright with sun. Scattered throughout the valley were groups of gers, smoke rising from their chimneys into the sky. A shepherd on horseback tended his cattle, and the echoes of their lowing could be heard across the basin. A few monks from the monastery had left its walls and were taking their leisure by sitting in the sun on the grassy knolls, their robes spots of flaming color against the green.
“A lovely spot,” Gabriel said. “But where’s the city?”
“This is it,” Thalia answered. She gestured to the wide plain. “Karakorum.”
“But it’s…”
“A ruin. Yes.”
She kicked her horse into a gallop, and, with Batu and a mystified Gabriel following her, they descended into the valley that had once held the great city of Karakorum. Now it was a barren field, empty of everything except a few weed-covered rocks. The only sounds of civilization came from the temples inside the monastery, where the many monks went about their lives and prayers.
They walked their horses around the desolate plain. “There’s nothing here,” Gabriel said.
“Karakorum was once the capital of the Mongol Empire, built by Genghis Khan’s successor, Ogodei Khan. It contained the royal warehouses, where all their plunder was housed.” Thalia looked around as if trying to conjure up the long-destroyed walls from her imagination. “Treasure came from everywhere: China, Persia. Anyone wanting an audience with the Great Khan had to come to Karakorum, even envoys from the kingdoms of Europe.”
“That must’ve been a long time ago,” Gabriel murmured. “Just rocks and weeds now. Not even a battlement left.”
“Six hundred years can rob anything of its greatness,” Thalia said.
“So what happened to this place? Doesn’t seem to be a spot you could easily defend, out in the middle of a valley.”
“Most of the soldiers who had defended it left when the capital was moved by Kubilai Khan to Peking. A little over a century later, Karakorum was razed by Manchu soldiers. The treasure disappeared. Nothing remains of the great capital.”
He gazed around at the empty space where once a marvelous city and palace stood, the center of one of the greatest empires the world had ever known, and shook his head. “A man spends his life chasing power and glory, something for the world to remember him by. He thinks it’ll last forever, but…” Gabriel shrugged. “It’s just dust and weeds. And sheep,” he added, hearing one nearby bleat.
“So what should a man, or woman, chase?” Thalia asked.
Gabriel stared at her with a strange intensity that was almost too much for her to withstand, before turning away. “Damned if I know.” He gave his horse free rein, letting the mare amble over the grassy field, while Thalia and Batu slowly trailed after him. Strange, but she could swear that the ruins had provoked a small fit of melancholy in the tough-skinned captain. “There’s nothing here,” he said at last, “that’s for certain. So why come?”
“Not everything was destroyed by the Manchus.” Thalia urged her horse into a brisk, brief canter, nearing a large stone shape that stood close by. As their group drew closer, it became more clear what the shape represented, and it made Gabriel chuckle.
“A damned tortoise,” he said, rueful.
Thalia dismounted and walked up to the stone animal. The wind and centuries had worn away much of its elaborate carving, but the tortoise was still easily identifiable as it stared with unseeing eyes up at the sky. The sky looked down, ageless, far removed from the concerns of empires, khans, and stonemasons. Around the tortoise’s neck were bright scarves of blue silk, tributes left by travelers and nomads. As Thalia ran her hand over the sun-warmed stone, she heard Gabriel dismount and walk up beside her. She watched his hand also run along the back of the tortoise, touching the stone with surprising reverence.
“There were four of these tortoises once,” she said quietly. It was difficult to find her voice when she was somewhat hypnotized by the strength of his large hand, its movement across the stone. A vivid sense memory of his hand on her skin, on her breast, pulsed through Thalia. “They marked the boundaries of the city and guarded it.”
“Odd to pick tortoises for the job, and not something fierce, like lions or dragons.”
“Tortoises represent eternity, longevity.”
“Not so eternal now, eh, friend?” Gabriel asked the tortoise. When there was no response, he gave the stone animal a friendly, consoling pat. “Not much to say. That’s all right, lad. We’re here to talk to the lady that feeds you.”
Thalia frowned. She still could not puzzle out what that part of the message meant. “I knew that Morris’s clue directed us here, but I thought something about the old capital might be revealed to us once we arrived. There once was so much treasure here, I thought for certain that one of those objects must be a Source.”
“If it was here,” Gabriel said, turning around and leaning against the tortoise, “it’s long gone, now.” He patted the stone again. “This chap isn’t talking, though.”
“What should we do, Thalia guai?” Batu asked.
Thalia contemplated the tortoise. She honestly did not know if there was something, or someone, they should look for. “Let’s ask at the monastery,” she said after some time. “Perhaps they know of someone who ‘feeds’ the tortoise.” They all agreed that this was the best plan and set off to see it through.
Several hours later, however, Thalia was ready to tear out her eyelashes in frustration. Discreet inquiries at the monastery led nowhere. None of the monks they had quietly spoken with knew anything about a woman who had anything to do with the stone tortoise, let alone fed it. Most of them stared at Gabriel with undisguised fascination, having seen few white men in this isolated part of the country. Thalia, Gabriel, and Batu were given some buuz, steamed dumplings, which were wolfed down by their party in a matter of minutes, and washed down with cups and cups of milk tea.
When they finally emerged from the gates of Erdene Zuu, all they had to show for their efforts were full bellies and Batu’s pockets laden with juniper incense, purchased from the monastery, which he intended to give his parents the next time he visited them. The afternoon was gone, and night had turned the sky indigo. The only sources of light in the Orkhon Valley came from the gers dotting the fields and the torches burning inside the monastery.
“I suppose we could ask at some of the gers,” Thalia said tiredly, trying to keep irritation from hardening her words. “But I’m concerned that if we do, it means more trails for the Heirs to follow.”
“There was this bloke in Jhansi, ran a lamp shop,” Gabriel said. He reached into his inside pocket and produced a cheroot, which he proceeded to light. The brief flame from the match gilded the plane of his jaw before being shaken out. “Knew everybody and everything. Including, it was whispered, the location of a secret stash of weapons that were going to be used against the Maharajah in a bloody uprising. So I went to the bloke and asked him. But the cussed man gave us nothing. It was damned nasty. Still, I didn’t want to beat it out of him, the way my superiors wanted. I got what I was after, though.” He took a draw on the cheroot and exhaled a cloud of fragrant smoke.
Thalia was blindsided by a vivid memory of him tasting of tobacco and whiskey. “How did you manage that?”
“By waiting.” He grinned around the cheroot between his teeth. “Stood outside his shop for days. Didn’t say anything to him. Or anybody else. I leaned against the wall opposite the shop, arms crossed like this and face like this.” He demonstrated, folding his arms across his chest, and suddenly looked quite intimidating with only a tightening of his jaw and lowering of his brow. No one could disobey Gabriel if he summoned menace so easily. Even Thalia felt momentarily cowed by this brief dem
onstration. And just as quickly, the menace was gone, and it was Gabriel again, talking easily about the past. “Just stayed there, watching him. And after three days of this, the blighter drags me inside and tells me everything I needed to know. Pressure got to him. We found the guns, ended the rebellion before it began.”
“So,” Thalia said slowly, “you’re suggesting that we wait and see before charging off to do something foolhardy.”
Gabriel tapped the ash off the end of his cheroot before answering. “I’m not suggesting it.”
“I might point out,” Thalia said, bristling, “that you are not in the army here in Mongolia, nor are you in command of our party.”
He shrugged. “You might. But you strike me as a clever lass, one who wouldn’t let her stubbornness and pride muck up an important mission.”
Thalia muttered something in Mongolian that made Batu choke. It wasn’t particularly flattering toward tall, fair-haired, and high-handed former army captains, of which Thalia knew only one. “All right,” she said in English. “If nothing happens by morning, we head out and track down this woman.”
“Sensible decision,” Gabriel said with a nod. “And watch your language.” At Thalia’s questioning glance, he answered, “Don’t have to speak the language to know when somebody’s calling me a rotten bastard.”
Unfortunately, that made Thalia smile, so her annoyance with Gabriel was nearly gone by the time they hobbled their horses and hunkered down next to the stone tortoise. For a few hours, the three of them sat together, backs against the tortoise, and spoke quietly, trying to pass the time. Gabriel smoked half of his cheroot before putting it out and saving it for later. As each hour passed, and the lights in the surrounding gers winked out as their inhabitants went to sleep, Thalia became more and more convinced that coming to Karakorum had been a mistake. Perhaps the clue referred to something else besides the stone tortoise? If so, what? Maybe the Heirs had learned the clue and deciphered it, and were even now in possession of the Source. Had she failed the Blades so soon?