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

by Jacqueline Carey

  He was vast.

  But I had seen vaster. I had seen the Maghuin Dhonn Herself blotting out the stars. I had felt Her tread shake the earth. She had accepted me as Her own. I was Her child. I clung to that memory, and I felt Her presence embrace me, settling over me like a mantle. I was angry. She, too, was angry at his words. I drew strength from it.

  I pointed at the doorway. “And you are nothing more than a god’s discarded servant. Go.”

  The foundations of the manor house trembled. Thunder rolled and rattled. I breathed the Breath of Earth’s Pulse and said it again, pushing with all the strength I had—mine, and poor Claire Fourcay’s, and the anger of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.

  “Go!”

  It came out as a guttural roar. And he went, Focalor went, retreating and banished. Step by step, he retreated, grimacing with rage. I felt the last of Claire Fourcay’s fading life force drain out of me and pushed harder, drawing on my own dwindling reserves. The doorway sucked Focalor into itself, and I closed it with one last tremendous push. Its outline flared and vanished.

  Done.

  I sighed.

  Bao rested one hand on my shoulder. “Not bad, stupid girl.”

  I leaned wearily against him. “Thank you.”

  FIFTY-ONE

  The mood in the chamber was subdued, to say the least.

  The surviving members of the Circle avoided meeting one another’s eyes—and most especially, they avoided my gaze. Orien de Legasse buried his face in his hands and wept. Balric Maitland turned his face to the wall and said nothing. Lianne Tremaine and Denis de Toluard clasped one another’s hands, but didn’t look at each other.

  Raphael sat on the flagstones, Claire Fourcay’s head in his lap, his head bowed over her lifeless figure.

  The King’s guardsmen glanced at one another, helpless and confused.

  “I’m sorry,” I said to Master Lo Feng. “I’m so sorry. I couldn’t find a way to tell you.”

  He folded his hands into his sleeves. “Be grateful your Queen was wise enough to do so.”

  King Daniel entered the chamber, his face taut with fury. His guardsmen stood at attention. He was imposing in his anger. He spoke to Denis de Toluard in a low voice, and then to Lianne Tremaine. I saw the latter wince, then incline her head in acceptance. I suspected the youngest King’s Poet in history had been stripped of her title.

  He stood before Raphael. When he spoke, his voice was wintry. “De Mereliot.”

  Raphael shifted Claire’s body with tender care and rose. “We broke no laws, your majesty,” he said in a dull tone.

  The King regarded him with contempt. “I have no words for you.”

  And then he came to me.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered, repeating myself. I was weary beyond telling. Only Bao’s strong hand under my elbow kept me upright. “So sorry, your majesty. I failed you, I failed my lady. I failed everyone.”

  “Not in the end, child,” he said with a gentleness I didn’t deserve. “Come, let’s get you home. Jehanne’s sick with worry.”

  Home.

  Home sounded like a wonderful notion. Once it had been a cave, warm and snug and safe. Now it was a bower at the Palace. All I wanted to do was fall into bed beneath the overhanging ferns and sleep for days, then awake to apologize a thousand times and find absolution in Jehanne’s arms.

  But I had to confront Raphael.

  To his credit, he met my gaze without flinching. And I found that like the King, I had no words for him. Instead, I stooped and touched Claire Fourcay’s cheek. Her skin was still warm. Her motives may have been tainted, but at least I could understand them. I’d been just as foolish. I should never have let Raphael use me in the first place. Once upon a time, I’d wanted so much for him to care for me.

  “Moirin.” His voice was hoarse. “Lest it need saying, I release you from your oath of silence. And—”

  I straightened and found a word worth saying. “Good-bye.”

  Raphael nodded and said nothing more.

  He stayed behind when we left. All the members of the Circle stayed. And although a large part of me hoped I never saw any of them again, I couldn’t help but glance behind one last time as we left the chamber. Raphael was watching me. For a second, I thought I saw a faint spark of lightning in his grey eyes; then I blinked and it was gone, leaving only guilt and abiding sorrow in its place.

  I shuddered.

  Never in my life had I been so glad to see the sky. I breathed deeply with no particular art, just filling my lungs with clean air. After what had transpired, it seemed like it should have been the dead of night, but it was still morning.

  “Can you ride?” King Daniel asked me gently. “I’ll commandeer a carriage if you’re not strong enough.”

  “I’ll manage.” I swallowed. “You shouldn’t be so kind to me, your majesty. I’m as guilty as any of them.”

  He was silent a moment. “Raphael de Mereliot spoke the truth,” he said at length. “You broke no laws. And it is in my thoughts that mayhap if I had not governed so cautiously, if I had given my people somewhat greater to strive for and dream about, these few would not have been driven to such lengths in search of glory.”

  “Mayhap,” I murmured.

  “One is never given to know such things,” he mused. “Such is the burden of rule. But I do hold you less to blame, Moirin. For all your uncanny ways, you’re young and inexperienced. De Mereliot forced your hand cruelly; and even so, you found a way around your oath. Still, I heard him release you from it, and I expect you to give a full accounting of this business, holding back nothing and protecting no one, least of all Raphael de Mereliot. They may have broken no laws, but this is a matter that must be exposed. Will you do so?”

  I nodded fervently. “With all my heart!”

  It was a somber ride back toward the City. The guardsmen spoke in hushed whispers of what they had witnessed. King Daniel conversed in low tones with Master Lo Feng. I concentrated on remaining upright in the saddle, grateful for Blossom’s smooth gait and mindful that I was only conscious, let alone alive, by virtue of Claire Fourcay’s unwilling sacrifice and the grace of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.

  Bao stuck close to my side, ready to catch me if I toppled, muttering under his breath about my stupidity. For once, I couldn’t begrudge him.

  “How did you know what to do?” I asked him. “How did you make sparks and thunder come from your staff?”

  He shrugged. “Everyone know you use pao to drive away demons. You no have pao here?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”

  Bao showed me the charred bits of paper dangling from the end of his staff. “String of pao. Only fire-powder and paper. No magic. Mirrors good, too. Demon can’t look at they own face.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “You lucky we in time. That demon-spirit, he get into Lion Mane, maybe nothing make him go. Big trouble then.”

  I was confused. “Lion Mane?”

  “The stupid man,” he clarified.

  “Raphael.”

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded. “Master Lo right. You lucky the White Queen smart enough to send for him.” He snorted. “Ten time smarter than you, anyway. If she don’t…” He drew his thumb across his throat. “I think you and lot of people get dead.”

  “I know,” I said quietly. “Believe me, I do.”

  Bao regarded me. “You did good. Strong.” Unexpectedly, he grinned. “You see the face on that demon-spirit when you shout and make the ground shake? Big surprise.”

  It made me smile a little. “Very big surprise. For me, too.”

  “Uh-huh.” He looked away. “Huh. Rider coming.”

  I glanced down the road to see a guardsman in Courcel livery approaching at a good clip. King Daniel raised his hand to call a halt. We waited. The guardsman approached and drew rein, his lathered mount prancing sideways.

  “Your majesty!” he called in an urgent voice. “There’s a rather large delegation coming! And begging your pardon, they were quite ins
istent.”

  The King frowned in perplexity. “I expected no such thing. What delegation? Are they hostile or friendly? Who are they and from whence do they come?”

  “From Ch’in.” The guard pointed at Master Lo Feng, who sat serenely upright in the saddle. “They’re looking for him.”

  I glanced at Bao. He shook his head. “Very big surprise.”

  “Well,” King Daniel said mildly, looking sidelong at Master Lo Feng. “That’s never happened before. Let’s see what they want, shall we?”

  A short time later, we rounded a curve in the road and came upon the delegation. I sucked in my breath at the sight of them. There were at least fifty mounted warriors riding in a tight formation, all with the golden-brown skin and dark, tilted eyes of the Ch’in. They wore armor plated like scales and adorned with gilt and pointed helmets, curved swords at their sides. I was accustomed to Bao and Master Lo Feng, but such a large party of their countrymen looked strange and out of place here. The King’s guardsmen regarded them uneasily, hands hovering over their sword-hilts.

  “Lo Feng Tzu?” the leader inquired.

  Master Lo inclined his head. “Shi.”

  In unison, every last warrior dismounted and bowed. Head still lowered, the leader poured out a torrent of Ch’in, bowing again to Master Lo and then to King Daniel.

  “General Tsieh apologizes for disturbing you, your majesty,” Master Lo translated. “He comes on a very urgent errand.”

  “Name of Elua!” The King looked dumbstruck. “How urgent can it be? How many months have they been on the road?”

  There was another exchange.

  “Many months at sea,” Master Lo said. “They came by one of the greatships and only rode from your city of Marsilikos.” Even he looked impressed. “None has ever travelled so far before. Truly, they carried wind in a bag.”

  “What do they want?” the King inquired.

  Master Lo Feng spoke to the general and listened to his lengthy reply, his face growing ever more grave. My chest grew tight and I felt a strange pressure and ringing in my ears. The sense of the Maghuin Dhonn’s presence was back and the spark of my diadh-anam was quickening inside me. All too well, I remembered the sea shining through the stone doorway and the infinite compassion in Her eyes. And I remembered what I had said to Her.

  I have a very long way to go, don’t I?

  “No,” I whispered. “Not yet, please!”

  “How you know what they say?” Bao asked irritably. “I can’t even hear!”

  I shivered. “I don’t.”

  General Tsieh stopped speaking. He and Master Lo exchanged bows; then Master Lo turned in the saddle and bowed to King Daniel. “The Emperor’s daughter is very ill. I am summoned home to tend to her.”

  The King hesitated. “You’re free to go as you please, of course. We are grateful for the wisdom you’ve shared. But forgive me… if they were many months at sea, surely it will be far too late for you to be of assistance.”

  “No,” Master Lo Feng said with regret. “I fear it is no mortal illness. If she has not been slain, she lives. Bao and I will leave on the morrow.” He conferred with the general again. The latter shook his head violently several times, glancing in my direction. Master Lo shrugged and folded his hands in his sleeves, looking calm and implacable. The general sighed and gave an abrupt bow in acquiescence.

  I wanted to look away and couldn’t.

  “Moirin, my student.” Master Lo’s gaze settled on me. “If you are willing, I would very much like you to accompany us.”

  My diadh-anam blazed wildly in my breast. My ears rang with a sound like trumpets, the sound of destiny calling me.

  I was tired, so tired.

  I wanted to say no. I wanted to stay; I wanted my bed and my bower. I didn’t want to cross untold oceans and venture to a stranger land than this one. I wanted the refuge I’d found as the Queen’s royal companion, to continue to smooth the sharp edges of Jehanne’s prickly temper and delight in her abundant passions. I wanted to spend time with my father, so recently found and so nearly lost to me. I closed my eyes and prayed to the gods of Terre d’Ange I knew best, begging them to let me stay—but Naamah turned her bright face away. Anael bowed his head over his cupped hands, showing me a bulb with a single shoot, a Camaeline snowdrop.

  Their will accorded with Hers.

  I was meant to go.

  I rubbed my stinging eyes. “Aye, Master Lo. I’ll go.”

  FIFTY-TWO

  The worst part was telling Jehanne.

  She knew something was amiss. She was there to receive us at the Palace, Prince Thierry at her side, unexpectedly attentive, her entourage around her. She kissed her royal husband with glad relief, and me no less gladly, her lips lingering on mine.

  “My poor girl,” she murmured in my ear. “You should have written me sooner. I’d have made him release you.”

  I shivered. “I didn’t think of it.”

  Jehanne pulled away from me. “It is over, isn’t it? This business with Raphael?”

  “Aye,” I said miserably. “But—”

  A shadow crossed her face. She put two fingers over my lips. “Whatever it is, don’t speak of it now. Tell me later. Alone.”

  Tired though I was, I kept my word and met with King Daniel. In the privacy of his study, I told him everything I knew about the Circle of Shalomon, every detail of the summonings we had attempted. He listened gravely, asking questions and taking notes, then dismissed me when I was finished at last.

  “Moirin.” He called me back as I went to leave. “I heard your answer to Master Lo Feng. Is there aught I can say to change your mind?”

  I touched my chest. “Can you silence my destiny?”

  “Would that I could.” He studied me. “You’re sure?”

  I nodded. “Would that I weren’t. I don’t want to leave, your majesty. But I’m very, very sure.”

  The King sighed. “Blessed Elua hold and keep you. Go.”

  When I returned to my quarters, I found Jehanne there waiting for me. And alone in the bower she’d had created for me, I told her.

  Jehanne slapped me hard across the face, hard enough to wrench my head sideways. And then she crumpled to the floor at my feet, weeping as though her heart were breaking.

  I felt as though mine were.

  “I’m sorry!” I cradled her head in my lap, wrapping my arms around her. I felt awful and there was nothing I could say to make it better, no words of comfort I could speak. All I could do was hold her until the worst of the storm had passed. “I’m so very sorry. Jehanne, I don’t want to leave you. I don’t.”

  She sniffled. “But you are.”

  “Yes,” I said softly.

  She grew still and quiet in my arms. “I knew. I always knew you would. I just didn’t think it would be so soon, Moirin.”

  “Neither did I.”

  A fresh bout of weeping shook her. “I thought you’d stay at least until the child was born!”

  I closed my eyes, hot tears leaking beneath my lids. “So did I. I’m sorry!”

  “I know,” Jehanne murmured when she could talk again. She gave a sad, lost laugh. “At least as an adept of Cereus House, I’m taught to revere the transient nature of beauty. This was a fleeting and precious thing.”

  I stroked her hair. “You’ll take another companion now that you know it suits you.”

  “Oh, please!” It was a relief to hear a cross edge to her voice. “Will you insult my intelligence? Surely it hasn’t escaped your notice that there isn’t anyone else like you in the world.”

  “No.” I kissed her tear-damp cheek. “But you don’t need a half-breed Maghuin Dhonn witch to serve as your companion. You just need someone you like well enough to trust.” I smiled despite my aching heart. “Some gorgeous young creature from the backwoods with a generous soul, a good deal of patience, and buckets of untutored ardor.” At that, Jehanne smiled a little, too. “You’d like the lass who tended my father,” I told her. “The woodcutter’
s daughter, Sophie. Kind and sweet, very beautiful, and very, very untutored.”

  “Oh?” She peered up at me.

  “Aye.” A sharp pang of jealousy shot through me at the thought of the woodcutter’s daughter in Jehanne’s arms. “You needn’t look that interested.”

  “I’m not.” She sat upright. “Oh, Moirin! It’s not that easy to trust anew.”

  “You gave me your trust willingly enough,” I reminded her.

  Jehanne took my hand, twining her fingers with mine. “There was already a bond of trust between us. You took a considerable leap of faith when you let me rescue you. It made it easier to return the favor.” She paused and searched my face, her blue-grey eyes earnest and vulnerable and as bright as stars. “Do you love me at least a little bit?”

  I couldn’t help it; I laughed. And I wept, too. “Do you truly have to ask? Yes, Jehanne, a thousand times, yes. You’re absurdly beautiful, utterly infuriating, and inexplicably charming, and I love you far, far more than you deserve.”

  “Good.” She put her arms around my neck, smiling at me through her tears. “Tell me more, please.”

  I did.

  I pulled her close and kissed her over and over, and I told her everything I loved about her—decent and indecent.

  And this, too, felt like a benediction.

  Naamah had turned her face away when I begged her to let me stay. Now that I had accepted my fate, she turned it back to me for a fleeting moment in time.

  To us.

  Whatever else was true, Naamah’s blessing was on this union. Desire rose like a tide in my blood, driving out weariness and hunger, overriding sorrow, holding even destiny at bay. An answering passion rose in Jehanne—Naamah’s gift, rising in a golden spiral, entwining with mine. At some point, I helped her rise from the floor, tugging her hand and urging her into bed, unlacing her stays and stripping off her gown and underclothes. Beneath the hanging fronds, Jehanne kissed me fervently, her tongue urgent in my mouth.