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

by Jacqueline Carey

  Across the water that divided them, Master Lo and Black Sleeve gazed silently at one another.

  “Now!” General Tsieh shouted. “Loose the wind!”

  Feverish fingers worked at the tightly knotted silk cords. Slowly, slowly, the mouth of the Thousand-Cloud Bag opened.

  Without thinking, I breathed the Breath of Wind’s Sigh, drew it high up into me and breathed it into the space between my eyes. Remembering the cold winter winds blowing through the bell tower where Master Lo had taught it to me. It could only help.

  And it seemed the world breathed with me, taking a deep, indrawn breath like an endless sigh. The bag rose and billowed, taking in air, towering over the main deck.

  I breathed in.

  I breathed out.

  When it happened, it happened all at once. Another bronze tube barked fire and coughed thunder. The Thousand-Cloud Bag exhaled, filling the massive sails of the Imperial greatship—or at least the three of five yet intact.

  It was enough.

  The Imperial greatship leapt forward, surging past Lord Jiang’s warships. Past the projected missile, which fell harmlessly into the sea, another gout of steam arising. Across the harbor, into the narrow confines of the Great Canal.

  Away.

  I spared a glance behind us and saw the dwindling figure of Black Sleeve unlock his gaze from Master Lo and settle on me. Belatedly, his brows formed a furrow, perplexed at my existence.

  “Too late,” I whispered.

  We rode before the wind, leaving him behind.

  FIFTY-NINE

  It was a terrifying and exhilarating journey.

  The Thousand-Cloud Bag billowed and blew. We hurtled past the buildings of Guangzhou with their tip-tilted roofs. In peacetime, I daresay we would have wreaked havoc, crashing into lesser vessels and sinking them with our sheer bulk and momentum, but for a mercy, the Grand Canal was largely deserted.

  Buildings gave way to countryside. The canal spilled us into a larger river lined with willow trees. Beyond the trees, peasants working in the fields lifted their heads to stare in wonder as the Imperial greatship rushed past them, its upper decks towering over the trees.

  In the end, it wasn’t a bridge that put a halt to our flight. After the better part of two hours, the Thousand-Cloud Bag blew itself empty, settling with a sigh on the aftdeck, its many embroidered squares flat and slack once more.

  Bereft of wind, the greatship drifted to a halt.

  “It’s a fighting head start,” General Tsieh said philosophically before raising his voice to give a new order. “Unload the ship!”

  A scene of pandemonium ensued. Soldiers and sailors alike worked frantically to unload the greatship. A vast plank was lowered to the shore. Suyin and Mei and several dozen other women emerged, white-faced with fear beneath their cosmetics. Food stores, cargo, and personal belongings were unloaded. Horses were led from the hold on unsteady legs, blinking in the sunlight.

  I led Blossom out myself. I’d visited her many times during our journey, walking her up and down the narrow exercise corridor in the belly of the greatship, and she was the only horse among them to look calm and alert. She listened to me with pricked ears as I spoke softly to her, soothing her thoughts with my mind.

  Peasants gathered to watch. Several of General Tsieh’s men interrogated them. They seemed friendly, nodding and pointing toward the north.

  “Good news.” The general strode over to us. “We’re only a hundred li or so from the border of Qilu Province. That’s as far as Lord Jiang’s grasp extends. If we push the horses as hard as we dare, we ought to make it.”

  Master Lo frowned. “There are no mounts for the women and sailors.”

  The general shrugged. “Those without will have to make due. With all we’ll be forced to leave behind, they can bribe the peasants to hide them.”

  “My bulbs!” Master Lo said in alarm.

  General Tsieh cast an acerbic eye over the massive pot that Bao had lugged ashore. “I’m sorry, Venerable One. But yes, if you do not wish to be captured by Lord Jiang’s men, your bulbs must stay.” He jerked his chin at the two trunks of my clothing. “Those, too.”

  I sighed. There were gowns I’d not seen since we left Terre d’Ange in there, the finest creations of Atelier Favrielle, sumptuous, elegant gowns that were wholly impractical for travel. “Master Lo, I’ve an idea. Bao, lend me a hand.”

  I emptied out my battered canvas satchel. There wasn’t much I truly needed to keep. I put the thong with my mother’s signet ring around my neck and tucked the crystal bottle of Jehanne’s perfume into the purse at my belt. With Bao’s aid, I transferred the bulk of the snowdrop bulbs into my satchel.

  The fragile bulbs protested faintly.

  Sleep. I blew softly over the soil. Deeper and deeper. Sleep.

  “We must go!” the general called impatiently. “Time to ride!”

  “Suyin!” I beckoned to her. She hurried over with the graceful, mincing gait Ch’in women favored, gazing at me with wide, fearful eyes. “There are some items of value in these trunks. Gowns… or at least the fabric, mayhap.” I couldn’t picture her in one of Benoit Vallon’s immodest creations. “Eardrops, jeweled combs, a headpiece. Share them among the women. Use them as best you may.”

  She looked blankly at me. I’d reverted to speaking D’Angeline without thinking.

  Bao translated.

  Suyin bowed three times in rapid succession, speaking quickly to me in her native dialect.

  “She says thank you and she will pray for you! They will all pray for you!” Bao flung himself effortlessly astride his mount despite being burdened with many of the rest of Master Lo’s bags of medicines and possessions. He glanced behind us. There was a faint smear of dust rising on the southern horizon. Lord Jiang’s forces were in pursuit. “Moirin, we must go. Now.”

  “All right, all right!” I slung the satchel over one shoulder, my bow and quiver over the other, and hoisted myself into the saddle. “I’m ready!”

  General Tsieh gave the order. “Ride!”

  A hundred li was not a great distance—a little over ten leagues if I understood correctly. A strong, fit mount could easily cover that distance in a day.

  But we were not riding strong, fit mounts.

  Weakened by long months at sea and unsteady on dry land as any of us, the horses stumbled and staggered through the tall fields of wheat. I couldn’t help but wince at their struggles, any more than I could help wincing at the swathe we cut, trampling the late-winter grain ready for harvest.

  It was better once we gained the road and sure footing—but not for long. The toll the journey had taken on our mounts was too great. One by one, they began to founder. General Tsieh called for a halt to determine which ones had the strength to continue. There were only a score, Blossom among them.

  Thirty men would stay behind to guard our passage. I watched them string and test their bows, preparing to make a stand.

  “So many lives spent to save one woman,” I murmured to Master Lo. “Is it worth it?”

  He looked troubled. “I cannot say, Moirin. But I fear there are greater stakes here that justify their sacrifice. What Black Sleeve has done…” He fell silent.

  “The Divine Thunder?” I asked.

  “Sorcery,” Bao said darkly.

  “Not sorcery.” Master Lo’s voice was filled with sorrow. “Only alchemy and engineering. The possibility to use fire-powder to create such a terrible weapon has existed for many, many years. It is a secret that many of us have kept for a long time, and for many years, I have feared that someone would discover it. Now it seems it has happened. But I never thought it would be him.”

  “Was he your pupil?” I asked.

  “No.” He said no more. I raised my brows at Bao, who shook his head, knowing no more than I did.

  And then General Tsieh gave the order, and we were off once more.

  We rode through the day and into darkness, coaxing and pleading with our mounts. A little while after n
ightfall, we saw the faint sparks of lanterns on the road behind us. The sacrifice of thirty men may have delayed them, but our pursuers were drawing nearer.

  “Moirin.” Master Lo spoke for the first time in hours. “If we are caught, use your gifts to escape unseen. Bao, go with her. Black Sleeve will see that I come to no harm. I cannot guarantee the same for you.”

  “Aye, Master.” I felt heartsick at the prospect, and too weary to argue. Bao merely nodded, looking as sick as I felt.

  We dismounted to lead our staggering horses up a long mountain pass. My thighs were quivering with exhaustion after hours in the saddle. The satchel over my shoulder seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. The sparks behind us were drawing closer. I put my head down and trudged, praying that my diadh-anam hadn’t led me halfway around the world to abandon me. All the gods knew, I wouldn’t be the first of the Maghuin Dhonn to misunderstand Her intent and pay the price for it.

  At the crest of the mountain, shouting.

  I lifted my heavy head. Bao pointed wordlessly.

  There was a walled city in the valley below, dimly visible in the starlight, lamps burning in its watchtowers.

  “Ride!” General Tsieh shouted. “Ride!”

  I scrambled gracelessly back into the saddle. Sensing our urgency, the horses found one last burst of panicked strength as we plunged down the mountain slope. Feeling Blossom’s lungs and valiant heart labor, I prayed for her forgiveness.

  Behind us, more shouting. Our enemy was in hot pursuit.

  Had it been daytime, I daresay we wouldn’t have made it. They began loosing arrows at us when we reached level ground. Two soldiers slumped and went down, crying out in pain; then, an order countermanding the attack.

  “They can’t see,” Bao said breathlessly beside me. “Don’t want to hit Master Lo.”

  “Lucky for him!” I gasped.

  “Lucky for us all!”

  General Tsieh was shouting at the watchtowers as our ragtag party drew near. “Emperor’s men! We’re Emperor’s men! If this city is still under the Mandate of Heaven, open the cursed gates!”

  More torches flared atop the walls. Men yelled, ran and scrambled atop the walls.

  Slowly, slowly, the massive gates swung open.

  We swept past them—only to find ourselves trapped in a high-walled courtyard, the inner gates yet closed. Hot on our heels, Lord Jiang’s men surged inside after us.

  My heart sank.

  “Disappear!” Bao was yelling at me. “Disappear!”

  Blossom checked and wheeled at the closed inner gate. I lurched in the saddle, the heavy satchel falling from my shoulder. One of Lord Jiang’s soldiers was bearing down on me, a fierce grimace on his face. “I can’t!”

  Bao grunted, wielding his staff. The butt end of it caught Jiang’s man under the chin, knocking him from his horse. “Heh.” Bao grinned; and then his mount collapsed beneath him, pinning him under its bulk.

  Another soldier on horseback came at me, leering, a raised cudgel in one hand. He meant to capture, not kill.

  Cold anger came over me.

  Spoils of war—that’s what Master Lo had meant to imply. That’s what I would be considered if I were captured. That’s the fate that may have already befallen Suyin and Mei and the other women from the ship.

  I couldn’t summon the twilight, not with the soldier’s gaze on me. But in that moment, I didn’t want to.

  My hands moved smoothly and precisely. I unslung the bow from my shoulder, the yew-wood bow my uncle Mabon had made for me. I was Moirin mac Fainche of the Maghuin Dhonn, and I’d been shooting for the pot since I was ten years old. With unerring speed, I drew an arrow from my quiver, fitting it to the string. I pulled the string taut against my cheek, and loosed it.

  The soldier clutched his chest and looked at me in surprise before reeling over backward in the saddle.

  I smiled grimly and nocked another arrow. “Who’s next?”

  As if to echo my question, a volley of arrows fell from above. There were archers atop the high walls behind us, shooting into the courtyard, driving Lord Jiang’s forces back toward the outer gates. Some fled, some stayed and fought, no longer caring who they killed.

  The outer gates crashed shut, trapping those who stayed.

  Bao was on his feet, cursing a blue streak, putting himself between Master Lo and me and Jiang’s men, his staff a blur, battering away arrows in midflight. I don’t know how many times he saved our lives that night.

  And then it was over.

  Ten of our men were dead. Three dozen or more of Lord Jiang’s soldiers had been slain. I dismounted on shaky legs and stooped to pick up my fallen satchel, settling its weight on my shoulder. Blossom gave a weary whicker and nuzzled my hair.

  “Is this victory?” I asked Bao.

  He leaned on his staff, looking unspeakably tired. “Don’t know.”

  I looked up. “Master Lo?”

  Slumped in the saddle, he roused himself. “No. Victory… no. A brief reprieve in what promises to be a long battle.”

  The inner gates of the courtyard opened with a crash. Torchlight spilled into the square, silhouetting a stocky fellow who beamed at us, flanked by a hundred men in armor. The Imperial flag waved above them.

  “Forgive me, esteemed friends!” he cried cheerfully. “We had to be certain you were who you claimed to be.” He clasped his hands together and bowed, low and deep. “I am Governor Po. Welcome to Ludong City.”

  SIXTY

  We spent the night in Ludong.

  Governor Po had a warm-hearted wife and seven lively daughters delighted to be awakened by the excitement of our arrival, and I found myself whisked away in their company. Despite the lateness of the hour, they took me to a bathing chamber, the daughters crowding around to watch and assist as I washed away salt-spray, sweat, and grime, feeling truly clean for the first time in long months.

  “Tell us about the barbarian lands!” one of the middle daughters pleaded.

  “Tell us of Master Lo Feng!” begged one with a scholar’s dreamy gaze.

  “No, no!” The eldest daughter giggled. “Tell us about his handsome ruffian apprentice!”

  Tired as I was, it made me smile. “You think he’s handsome?”

  Amid much more giggling, all but one of the older girls agreed that Bao was handsome; the scholarly daughter proclaimed with a sniff that he had Tatar eyes and looked ill-mannered. And then Madame Po, vexed at their chatter, scolded them for wearying me and drove them from the chamber.

  “Poor child,” she said sympathetically, folding me into a clean cotton robe. “So far from home! You should not be travelling alone with men, even a man such as Master Lo Feng.”

  “There were other women on the ship,” I said, wondering if Suyin and Mei and the others had escaped unharmed. I hoped so.

  Madame Po made a clucking sound and shook her head. “Unsuitable women. Have you no parents? What must they think!”

  “Oh.” I smiled sadly. “’Tis a complicated matter, my lady. But if my mother were here, she would thank you for showing her daughter kindness,” I added, an unexpected swell of longing tightening my throat.

  “Poor child,” Madame Po repeated in a murmur, combing out the tangles in my wet, wind-whipped hair. I swallowed against the lump in my throat, hearing the universal love of mothers for their daughters in her gentle tone. “Poor little jade-eyed girl.”

  I wondered if I’d ever see my mother again, hear her call me Moirin mine in that same tone.

  I hoped so, very, very much.

  Afterward, a servant roused from the kitchen brought me a bowl of noodles in broth studded with bits of spiced pork. Suddenly ravenous, I forced myself to eat at a measured pace while the two eldest daughters rummaged through their clothes-presses in an effort to find garments that might fit me. I’d escaped with nothing but the dress on my back, which was much the worse for wear. Luckily for me, the girls took after their sturdily built father.

  “You have very long legs!” Second D
aughter said in an aggrieved tone, holding up a pair of loose trousers that fell well above my ankles. “Do all barbarian women have such long legs?”

  “No,” I said. “My father is tall.”

  She cocked her head at me. “What does your father do?”

  “Ahh… he’s a priest.”

  “What kind of priest?”

  I flushed at the thought of trying to explain Naamah’s Service to a curious fourteen-year-old Ch’in girl. “The kind that solves other people’s problems,” I said. “Especially troubled lovers.”

  Her eyes widened. “What kind of problems?”

  “Enough.” Madame Po intervened, taking the trousers from her. “I’ll have Seamstress sew a border on these. That will suit very well.” She clapped her hands briskly. “Now, back to bed, girls!”

  I passed that night in First Daughter’s bed while she shared her second sister’s. Another time, it would have troubled me to sleep indoors in a strange, man-made building surrounded by strangers. Not tonight. I was glad of it, even as I was glad of the high stone walls surrounding Ludong City. The girls’ innocence, the sound of their deep, untroubled breathing served as a buffer between me and the ugliness I’d witnessed earlier.

  The soldier I’d killed…

  Each time I neared the verge of sleep, his surprised face loomed in my memory, his hands clutching the arrow blossoming from his chest. In the heat of the moment, all I’d felt was grim satisfaction. Now it haunted me.

  I had killed a man.

  Well and so, he had deserved it. If I hadn’t killed him, I would be chattel—or dead. I repeated the thought to myself over and over, taking comfort in the soft breathing of Governor and Madame Po’s daughters, until weariness claimed me and I slept.