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

by Jacqueline Carey

  In the morning, we departed for Shuntian.

  I hated to leave so soon. I could have stayed for days, enveloped in Madame Po’s maternal concern, distracted by the curiosity and chatter of her lively daughters, protected by the high stone walls that would have once made me so uneasy.

  But my diadh-anam flared at the sight of Bao and Master Lo; and there was another man’s daughter awaiting us. The Emperor’s warrior daughter, blindfolded and caged behind iron bars.

  Demon-possessed Snow Tiger, who had torn her bridegroom apart with her bare hands.

  Bao grinned upon seeing me in borrowed clothes. I wore a long jacket of peach silk trimmed with brocade over a pair of ivory trousers with a similar border hemmed in haste. “You look good. Almost like a Ch’in girl now.”

  I eyed him. “And you look like a peasant still. Will you wear that to greet the Emperor?”

  He shrugged, hard, lean shoulders moving gracefully beneath the homespun cotton of his shirt. “It shows humility.”

  “Does it?” I had my doubts about Bao and humility, no matter how hard he strove for it.

  Bao narrowed his eyes at me. “Do you want to say good-bye to your horse, witch-girl who sometimes talks to animals? She is not fit to ride yet. None of our mounts are.”

  That softened me. “Aye, I do.”

  Governor Po’s daughters trailed me into their father’s stable, where I said my farewells to Blossom. The filly leaned her head wearily over the stall door, apologies in her eyes. I rubbed the base of her ears, sensing the deep, trembling exhaustion in her.

  Peace. I breathed the thought at her. Rest.

  Blowing out her breath through flared nostrils, Blossom agreed. “She was a gift from a royal prince,” I said somberly to the Governor’s daughters. “The Dauphin of Terre d’Ange himself.” They gazed back at me, wide-eyed. “On the very day he gave her to me, I saved his life. She was bred to carry royalty, and she is a very, very long way from home. If I may return for her, I will. But if I cannot, will you see that she is treated gently? If you do, she will bear you each in turn with a good and true heart.”

  They nodded in fervent agreement, falling in love with Blossom the way of girls and horses the world over.

  I bowed in the Ch’in fashion, hand over fist. “My thanks.”

  And then we were off, off once more.

  I will not chronicle the whole of our journey to Shuntian. It is enough to say that it was swift and uneventful. We rode mounts borrowed from Governor Po. Lord Jiang had secured his hold in the south. North of Ludong City, the Emperor’s rule was yet law.

  We traversed flat, fertile lands along the rivers where peasants plowed the earth, guiding placid water buffalo with fearsome-looking horns.

  We scaled mountains with pockets of snow nestled in their hollows. In the mountains, I saw for the first time the Great Wall that the Ch’in folk had been building since time out of mind to keep the Tatar menace at bay. And I must own, even though I glimpsed it at a distance, the scope of it made me shudder.

  It wasn’t beautiful like the architecture of the City of Elua.

  But it was so, so very vast.

  It went on for leagues and leagues, crawling over the spine of the mountains, winding and climbing, tall watchtowers spiking toward the sky. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how many men had given their lives in the process of building it.

  “Many,” Bao said softly in answer to my unspoken thought. “They say it is the largest graveyard in the world.”

  I met his gaze. “Your blood-father came from beyond the wall. Do you ever wonder about him?”

  He shrugged. “No.”

  At other times, we spoke in hushed whispers of Black Sleeve and the Divine Thunder, wondering if a weapon so terrible could bring down the Great Wall itself. Bao was of the opinion it could.

  “Lord Jiang, he does not have enough yet,” he said darkly. “Not enough to challenge the Emperor’s army. But every day, he is making more. One day he will have enough.”

  “Why would he do it?” I lowered my voice further. “Black Sleeve, I mean. And why is he called Black Sleeve?”

  “For the first part, no one knows except maybe Master Lo,” Bao said. “And he is not saying. They call him Black Sleeve because he carries poisoned darts in his sleeves,” he added. “One day in the mountains seven bandits attacked him.” He made a sweeping gesture with one arm. “He killed all seven just like that.”

  “Oh.” I stole a glance at Master Lo Feng sitting upright in the saddle, wondering for the hundredth time at the relationship between them. “Not someone I’d care to cross.”

  “You already have,” Bao pointed out.

  I remembered the alchemist frowning at me in puzzlement and shivered. “True.”

  It was midday when we finally arrived at Shuntian and passed through the massive outer gates. It was a city so large it dwarfed my notion of cities. Stone and sea! There were so many people! They made way for us in the streets, staring after us with open curiosity. Whispers followed us, filled with speculation and hope.

  “Lo Feng!”

  “Lo Feng has returned!”

  Master Lo ignored the whispers, as serene as ever; and yet I thought his face looked careworn. Bao ignored them too, but he carried his head high, eyes glittering as he returned to the city where he had once been the prince of thugs, the city where he had left his former self behind.

  For my part, I kept my eyes lowered, trying to draw as little attention as possible.

  It worked for a time.

  General Tsieh and his men escorted us to a city within a city—the Celestial City, a city of crimson walls and yellow tiled roofs, walled and moated within a city of walls and moats. We dismounted outside its gates, subjecting ourselves to the scrutiny of guards in full armor. Their commander recoiled and shook his head when he came to me.

  “No foreigners,” he said firmly. “It is not permitted for barbarian eyes to gaze upon the Son of Heaven.”

  Master Lo folded his hands in his sleeves. “She is my pupil.”

  “It is not permitted!”

  My mentor inclined his head. “Then we will go.”

  The general sighed. He, too, had travelled a very, very long way to reach this moment, and I felt sorry for him.

  “Master…” I began.

  He silenced me with a look. “Your gods placed you in my care and brought you here, Moirin. I do not know how your destiny accords with mine. I only know that it does. Will you heed it or not?”

  My diadh-anam sang.

  I sighed, too. “Aye, Master Lo.”

  The commander glowered underneath his bushy brows. Messengers ran to and fro, conferring. In the end, we were all admitted to the Celestial City, passing through the inner gates and stepping over the tall lintel.

  “Meant to keep demons out,” Bao informed me. “Don’t step on it! Nothing but bad luck if you do.”

  “It didn’t do such a good job, did it?” I muttered.

  He shrugged. “Maybe not.”

  Inside the inner gates, there was another courtyard, a vast expanse filled with guards and attendants. And then another moat with five bridges traversing a narrow river. We crossed a bridge and passed through yet another gate, stepping carefully over the high lintel.

  Another courtyard, this one housing a pavilion.

  And the Son of Heaven.

  So the Ch’in reckon their Emperor, and there is a special obeisance accorded him, performed on hands and knees. Despite his purported hundred and seventy years, Master Lo performed it gracefully, kneeling before the throne and touching his brow to the ground three times. Along with Bao and the general and his men, I followed suit, sinking to my knees and humbling myself.

  “Old friend.” Emperor Zhu’s voice was heavy. I peered at him beneath my lashes. A man, only a man. Tall for his folk, with a warrior’s mien, but a sorrowful, defeated aspect. He wore robes of yellow silk, embroidered with scarlet dragons. It looked well on him. Coiled dragons rode the columns that
surrounded his throne, their claws reaching for the skies. A flat-topped crown sat atop the Emperor’s head, dripping with strings of beaded gems. “My old, old friend. You have come at last.”

  Master Lo rose and straightened. When he spoke, his voice was infinitely gentle. “Yes, Celestial Majesty. You sent for me. I am here.”

  I felt the Emperor’s gaze descend on me, weigh me, and dismiss me. “Will you see her?” he asked Master Lo. “Will you see my daughter?”

  Master Lo bowed. “I will.”

  SIXTY-ONE

  Snow Tiger.

  Xue Hu, in Ch’in.

  My skin prickled as we made our way through the endless labyrinth of the Celestial City, trailing a long line of attendants, two of them carrying a tall standing mirror that Master Lo had requested, veiled in silk. There was some question as to whether or not Bao was to be admitted to the women’s quarters, where men were not allowed, but once more Master Lo insisted and prevailed.

  “What about them?” I asked in confusion, indicating the attendants.

  “Them?” Bao glanced. “They have been cut.”

  “Cut?” I echoed.

  He made a slicing motion toward his groin. “Not full men anymore. Serving in the palace is one path toward power,” he said thoughtfully. “Not one I would choose.”

  I swallowed hard. “Gods, no!”

  At last we entered a small inner courtyard where gnarled trees grew amid curious limestone rocks. It was a pretty place—or at least it would have been if it were not partitioned by a wall of iron bars, the cage extending into the living quarters beyond.

  “Noble Daughter!” The Emperor’s voice cracked as he summoned her. He cleared his throat and collected himself. “Master Lo Feng has come to see you!”

  She emerged.

  Beside me, Bao drew in a long, hissing breath.

  Hearing tales of the daughter raised as a prince, I had expected a more imposing figure—but no. Snow Tiger was as delicate as a flower, slender as a reed, and half a head shorter than me. Her natural beauty was what the women on the greatship sought to emulate with their cosmetics and painted brows.

  And yet…

  She wore crimson robes embroidered with exotic birds. A sash of crimson silk was bound around her eyes, the ends trailing down her back. Despite it, she walked across her enclosed courtyard with deliberate, sure-footed grace, her spine as straight as a spear, her carriage proud and unbowed. And I did not doubt, not for one heartbeat, that she was a warrior.

  “Truly?” Her voice was low. “After so long, he is here?”

  Emperor Zhu’s strong hands gripped the iron bars that divided them. “Truly, Noble Daughter.”

  My diadh-anam flickered and flared. I felt dizzy. I shook my head, trying to clear it, while Master Lo examined her through the bars. He felt the pulses in her wrists, studied her tongue, listened to the sound of her breathing. She bore it patiently, doubtless having been through the like a hundred times before.

  With Bao’s assistance, he lit a taper of incense that gave off prodigious amounts of fragrant smoke, waving it around her. The smoke writhed and coiled in intricate patterns.

  Coiled like… what?

  “Forgive me, Noble Princess.” Master Lo’s voice sounded genuinely apologetic. “I must ask you to remove the blindfold.” He nodded at the attendants. “Unveil the mirror.”

  Snow Tiger bowed her head in acquiescence, hands rising to undo the knot. “Step away from the bars, please. You must be sure your people are safe.”

  “Do as her highness bids,” he agreed. “Step away.”

  I meant to—gods know, I did! And yet I didn’t. Instead, I stood rooted to the spot and summoned the twilight without thinking, breathing it in deep. As the crimson blindfold fluttered to the ground and Snow Tiger opened her eyes, I flung the twilight around both of us.

  And a half-step into the world beyond, I saw.

  I caught my breath.

  Her head turned, unerring. Something not human looked out from her eyes, looked out and saw itself reflected in mine. She was not alone in her body. Silver-white brightness coiled and uncoiled throughout her being.

  You see me.

  The voice in my thoughts crashed and echoed like mountains falling.

  “I see you,” I murmured in awe.

  You see me! It thundered, male and triumphant. You see me! I see myself in you!

  “What is it?” The Ch’in princess stood very straight and still, her dark gaze with unspeakable brightness behind it fixed on my face. “You are a foreigner. Why are you here? What have you done? Who are you?”

  Somewhere, half a world away, alarm was rising. I concentrated on breathing, tuning out the frantic mortal voices.

  “Moirin,” I said firmly. “I am Moirin mac Fainche of the Maghuin Dhonn, my lady. And I bid you to look.” In the gloaming light, I reached through the bars and turned her chin toward the full-length mirror that Master Lo had ordered brought. “Look and see.”

  There was no lovely Ch’in princess reflected there. There was only the infinite coils of a dragon, twining and untwining, pearlescent white scales gleaming in the depths of the mirror. As I watched, it raised its bearded, long-jowled head with joy.

  You see me!

  “I see it,” Snow Tiger breathed. She put one slender arm through the bars, her splayed fingertips touching the mirror. “Oh! I thought it would be hideous. But it’s beautiful, so beautiful.”

  I didn’t know…

  The memory not my own surfaced. Desire, shuddering pleasure; an awakening onto dawning horror. Blindness. Thrashing panic, soft flesh tearing in the pursuit of unattainable freedom. And blood—gods! So much blood.

  I felt sick.

  “The dragon awoke inside you while you were making love with your bridegroom,” I whispered. “He didn’t know. He was only trying to free himself.”

  Her throat worked. “How? How did this happen?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.” The sounds of alarm were growing. My grip on the twilight wavered. “My lady, we’d best go back.”

  STAY!

  I winced at the volume of the dragon’s voice in my head. Desire and panic, twined together, roiled through me. Snow Tiger caught my hand, nearly crushing it in an inhumanly strong grip. I forced myself to breathe through the pain. “I’m here,” I said to the immortal being behind her eyes. “Be gentle. It’s all right. I’m not really going away. It’s only blindness, only for a little while. Can you endure it?”

  For you, I will try.

  The princess nodded in agreement, her grip loosening.

  I eased my hand away and stooped to pick up her scarf. “Cover your eyes.”

  When I loosed the twilight, the world crashed down upon us, filled with chaos and shouting. Hands grabbed my arms, yanking me away from the cage. Bao yelled, his staff whirling as he attacked my assailants.

  The dragon…

  LET HER GO!

  The furious roar in my head didn’t quite drown out Snow Tiger’s high, fierce cry. Driven by the dragon’s fury, she dropped the scarf in her hands and flung herself forward, hitting the iron bars with terrible force. The bars screeched and bent. She caught sight of the mirror and froze, then flung herself forward again, howling. With the twilight banished, the dragon could no longer see his reflection, and it maddened him further, the enormity of his rage driving the princess like a goad.

  “Cover the mirror!” I shouted. “Cover the bedamned mirror!”

  Bao dashed to obey, a wary eye on the princess. Once the mirror was covered, she made a great effort to wrestle herself under control, squeezing her eyes shut and tying the scarf in place.

  Attendants seized me again, forcing me to my knees. The Emperor drew a long, curved sword. “You bring a barbarian witch to torment my daughter, old friend?” he asked Master Lo, his voice filled with grief and menace. “What manner of betrayal is this?”

  “Father!” Snow Tiger called. “Let her go!”

  “Hush, child,” he said over
his shoulder. “You don’t know yourself.”

  “It is not so!” she said in frustration. “Noble Father, I beg you, spare the foreign woman and let her speak.”

  Master Lo’s face was pale, but composed. He folded his hands in his sleeves. “I urge you to heed your daughter’s plea, Celestial Majesty. My pupil’s people have a gift for magic and her destiny has led her to this place. If you wish to hear what she has to say, I suggest you let her keep her head. Your daughter’s fate may depend on it.”

  Emperor Zhu hesitated, knuckles white on his sword-hilt. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bao sidling closer, trying to decide if saving my life was worth assaulting the Son of Heaven. I shook my head at him, sure it would be his death sentence if he did.

  “Let her up.” The Emperor sheathed his blade brusquely and nodded at me. “Speak.”

  I rose unsteadily, only now beginning to tremble. I breathed the Breath of Earth’s Pulse until I could speak. “It’s not a demon. It’s a dragon.” I pointed to the embroidered crimson figures swirling on his robes. “Like that, only white. Like the dragon on Lord Jiang’s standard,” I added. “It’s trapped inside her. I don’t know how or why, but it is.”

  Master Lo paled further, an involuntary sound escaping from him. That shocked me as much as anything that had transpired.

  “It’s true.” Snow Tiger clutched the iron bars hard enough to make them creak in protest, but her blindfold was in place and she maintained control. “Father, I saw it.”

  “Sorcery,” Emperor Zhu said grimly.

  “No, old friend.” Master Lo’s voice was faint, but steady. It grew stronger as he spoke. “I fear she speaks the truth.”

  A memory that made no sense surfaced in his thoughts. A toddler, plump and merry as any of Bao’s imaginary babies, playing with a shimmering pearl the size of a ball. I blinked and frowned, not comprehending.

  Master Lo met my gaze for a long, grave moment, then turned to Snow Tiger. “Noble Princess, someone gave you a drink the night of your wedding, did they not?”

  “You did, Master,” she said in perplexity. “That is, I drank the tonic that you gave to Lord Jiang’s physician to hold in keeping for my wedding night.” Beneath the blindfold, her cheeks turned faintly pink. I could hazard a guess at the tonic’s intended effect.