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

by Jacqueline Carey

  Her blindfolded head lifted. “What you suggest is dishonorable.”

  “Mayhap, but—”

  “No.” Her voice was gentle but firm. “Even if it were not, it is too dangerous. Halfway into the spirit world is not far enough to protect you from the arrows of forty desperate men, Moirin, and you are the one person I dare not risk.” Her head turned in the direction of distant Snow Jade Mountain. “I fear your gifts will be needed before the end.”

  A handful of farmers were whispering with the boy. One of them came forward, his expression tentative. “Noble Princess?”

  She turned to him. “Yes?”

  “There may be a way.” He nodded to the nearer mountains. “The boy says Naxi folk live in the hills. They’ve no loyalty to Lord Jiang; he’s tried to outlaw their customs. It might be that a couple of us could get through, looking no threat. Naxi folk hunt with slings. If they were to attack Jiang’s men from above… is that what you mean by a distraction?”

  Her face lit with fierce hope. “Very much so. What is your name?”

  He flushed with pleasure. “Chen Cao, Noble Princess.”

  She nodded. “Chen Cao. I will remember this. Go with the boy, and see if you can find the Naxi and sway them to our cause.”

  He bowed three times in quick succession. “Yes, Noble Princess! I will not disappoint you, I promise!”

  The wait was agonizing. At Snow Tiger’s order, we moved our company as close as we dared approach without being detected. She made the mounted men check their arms and gear thoroughly, lest Jiang’s men grow weary of waiting and decide to investigate. When it was done, she beckoned to me. We rode some distance from the others.

  “I will have to unloose him again,” she said softly. “Even with the aid of Naxi slings, we are no match for forty archers. I must get among them at close range, and…” She didn’t voice the thought. We both knew. “If you summon your magic, for yourself alone, before I lower the blindfold, do you think it might help?”

  I felt sick. “Mayhap.”

  Yes. The dragon’s voice was sure. If she is in the twilight world, she can see me. I will know.

  “Then will you do so the moment I give the order to ride?” the princess asked.

  “Of course, my lady.”

  The sun crawled slowly across the sky. We waited and waited. How many hours, I could not say. I worried about the farmers, simple tools clutched in their hands. I worried about Bao and the stick-fighters, none of them trained to fight in the saddle. I worried about the princess, sure to take the gravest risk on herself. I worried about the dragon, wondering what would become of him if she were slain.

  I would end, he said matter-of-factly.

  “Oh,” I whispered, and worried more.

  At last, there came the sound of shouting in the distance. I’d never heard the sound of men surprised by an unexpected attack, but it was unmistakable.

  “Now!” the princess cried.

  Her mount pricked its ears and surged forward. With fierce cries, the other riders followed her, the unmounted fighters pelting after them on foot. Beside Master Lo, I struggled to breathe the Breath of Earth’s Pulse, fought to find a calm place within myself and summon the twilight.

  It came hard.

  I felt the unreasoning wave of panic that slammed into the dragon when Snow Tiger lowered her blindfold, the spiraling rage that followed; and I felt him fight it with sinking despair. It gave me strength to find what I needed. I breathed in the twilight, breathed it out, and wrapped it around myself.

  The world turned dusky and lovely. I saw him, that silvery brightness coiling through the small mounted figure on the road ahead. I felt his fury and madness abate.

  You see me.

  “I do.” With a shock of alarm, I realized that if I didn’t follow, I would lose sight of him. I nudged my mount and gave him his head. “Master Lo! I have to go after them!”

  Ah, gods…

  It was a sight I’d rather not have seen. I fought to breathe calmly, fought to maintain my grip on the twilight. The princess raced far ahead of the others, a small lone figure, her lead increasing with every stride. Of course. It was her plan; it had always been her plan. She wanted to protect them. Only Bao came close to keeping pace with her, trailing a distant second. Although he rode well, her slight weight lent her horse greater speed. Tortoise and Dai pounded after them, jouncing in the saddle. And after them came all the rest, on horse and on foot, untrained, passionate, and so terribly, terribly vulnerable.

  “Maghuin Dhonn protect them all,” I whispered, tears in my eyes.

  Lord Jiang’s men had had their backs turned, shooting into the foothills at the unlikely assailants raining rocks upon them. Now they turned back.

  Bows sang.

  Snow Tiger crouched low in the saddle beneath the rain of arrows, her cheek pressed to her mount’s neck. In response to her reins, he snaked this way and that, legs reaching and hooves drumming, making a difficult target. Through the dragon, I sensed her mix of exultance and horror.

  At twenty paces away, her mount went down with a horrible squeal, struck by several arrows. Pitched from the saddle, the princess rolled in a deliberate fall, coming up with her sword in hand, steel gleaming. Among Jiang’s men, she began to fight with grace and brutal precision, dancing her awful dance, robes swirling.

  In the twilight, it was beautiful.

  Somehow, that made it worse.

  I made myself watch, made myself hold tight to the twilight, to the sense of the dragon’s presence. His essence sang in her veins, sang through her, filled her with dreadful strength. Where those lovely, shimmering coils that only I could see passed, death followed.

  One, two, three, four…

  And then Bao was there, his mount plunging and wheeling. Despite his lack of training, he fought well from the saddle. Between the two of them, they halved the odds, and halved them again.

  Yelling and shouting, the others converged. Hands clutching farm implements rose and fell. Lord Jiang’s men fought and died.

  It is over.

  I rode forward through the twilight, picking my way past corpses. Snow Tiger’s naked face turned to me, the dragon reflected in her eyes. Once again, her robes were drenched with gore. Her body quivered with the aftermath of unspeakable energies. She had a cut on one cheek and the blood on her sword gleamed darkly in the gloaming. “Did I—?”

  “Yes, my lady.” I glanced over the battlefield. Forty men dead, none of them ours. Bao slumped in the saddle, his staff held loosely in his hands. Tortoise and Dai flanked him, looking equally tired. The farmers looked dazed by their victory. I dismounted. “You protected them.” With gentle hands, I raised the blindfold she had tugged down. She closed her eyes, obedient to my touch. “You protected them all.”

  I settled the blindfold in place.

  “All?” she repeated. “All?”

  “Aye.” Before I released the twilight, I found a spot on her brow that was not blood-spattered and pressed my lips to it. “All.”

  SEVENTY-SEVEN

  After the battle, the mood was sober and awed.

  Snow Tiger refused Master Lo’s attention, bidding him tend to the other injured fighters first. I went to assure myself that Bao was unharmed. Although his staff was scarred and splintered in places, his skin was intact. He summoned a weary grin for me. “I almost kept up with a dragon. Pretty good, huh?”

  “A hero in truth,” I said honestly. Taking his hand, I raised it to my lips and kissed his bruised knuckles. “You fought a valiant fight.”

  He glanced over at the princess. She was alone, slowly cleaning the blood from her blade with a clean cloth. A crowd hovered in her vicinity, but none dared approach. “She meant to do it, didn’t she? Outpace us all?”

  “Aye.”

  Bao shook his head. “Stupid princess,” he murmured. “Risking her life for a bunch of stubborn peasants.”

  “So says my stubborn peasant-boy,” I observed.

  “Uh-huh.” His
expression was somber. “Moirin, as much as I like having you beside me, the peasant-boy thinks the royal concubine should attend her noble mistress. She should not be alone at such a time.”

  I went to her, listening to the farmers whispering. If there had been any lingering doubts in their minds, they had been erased this day. The Granddaughter of Heaven had done the impossible, and she had done it to protect them.

  She looked very lonely.

  Her head lifted at my approach, her blood-streaked face brightening a little beneath the blindfold. “Moirin?”

  It occurred to me that I was the only person to have felt the touch of her dragon-possessed strength and lived. For that alone, I thought, she was glad of my presence. “Aye, my lady,” I said softly. “I am here.”

  We made camp on the outskirts of the battlefield. The Naxi folk came down from the mountains, slings in hand, shy and deferential—yet proud, too. Snow Tiger received them with her customary grace, thanking them generously for their aid. She promised to see that they would be allowed to keep their traditions. They bowed in awe and retreated back into the hills. It wasn’t until they had gone that she let me tend to her, washing away the gore as best I could with a bucket and sponge.

  She winced when I cleaned the cut on her cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” I murmured.

  “No, it’s just…” Her voice was wistful. “Do you suppose it will leave a scar?”

  “I don’t know, my lady,” I said. “I hope not.” My heart ached for her. Beneath everything, she was still just a young woman, subject to any girl’s foibles and vanity. I busied myself setting a kettle on the brazier to brew willow-bark tea, knowing every fiber of her body would be hurting. “Tell me, these Naxi people. They’re shepherd folk, aye? What are these customs that they hold so dear?”

  It sufficed to distract her. I listened with half an ear as the princess explained that the Naxi practiced a form of marriage and matrilineal inheritance not accepted elsewhere in Ch’in, reminding me of the quarrels that had nearly torn apart Alba. I got her into clean robes and set the others, stiffening with gore, to soak in a bucket.

  Master Lo Feng came to tend to her cut cheek, smearing it with unguent. She did not ask him if it would leave a scar.

  When darkness fell, I didn’t wait for the night terrors to come. In our shared tent, I laid my blankets close beside hers. I felt her sigh with reluctant pleasure when I put my arm around her in the darkness, the tight-strung bow of her body loosening against me. Without a word spoken, her hand sought mine.

  “Sleep,” I whispered. “Sleep without dreams, my lady. You have earned it. You protected them all.”

  She slept.

  I did, too.

  Somewhere, the bright lady smiled quietly.

  Three days later, we came upon an Imperial watch-post.

  Our network of country spies alerted us to their presence. Wanting to avoid any misunderstanding, we sent a handful of farmers ahead to notify the Imperial forces of our approach.

  I daresay they doubted it anyway, for they waited to receive us in full armor, bows drawn and arrows nocked. Bao reported this to the princess in a low murmur. She listened, then held up one hand.

  “I bid all of you to wait here,” she said in a clear, carrying voice. “Let me ride forward alone to greet my Noble Father’s men.”

  I held my breath and watched, my fingers itching for my own bow. Beside me, Bao clutched his staff so hard his knuckles were white. Despite my best efforts, Snow Tiger bore little resemblance to the resplendent figure I had first encountered clad in embroidered robes, adorned with jewels, a crimson sash binding her eyes. Her modest robes were worn and frayed, blotched with faded brown stains I hadn’t been able to remove. Her blindfold was a grimy strip of undyed cotton, and her hair was bound in a simple braid. Still, her regal carriage was unmistakable.

  At least, I hoped so.

  Waiting out of bowshot, none of us could hear what words were exchanged. When I saw the Emperor’s men go to their knees, I released the breath I was holding. I heard dozens of others do the same, a sound like a soft wind sighing through a wheat field. Snow Tiger turned in the saddle and beckoned to us. As we approached, the Imperial soldiers stared at our motley party with disbelief and dismay, appalled to find the daughter of the Son of Heaven in such disreputable company.

  “Give these people every respect,” the princess said, sensing their silent disapproval. “They have served the Celestial Throne with great loyalty and honor.”

  Rising to the occasion, the captain offered a deep bow. “On behalf of the Imperial army, I offer my gratitude.”

  All around me, weather-beaten faces glowed.

  She will be a great ruler one day, the dragon offered. If we live.

  I shivered. “I think so, too.”

  While the princess, Master Lo, and our stick-fighters took counsel with the captain of the watch-guard, I occupied myself with grooming my mount, a long-legged bay gelding who was grateful for the attention. A few of the farmers drifted nearby as though they might offer to perform the chore for me, but no one did. I didn’t mind—I was glad to have something to do—but it served to remind me that I too was very much alone in the midst of many.

  You have me. The dragon’s tone darkened. And that insolent warrior is very fond of you.

  It made me smile. “Thank you, treasured friend. It is good to remember.”

  You will always find love on your path. Hers will be a lonelier one.

  “I know,” I said softly. “I am doing my best to make it less so.”

  Yes.

  After the counsel session ended, we learned that the Imperial army’s camp was a mere half day’s ride away. It had been decided that we would set out in the late afternoon that we might arrive under cover of darkness. The captain and half his men would escort us, leaving a handful behind to safeguard our passage.

  With gentle adamancy, Snow Tiger dismissed the farmers.

  They didn’t want to go. They knelt and stretched out their arms to her, protesting and pleading, but this time, she would not be swayed.

  “No,” she said firmly. “You have done me a great service for which I will ever be grateful. Here, it ends. We must travel swiftly and unencumbered. Go. Go home, and pray to the gods for our success.”

  There was more wailing and pleading, but at last they went, urged none too subtly by Captain Li Shen and his men. I watched the princess’ shoulders ease in relief as the country folk departed. They had aided us, aye, but it was one less burden for her to carry.

  And soon…

  Home! the dragon caroled.

  I tried not to think about the army that waited between us and White Jade Mountain, and the terrible weapons they wielded. The booming roar of the Divine Thunder echoed in my memory. “Aye,” I agreed. “Home.”

  SEVENTY-EIGHT

  An hour into our journey toward the Imperial army, White Jade Mountain came into view.

  It was beautiful, so beautiful.

  I would have thought so anyway, but my awareness of the dragon’s yearning made it all the more poignant. The mountain loomed in the distance, impossibly tall, its snow-capped peak rising high above a mantle of dark green spruce forest.

  “Oh,” I whispered, drawing rein involuntarily. “Oh! It’s lovely.”

  Yes.

  “Where is the lake, treasured friend?” I asked him. “The reflecting lake where you hid your pearl?”

  Snow Tiger tilted her head in my direction, listening.

  High in the mountains. The dragon sounded apologetic. Very high. You will have to climb very far.

  I glanced at the princess. “Then we will.”

  By the time sunset gilded the snowy peak, we could make out a vast sprawl of tiny figures arrayed on the slopes of the mountain and around its base. From a distance, they seemed no more consequential than a colony of ants.

  The nearer we drew, the more it changed.

  Men, so many men. There were tens of thousands of them. When dus
k fell, we saw the fires they kindled. Cook fires, watch fires. Thousands spilling down the mountainside, circling around its enormous base. Thousands more on the flat fields where the Emperor’s army awaited us.

  Opposite them, bronze tubes mounted on wheels glinted in the fading light, death lurking in their metal gullets. The weapons looked small in the distance, but my skin prickled at the sight and I found myself shivering in the saddle, remembering the devastating power they had unleashed.

  “Moirin.” Bao pulled alongside me, his expression worried. “Are you all right?”

  “Aye,” I murmured, unsure if it were true.

  Dusk turned to darkness. We lit lanterns and kept riding. The light from all the fires ahead of us illuminated the night sky.

  “So many,” Snow Tiger said in dismay. “So many!”

  A few hundred yards from the outskirts of the Imperial camp, we paused to wait while Captain Li and several of his men rode onward to bring the news of the princess’ arrival to the Emperor. Our plan was to bring her into the camp without causing a stir that the enemy would notice.

  We succeeded, barely.

  Captain Li returned to fetch us, accompanied by our old companion General Tsieh and a detachment of Imperial guards. On the great-ship, I’d reckoned the general a stoic fellow, but tears shone in his eyes as he gazed on the princess in her stained, threadbare robes. He bowed low in the saddle, hand over fist.

  “Noble Highness,” he said in a hoarse voice. “It is so very, very good to see you.”

  “Honored General.” She inclined her head. “The pleasure is mine. Had you not undertaken so long and dire a voyage on my behalf, I would not be here before you today. I am grateful for it.”

  “It was an honor to do so.” The general straightened, clearing his throat. “If you would do me a further honor, it would be my privilege to escort you into your father’s presence. I assure you, the men have been ordered not to respond to your arrival. His Celestial Majesty is most anxious to see you.”