Pearl Beyond Price

by Claire Delacroix

“Are we going to take a ship?” Kira asked as she twisted to look to Thierry. He seemed to be watching for her reaction, for his expression softened when their gazes met. Kira indicated the ships and he nodded once.

  But where were they going?

  “Paris?” she asked, but Thierry shrugged. He held up one finger and dismounted, passing the reins to Nogai as he strode down the wharf. The pair silently watched him disappear into the crowd, then their eyes met in mutual wariness.

  Nogai said something but Kira shrugged that she could not understand. He frowned and exhaled impatiently before pointing at the sun. Kira nodded and Nogai traced a path with his finger of the sun’s course over the afternoon. He spread his hand open and glanced to where Thierry had disappeared, then shrugged.

  Thierry might be gone for a while, Kira guessed, and she nodded understanding. Nogai gestured to a shady corner of the busy quai and seemed to be indicating that they wait there. Kira nodded and he heaved a sigh of relief. Nogai dismounted and ushered the horses to the space he had indicated.

  Kira slipped from the saddle, a little disconcerted that Thierry had so completely disappeared, and retrieved a blanket from Thierry’s pack to sit upon. She spread out the blanket, wondering how long he might be, and was startled by Nogai’s grunt of approval.

  Kira spun to find the Mongol grinning. Before she could question his intent, he produced a curious bundle, from his own saddlebag. Kira thought it at first to be a brightly painted box, but nay. Nogai peeled off a thin layer and Kira saw ’twas a pile of such layers. He offered her that first layer and Kira turned it over with fascination.

  ’Twas a painting on some thin substance like parchment, softer to the fingertip yet stiffer and she fancied more durable. On one side there was a black symbol of some kind, on the other was a colored image of seven golden coins.

  She looked at Nogai and he mutely handed her another card. The black image was the same but the other side carried a colored image of three golden cups. Kira frowned, her expression enough to prompt Nogai to explain with enthusiasm.

  His words flowed over Kira uncomprehended but she watched his actions avidly. He dropped to his haunches and quickly sorted the cards into four piles. That done, he picked up one pile and sorted it quickly into order. Kira was surprised to see that there was a card to represent gold coins of every number from one to ten.

  Fascinated despite herself, she squatted opposite Nogai and spread out the pile of cards with gold cups on them. Similarly, every number was represented there. Nogai spread out the other two piles and Kira noted the same pattern echoed in staffs and what looked to be tree branches.

  Unexpectedly, Nogai scooped up all of the cards and mixed their order together. He split a number of them between himself and Kira with alarming speed, leaving the remainder piled in between them. At his imperious gesture, Kira turned over her cards to find an assortment of numbers and images.

  It must be a contest—like chess—and a way to pass the time while they awaited Thierry. The tools of the game were lighter and more portable than those for chess, making the game more suited to the Mongols.

  Kira met Nogai’s gaze and he smiled in crooked triumph. His dark brows lifted high, his eyes twinkled and he held up one finger as he began to explain.

  Nogai shouted with feigned relief when Thierry reappeared, and Kira could not restrain her laughter. She had been winning, although she imagined the Mongol had been contriving that she did so. He said something accusatory to Thierry and grinned.

  Thierry snorted, but his gaze was warm when he offered Kira his hand to help her rise. She felt her cheeks heat as the recollection of their night before filled her thoughts, but Thierry was bending to fold the blanket. He and Nogai discussed some matter briefly, the cards disappeared, and they began to lead the horses toward the wharf.

  They halted beside a bobbing ship and one of the horses balked at being led aboard. Kira could not blame the beast, for one look between the small vessel and the vast extent of the sea was enough to make her question the wisdom of their move.

  “Genoa, Paris,” Thierry murmured into her ear. Kira glanced up with surprise. He pointed to the ship. “Ship, Genoa.” He patted his horse’s rump. “Horse, Paris.”

  Kira spared the ship a glance that she hoped might indicate her misgivings. Thierry folded her hand within his and urged her to follow him aboard as he spoke. His explanation was long enough that she understood nothing but her name, though his low tone worked its magic upon her.

  Had she not already trusted him with unexpectedly good results? Truly, the man saw to her safety and comfort more than anyone she had ever known. And with the promise of more of his leisurely loving, Kira knew she would have been a fool not to appreciate her good fortune.

  She trusted Thierry.

  The revelation was not as much of a shock as she might have expected it to be. She was his woman and he treated her with greater deference than many men undoubtedly treated their wives. Surely she could not ask for more. She would remain by his side wherever he chose to ride.

  Her decision made, Kira granted Thierry a smile. She let him lead her onto the ship that would take them across the sea to mysterious and distant Genoa, feeling her anticipation rise.

  Chapter 12

  By the time the snows were thawing alongside the road to Paris, Kira had missed three bleedings. There was no escaping the fact that she was pregnant with Thierry’s seed.

  She had been ill from the second week on the six-week ship voyage to Genoa, and sick enough not to care about anything other than sleep. Nogai had lost a gaming partner and Thierry had lost a lover in her illness. Kira had lost weight, despite Thierry’s efforts to encourage her to eat. She had been grateful for his warmth when he held her close against the chills, and was glad to have him as her protector.

  Indeed, she was uncertain she would have had the will to survive without his quiet strength, and his insistence on bringing her food and drink at regular intervals. She had seen more of that unexpectedly playful side of his nature as they lay together in the berth and he taught her yet more Frankish. His relief when they had reached land and she had managed to smile for the first time in a month had been marvelous to behold. Indeed, ’twas easy to grow fond of the man. Nary a thought had she spared to her missed bleeding under the circumstances. She had been convinced all would be restored to normalcy once she began to eat again.

  But they rode north without cease and still Kira had not bled. That had made her start to calculate on her fingers. The second miss was soon enough after their arrival in Genoa that she granted herself the benefit of the doubt.

  The miss of the third bleeding left no question. She was with child. With Thierry’s child. Kira fancied she could detect a rounding of her belly and that made her consider the repercussions of her pregnancy.

  ’Twas not a surprising result in itself, for Thierry and she had been sufficiently amorous before her illness to justify the conception of a babe. Indeed, ’twould have been surprising had they not conceived, and she wondered if Thierry had considered the matter at all.

  Did he desire children? ’Twas difficult to guess, for his wandering life did not appear a suitable one for rearing a family, at least to Kira’s thinking. But Mongols must have children and she supposed he might think differently than she. Did Mongols raise families the way her neighbors in Tiflis had done? Did they settle in one place? Or did men leave women to that domestic task and simply ride on? Kira did not know.

  Was it truly the same to be claimed as to be wedded? Too late, Kira doubted the Persian woman’s word. Indeed, who knew what obligations a Mongol might consider to be his as a result of such a bond? He might put her aside and claim another when the day came that she could not provide him pleasure. If that happened in this land, what would Kira do? ’Twas clear enough that Thierry’s behavior owed much to Mongol traditions, whatever his own lineage. What would Nogai have done with a pregnant woman?

  More importantly, what would Thierry do with her? W
ould he leave her? Kira could hardly bear the thought.

  Kira did not know the answers to any of the questions that plagued her, which did little to aid her sleeping. She was compromised as surely as she could possibly be, and yet had no husband to claim responsibility for her pregnancy or her child.

  Her father would have been ashamed of her and ensured that she knew it.

  She could simply ask Thierry, yet Kira shirked every opportunity to do so, dreading that the worst of her fears would be confirmed—or that the questions themselves would lead to her being left behind. Yet she could not deny him, even with all her concerns, when he turned to her in the night. She had become his woman and his whore, and knowing that her sole power lay in the pleasure she could give him was cold comfort indeed.

  As his child grew within her, Kira suspected her days with Thierry were numbered.

  Paris.

  They finally arrived and Thierry could not stifle his excitement. He had felt that he was home ever since they had first crossed into the lands of those sworn to the Frankish king. As they journeyed farther north, he knew with increasing certainty that ’twas here, in the land of his birth, that he would find his destiny.

  Only the delivery of the khan’s message kept him from immediately seeking his fortune. Until that duty was behind him, ’twas impossible to linger outside Paris. Thierry rode directly to the king’s palace, determined to see this errand done. He had no doubt that the khan’s message would be politely rebuffed. Indeed, he hoped for no less.

  And then, he could explore the possibilities. He would begin with a quest for his own history and that of his family. He knew that he had been born at a château called Montsalvat, and he wondered how he might find its location. His father had been lord of that holding and there might be opportunity for him there. If not, he might find tidings of any old allies of his father. He could seek opportunities for service with them. He could fight, and worst case, he could become a mercenary. There was always war and always coin for able men.

  Kira looked about them with curiosity as they rode through crowded streets and Thierry noticed yet again that she was unnaturally quiet. ’Twas odd, the change in her, but he supposed she was yet unsettled by her illness on their sea voyage.

  Yet something had changed in her manner. There still was a pallor to her skin that could not be entirely due to the change of clime. He could not name the source, though he had puzzled over it often. She seemed withdrawn and private, yet more affectionate than ever before when he touched her. He could make no complaint about her passion, for she had surpassed even his wildest expectations in their nightly couplings. Though he wished she would touch him of her own accord, he assumed her upbringing dictated her behavior.

  Yet Kira brought more to their partnership than nightly pleasure. Thierry realized how dependent he had become upon her to navigate these unfamiliar towns and customs. His life had been nomadic and wild, and towns troubled him. He was better at reading the impulses of horses than those of other people, especially Frankish townspeople. The Mongols hid their thoughts well, but these people expressed themselves with both their bodies and their words. He feared to miss a nuance and imperil them, without meaning to do so. People were suspicious of their small party, given their unusual garb, even though they intended no harm.

  But Kira understood. Apparently, many gestures and impulses were universal. She had learned a good deal of the Frankish tongue, enough to make herself understood, but he had noticed that a gesture or a smile was often more effective. Her relative size and that smile had eased concern about two Mongol warriors in more than one village square. She had a charm that had saved them from conflict many a time.

  She seemed to understand what they could expect to buy and where it might be found, what could be traded for it, when a deal was a good one and when to walk away. She also knew what expectations townsmen had of their conduct and had kept them from sleeping in a field more than once that would have proven to be a problem in the morning. Thierry found himself watching her closely for reassurance and indications of how best to proceed, and Nogai did the same. They had quickly discovered that when Kira asked for directions, they received better and more detailed replies, so this had become her task. She also made better bargains in the market, so Thierry granted her the coin to shop and simply followed while Nogai watched the ponies.

  It was inescapable that she had blossomed with this responsibility. ’Twas clear she wished to contribute to their quest, which bode well for their shared future.

  Soon ’twould be upon them.

  Thierry could scarce wait.

  The king’s palace was larger and finer than any building Thierry had yet seen. It astonished him, and worried him, for he would have to enter that massive structure with only Nogai to guard his back.

  But he was an envoy. He should pass untouched.

  He watched Nogai’s gaze rove over the high walls of fitted stone and the conical towers looming high above them. Pennants of azure and gold flitted against the winter sky high overhead. Thierry knew he was not alone in counting the sentries along the walls and he found assessment in Nogai’s eyes when their gazes met.

  “I do not like how outnumbered we are,” Nogai muttered in Mongol.

  “We are diplomats, not warriors,” he reminded his anda, but Nogai’s expression remained skeptical.

  “So far,” he conceded gruffly as he slipped to the ground.

  Kira was turning in place, openly admiring the palace. She placed her hand upon Thierry’s when he dismounted in the courtyard of the king, perhaps having seen that he was awed by the majesty of construction surrounding him.

  “A rich king,” she said as he lifted her to the ground.

  “You are not troubled?”

  Her smile was quick and impish, the sight making his heart leap. “A rich king has more to give without noticing the lack.”

  Thierry smiled despite himself at this practical truth. “All we need is a reply.”

  “And then?” she asked, questions in her eyes.

  “And then the future begins.” Thierry spoke with confidence, noting that Kira’s gaze clouded with uncertainty. Was this what concerned her? He had no chance to ask because a man cleared his throat, immediately behind him.

  Kira’s gaze flicked over his shoulder and her eyes widened. Thierry spun to find an older man regarding them with evident disapproval. His tunic was as blue as the sky with golden flowers worked upon it, every scrap of his knightly attire perfectly in order. Yet despite the beautifully encrusted scabbard hanging by his side, Thierry knew this was not a man who had seen battle of late. He would be easily defeated.

  The man surveyed their travel-stained and clearly foreign attire with open disdain before he met Thierry’s gaze. “Have you perhaps some business in this courtyard?” he inquired, his tone indicating that he believed no such thing.

  “Aye, I have a message for the king,” Thierry replied, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. Kira looked between him and the other man, as alert as a bird but unconcerned. Thierry let his hand slide away, guessing the gesture had been noticed.

  One silver brow arched high. “Indeed? From whom might this message be?”

  “His most esteemed Second Il-Khan of Persia, Abaqa, son of Hülegü, son of Tolui, son of the Great Golden Khan himself, the immortal and most divine Chinggis Khan, sends greetings to the king of the Franks,” Thierry supplied, recalling the beginning of the missive he had been granted.

  To his credit, the guard looked surprised. “Genghis Khan?” he asked and Thierry nodded. “Have you news of Prester John, then?” he demanded with enthusiasm.

  Thierry feared to show his ignorance as the man’s expectation was evidently so great, but there was little else to do. “I do not know this Prester John,” he admitted. He glanced toward Kira but she shook her head.

  The man’s lips thinned in irritation. “As all of import know, he is a king of the East, one who will aid us in defeating the Saracens.”

>   “Saracens?” Thierry echoed, knowing nothing of this race.

  Kira also looked blank.

  “The godless infidels who have stolen Jerusalem from beneath our very noses.”

  “Muslims,” Kira whispered.

  Aha. ’Twas a question of terms, no more than that. Thierry sighed with relief. “I bring a proposal for an alliance against the invaders of Jerusalem,” he said. He removed the scroll of parchment from his kalat to illustrate his intention.

  “Verily?” the man asked, a new light dawning in his eyes as he eyed the scroll. His manner thawed slightly when Thierry nodded agreement. “I believe the king will be interested in your message, then.” He raised a hand and called, then boys came to take the reins of the ponies.

  “Your steeds will be tended,” the man said, perhaps noting that Nogai’s expression had darkened as soon as the boy put a hand on his steed’s bridle. “And I will alert the king’s advisers to your presence. There is a common room inside and to your right, should you wish.”

  With that he turned and marched away.

  Kira smiled at Thierry and turned to follow the man. When Thierry hesitated, she granted him a reassuring smile and tugged his hand.

  “What says he?” Nogai demanded.

  “That we should wait inside,” Thierry replied.

  “You cannot expect a rich king to see you immediately,” Kira chided. “All will be well.”

  Nogai pursed his lips in irritation. “Truly, urban folk are all the same,” he muttered. “What feeds this dislike of wholesome air? I suppose there is little chance of waiting outside?”

  Thierry looked at Kira as he gestured to the courtyard. “Can we wait here instead?”

  She shook her head with resolve and pointed after the guard. “There.”

  “’Twould be seen as rude,” he said to Nogai in Mongol.

  “Let us hope the matter can be managed hastily,” Nogai said with a sigh of dissatisfaction. “This diplomacy is indeed a burdensome task.” He spared a telling glance for the clear sky and trudged reluctantly through the portal in Thierry and Kira’s wake.