Claire Delacroix (22 page)

At least by him she could be, and he rather suspected that might be the point. He nodded approvingly. Kira said the word several more times as though she sought to memorize it, then her gaze swiveled determinedly back to Thierry’s.

No imagination did he need to know that she would want to know more words, and he decided to rein her in before she overstepped herself. Useful ‘twould be for them to understand each other and he would not have her exhaust herself with her enthusiasm.

“But ten words a day,” he told her. He propped himself on his elbows over her and held his hands open to her when she regarded him blankly. “Orange,” he repeated and folded in his thumb.

Kira’s evident confusion was replaced by understanding and she nodded emphatically. She tapped the blade strapped to the inside of his arm and he acknowledged a surge of pride. A useful word to know ‘twould be.

“Knife,” he said. Kira repeated the word carefully until he nodded approval.

But a glimpse had Thierry of that mischievous twinkle in her eye before she framed his face in her hands and pressed a light kiss to his lips. She lifted her brows in silent query and he shook his head bemusedly even as he accommodated her. Witch. Trust her to want to know the name for that.

“Kiss,” he informed her.

“Kiss,” Kira repeated with such concentration that Thierry could not help but tease her.

“Kiss?” he demanded, arching his brows high as though she had made a request. “Aye, Kira.” He swooped down and kissed her, liking the glitter of satisfaction in her eyes when he propped himself above her once more.

“Kiss,” Kira said breathlessly. She grinned and snapped her fingers demandingly when Thierry did not immediately comply.

Mayhap ‘twas not the best word to have taught her so soon, Thierry reasoned as he bent over her once again. Yet he was unable to quell this lightness that seemed to buoy his heart when she responded to him with such ardor.

“Kiss,” Kira whispered against his jaw. Thierry let her roll him to his back so that she was sprawled atop him. He glanced down at her naked buttocks and growled appreciatively. He playfully pinched her. Kira giggled and scrambled up his chest.

“Kiss,” she insisted and bent to taste him yet again. Thierry cupped her buttocks in his hands and pulled her closer, more than pleased with this new balance between them. How many nights of Kira’s intoxicating kisses would it take to reach Paris?

Thierry suddenly recalled the
aljofar
and decided in that same moment to save the gift for a special occasion. Mayhap Kira’s first Frankish sentence.

Mayhap when she learned the name for that even more seductive pastime.

He groaned at his body’s response to the reminder and tore his lips from hers, knowing full well that they would never leave the inn at this rate. Thierry reached across the floor and managed to grab Kira’s trousers. He wagged them purposefully beneath her nose.

“Chalwar,”
he said firmly. She pursed her lips in a mock pout.

“Kiss?” she negotiated coyly. Thierry shook his head resolutely and rose to his feet before his desire had him acquiescing to her request. High was the sun and ‘twas time enough they sought passage on a ship bound westward.

“
Chalwar, kurta,
tunic, djellaba,” he insisted as he tossed her each item of clothing in turn. He turned to face her once more and gestured toward the hills. “Nogai. Paris.” He made a riding motion and Kira exhaled with exaggerated dissatisfaction.

“
Chalwar,
kiss,
kurta,
kiss,” she suggested cagily, laughing aloud when a frown of exasperation crossed Thierry’s brow.

Truly they would never leave Constantinople at this rate. Did the woman not know how much her simple kisses affected him? Thierry spared her a glance and, from the glint in her eye, rather suspected that she did.

Though surely if she was dressing, there could be no harm in a few fleeting kisses.

“Aye,” he agreed before he thought too much about the matter. Kira glanced up questioningly from donning her
chalwar.

“Aye?” she asked doubtfully. Thierry nodded emphatically, trying to indicate that
aye
meant assent. Naught had he to fear, though, for clearly she understood. No sooner had Kira fastened her
chalwar
than she launched herself into his arms.

“
Chalwar,
kiss,” she reminded him archly.

He gazed down into her sparkling eyes, well aware of the full warmth of her bare breasts pressed against him and the weight of her tiny hands on his shoulders. Irresistible she was. Indeed, when the point was made so compellingly, Thierry could do naught but comply.

And but hope that he could stop with a kiss.

* * *

Kira was satisfied enough with her situation to be openly curious when Thierry rode with a definite objective in mind. They met a heartily disgruntled Nogai at the city gates, and she blithely ignored his muttering as Thierry proceeded through the bustle of the town to the market.

Thierry was teaching her his language. Truly it seemed he had claimed her fully after all, and her heart soared with delight.

Kira’s nose was assaulted by the strong odor of fish and her eyes widened at the lavish catch displayed in the market stalls. A rare luxury had fish been in landlocked Tiflis and she was amazed by both the variety and sheer amount of fish offered for sale. Like the farmers who seldom ventured into Tiflis she was, for she could not cease her curious peering at such unfamiliar sights.

The cobbled road angled down and the smells grew stronger. The people looked rougher and more men were there in the crowd than women. Without thinking of the matter, she moved incrementally closer to Thierry and felt his grip tighten possessively around her waist. Kira smelled salt and wet hemp and heard the creaking of wood. She was puzzled for an instant by the unfamiliarity of it all, until she saw the bobbing masts of the ships.

Tales she had heard aplenty of these vessels that crossed the seas, but never had she seen one. Indeed, she had never seen the sea. The sparkling water that stretched as far as the eye could see behind the boats fairly took her breath away.

“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 slightly when their eyes met. Kira indicated the ships questioningly and he nodded once.

But where were they going?

“Paris?” she asked, but Thierry merely 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 anew and exhaled impatiently before pointing deliberately to the sun. Kira nodded and Nogai traced a path with his finger where the sun would go over the course of 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.

A painting ‘twas on some thin matter like parchment, softer to the fingertip yet stiffer and she fancied more durable. On one side there was a black image she thought to be an Eastern character of some kind, on the other was a colored image of seven golden coins.

She looked questioningly to 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 in confusion, her gesture 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.

A contest it must be. And a way to pass the time while they awaited Thierry. Like chess ‘twas, Kira concluded, but the tools of the game were lighter and more portable, making them more suited to the Mongols.

Kira met Nogai’s gaze questioningly 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. Winning she had been, though 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 flooded into her mind but Thierry was bending to fold the blanket with businesslike ease. He and Nogai discussed something 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. Horse, Paris,” he explained.

Kira spared the ship a skeptical glance that she hoped might communicate her misgivings. Thierry folded her hand reassuringly within his and urged her to follow him aboard as he spoke. His explanation was long enough that she understood naught 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 to turn away.

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 sunny smile and followed him onto the ship that would take them across the sea to mysterious and distant Genoa.

B
y 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.

Sick she had been from the second week out on the six-week ship voyage to Genoa, sick enough to not care about anything other than sleep. Nogai had lost a gaming partner and Thierry had lost a lover in her illness. For her part, Kira had lost weight, despite Thierry’s efforts to encourage her to eat. Grateful she had been for his warmth when she was possessed by chills in the night and he held her close.

Indeed, she knew not whether she would have had the will to survive without his quiet strength. An unexpectedly playful side of him had she discovered as they lay together in the berth and he taught her yet more Frankish. And 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 too easy to grow fond of the man. Nary a thought had she spared to her missed bleeding under the circumstances. Surely all would be restored to normalcy once she began to eat again.

But north they rode without cease and still Kira had not bled. That fact had made her start to calculate on her fingers and more than once had she glanced into her
chalwar
for some confirming sign. 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. With child she was. With Thierry’s child, beyond doubt. Kira fancied she could detect a rounding of her belly and ‘twas that that first made her consider the repercussions of her pregnancy.

‘Twas not surprising in itself, for Thierry and she had been amorous enough before her illness to well 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 mind. 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? Or did men leave women to that domestic task and simply ride on? Kira knew not and liked that not at all.

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? ‘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? Would he leave her? Kira could hardly bear the thought.

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

Indeed, she might simply ask, yet Kira shirked every opportunity. Only to herself in the night would she admit that she feared Thierry’s response. And naught could she deny Thierry, even with all her concerns, when he turned to her in the night. Only one thing did Kira know with absolute certainty, though the fact did little to console her in the aftermath of their sweet loving.

There was no doubt that her sire would be ashamed of what she had become.

* * *

Paris.

They were finally here and Thierry could not completely stifle his excitement. Home he had felt since they had first crossed into the lands of those sworn to the Frankish king. Though the sense had faded as they traveled farther north, he knew with increasing certainty that ‘twas here, in the land of his birth, that he would find his destiny.

And only the matter of the khan’s message kept him from immediately pursuing his fate. With that in mind, ‘twas impossible to linger outside Paris. Thierry could do naught but head directly to the king’s palace, determined to see this errand behind him. No doubt had he that the khan’s message would be politely rebuffed. Indeed, he hoped for no less.

All of Europe beckoned to his ambitions and he was nigh impatient to begin. Well he knew that he had been born at a château known as Montsalvat, and he wondered how he might discreetly find its locale. ‘Twas his time finally and Thierry was anxious for his destiny to begin.

Kira looked about with curiosity and Thierry noticed yet again that she was unnaturally quiet. Odd ‘twas, the change in her, but he supposed she was yet unsettled by their sea voyage. Indeed, there was a pallor to the characteristic golden hue of her skin that could not be entirely due to the change of clime.

And something he could not quite place had changed in her manner, though he had puzzled over it often. Withdrawn she seemed, private, yet more affectionate than ever before should he touch her. Certainly he could make no complaint about her passion, for she had surpassed even his wildest expectations in their nightly couplings. Though it puzzled him that Kira would not touch him of her own accord, he assumed ‘twas something in her upbringing that dictated her behavior.

Dame Fortune had indeed blessed him with a perfect mate.

He dismounted in the courtyard of the king, awed by the majesty of construction surrounding him. Nogai’s gaze similarly roved 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 like not how outnumbered we are,” Nogai muttered.

“Diplomats are we, not warriors,” he corrected his old
anda,
but Nogai’s expression remained skeptical.

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

A man cleared his throat delicately and 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. The man scanned their travel-stained and clearly foreign attire with open disdain before he met Thierry’s gaze.

“Have you mayhap some business in this courtyard?” he inquired icily, his tone indicating that he believed no such thing.

“Aye, a message have I for the king,” Thierry explained, and 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, well recalling the beginning of the missive he had been granted.

To his credit, the formerly impassive guard looked somewhat 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 knew not what else to say.

“I know not this Prester John,” he admitted warily. The man’s lips thinned in irritation.

“A king of the East is he, as all know, who will aid us in defeating the Saracens,” he retorted frostily.

“Saracens?” Thierry asked dubiously, knowing naught of this race.

“The godless infidels who have stolen Jerusalem from beneath our very noses,” the man confided hastily.

Aha. A question of terms, ‘twas, no more than that. Thierry sighed with relief. Indeed, they were back on familiar ground. Well aware of both Kira and Nogai’s avid attendance, he felt them relax slightly at his evident relief.

“A proposal this is for an alliance against the invaders of Jerusalem,” Thierry assured the man confidently. He removed a 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. Well it seemed that his manner thawed slightly when Thierry nodded agreement. “Well can I imagine that the king will be interested in your message, then,” he said, and there was no mistaking the haste with which he summoned boys to tend the horses.

“Your horses will be tended,” he said crisply. “And I will alert the king’s advisers to your presence. A common room is there inside and to your right, should you wish.”

With that he turned and bustled efficiently away.

“What says he?” Nogai demanded impatiently.

“That we should wait inside,” Thierry replied. Nogai pursed his lips in irritation.

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

“‘Twould be seen as rude, I am sure,” Thierry observed tersely.

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

* * *

The summons came none too soon to Thierry’s mind.

The common room was noisy, smoky and filled with Frankish knights. Naught was his difficulty with any of this; indeed, it seemed wondrously familiar and had much in common with the atmosphere of a friendly yurt. However, they had been but moments in the room before one knight nudged his companion and gestured to Kira. Thierry had bristled but set his lips grimly, determined not to begin a battle. Outnumbered they were by far, as Nogai had already observed, and naught could he do but glare back at the offending knight.

Obvious ‘twas that she was his, but well it seemed to Thierry that no one recognized that fact. He scowled darkly and glowered to no avail as yet more admirers turned an eye on his witch. Thierry was not in the least reassured when Nogai and Kira blithely spread out their infernal cards, clearly oblivious to both the attention they drew and Thierry’s dislike of the same.

“The Mongols, you must be.” A crisp voice drew Thierry from his dark thoughts and he glanced up to find another guard garbed in that same blue and gold. Tempted Thierry was indeed to greet the man with an enthusiasm far beyond expectation.

“The king will see you immediately,” the man intoned. Thierry flicked a summoning gesture to his companions and the cards hastily disappeared. The guard turned and set a quick pace through the smoke, leaving them darting through the common room behind him and out into a high vaulted hall.

As they trudged silently in the guard’s wake, Thierry wondered if the others were as awestruck by the evident size of the palace. The boisterous sounds of the common room faded behind them and naught could he hear but whispering footsteps mingling with their own solid trudging. Well it seemed that the labyrinthine corridors twisted off in every direction. Certainly the one they followed was wide enough for eight men to walk abreast and continued on endlessly.

Deeply nervous did it make Thierry to be so thoroughly surrounded by stone and the makings of man. He wondered fleetingly how Nogai could bear it, for that man had little tolerance even of small inns and taverns. Indeed, he had slept on the deck of the ship in fine weather and poor, rather than venture into the hold. Thierry did not dare look back to see the truth lest he give a sign of his own discomfort. The messenger moved with a light step and Thierry knew he had little option other than following this man deeper into the maze.

Kira seemed completely untroubled, a fact that left Thierry feeling that he had somehow fallen short. He knew he did not imagine her curious perusal of their surroundings and wished he could be so cavalier.

Being led into a trap they were. The certainty grew within him until it was unassailable. Though Thierry knew the thought to be a fallacy, still he could not dismiss it. Everything within him distrusted this place and this path.

They climbed two flights of stairs crafted from artfully fitted stone. The steps swept around in a spiral, the like of which Thierry had never seen before. He refused to let his impression of the craftsmanship show and stubbornly kept his features impassive. The messenger pivoted at the top of the stairs, and gestured grandly to a pair of extremely high doors.

“The throne room,” he informed them without meeting their eyes.

At an imperious rap of his knuckles, the doors swung open soundlessly to reveal two doorkeepers garbed in that same blue and gold. The messenger fairly skipped across the threshold, evidently expecting them to follow. Nogai made a barely perceptible growl of dissatisfaction in the back of his throat. Thierry took a deep breath, knowing he could do naught but follow suit.

The Khan’s message had to be delivered. He squared his shoulders, determined to fulfill his commission, and peered into the room.

The throne room was large beyond his expectations. The ceiling arched impossibly high above, apparently supported by an elaborate arrangement of arches that Thierry knew better than to trust with such a burden. Any fool could see that the ceiling was of carved and fitted stone and he cast it a wary eye. All of the room was beneath the stone, though, and no way was there to enter the room and still avoid the risk.

Liking it naught, Thierry stepped into the room, hoping his perfectly healthy caution of such nature-defying tricks was not misinterpreted by these Franks. An open floor space was there in the middle of the room, flanked by banks of benches that rose higher the farther they were from the center of the room. Courtiers were clustered in small groups here and there on the benches. At the far end of the room and facing Thierry was a dais. A number of men sat there, discussing matters amongst themselves. None of them seemed to be paying any attention to Thierry’s entrance.

Neither did they seem concerned about the ceiling, much to his surprise.

Instinctively and out of long habit, Thierry quickly picked out the guards and the exits. Easy enough ‘twas to find the guards, for they all wore the same colors, much as the khan’s
keshik
guard did. Two guards there were standing slightly behind the king on the dais, another pair at each end of the dais. The two who had opened the doors he would reasonably expect to be armed, as would he expect any number of the courtiers to be similarly prepared to meet a threat.