Naamah's Curse (50 page)

Bao’s was motionless and unchanged.

It was as it had been from the moment Aleksei had unlocked my chains—dull, sullen, and guttering.

“The same,” I said soberly.

Young Dash knitted his brows. “That’s not good, is it? Moirin… let me come with you. I can help. I’m sure I can.”

His grandfather’s head jerked up in alarm.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I settled for bowing gravely to Dash in the Ch’in manner, hand clasped over fist. “Thank you, young hero. Your heart is wise and courageous beyond its years. But this task was set before me by the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, and I cannot allow you to risk yourself; nor can I risk depriving Grandfather Unegen of his pride and joy, the light of his heart.”

The elderly Tatar grunted, relaxing.

Dash flushed, his cheeks reddening. “But I
want
to help!”

“And so you have,” I said gently. “You are my piece of good luck, Dash. You found me when I did not think I wanted to be found, and because of you, I have reached the mountains safely, with good companions to continue the journey. I will carry the hope of that moment forward with me, always.”

He looked away. “It’s just…”

“I know.” I knelt and hugged him. “You will find your own story, young hero. This is only a piece of it.”

Dash returned my embrace, his wiry young arms flung tight around my shoulders, his face pressed against my neck. And there beneath the shadow of the Abode of the Gods, I could not help but think that Master Lo was right. All ways led to the Way. From one thing, all things arise.

Son, brother, lover, stranger… it was all part of the same river of life.

My heart ached.

“You will find Bao?” Dash’s dark eyes searched mine. “Find him and save him? He told me things and taught me—oh so many things! I know it was only a short time, but he became as a brother to me, an older brother. I always wanted one. Promise me, Moirin! You’ll save him, won’t you?”

I leaned my brow against his. “I will do my best, little brother. Nothing is certain. I can promise no more.”

Unegen coughed.

I kissed Dash on the cheek and stood. “Yes, Grandfather?”

“Eat and sleep,” he said with rough gentleness. “No time for stories tonight. You will need all your strength tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. You will not find it easy in the heights where the air is thin.”

I inclined my head toward him. “Thank you. I will heed your advice.”

The following day, I saddled my mare and loaded my pack-horse for the first time in weeks. The Tufani supervised the transfer of cargo to their own string of pack-horses. After all of us had checked our goods and supplies one last time, there was nothing left to do but say farewell.

Dash gave me one last hug, and so, to my surprise, did his grandfather. I was touched by the gesture, at least until the old fox reached around and gave my buttocks a firm squeeze, startling a squeak from me.

“Heh.” Unegen released me with a sly grin. “A man wouldn’t need dried root tonic with the likes of you.”

I shook my head at him. “You’re a bad man, Grandfather.”

His grin only widened. “I’m not your grandfather, girl, and that memory will keep me warm at night come winter.”

I didn’t mind, not really. There had been no malice in it, and if Unegen or any of the others had intended me harm along the way, they would have had ample chance to act on it. And it brought a moment of levity that made the parting easier.

All was in readiness.

On Dorje’s word, our company set out to begin the long climb over the foothills. At the top of the first, I paused to look backward. Unegen and Dash led the caravan of camels across the desert plain. Already, they looked small and distant.

“You grew fond of the boy,” Dorje observed.

“Aye, I did,” I agreed. “It’s just that my life seems to be filled with so many partings. It saddens me to think of how many good folk I’ve met that I’ll never see again.”

He leaned over in the saddle and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Do not let it sadden you, Moirin. You are blessed to have met so many worthy souls. It should gladden your heart to think on it.”

“Oh, I’ve met my share of unworthy ones, too,” I said.

“I do not doubt it.” Dorje’s expression was grave. “But I think the good ones outnumber the bad, do they not?”

I thought about my experiences among the Tatars, and nodded. Despite the Great Khan’s betrayal, I had found a great deal of kindness and generosity among his folk. “Yes.” I smiled at him. “And you are surely numbered among the good ones, Dorje. I will be sorry to part from you, too.”

He smiled back at me. “Everyone loves a tale of great romance, but it is seldom that one gets to play a part in one. I am happy we can help you on your quest to find your young man.” His expression turned grave again. “What will you do if you find he is well and truly under the Spider Queen’s thrall? Have you a plan?”

I shook my head. “No.”

It was a worry I had pushed to the back of my thoughts. I had to survive the desert and the mountains before figuring out how to free Bao from the clutches of a sinister queen abiding in an impregnable fortress ruled by her equally sinister husband.

The naïve, hopeful side of me wanted to believe that it would be easy, that all I had to do was find Bao, that once I did, the irresistible force of my
diadh-anam
calling to his would bring us together as simply and effortlessly as it had during the Tatar gathering that seemed so very, very long ago.

But since that time, I had been forced to confront my limitations. My
diadh-anam
was a symbol of living proof of the divine grace of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, of Her love for Her children, of the gifts She had given us.

And yet it was fragile and vulnerable, too.

As I had experienced all too vividly, it could be constrained by foreign magics. Never in my life had I felt more helpless than I had during my captivity in Vralia.

If it was magic that held Bao captive, it must be at least as powerful. More, mayhap. He was a skilled, clever fighter. I had no doubt that in my place, Bao would have found a way to escape his captors long before they crossed the mountains into Vralia, throttling them with his own chains.

But he hadn’t found a way to escape this.

By now I thought it unlikely that Bao was injured or ill, as I had first suspected. It had been too long. His condition would have improved or worsened, not remained in the same unchanging state for months.

Well and so, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? My new friend Dorje would say so. I made myself believe it, pushing my worries aside once more. When the time came, I would find a way. For now, it was enough to concentrate on the journey.

Our small caravan descended the far side of the first foothill, and began ascending the second. Although I was glad to leave the desert, the terrain was still harsh and barren. Dorje assured me that there would be lakes and pastures along the way, pockets of green, growing life.

I hoped so.

On the first day in the mountains, we crossed three enormous foothills and made camp at the base of the third.

On the morrow, we would enter the first great pass. After tending to my horses, I sat and breathed the Five Styles, watching swift dusk fall over the tall peaks on either side of it, blue shadows turning to darkness.

Bao had set out on this path alone.

I wondered if he had been scared.

I was.

O
n the second day, we entered the first pass.

We climbed upward, ascending into the Abode of the Gods.

Upward.

Upward.

Upward.

And although I was riding, and my poor, laboring mare—whom I had named Lady, for lack of a more creative inspiration—was doing all the work, still, my breath came short as the air grew thin.

I felt pressure building behind my eyes, making my head ache fiercely. Betimes, my vision grew dark and spangled.

Stubbornly, I refused to succumb to it. I focused my gaze on Lady’s bobbing ears and breathed the Breath of Wind’s Sigh, calling it into the space behind my eyes, embracing the height and the thin air.

When I did, the pressure eased. Once again, I was indebted to Master Lo’s teaching. The thought made me wistful, but it also served to increase my determination to find Bao and rescue him. It was unacceptable to think that Master Lo Feng had given his life to restore his magpie’s in vain.

The Tufani were at ease in the mountains, bright-eyed and cheerful, reveling in the heights. Throughout the long, arduous climb, their spirits rose. All along the caravan, they called back and forth to one another in their own tongue, laughing and jesting.

I envied and admired them, forcing myself to concentrate. The path through the pass was steep and narrow. Sure-footed though she was, from time to time, Lady’s hooves slipped and scrabbled on loose rocks. And I had my pack-horse, whom I called Flick, on a lead-line, and must not hurry him, letting him pick his way with equal care.

By the time we reached the path’s summit, the sun was beginning to set—or at least, so it seemed in the gorge, stark shadows settling over us.

And then we
did
reach the summit.

“Oh!” I blinked, startled. A shallow descent led to a green, sun-gilded valley. There was a small lake nestled there as though within a cupped palm, its waters a startling turquoise hue. To the east and west of us, immense snow-capped peaks soared skyward with untouchable majesty.

I could not help but think of White Jade Mountain and the dragon. I thought that had been a vast peak, but these dwarfed it. And I understood, truly, why they called this range the Abode of the Gods. Surely nothing less than the gods themselves must dwell in those incredible heights.

Dorje smiled at my awe. “Now you see, Moirin. These are sacred places.”

I didn’t need to be told; I could feel it prickling against my skin. Even so, I smiled back at him. “I do see. It’s very, very beautiful here.”

We made camp in the valley beside the lake, turning the grateful horses loose to graze their fill. Once again, I watched dusk settle over the mountains. At this height, it was even more spectacular, vivid gold and ruddy pinks slowly giving way to shifting hues of blue and deep indigo darkening to pitch-black in the crevasses. I didn’t think one could ever tire of the sight, and I found myself looking forward to dawn that I might see the entire process in reverse, the shadows retreating up the white-mantled glory of the peaks.

It was cold, though. Once the sun was altogether gone, I realized how much colder it was in the heights. And it was only going to get colder as winter drew nigh.

In my tent, I wrapped myself in my blanket and shivered myself to sleep. I would need warmer clothes and blankets if I was to survive this journey.

Come morning, the matter preyed on my thoughts. I would have to act swiftly in the trade-city of Rasa. If I didn’t, I’d get caught out by winter once more, and Dorje had warned me that the Path of Heaven’s Spear would be impassable for months.

I thought it very possible that I might die of impatience if I were forced to delay my quest for months.

Dorje was confident that so long as we met no trouble along the way, we would arrive in Rasa in time for me to join one of the last Bhodistani trade caravans going south. What troubled me was the matter of payment.

I’d given well nigh the last of my coin to Unegen, and while I didn’t think the old fox had cheated me, it meant that Erdene was right, and the last item of great value I had was the Imperial jade seal.

It was a precious gift, and one that spoke of the great trust that Emperor Zhu had placed in me. I felt profoundly guilty at the notion of bartering it, although I would do it if necessary. At the same time, I was unsure if it would be as valuable as I needed it to be to Bhodistani traders going in the opposite direction from Ch’in. As an added difficulty, I would be facing a considerable language barrier.

As we made our way along the narrow trail, through gorges, along mountainsides, I weighed the matter, breathing the Breath of Wind’s Sigh to clear my head of the aching dizziness that came with the thin air.