Naamah's Curse (73 page)

There was the question of Kurugiri itself, and who, if anyone, should lay claim to it. By right of inheritance, it should pass to the Falconer’s eldest son—but none of his harem-born offspring wanted it. By right of conquest, it belonged to the Rani.

“
I
do not want it!” Amrita said, dismay in her musical voice. “It seems a cruel gift to inflict on anyone.”

“So let it stand empty and crumble over time back into the mountain,” Bao suggested. “Or give it to the valley-folk if they want it.”

They didn’t.

The Rani sent an embassy led by Pradeep to address the farmers and herders in the valley. He returned to report that the folk he had talked to were pleased to know that the Falconer and the Spider Queen were no more, but that Kurugiri had a name as a cursed place, and that they would be well content to let it stand empty and live their lives in peace without being forced to tithe the lion’s share of their crops and herds to the fortress.

“They are happy to grow barley and poppies and raise yaks, highness,” Pradeep said with a shrug. “I cannot blame them.”

So it was decided; Kurugiri would be abandoned and left to stand empty, a stark reminder of the cruelty and self-absorption that could be bred in a place that combined deadly power and isolation.

After conferring with Hasan Dar, mercifully alive and surprisingly lucid, the Rani Amrita concluded that a swift messenger should be sent to Bhaktipur to let Ravindra know we had triumphed, requesting the aid of those guards left to ensure his safety. Meanwhile, the bulk of our guards would follow on a slower mission, escorting the Rani and members of the harem, and transporting the dead back to Bhaktipur.

Bao and I would remain to tend to the wounded, assisted by members of the household staff. We would also see that a full inventory of Kurugiri’s goods was conducted. Stolen treasures that could be identified, like the fist-sized ruby called the Phoenix Stone that the Tufani trader Dorje had spoken of so long ago, would be returned in time to their rightful owners. The rest would be sold, and the proceeds divided among the victims of Kurugiri.

“I do not like leaving you in this place, Moirin,” Amrita fretted. “I would prefer to know you were home safely in Bhaktipur!”

I touched her warm, smooth cheek. “I know. But the danger is over, and I will be safe with Bao, my lady. For whatever reason, the gods have seen fit to join us together. Having spent the last year of my life following him to the far ends of the earth, I’m not leaving him.”

“I told you a long time ago that you would fall in love with me,” Bao said with obnoxious good cheer, leaning on his staff. “Didn’t I?”

I glanced sidelong at him. “Yes, O insufferable one.”

He chuckled.

My lady Amrita shook her head, her lustrous eyes shining at us. “I
will
see you wed, the two of you. You most definitely deserve each other, eh?”

We gathered the dead.

It was a long, arduous process. Limbs had stiffened in the rigor of death, and it was difficult to wind linen sheets around them. Men swore, wrestling with corpses, repenting of their harsh words only when Amrita reproached them for it.

No one wanted to touch Jagrati, so Bao and I tended to her.

Even in death, she had a terrible beauty: gaunt-faced, her sunken cheeks collapsed to the bone. I wiped the dried flecks of froth from her lips, sensing Kamadeva’s diamond in my pocket singing to me. Her dead skin was ashen, but it seemed to me that her spirit lingered. Hungry for vengeance against the world that had harmed her—but somewhere beneath it, I thought Jagrati hungered for acceptance, too. I remembered how she had recoiled from Amrita, and it seemed to me that it was more than the strength of the Rani’s warding
mudra
at work there. It was due to a lifetime of Jagrati being taught that her touch was unclean and polluting. She’d had no problem taking her vengeance on men, no problem touching me, a foreigner and Kamadeva’s victim.

It was different with the Rani Amrita. She may have been all that Jagrati had despised, but the habits of a lifetime had overridden her hatred.

I pitied the Spider Queen, mayhap more than I ought to. When Bao asked quietly if we should remove the rings and bangles that adorned her fingers and wrists, I shook my head. “Let her keep them,” I said. “There’s more stolen treasure than anyone needs within the walls of this bedamned place. Let her take the baubles she died wearing to the afterlife with her. Maybe it will ease her angry spirit.”

Bao looked relieved. “Good.”

Together, we wound Jagrati into a shroud; and both of us were relieved to have it done.

There was a blend of joy and sorrow in the procession that departed from Kurugiri when the work of gathering the dead was finished. Sorrow for the losses incurred, joy at the innocent victims liberated, the women and children of the harem who still looked happy and dazed at their good fortune. Only the
tulku
Laysa appeared serene and unsurprised, but nonetheless glad and grateful.

Amrita hugged me close in farewell, tears in her eyes. “Promise me you will be well, Moirin! I do hate leaving you here.”

I returned her embrace, kissing her cheek. “It’s only for a little while, my lady.”

“Too long, even so.” She laughed ruefully, wiping her eyes. “We must have known one another in a different life, eh? Or else how could you have become so dear to me so quickly?”

“Moirin does,” Bao informed her. I gave him a sharp look, and he grinned at me. “What? You do.”

“You do,” Amrita agreed. “So, my bad boy Bao! You will keep her safe for all of us, eh?”

He pressed his palms together and bowed to the Rani. “I have determined it is my life’s work, highness.”

I rolled my eyes.

Bao snuck a glance at me, still grinning.

“He only pretends to jest,” Amrita observed, her hands forming a
mudra
. “But I will hold you to your promise, Bao-ji. And I will remind you that it is Moirin who came here to rescue
you
.”

He sobered. “I do not forget it, highness. I will not ever forget it.”

“That is well, then.” Amrita’s radiant smile returned, her irrepressible laughter chiming like golden bells. “And I shall have great fun planning your wedding!”

Together, Bao and I watched the Rani Amrita and her procession depart, entering the long, winding labyrinth, men on foot and men on horseback, some riding double with women or children behind them in the saddle, some carrying terrible burdens, escorting the joyful living with care, carrying the lamented dead with dignity and honor—and the unlamented dead, too.

I sighed.

Bao kissed me, his lips lingering on mine. “The Rani was right, Moirin. I was not jesting.”

“I know.” I stroked the nape of his neck, feeling the strong sinew drawn tight beneath his skin. Naamah’s gift stirred in me, and Kamadeva’s diamond sang to it; but it was not right yet. Not here, not now. “Shall we go count some jewels?”

He nodded. “Let’s.”

T
aking inventory of Kurugiri’s treasures was a prodigious task. The coffers in Jagrati’s private chambers alone revealed untold wealth.

“Stone and sea!” I plucked out an impossibly long strand of pearls the size of quail eggs, each one perfectly spherical and uniform in shape, shimmering with an iridescent pinkish hue. “How would someone even wear such a thing?”

“Looped three times around the neck, Moirin,” Bao said briefly. “Sudhakar, make a note. One strand of pearls, three arm-lengths long.”

“Yes, Bao!” the young man said eagerly, adding in an apologetic tone, “Only, I cannot write.”

We found someone who could, since Bao could write only in Ch’in characters, and I could write only in the Western alphabet, neither of which the Bhodistani could read.

One by one, we catalogued the pieces in Jagrati’s coffers.

A gold filigree hairpiece set with emeralds, another set with sapphires and seed pearls.

An ornamental dagger with three large emeralds forming the hilt, sheathed in a golden scabbard encrusted with diamonds.

Countless gold and silver bangles and anklets.

A collar wrought of rubies and diamonds crafted in the shape of glittering flowers with blood-red centers.

Rings set with every manner of gemstone.

Gaudy and elaborate brooches dripping with jewels.

On and on it went, an endless and dazzling array. We found the famous Phoenix Stone, the immense ruby for which the Maharaja of Chodur and his bride had been slain, tucked away in the corner of a coffer and forgotten.

It wasn’t just jewelry, either. There were shelves of jewel-bright miniature paintings on ivory panels depicting warriors riding to battle on the backs of elephants, hunters on horseback cornering a tiger, opulent scenes of court life. There were the gilded lamps and braziers, many of the former encrusted with gems. There were decorative vessels carved from ivory and carnelian. We found an entire trunk of gilded bronze votive figures depicting the Bhodistani pantheon in intricate detail.

“Why would Jagrati want these stolen for her?” I asked in bewilderment, holding a many-armed statue of the goddess Durga. “She claimed to hate the gods.”

Bao glanced at it. “I don’t think this was all her doing,” he said. “There was a fair bit of treasure already here. Lord Khaga let her claim what she wished, and when she tired of it, he got her more.” He shrugged. “It would be like her to claim images of gods and hide them away. Having been denied access to them all her life, it would please her to deny them to others. I never knew what was in that trunk,” he added. “I never saw her open it.”

It reminded me in an unpleasant way that Bao must have spent a great deal of time in this bedchamber. He had been one of her favorites.

Seeing the thought on my face, he looked away. “Let’s just keep going, huh?”

I nodded. “One gilded statue of Durga with…” I counted. “Eighteen arms,” I said to Govind, the elderly steward who was recording the inventory for us.

After we had finished with Jagrati’s hoard, there was the rest of the fortress to catalogue. Mostly its valuable furnishings consisted of furniture and wall-hangings, but there was an extensive set of gold serving-ware inlaid with precious stones that took a long time. There were still the injured men to tend to, which delayed the process, although happily, the wounded were progressing well.

Altogether, the inventory took days, and when we were done, I didn’t care if I never saw another piece of jewelry or treasure again.

“No?” Bao smiled a little when I announced it. “A good thing, since I don’t have any money to keep you in gold and jewels.” His smile faded. “Or any money at all, really. I don’t have much to offer you, Moirin.”

“You have yourself, and that’s enough.” I hesitated, unconsciously fingering the awkward lump of Kamadeva’s diamond in my pocket. “But… Bao, do you think Jagrati’s shadow is always going to be between us?”

“No.”
He ran a hand over his hair, which he’d cropped into its former unruly shock before leaving Bhaktipur—although the gold hoops remained in his earlobes. I hadn’t asked why. “No, I don’t. But being here…” He shuddered. “There are too many memories. When we go, I mean to leave them behind.”

“I could take them from you,” I offered quietly. “If you wished it.”

After only the briefest of pauses, Bao shook his head. “Good men died to remove Jagrati and Lord Khaga from this world. To rid myself of those memories would dishonor their sacrifice.”

I smiled. “Funny, that’s very much what Snow Tiger said when I made her the same offer.”

“Her bridegroom’s death?” he asked in a hushed tone. I nodded. “No, she wouldn’t dishonor his memory, would she? Not our Noble Princess.” Bao met my eyes. “I did not suffer anything so terrible as that here in Kurugiri. I am not proud of the things I did, or the man I was here, but since I found the strength to walk away when I needed it, on some level, I must have chosen this. So I will keep my memories, and learn to grow stronger from them. I did not murder anyone, if you are wondering,” he added. “I did not become an assassin, a killer of innocents.”

I had been wondering, but I didn’t let him know it. “You would not have let that happen,” I said firmly.

Bao’s mouth quirked. “I like to think it is true. But in truth, I was never ordered to do so.”