Naamah's Blessing (31 page)

“Gods, man!” Denis de Toluard interjected. “How could you possibly imagine you’d get away with it?”

The sailor looked at him with dull eyes. “I didn’t. I reckoned I’d be found out sooner or later. But as long as I kept my mouth shut, my Adele and Mattie would be safe.”

“And Prince Thierry and all his comrades doomed to whatever fate befell them in Terra Nova!” Denis shouted.

Edouard Durel gave a broken laugh. “Do you really think you stand a chance of finding them, my lord?” He gestured at me. “Just because some half-breed bear-witch with a grudge claims to have had a vision?”

“In fact, I do.” Denis glanced at me. “I have more cause than most to put my faith in Moirin mac Fainche.”

To that, the sailor made no reply.

“A few further questions, Messire Durel,” Balthasar said. “Did you have an accomplice, or were you working alone?”

Durel shook his head. “If I’d had an accomplice, I’d have posted a lookout.” He grimaced. “I wasn’t expecting Lord de Toluard’s midnight stroll.”

“Did the Duchese de Barthelme approach anyone else with a similar offer?” Balthasar asked.

The sailor shrugged. “If she did, she didn’t say anything to me about it.” He picked up the refilled glass of brandy and downed it in a series of gulps, setting the empty glass on the table. “So far as I know, I’m the only traitor about the ship,” he said in an unsteady tone. “That’s what I am, isn’t it?”

“I’m afraid so,” Balthasar agreed. Reaching across the table, he put his hand over Edouard Durel’s. “Don’t worry about your wife and daughter. If we return safely, I’ll make sure they’ll pay no price for your sin, and be well cared for. And if we don’t…” He smiled wryly. “Well, you’ve already seen to it that they’ll be fine.”

Fresh tears spilled from the fellow’s eyes. “Thank you, my lord. I don’t deserve your kindness!”

“No, you don’t,” Balthasar said judiciously. “But neither do they deserve to be punished for your folly.”

Durel nodded. “What’s to become of me?”

“That’s the captain’s business for now.” Balthasar retrieved his whetstone from the table and stowed it. “Assuming we’re all in agreement, I’d ask him to spare your life so that you might stand trial in Terre d’Ange and testify against the Regent’s wife and her poisonous brat. I trust you’re willing to do so?”

“Aye, my lord.” Edouard Durel took a deep breath, his gaze on the knife still lying atop the table. “I was wrong to doubt you. I felt Kushiel’s presence here. I am willing to accept whatever penance you give me.”

“Ah.” Balthasar plucked up his belt knife and sheathed it. “As it happens, I am more modest than I pretend. I will leave the matter of penance to the priests, and rest content with my role here.”

With that, he sent Clemente to fetch the sailors to take Edouard Durel into custody once more.

When they had gone, Balthasar heaved a mighty sigh, running his hands over his face. “That,” he remarked to no one in particular, “was challenging.” He gave us all a surprisingly sweet smile. “Thank you for your trust.”

“Don’t thank me,” Brice de Bretel said flatly. “I really thought you meant to skin the man alive.”

Balthasar’s smile tightened. “Nothing quite so crude, I hope.”

I thought about the brightness of his eyes, the tenderness of his voice; and I thought that the sense of deadly desire it evoked was quite genuine. There was a part of Balthasar Shahrizai that would have relished giving in to his darkest urges and carrying out the punishment he threatened, and the most frightening part was that he would have done it out of a kind of love. “You wield a dangerous gift, my lord,” I murmured.

He met my gaze. “Not lightly, Lady Moirin.”

“No.” I came forward to rest my hands on his shoulders, feeling the latent tension in them. Leaning down, I kissed his cheek. “It was well done. Thank you.”

He nodded in acknowledgment.

Denis de Toluard shuddered. “Let’s just hope there
aren’t
any more. That was far too near a thing.”

“Good thing you couldn’t sleep, huh?” Bao observed.

“It is, isn’t it?” A look of wonder touched Denis’ face. “Ever since the King’s death, I’ve had nightmares. I never thought I’d be glad of them.”

“And I never thought I’d be so glad to have you on this expedition, my lord Denis,” I said to him, inclining my head. “We all owe you a profound debt today. Were it not for your acuity, we’d be in dire straits, and Thierry’s cause nigh hopeless.”

“Hear, hear!” Balthasar hoisted the bottle of brandy and drank from it, wiping the bottle’s mouth on his sleeve and passing it to Denis.

He drank, and passed it onward.

We all drank.

The ship sailed onward.

THIRTY-FOUR

W
e were at sea for two more months.

It was an uneasy time, to say the least. Edouard Durel’s attempt at sabotaging our mission had everyone on edge. Sailors and fighting men eyed one another uneasily, wondering if another traitor lurked in our ranks.

Captain Rousse called in every member of his crew for a private interrogation.

Balthasar Shahrizai spent countless hours in the crowded main berth, casually talking with and covertly eavesdropping on the force he’d assembled.

In the end, it seemed that no one else had been approached. Claudine de Barthelme had had a limited amount of time in which to operate in the City of Elua, in which to find and exploit vulnerable members of our expedition.

I dwelled on memories of her false smile, hating her. For my father’s sake, I was glad it was her, and not Duc Rogier, behind the attempt.

I worried about Desirée.

New protocols were established to protect the captain’s logbook. Edouard Durel was kept under restraint. Our ship,
Naamah’s Dove
, rose and fell on the trackless grey ocean; bobbing like a cork in foul weather, riding out the crests and troughs of the storms that assailed us, sailing calmly over placid seas, her sheets filled with wind. Westward, ever westward.

When the cry of “Land ahead!” came from the lookout atop the central mast, I was profoundly grateful.

Everyone who could fit rushed abovedeck to catch our first glimpse of Terra Nova, at first little more than a green smudge on the horizon. Bit by bit, we drew nearer and the green smudge resolved itself into a vast, sprawling landscape dominated by a tall mountain in the distance, tall enough that the sun glinted on snow atop its peak. For the first time, I felt a sense of awe at venturing into a new land, a land that had remained undiscovered by the rest of the world for countless centuries. A plume of smoke trailed from the mountain’s apex, white against the blue sky.

“The Nahuatl call it
Iztactepetl
,” Denis de Toluard informed me.

“White Mountain?” I was pleased with myself for being able to translate the name; and pleased, too, at the omen, reminded of the dragon’s beloved White Jade Mountain in faraway Ch’in.

Denis nodded. “Well done.” He pointed at the smoke plume. “It’s a volcano. The first of many things that can kill you in Terra Nova.”

“Oh.” Mayhap it wasn’t such a happy omen after all.

Once we entered the wide harbor, I had to own I was a bit disappointed with my first look at the Nahuatl Empire. Thanks to Denis, I’d known that we would make landfall at the Aragonian port of Orgullo del Sol, but my head had been filled with the fanciful tales Cillian had told me years ago, when Terra Nova was first discovered. I’d had visions of marble temples rising from the jungle, folk going around adorned in shimmering feathers, gold and jade jewelry.

Instead, it was a rough and ready port still undergoing major phases of construction, and it was filled with Aragonians, none of whom were any too glad to see us. But while Captain Rousse was contending with the harbor-master, I saw my first Nahuatl folk as a number of men gathered to peer at the ship, looking expectant. They certainly weren’t clad in feathers and jewels, but rather rough-spun garments, and they carried wooden frames on their backs, held in place with a braided thong around their foreheads.

“Porters,” Denis said, following my gaze. “Members of the peasant
class. The Aragonians hire them for menial work. Almost everything’s carted on foot here. They’ve no pack-animals, and the Aragonians are careful not to trade in horse-flesh. It’s one of the advantages they hold.”

The lack of finery notwithstanding, I thought they were a good-looking folk with ruddy bronze skin, black hair and eyes, and strong, prominent features.

One of them caught my gaze and pointed, nudging the fellow next to him. All of them stared.

“I think they like you, Moirin,” Bao remarked, leaning on his staff beside me.

“Name of Elua!” Denis drew a sharp breath. “I hadn’t thought of
that
.”

I was confused. “That the Nahuatl might like me?”

“No, Moirin.” He shot me an impatient look. “They’ve never seen a European woman before.”

“Not that our half-breed bear-witch exactly resembles the majority of them,” Balthasar observed.

“But the Aragonians…” I gestured at the port city. “They’ve been here for years! Is there not a single woman among them?”

Denis shook his head. “Only men. If they want a woman, they’ll take a native mistress. I keep trying to tell you, Terra Nova is dangerous. Too dangerous for women.”

“You really don’t know Moirin very well,” Bao commented. “Did you know she can outshoot a Tatar?”

“I was lucky,” I murmured.

Now the Aragonian harbor-master took notice of the staring Nahuatl porters and spotted me aboard the ship. He blinked and startled, and began questioning Septimus Rousse anew. Whatever the captain told him, it resulted in a deep, florid bow from the Aragonian official, and an invitation to disembark.

After months at sea, the solid quay felt unsteady beneath my feet. I did my best not to sway as the harbor-master proffered a second bow, his long mustaches tickling my hand as he took and kissed it.

“So lovely and so brave!” he said in heavily accented D’Angeline. “Doña Moirin, although I must advise against it, I admire your desire to discover the fate of your royal kinsman. Please, permit me to escort you and a few of your companions to the mayor’s quarters. He would be furious if I allowed you to take coarse lodgings elsewhere.”

I spared a glance at Septimus Rousse.

Our captain gave me a brusque nod. “Go, my lady. Don’t worry, I’ll see to what’s needful here.”

Along with Bao, Balthasar, Denis, a large cask of perry brandy for the mayor, and several Nahuatl porters carrying our personal baggage, I accompanied the harbor-master through the streets of Orgullo del Sol, drawing stares and startled looks along the way. I daresay no one had expected to see D’Angelines returning in the first place, and with my gender and Bao’s distinctive Ch’in features, we made an unusual sight indeed.

The mayor’s residence was one of the most ambitious buildings in the city, an elegant stone affair that stood in contrast to the wooden construction elsewhere. After a brief moment of shock and an exchange in Aragonian with the harbor-master, the steward hastened to fetch the mayor.

In short order, we were introduced to Porfirio Reyes, mayor of Orgullo del Sol. He was a short, thickset fellow with a bit of a paunch and drooping eyelids, but he had the same courtly manners as the harbor-master and a commendable ability to conceal surprise. Fortunately for me, he also spoke fluent D’Angeline with barely a trace of an accent.

“Such a sad tale, the loss of the young Dauphin!” He shook his head. “But it would be folly to compound the tragedy with your own needless death. Please, my lady, will you and your companions accept my hospitality, and allow me the chance to dissuade you from this madness?” He patted his substantial belly. “If nothing else, I assure you, you’ll be well fed! After so long at sea, you must be yearning for fresh fare.”

“And a bath,” Balthasar murmured. “And the services of a laundress.”

The mayor chuckled. “Ah, D’Angelines! Of course. I will gladly provide both, Lord Shahrizai.”

I smiled at him. “It would be our pleasure.”

Our baths were drawn by unsmiling Nahuatl women serving as maids, whom I tried without success to engage in conversation—whether due to my limited skills in the language, or their innate reticence, I couldn’t say.

From what Denis de Toluard had told me, the Aragonians and the Nahuatl had an uneasy coexistence in Terra Nova. If the Aragonians could have seized the country outright, they would have done it, but the Nahuatl and their allies were too numerous. By the same token, the Aragonians’ superior weapons, armor, and ability to fight on horseback made them hard to assail, and the Nahuatl tolerated their presence and engaged in ongoing trade because the Emperor hoped to acquire valuable steel and breeding stock.

Somehow, I doubted it was an arrangement that benefited the commonfolk of Terra Nova.

After bathing and changing into my least filthy gown, and entrusting the rest of my attire to the mayor’s servants, I felt more myself.

Bao, himself cleaned and scrubbed, eyed me appreciatively. “A whole room to ourselves in the mayor’s palace, huh? Not a tiny cabin in the wardroom where everyone knows everyone’s business.”