Naamah's Kiss (103 page)

Up and up and up, we soared.

The air was thin in the heights, gaspingly thin, but oh, so pure. The dragon settled gently on peaks where no mortal foot had tread, opening his claw.

I smelled dirt beneath the snow and dug, unearthing soil. "Here?"

His opalescent eyes gleamed. "It is a good place."

The princess and I dug together, making the hole wider and deeper, getting dirt beneath our nails. The dragon watched and rumbled his approval.

I rummaged in the depths of my satchel and found the jar with three snowdrop bulbs nestled within it.

I breathed on them.

They answered. Faint; oh, so faint. But alive.

Tears stung my eyes. I laid the bulbs in the hole we had dug, thinking of Master Lo Feng, who had wanted so badly to bring them to Ch'in. Thinking of Terre d'Ange and my first intoxicating taste of joie , of the pageantry of the Longest Night and the beautiful licentiousness of Cereus House, the adepts of the Night Court indulging in every pleasure.

Jehanne, her eyes sparkling with delight

And later, on the ship.

Bao

"Very tonic, Master Lo," I whispered. "Very tonic, indeed." With loving care, I covered the bulbs with soil.

"They will thrive," the dragon assured me. "And perhaps here on these sacred slopes, they will grow even stronger." His long jowls parted in a smile. "Perhaps one day they will play a role in someone else's story."

I wiped my eyes. "I hope it is a beautiful one with a happy ending."

"So do I," Snow Tiger murmured.

And then the dragon carried us back to the village. He flew low over the battlefield where the Imperial armies were preparing to break camp. Everywhere, men turned their faces to the sky, lit with joy for the sheer beauty and majesty of the dragon in flight.

In the village square, we bade farewell to the dragon for the last time. I put my arms around his sinuous neck, pressing my cheek to the smooth, silvery scales.

"Be well, treasured friend," I whispered. "Guard your pearl carefully."

/ will . He spoke in my thoughts, pouring all his incomprehensibly vast affection into me. Do not fear, Moirin. All will be well in time .

"Thank you," I said, adding, "What does time mean to a dragon?"

The dragon only laughed deep in his chest.

I withdrew to let the princess say her farewell to him in privacy. Whatever was said, their voices were inaudiblea feat I hadn't reckoned the dragon capable of achieving. She stood for a moment in the tender embrace of his coils, then walked away toward where I was waiting with Ten Tigers Dai and an escort of patient guards.

The dragon launched himself in glory, undulating against the blue sky. We stood and watched his gleaming figure dwindle, watched until he had settled himself atop the distant peaks of White Jade Mountain, blending into the snow-covered landscape.

Snow Tiger sighed. I reached out to take her hand, squeezing it. She returned the pressure gratefully. "He is where he belongs."

"Aye," I agreed. "Home."

Home.

It was a lovely word that made my heart ache. I wasn't sure what it meant to me anymore. What was home? The cave in Alba where I had grown up, warmed by my mother's reassuring presence? The City of Elua, where I had found my serene, wonderful father and an unexpected place of honor as the Queen's companion?

I didn't know.

None of it seemed to fit so long as one infuriating peasant-boy was wandering around Ch'in with half my diadh-anam inside him. And while I didn't know what time meant to a dragon, I had a feeling it was going to be a very long time before I was able to figure out what home meant to me.

"Try not to think about it." Reading my silence, the princess gave me a quick glance. "We have a long journey to Shuntian, and there will be much for you to do along the way."

"I know." I had agreed to serve as the Imperial swallower-of-memories for as long as was necessary. "It's all right. Bao's travelling in the same direction, more or less."

"Do you know where he's bound?"

I shook my head. "I don't think he knows himself, my lady. Away from me. That's all that matters."

"He'll be back," Ten Tigers Dai said unexpectedly. He flushed under my gaze. "He will, I am sure of it."

I hoped he was right. "We'll see."

On the morrow, we departed. Everything was so very different on this journey, it seemed strange and unreal to me. I had crossed war-torn Ch'in in disguise with a quartet of stick-fighters, a sage, and a dragon-possessed princess. Now I was part of the Imperial entourage travelling in peacetime.

Kang was gone, recovering at the monastery. Tortoise was gone, torn apart by the Divine Thunder. Master Lo was gone, sacrificing himself that his magpie might live. Bao Bao was gone, wandering somewhere ahead of us, his lead growing thanks to our slow progress. The dragon was gone, left behind to happily dream of clouds and rain atop his beloved White Jade Mountain.

That was good, at least.

I reminded myself of it every time I felt alone and lost. Much that was different was good. In the eyes of the world, Snow Tiger had fled Shuntian as a demon-haunted abomination, feared and reviled. Now she was a heroine. The tales stretched before us, tales of how she had fought to protect the commonfolk, slaying an entire company of Lord Jiang's men. Tales of how she had descended from the sky in a dragon's claw and put an end to a war.

The people loved her for it. Everywhere we went, we were cheered, and the princess more than anyone. Time and again, I saw the Emperor's face soften, beaming with a father's pride. No one doubted anymore that he had lost the Mandate of Heaven, and no one questioned his choice of heir.

They did not know how dark the memories she carried were, nor how much she still ached at the dragon's absence. I knew. More than ever, I sympathized with her sense of loss. And all the cheers in the world could not erase the memory of blood-soaked horror. Still, they helped, and I was glad to see it. I was glad to see her unbend her dignity to smile in genuine gladness and gratitude, glad to see the healing sword-cut on her face fade from an angry red to a faint pink as we travelled.

Like her memories, it would never be gone altogether, but it was better. And she was learning to live with it.

Everywhere that there was rumor of Lord Jiang or Black Sleeve's followers laboring on the weapons of the Divine Thunder, we made camp and took quarters. Again and again, the offer went out: In return for offering their memories freely, men would be rewarded with Imperial favor and money.

Once again, I kept no count of the memories I swallowed. We visited smithies and workshops. Most of the time, the alchemists, engineers, and laborers who had built the weapons came forward of their own accord. They brought intricate sketches of the weapons, formulas for fire-powder recorded on paper. Those we burned.

I breathed in their memories and swallowed them. Memories of complicated formulas of sulfur, charcoal, and saltpeter, memories of acrid bronze fumes, memories of complicated spiral grooves.

They did not all come forward willingly. Some were betrayed by folk eager to bask in Heaven's favor. Those were dragged from their hiding places and offered a choice between surrender and execution.

I hated those.

But I did it, I did it all. And all the while, my diadh-anam shone steadily inside me, an unerring compass promising that I had not chosen unwisely.

Calling insistently to its other half, too.

I learned to ignore the call as best I could, concentrating on the task at hand, using the lessons Master Lo had taught me. I wondered if Bao was doing the same.

The bulk of the Imperial army dispersed, sent to the various posts from which they had been summoned. With the core that remained, we travelled up the river in ships drawn by teams of oxen, stopping along the way to root out more of Lord Jiang and Black Sleeve's accomplices. Traces of their memories remained inside me, tingeing my thoughts with the taste of smoke and metal.

I wished I could be rid of it.

It sparked an uncomfortable thought in me. When this was over, I would be the last person in the world with detailed knowledge of how the weapons of the Divine Thunder were built and wielded. Gods knew, I would take it to my grave. But I did not know if the Emperor trusted me enough to believe it.

I kept my fear to myself, but it made me uncomfortable and withdrawn, and Snow Tiger noticed it. She didn't press me, but she watched me with such a look of troubled concern that I broke down and confessed my fear to her.

"No, of course not!" The princess' eyes widened with horror. "My father would never do such a thing to you."

"He would have done it to six hundred soldiers," I reminded her.

"Six hundred soldiers who took up arms against the Throne of Heaven. Six hundred soldiers who were not sent by strange gods to the aid of Ch'in." Her expression turned fierce. "Even if the thought crossed his mind, I would not allow it. I will not let anyone harm you, Moirin."

It made me smile, hearing an echo of the dragon's words in her voice. She recognized it and smiled too, a little sadly.

"I suspect he would come roaring all the way from White Jade Mountain if anyone in Ch'in raised a hand to you," she said. "So do not think it."

I believed her.

Although it seemed as though our journey and my immense, impossible task would never end, in time it did. We crossed into territory that had never left Imperial control, and there were no more rumors of accomplices. I was content to watch the river unfurl beneath us, the green landscape slide past. Bao was right, I had come to love this country.

I wished he would come back.

But he didn't.

We returned to Shuntian in triumph. There was a week's worth of celebrating, of parades and fetes and displays of pageantry beyond my imagining. The streets were thronged with revelers. Even in the Celestial City, the mood of orderly decorum gave way to one of joy.

If Bao had been there, I would have loved every minute of it. Even in his absence, I took pleasure in it.

Out of curiosity, I went to the quarters that we had rented with Master Lo, now occupied by a nice young family. The wife told me that Bao had been there some weeks earlier. He had retrieved the snowdrop bulbs that Master Lo had reluctantly left behind to dry.