Naamah's Kiss (104 page)

For some reason, that gave me a pang of hurt and jealousy. I wondered what in the world he meant to do with them.

Nothing, mayhap. Mayhap they were just one last souvenir of his beloved mentor, whom I had helped to die.

When I thought of it that way, I could better understand why Bao needed to be away from me. But it didn't lessen the yearning of my diadh-anam inside me.

I knew where he was, of course. I always knew. He was somewhere northwest of Shuntian, no longer on the move. Whatever he was doing, my stubborn peasant-boy had decided to stay put for a while. So I stayed where I was, and waited for him to come to me. Like me, he knew perfectly well where I was.

Apart from Bao's absence, it was a pleasant time. I was an Imperial favorite, the noble heir's attendant, the jade-eyed witch who had become Ch'in's lucky talisman. Emperor Zhu showered me with gifts. I had beautiful robes of embroidered silk to wear, strings of pearls, the finest jade jewelry.

And although I wasn't serving as a royal companion in the D'Angeline way, Snow Tiger liked having me near her. She took it on herself to further civilize me, teaching me the rudiments of Ch'in writing, laughing at my feeble attempts to memorize and replicate even a handful of the myriad characters. I didn't mind. She read poetry aloud to me, tracing the characters with one finger, showing me how the beauty and grace of the brushstrokes enhanced the beauty of the poem's words and images.

Mostly, we understood one another. Having proven his mettle, Ten Tigers Dai had been granted the very special privilege of being allowed to serve as her personal bodyguard and keep his manhood. When the sight of him hovering protectively behind her, staff in hand, made me melancholy, the princess understood.

When any one of the thousand dragon effigies twined around columns or perched atop the tip-tilted rooftop corners caught her eye and made her ache with loss, I understood.

I understood the fear that came at night, too.

It happened less, but it still happened. When it did, it would wake me from even the soundest of sleep, and I would rise from my bed in an adjoining chamber and go to her. Sometimes she would send me away with a slight shake of her head, choosing to battle the blood-soaked memories that haunted her on her own. Other times, I stayed and held her, willing the warmth of my body to keep the memories at bay; and I daresay it comforted me as much as it did her.

I had been in Shuntian for almost a month when I sensed that Bao was on the move once more, the twinned flame of my diadh-anam moving away.

It hurt.

"Stupid boy!" I muttered, my eyes stinging. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Perhaps he is going somewhere," Snow Tiger said with calm logic. "Could you point out his direction on a map ?"

I shrugged, feeling helpless. "Mayhap." She ordered a copy of the most recently wrought map of the Celestial Empire fetched from the archives, and we pored over it together. Once she had it oriented so that I understood where I was in relation to the insistent call of my diadh-anam , I pointed. "There. That way."

The princess looked up at me. "He's heading for Tatar country."

"Why" I swallowed. "Oh. His father."

Her brows furrowed. "I thought he was an orphan."

"Not really." I touched the fine-grained paper, remembering words Master Lo had spoken long ago. "Through no fault of his own, Bao is a child of violence."

The princess remembered, too. "Yes. When we acquired the horses, he spoke of his cursed rapist of a father being a Tatar." The delicate furrow etched between her brows deepened. "Why would he seek to find him?"

"I don't know," I murmured. "But it's the first thing I set out to do when the Maghuin Dhonn Herself laid this destiny on me. I didn't know what else to do. Mayhap Bao doesn't, either."

We exchanged a glance.

Snow Tiger sat on her heels, her expression grave and serious. "You do have a choice in this matter, Moirin."

Such simple wordsand yet they opened a door in my thoughts.

I did not have to wait.

I could follow him.

My diadh-anam flared wildly in agreement, making it hard to breathe. I laughed, unexpectedly unfettered and joyful. "I do, don't I?"

"Yes." There was a shadow of sorrow in the princess' smile. "And I will see to it that you are given every assistance."

"No." I shook my head. "No. I think I think that if Bao is ever to believe I chose this on my own, I must do it on my own. I cannot hunt him down with the Imperial army at my back. I must go alone."

She inclined her head. "As you wish."

I frowned. "It is not that I am ungrateful, my lady."

"I know." Snow Tiger lifted her head, meeting my gaze with an effort. "It is only that that before you go, I would ask one thing from you. It has been in my thoughts that this day would come. And I do not know if it is wrong of me to ask it. Because of this matter with Shangun Bao, because you are not sworn to her service as you have told me your father was, but" She steeled herself, her spine straightening, her eyes soft and vulnerable. "You are her child nonetheless. I would ask for the blessing of your D'Angeline goddess of desire."

I stared at her, my lips parted.

If the princess had not blushed, I would not have been certain of what she was asking of me. But she did, a tide of blood rising to kiss her throat with crimson, flushing her cheeks, even the tips of her ears. It was so unexpected, and so utterly, utterly charming, all I could do was stare at her with surprised delight.

"I should not have asked, should I?" She scowled. "Forgive me, I do not know the protocol for such a thing. It is only that I do not think anyone in the world needs her blessing as much as I do. And what the dragon did when first we met, I know he intended well, but it was not helpful." Her voice faltered, then continued, resolute and determined. "And yet you understand in part because of it. So I thought, although it is against custom, after all, it is a little late to worry about that, and you are the one person I trust Moirin, would you please say something? Why are you smiling like that?"

There was a fluttering burst in my belly like a thousand doves taking flight at once. I did not have to consult my diadh-anam . This was not the business of the Maghuin Dhonn. This was Naamah's business.

The bright lady approvedoh, so very much.

"Yes," I said softly. "The answer to the question you ask is yes, my lady. And I am smiling because it makes me happy."

"Truly?" She smiled in profound relief.

"Truly," I assured her. "Well and truly, I promise you."

The following day, as I made my preparations to travel, it lay between us unspoken. Every time I thought about it, I smiled. Every time I smiled, the princess blushed.

If there had been aught I had desired for the journey, she would have given it to me, but I had to trust my instincts. The matter lay between Bao and me. It would be best if I left quietly, without fanfare. I didn't like being alone, but one can be alone in the midst of strangers. I had grown up in considerable solitude, and I could take care of myself.

And the dragon had promised I would always find love on my path.

So I sorted through the many gifts I had been given, setting aside the gorgeous robes stiff with embroidery and packing a couple of the more sensible garments. Most of the jewelry I kept, hidden in the bottom of my pack next to the crystal vial of Jehanne's perfume and a purse of D'Angeline coins. I kept a belt knife that Snow Tiger had given me, a slender blade with an ivory hilt carved in the shape of a dragon. I had the yew-wood bow that my uncle Mabon had made for me.

I had a horse, a virtual twin of the valiant chestnut that had carried me across the battlefield. The Emperor had made me a gift of him. Now I accepted the gift of a pack-horse and supplies.

There was one last gift of jewelry I accepted, tooa jade medallion strung on a silk cord. It bore the image of the Imperial dragon carved on one side and the Emperor's seal etched into the other. It signified that I was under the protection of the Son of Heaven and to be afforded every courtesy.

"It will not help you on the far side of the Great Wall," Snow Tiger reminded me.

"I know." I hesitated. "Are the Tatars truly so fearsome?"

She frowned in thought. "They are a wild folk. Nomads. But there have been enlightened rulers among them in the past. I don't know how you will find them."

"I come from a fairly wild folk myself, my lady." "True."

It seemed like there should have been more to do to prepare for such an undertaking, but by the end of the day, I was finished.

There was only one thing left to do, and that was ask for Naamah's blessing.,

The princess was nervous, so nervous. After dismissing all her attendants, bidding them not to disturb us until summoned, she quivered with restless uncertainty, watching me light sticks of incense and offer a prayer to Naamah.

"Do you think she will hear so far away?" she asked me.

"I do not think far means anything more to the gods than time means to a dragon." I watched the fragrant smoke coil. "And the dragon himself told me that although the gods do not always answer, they are always listening."

"Oh." She sat stiffly on the bed.

I sat beside her, close, but not touching her. Strange though it might seem, I wished I could talk to my father. I was sure of Naamah's approval, but I wasn't sure how to proceed with this very brave, deeply wounded young woman. For all that I understood it, her anxiousness wasn't making this easy for me. From an awkward beginning of forced intimacy, we had navigated a difficult path to genuine friendship, and I was not certain how to go beyond it without doing harm. "We need not, do this if you don't wish, my lady."

"I do wish it." Snow Tiger gave me a fleeting glance. "Only if I change my mind, will you forgive me?"

"Yes, my beautiful girl." It had been one of Jehanne's endearments for me, and it came unbidden to my lips. The princess ducked her head, flushing a bit with pleasure, and I knew it was the right thing to say. She was a motherless child raised as a warrior, and there had been no one in her life to speak sweet words to her save in praise of her skill with a blade. "I will understand, I promise. Are you changing it now?"

She shook her head, darting another shy glance at me. "No."

I lifted her chin gently, brushing a kiss on her unscarred cheek, then on her temple, then on the curve of her jaw. The kiss of drifting petals, the D'Angelines call it; they are all mad for flower imagery, especially in describing acts of love. I let her feel the warmth of my breath against her skin, and kissed the outer corner of her lips.

Something stirred in her gaze. She turned her face toward me, wondering where the next kiss would fall.

But it was not right, not quite.

There was desire in her, but there was tension, too. Fear, too much fear. For her, the memory of pleasure was coupled inextricably with the memory of helplessness and terror. I shifted, tucking my legs beneath me and kneeling. I had offered a prayer to Naamah, but I had not truly prayed.

Now I did.

I closed my eyes and thought about how Naamah had offered herself in love and desire. I thought about my father, and how generously he gave of himself. I thought about Naamah's effigy in the temple, and her tranquil, beautiful face.