Naamah's Kiss (69 page)

Bao looked away. "So maybe five, six years go by. Good years, I think. Anything I want. Wine, women. Whatever I like. I don't even have to fight so much. Everyone, they know I'm good. Nobody want to challenge me. One day, Master Lo, he comes to this place, the square in Shuntian where the stick-fighters meet. He says he looks for a companion for this long journey to the land of angels. Someone clever to help him in all things, someone bold who did not fear danger. Someone humble and willing to learn about the Way."

My diadh-anam flared in memory. "And you knew!"

He shook his head. "I laughed. Everyone laughed. In Shuntian we said the great Master Lo Feng has lost his mind. Why else would he ask a bunch of no-good thugs for help?"

"Oh."

"Uh-huh." He nodded. "Two days later, this boy comes to me. Some peasant-boy from the country. He asks me to teach him to fight. Youngnot so young as I was, but young. Fourteen, fifteen. Still like a willow. He wants to learn from the best." Bao pursed his lips. "I made him the same offer Brother Thunder made me."

I sat up and shivered, withdrawing instinctively.

"I don't know why," Bao mused. "Only he reminds me of me. That stupid boy who wanted to be a stick-fighter so bad he was willing to do anything to learn. And I wanted to punish him for it."

A long silence stretched between us. "Did you?" I asked at last.

"No." He gazed into the past. "The boy took off his clothes. Now he looks like a plucked chicken, shivering."

I saw the memory surface in his thoughts. A naked boy, trembling, the narrow blades of his shoulders hunched in fear. And Bao

"You walked away," I said softly. "You walked away from all of it."

It didn't seem to surprise him. "Yes. For some reason, all I could think of was Master Lo Feng's offer. Maybe he knew what he was doing after all. Maybe it was meant for me. I was clever and bold, but I had forgotten how to be humble, and I never had any teacher who was kind and wise. I wanted to be someone different. So I walked away from that boy, from that gang, from that city. I took my best staff. Nothing else. I even left behind the name I had given myself. I took back the baby-name my mother called me."

I said it aloud. "Bao."

The light in the cabin had grown dim. His eyes glittered. "Now you know. You ask why Master Lo seeks to join us together with his medicine. I don't know. Maybe he thinks you will hate me if you learn the truth first."

"No." I shook my head. "No, I don't think so. I think mayhap he knew you needed to speak of this, and I needed" I flushed. "Well."

Bao laughed.

I smiled. "You walked away. How can I hate you for somewhat you didn't do? As for the rest" I shrugged. "You did what you set out to do. You're not that person anymore." I thought a moment. "Did you ever hear the tale of the stolen D'Angeline prince?"

"No."

So I told him the story of Prince Imriel de la Courcel, who was stolen by slave-traders as a boy and subjected to unimaginable horrors in distant Drujan before being rescued by two of the realm's greatest heroes. I told him how Prince Imriel wrote openly in his memoirs of struggling to be a good person despite the memories that haunted him; and how he had grown up to become a great hero in his own right, saving Terre d'Ange from an insidious peril.

Bao listened intently. "I know some of that story," he said when I'd finished. "There was Ch'in women in that place. Drujan."

I'd forgotten. "Aye, that's one of the things that piqued Master Lo's curiosity about Terre d'Ange, wasn't it?"

"Uh-huh." He nodded, thoughtful.

I rubbed my eyes, fighting a yawn. It was late and I was tired; I had a vague memory of someone knocking politely on the door hours ago with an offer of dinner. Now it was almost pitch-black in the cabin.

"Sleep," Bao said immediately. "I'll go."

"Stay if you like," I offered.

He hesitated, then climbed out of bed and fumbled for his clothing. "No. You need to think about what I told you. I was not like the prince in your story, Moirin. What I did, I chose for myself. And what I chose to make of myself was nothing more than an ordinary thug."

"Not so ordinary," I said sleepily. "At least you were a prince of thugs. Bao, are you really afraid I have a destiny that's going to swallow you whole?"

"Uh-huh." An unexpected grin glinted in his shadowy face. "Only now I think maybe it's worth it."

In the bright light of day the next morning, both Bao and I were afflicted by the self-consciousness that can accompany a sudden shift from familiarity into intimacy. He flushed when I emerged from my cabin, busying himself with boiling a kettle of water on our small brazier. I watched his strong, sinewy hands as he poured the water for Master Lo's tea, remembering how good they'd felt on my breasts.

"Ah!" Master Lo sipped his tea with pleasure. "So?"

Bao and I glanced at one another. He cleared his throat. "Ah very tonic, Master."

" Very tonic," I agreed. "Master Lo why? You told me once that it was best to let go of desire."

"So I did." He regarded me. "I believe I underestimated its force in your nature. Your desire for Raphael de Mereliot led you into folly; and yet if I understand what I observed, your desire for Queen Jehanne led her to a greater peace and wisdom. It may be that the gods of Terre d'Ange have their own ways of guiding their children to harmony."

"All ways lead to the Way," I said, remembering what he'd said yesterday.

Master Lo inclined his head. "Even so."

"What about me?" Bao asked.

His mentor eyed him tranquilly. "It would have happened sooner or later, but you have a stubborn and contrary streak, my magpie. I thought you needed a push."

Bao gave him a skeptical look. "Hmm."

"Is anyone complaining?" Master Lo inquired. "Because the sounds I heard for many hours do not suggest a pair of healthy young people with anything to complain about."

This time, I flushed.

Bao grinned at me. "No," he said. "You?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Good." Master Lo blew on his tea and took another delicate sip. "Then let us practice the Five Styles. After yesterday's excesses, perhaps a little discipline and guidance would not go amiss after all."

It was hard to concentrate. I was too aware of my body, indolent with lingering pleasure after a long drought. I peeked under my lashes, studying Bao's calm face with its high, wide cheekbones, wondering again how it was I hadn't noticed he was beautiful. He could be so calm, so still, and yet there was somewhat wild and untamed at his core that appealed to me. I thought about what he'd told me last night. Of his own will, he had walked away from his former life and had chosen a path of humility, but it had done naught to diminish the fierce pride within him.

That, I thought, was very interesting.

"Moirin." Master Lo chided me with a word.

I closed my eyes.

After a moment, Master Lo sighed. "Bao."

I opened my eyes to see Bao contemplating me under half-closed eyelids.

"I fear I have unleashed the whirlwind," Master Lo said with rueful good humor. "Go. Enjoy one another. I shall paint, and we will attempt this again on the morrow."

If anything, it was better today. There wasn't the driving urgency that Master Lo's tonic had imparted, but I'd always had ardor to spare and Bao certainly wasn't lacking. With his acrobat's body and his disciplined will, he was a very, very good lover, as skilled and inventive as any D'Angeline.

"Who taught you Naamah's arts?" I asked him afterward, wondering if it would draw forth any further dark revelations.

"Married ladies." He smiled lazily at me. "Rich wives bored with their husbands. I make them feel dangerous and exciting. And I like knowing a lowly peasant-boy makes them squeal with pleasure."

"Charming," I commented.

"You asked." He shrugged and picked up the little crystal bottle beside my bed, toying idly with the stopper. "Like you said, I'm not that person anymore."

I sat up quickly and touched his hand. "Don't, please. It was a gift."

Bao set the bottle down carefully. "From the White Queen?" he asked. I nodded. "Do you miss her?"

"Aye," I said softly. "I suspect a part of me always will."

"What about him ?"

"Raphael?" I shook my head. "No. No, what was between us went so bad. I don't know, mayhap it never was good. I try not to think about him. And when I do" I shuddered, remembering the Circle, the spirit Focalor, Claire Fourcay's death, the subtle flicker of lightning I thought I'd glimpsed in Raphael's eyes when it was over. "There's a part of me fears it's not finished between us, Bao. Even though I'm halfway around the world from him. And whatever's left to be played out, it's going to be bad."

His face darkened. "I wanted to split his head open for what he did to you. I wish I had."

"You're jealous!"

"Maybe." He gave me one of his sidelong looks. "Of him, anyway."

I was curious. "Why not Jehanne?"

Bao laughed. "Might as well be jealous of the moon for shining as be jealous of that one," he offered in a philosophical tone. "No, Lion Mane, that was different. He had a gift. Even Master Lo thought so." He spread his hands, gazing at them. "Healing hands. It would have been enough for me. Not him, not after you came."

"I know." I laced my fingers with Bao's. " I like your hands."

"Fighter's hands."

"Lover's hands, too." I kissed his hardened palms. "Did you love any of them at least a little bit? Your rich wives?"

"No." He was silent a moment. "There was a girl, though. Not Lin. Another girl, when I was older. In Shuntian, a merchant's daughter. Her amah used to bring me messages. Once we met in secret. I climbed a wall into her family's garden. She swore she loved me. I thought I did. We made promises to one another." He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Didn't happen. She married another merchant's son."

"You're a hopeless romantic!" The revelation delighted me. "Despite everything, you are! I'm sorry. But it's true, isn't it?"

He scowled. "I was ."

I showered his face with kisses. "You still are. Are you in love with me?"

"No!" Bao held me off, laughing. "Not yet, you crazy witch-girl. Are you?"