Naamah's Kiss (89 page)

Read Naamah's Kiss Online

Authors: Jacqueline Carey

BOOK: Naamah's Kiss
7.13Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

I swallowed. "You mean for us to dress in the dead men's garb?"

His expression turned gentle. "Not you, nor her highness. But yes. Bao and I and the others will appear to be Lord Jiang's men, escorting you as our prisoners. It will allow us to travel far more swiftly and freely."

"I see." I was glad I wouldn't have to wear the clothing of a man I'd seen violently slain.

Master Lo put one hand on my shoulder. "Despite Bao's chiding, what you did today was very brave, Moirin. It is clear that the dragon's regard for you is not based on your gifts alone. You have a valiant heart."

"Oh" I flushed at his praise. "Thank you, Master."

He gave me a weary smile. "I wanted you to know that it did not go unnoticed. I am fortunate to have such a pupil, and the princess to have such a" He paused, at a loss for the proper term.

"She calls me her necessary inconvenience," I offered.

"Does she?" His smile deepened briefly, less weary, more genuine. "Well, her Noble Highness is fortunate to have you."

In the middle of the night, when Snow Tiger's restlessness woke me, I thought of his words. I lay on my narrow mat listening to her toss and turn, then rise to sit with her head bowed against her knees, shivering violently.

I pitched my voice softly into the darkness. "Would you like more willow-bark tea, my lady?"

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you." Her head lifted, turning in my direction. "Go to sleep."

Instead, I rose and did what I had wanted to do many times when fear troubled her in the night. I went to her, knelt behind her, and put my arms around her. The princess stiffened, but only for an instant, and she didn't pull away. Slowly, slowly, her tense figure relaxed into my embrace. Remembering the night Jehanne had come to me for comfort after her last assignation with Raphael, I held her and breathed the Breath of Ocean's Rolling Waves, deep and rhythmic and soothing, until her breathing slowed to match mine unwittingly.

"It's the blood," she murmured at length. "All that blood."

I had seen the memory of her wedding night. "I know."

After a time, I shifted to a more comfortable position. Snow Tiger lay curled against me, my arm over her slender waist, the fingers of one hand interlaced with mine. With one arm flung over her, I felt her exhausted, aching body loosen gradually into sleep.

Comforted by the contact, I slept, too.

In the morning, I woke before her. I extricated myself gently, knowing that daylight hours were different from night hours. Despite the blindfold, the princess looked sweet and peaceful in sleep, her features almost as delicate as a child's. I thought about cleaning the blood from beneath her fingernails in the bath yesterday and shook my head, wondering at how very, very far from home I'd come, and how very strange the journey.

To be sure, no D'Angeline had ever served as a royal companion in such a violent, bloody manner.

She needs you , the dragon said sleepily. I need you .

"I know." Knowing I wouldn't have the chance to do it when she was awake, I stooped to kiss her cheek. "And I am here."

This time, our descent into the gorge was uneventful. Abbot Hong and his acolytes had ensured that the path was clear.

I felt bad at leaving Kang behind; I daresay we all did. But he had lost enough blood to render him weak and pale, and his wounded thigh rendered, him unfit for travel. He gazed at the blindfolded princess from his sickbed, his narrow, pock-marked features transfigured by awe into something beautiful.

"You won't forget me, will you?" he begged. "Promise you won't forget me!"

She knelt beside his mat, clasping his hands in hers. "Noble companion, I swear I will never forget you."

He sighed, happy.

I caught Bao's eye. He looked rapt, hopeless romantic that he was. Seeing my gaze on him, he coughed and flushed, trying to hide it.

"Stupid boy," I said fondly, sliding my arms around his neck. "You've a lump the size of a goose-egg on the back of your skull, and you look a little sickly. Are you sure you're fit for travel?"

"Uh-huh." His hands descended to my buttocks. "Want me to prove it?"

I did, actually.

Snow Tiger stiffened and the dragon rumbled. I loosed Bao. "Later, yes."

He eyed the princess. "Yes. Later."

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

 

We found the camp as promised. After travelling so simply, it was a luxury to have mounts to spare, pack-horses, and ample supplies. It was strange, though, to see the men in fish-scaled armor, their shaved heads hidden under pointed helmets. I'd grown accustomed to seeing them as monks.

Snow Tiger bade farewell to Abbot Hong and his acolytes, thanking them for their aid and apologizing for the trouble we had brought upon them.

"The fault is not yours," he said kindly. "And it was one of my own who brought the trouble to our doorstep. I have seen a dragon reflected in the hands of Guanyin herself. It is a thing to remember. For the sake of the Celestial Empire, I will pray for your success, Noble Princess."

She bowed. "And I for your health, Revered Brother."

His bright gaze shifted to me, so youthful in that wizened face. "Master Lo's most unusual pupil. You seemed taken with this place. If ever you have the chance to return, I would be pleased to speak with you, and to learn more of your people, too." His reedy voice took on a puzzled tone. "Is it true you worship a bear ?"

I smiled. "Yes. But She is not any mortal bear. If I have the chance, I would be honored to speak with you, Revered Brother."

As soon as our farewells were said, we set out.

One unforeseen difficulty arose immediately; neither Tortoise nor Ten Tigers Dai had ever been astride a horse. Neither of them looked anything remotely like warriors, sliding and jouncing, clutching desperately at their saddles. Despite his aching head, Bao laughed until tears came to his eyes.

"It is not funny, Shangun!" Dai's face was red with anger and humiliation. "You were nothing but a peasant-boy once, too! If you had not been wandering the world with Master Lo, when would you have learned to ride a horse?"

"My cursed rapist of a father was a Tatar," Bao said with far better humor than the statement deserved. "If nothing else, I come from horse-riding stock. I am quite certain I did not bounce in the saddle like a sack of cabbages my first time."

Dai gritted his teeth. "You need not mock me. I swallowed a great deal of pride to serve under you on this quest."

Tortoise merely grunted, concentrating too hard to quarrel.

"I suggest that you ignore Master Lo's rude apprentice," the princess said mildly. Everyone fell silent, chastened. A faint smile curved her lips. "Perhaps the blow to the head has addled his wits. And I suggest that we have a brief lesson in horsemanship, since it is inconceivable that I would have been taken prisoner by men who ride like sacks of cabbage. The first thing you must learn is to grip the horse's barrel with your thighs."

They listened and learned.

I watched them practice riding at a walk, then a trot, then a canter, stroking my mount's withers as it seized the chance to graze. Snow Tiger was a good teacher, patient and firm, borrowing Bao's eyes to gauge their progress. I could imagine her as a child, her delicate face set and grave, absorbing hours of instruction, drilling on foot and on horseback, learning to handle all manner of edged weapons, while I had been wandering the Alban wilderness with my mother, learning to summon the twilight, harvest greens, and catch fish with my bare hands.

Strange, indeed.

By the time we passed through the first village, Tortoise and Dai had grown comfortable enough in the saddle that their inexpert seats didn't give us away. Although the village was little more than a humble collection of farmsteads, it was the first test of our new guises and I tensed as we passed through and folk in the fields lifted their heads to stare at the small party of Lord Jiang's soldiers with the blindfolded princess and me in their midst.

"Is it true?" an elderly woman called to them. "Have you captured the daughter of the Son of Heaven?"

"It's true, Old Mother!" Bao called back to her. "The demon-princess herself, and the foreign witch, too! We're escorting them to Lord Jiang!"

There were murmurs in our wake, but they didn't sound doubtful. I relaxed.

I shouldn't have.

We made camp that night some distance beyond the village. Instead of sparring against their staves, Snow Tiger instructed the stick-fighters in the proper handling of their newly acquired swords, a different skill altogether.

"It has no reach," Bao complained. "A good stick-fighter can beat a swordsman any day."

"You need to at least look capable," the princess said in a calm tone.

He acquiesced, grumbling.

We retired when dusk began to fall, the men drawing straws to determine the order of standing guard, since that would be expected in a company of soldiers escorting prisoners. Tortoise drew first watch. The others were grateful to have a tent and blankets to shareeven, I daresay, Master Lo.

Although she hadn't evinced signs of pain during the day, once Snow Tiger and I had retired to our own tent, her movements stiffened. Once again, she didn't protest when I helped her disrobe, only winced.

"It is still very painful?" I asked, keeping my voice low so that Tortoise, posted outside, would not hear. I suspected she'd been concealing the extent of the pain from them. "You should have told me, my lady."

She shrugged. "It will pass."

I spread my hand gently over the bare skin of her right shoulder blade, letting it rest there a moment. I wished I had Raphael's healing touch, the ability to spread that glorious warmth like balm. Or that I had studied with the famed masseurs of Balm House, who were said to be able to soothe away any ache. I had no gift or skills to offer her.

That's not true , the dragon said. There is pleasure in your touch, even the simplest .

The princess tilted her head slightly. "I will not miss having the privacy of my thoughts invaded," she remarked.

It made me feel better. I smiled and slid her sleeping-robe over her shoulders, and did not say what I was thinking, which was that I would miss being privy to them.

Other books

Stag: A Story by Ben Monopoli
Girl 6 by J. H. Marks
Summer of Love by Emily Franklin
Duckling Ugly by Neal Shusterman