Naamah's Curse

Page 34

I didn’t care.
We were on our way, headed east, outpacing any rumor of our presence. We had a little bit of bread and cheese left, and river water to drink. It wasn’t the cleanest, but neither of us took sick from it. We had the silver chains of my captivity hidden in our bundle, and I was hopeful that we could dispose of them in Udinsk.
I had to wear that bedamned head-scarf at all times and pretend to a modesty I didn’t possess, but I’d had a great deal of recent practice at it.
We were two and a half days on the river, and on the second day, Aleksei asked me about Bao. “I do not mean to pry, Moirin,” he said in a low, earnest voice. “But you’re the most unusual person I’ve ever met, and I cannot help but be curious what manner of man won your heart.”
“Oh…..” I sighed. “A rather infuriating one. And whether or not he’s won my heart is a matter of debate. We’re still working on that part. What is certain is that he carries half of my diadh-anam inside him.”
Aleksei’s blue eyes widened. “Your soul-spark from your bear-goddess?”
“You were listening!”
He smiled faintly. “You were willing to die for it, Moirin. Yes, I was listening. I am trying to understand.”
So I told him about Bao—not the sordid details his uncle would have extracted, but the deeper truth. How Master Lo’s magpie and I had forged a friendship that had begun tipping toward love, stymied by the dragon’s jealousy. How Bao had died, and how Master Lo had given his own life and taken half of my diadh-anam to restore him. How he had left, and I had gone after him, crossing the vast steppe to find him.
Unlike his uncle, Aleksei listened without judgment. “And then we took you away from him,” he said when I had finished.
“Aye,” I murmured. “And the Great Khan sent him off in the opposite direction.”
He touched my cheek, brushing away tears. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. It’s a very sad story.” He offered me another faint smile. “No wonder you were looking forward to a great love story in the scripture. You’re living in one, Moirin.”
I wiped my eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. You would probably not say that if you ever met Bao.”
“I’d like to,” Aleksei said, surprising me. “He sounds….. fearless. Interesting. Maybe even a match for you. You said you were worried about him. Why?”
My gaze turned unerringly south, drawn as though by a lodestone. “I don’t know. Something’s wrong. His diadh-anam burns too low. And he hasn’t moved since you took my chains off,” I added. “He should have been able to sense my presence for days now. If he isn’t coming toward me, something’s keeping him from it.”
“You’re that sure of him?”
I nodded. “Bao had made his choice, and he’s infernally stubborn. I’m sure.”
Aleksei laced his hands around one knee. “That’s why you were so determined to go south.”
“Aye.”
“I’ll see that you do,” he said in a firm voice. “I’ll do my best to make good on the debt you’re owed for the suffering we caused you. And I swear….. I swear on my honor, I will not accept your offer.”
I stared at him. “Naamah’s blessing? Why ever not?”
He blinked. “Well….. it would be dishonorable, obviously.”
“No. Oh, no.” I shook my head. “Naamah’s blessing is a separate matter, and it has nothing to do with my relationship with Bao. Refuse it if you wish, but not on those grounds. I do not accept your promise.”
“Yes, but—”
“Besides,” I added, overriding him, “Bao is the one who ran off and married a Tatar princess, so he hardly has reason to object.”
It was Aleksei’s turn to stare. “He what?”
I’d skipped over that part. “Oh, yes. That’s why the Great Khan was so eager to sell me into captivity and send Bao in the opposite direction. He was avenging a slight to his daughter’s honor. And I do not blame him for being angry, but it was a rather extreme response if you ask me.”
Aleksei gave his head a bewildered shake. “Moirin, I swear, the more I try to understand you, the less I do.”
“I know, sweet boy.” I patted his hand. “I told you, if you choose to accept Naamah’s blessing, you will understand a great deal more.” Regarding his troubled face, I softened my voice. “It is more than carnal congress, Aleksei—so much more. We are both Naamah’s children, you and I. It is a sacrament I offer to you. Whether or not you wish to accept it is entirely up to you.”
“It just seems so messy and complicated.” He sounded dubious.
“It is.” I leaned back against a bale of fur. “The affairs of humanity tend to be messy and complicated. And at the same time, it’s the simplest thing in the world.” I remembered the look of wonder that had dawned on Snow Tiger’s face when Naamah had taken her fears away, and smiled to myself. When all was said and done, I was glad I had kept that memory private. “It is a wondrous grace.”
“What do you want me to do?”
I let my gaze linger on Aleksei’s face, on his rugged cheekbones and full lips, on his eyes the color of rain-washed speedwell blossoms. “I spoke the truth when I said it is a gift I would like to give you. But you cannot do it for my sake, Aleksei, no more than you can refuse it for Bao’s. We are speaking of divine grace. It is your birthright as a child of Naamah’s line, and it is her blessing that you refuse or accept.”
He did understand then. “Just as you refused Yeshua’s blessing.”
I nodded. “Even so.”
We spoke no more of the matter that day. The choice facing Aleksei had been cast in stark terms at last. At last, he had begun to understand that I was what I was, that I would never be what he wanted me to be. He understood that I offered what I could, no more and no less, and that I would leave him to seek Bao as soon as possible.
Usually, my instincts were good, but I had no idea what Aleksei would choose. He had been raised from birth to believe Naamah’s gift was a curse, and Naamah was the whore-temptress who led Blessed Elua into apostasy.
There was nothing I could say to him to counter that belief. Faith cannot be proved, else it would not be faith. It can only be experienced. Whether or not Aleksei would allow himself to experience it, I could not say.
In truth, I did not even know which choice was right for him. He was a child of Naamah’s line and he carried her gifts in his flesh and blood; but in his soul, he was a child of the One God and Yeshua, and no mistaking it. What I thought would bring healing to the damaged part of his spirit might well prove damaging in a different way if it strained and broke the covenant he knew so well and loved so deeply.
I hoped not, but it was possible.
In the scripture, the One God makes it clear that he is a jealous god; indeed, it is the first commandment he inscribed in stone on Moishe’s tablets: I am the Lord your God, and you shall have no other gods before me.
And yet was that so different from the truth the Maghuin Dhonn Herself inscribed in the very souls of Her children, written in the living fire of divinity? I didn’t know, but I didn’t think so.
In every part of me, I knew it was true; I could set no other gods above Her, not without killing the divine spark within me. But nor did She begrudge me my heritage as Naamah’s child. So long as I knew myself a child of the Maghuin Dhonn, She was content to allow me to worship others alongside Her.
If Aleksei chose to accept my offer, I hoped he would find that when freed from the tyranny of mortal men, their ambitions, and the harsh strictures they sought to set upon the nature of love and pleasure, the love of God and his son Yeshua was as vast, generous, and all-encompassing as that of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, my infinite bear-goddess whose worship was so often met with incredulity.
But I wasn’t sure.
THIRTY-NINE
The following day, we arrived in Udinsk.
Although it wasn’t a very large city, it was bustling with traders and activity. I was glad to see it wasn’t all Vralians. There were Tatar faces here and there, trading sheep, cattle, and goats for furs and timber. Any sort of diversity made it easier to blend into the crowd, and their brown skin made the honey-colored hue of my own less noticeable.
There were vendors selling food-stuff along the wharf where we disembarked, leaving behind our taciturn fur-trappers. I wished to all the gods that Aleksei hadn’t spent our last coin on the passage. The smell of food—ground, seasoned meat grilled on a stick, cooked cabbage stew with dumplings floating in it—made my mouth water and my belly growl. Blessed Valentina had done her best, but it had been a long journey coming on the heels of three days’ worth of fasting, and we’d eaten the last of her bread and cheese yesterday.
I was starved for food, real food. I couldn’t help but eye the vendors’ fare longingly, breathing the savory aroma deep into my lungs.
“Moirin.” Aleksei cleared his throat. “You’re not exactly looking demure.”
“I’m hungry!” I said plaintively. “I’m hungry and tired, and I would like a hot meal, a bath, and a clean place to sleep.”
“I know, I know,” he said soothingly, jingling the bundle of chains. “Let’s find a place where you can call your magic safely, and I’ll look for a smith willing to pay good coin for silver.”
“No. Oh, no.” I shook my head. “No, I want to watch them melt. I need to see it done myself. I need to know for sure no one else will ever be forced to wear those chains.”
“Moirin, be reasonable!” he pleaded with me. “Once we’ve gotten rid of the chains, I won’t worry so much. Until we do, the less you show yourself, the less chance there is that word will get back to Riva.”
“You’re not all that inconspicuous yourself, my blue-eyed boy.” I pointed at the bundle. “Not peddling those.”
In the end, we struck a compromise. I would summon the twilight and accompany Aleksei cloaked in its concealment.
We found a narrow alley and ducked into it. Aleksei turned his back on me, shielding me from view, and I called the twilight. It was still a blessed relief to feel it settle over me, to watch the world turn soft and silvery.
“Moirin?” Aleksei turned around.
“Aye,” I said, willing him to hear me. I reached out and touched his hand. “I’m here.”
He shuddered. “Don’t do that, please. It’s unnerving. It feels like I’m being touched by some unholy spirit.”
“No, just me,” I murmured. “Lead on, my hero.”
There were three smithies in Udinsk, easily located by the smoke and clatter. The first smithy dealt only in weapons, horseshoes, tools, and the like, and sent us—or at least, Aleksei and my invisible self—on to the others.
The master smith at the second place gauged the chains with an appraising eye and asked questions. Too many questions. Aleksei flushed and stammered out the tale we had concocted about the chains being his wife’s dowry, an heirloom from her mother, who was freed from vile servitude in a D’Angeline pleasure-house. Even with my limited Vralian, I could tell he was doing a bad job of it. It wasn’t a very convincing tale, and my earnest Yeshuite scholar lied very, very badly.
“Aleksei,” I whispered in his ear, making him jump. “Not here. Let’s try the third smithy.”
He twitched and bit back a reply, stuffing the chains back in the makeshift satchel and bidding the second smith a curt farewell.
To my everlasting relief, the thick-set master smith at the last place was every bit as taciturn as our fur-trappers. He examined the chains, bit into a link to test the quality of the silver, and made a gruff offer.
Aleksei countered.
He didn’t haggle any better than he lied, but I was proud of him for making the effort. When he told the smith that he had promised his wife he wouldn’t leave until the chains had been rendered molten silver, the fellow merely nodded without a trace of curiosity and placed a crucible on the forge, ordering an apprentice to feed the forge and pump the bellows.
It was a tedious process, but I didn’t mind. It was worth it to see those bedamned chains destroyed.
While the crucible heated and Aleksei hovered nervously, I wandered the smithy unseen, examining a tray of wares on display. Some of the work was surprisingly lovely and delicate—brooches and necklaces set with gems. Amber, I thought, although it was hard to tell in the twilight. I glanced at the master smith with his bushy beard and thick, blunt fingers, wondering what inspired him to create such delicate beauty.
I touched his work lightly, thinking of Terre d’Ange and all the careless riches that had been bestowed on me there.
Of Jehanne, commissioning her former adversaries at Atelier Favrielle to make a sensuous gown and an elaborate headpiece with gilded branches and garnet berries for me to wear on the Longest Night.
Of how she had smiled and stroked my cheek. I’ve no objection to you looking as stunning as possible now that you’re mine, Moirin.
It made my heart ache, but it was a good memory, too. It had surprised and delighted me to find such an unexpected streak of generosity in Jehanne. On the Longest Night, she’d had living pine-trees brought in to decorate the great hall in the Palace; immense evergreen trees in huge pots, their tops reaching for the ceiling high overhead, releasing their fragrance into the hall, their branches hung about with sparkling glass icicles. No one had ever conceived of adorning the hall on that scale before. She had done it just to please me.
I looked across the smithy at Aleksei, the forge-light flickering over his features. I wondered if he could ever understand that it was a blessing, not a sin, to be graced with more than one love.