Jacqueline Carey - Naamah's Curse

The eighth book in the Kushiel's Legacy series, 2010

As the city of Shuntian dwindled in the distance behind me, a mixture of dread and exhilaration filled me.

I was all alone in the vast empire of Chin.

It was by choice, my choice. If I had wished it, the Emperors daughter would have spoken a word in her fathers ear, and his Celestial Majesty would have provided me with a mighty escort. Indeed, the princess had begged me to let her do so, and I suspected there would be times that I wished I had consented. I was a young woman, a foreigner, travelling alone in a country halfway around the world from my home.

Home.

It was a bittersweet word. I no longer knew what it meant to me. Once, home had been a snug cave in the Alban wilderness where I was Moirin, daughter of Fainche, child of the Maghuin Dhonn.

That was still true; in a sense it would always be true. The folk of the Maghuin Dhonn carry our diadh-anams inside us, the divine spark of the Great Bear Herself that gives us life and guides us. It is the part of our soul that connects us to Her. To lose it would be like dying, worse than dying.

I knew, because I had lost half of mine.

Not lost, exactly. In fairness, I had given it away, although I hadnt known what I was doing at the time.

My mind shied away from the memory. The noble chestnut gelding I rode flattened his ears and tossed his head, sensing my unease. I stroked his neck, soothing him with my thoughts. Peace, brave heart, I murmured.

He settled. On the lead-line, the pack-horse plodded patiently behind us.

They were gifts from Emperor Zhu, both of them. I carried a good many gifts. My rich silk robes were embroidered with bronze and amber chrysanthemums. Jade bangles rattled on my wrists and around my neck, hung on a silk chord, was a jade medallion carved with the Emperors chop on one side and the Imperial dragon on the other. It would grant me safe passage anywhere in the empire of Chin.

Your jade-eyed witch soothes the dragon.

Memories.

The chestnut sidled and pranced beneath me. I soothed him once more, and forced myself to cycle through the Five Styles of Breathing.

The Breath of Earths Pulse, drawn into the pit of the belly and the depths of the groin, inhaled and exhaled through the mouth.

The Breath of Oceans Rolling Waves, drawn in through the nostrils to the middle belly, out through the mouth.

The Breath of Trees Growing, circulating energy to the limbs, trading nourishment with the world.

The Breath of Embers Glowing, in and out through parted lips, quickening the heart and warming the blood.

The Breath of Winds Sigh, pulled and expelled through the nostrils into the space between my eyes, making my head light.

I breathed the entire cycle as I rode, and while the discipline calmed and centered me, with every breath I drew, a memory assailed me. Stone and sea! There were so many of them.

Master Lo Feng.

He had taught me the Five Styles, taught me all that I knew of the Chin manner of meditation and harmony he called the Way. It had served me well in the conflict I was leaving behind me. It had let me find the strength and courage to serve as a companion to Princess Snow Tiger and the dragon whose indomitable celestial spirit was housed within her mortal flesh. Were it not for Master Los teaching, I would never have been able to help free the princess and the dragon from the curse that bound them together in the midst of a bloody civil war.

Nor could I have endured the aftermath, in which I put my small gift of magic in the service of Emperor Zhu, breathing in and swallowing the memories of hundreds upon hundreds of men who had conceived, built, and wielded the terrible weapons known as the Divine Thunder. I carried the ghosts of those memories within me yet, tasting of brass and sulfur, blood and smoke and horror.

I returned to the Breath of Winds Sigh, willing it to carry away the lingering acrid tang.

My diadh-anam burned steadily within my breast, calling to its separated half somewhere to the northwest. Since there was no escaping the memory, I let myself think about Bao, the stubborn Chin peasant-boy who had walked away with half my soul inside him.

Bao hadnt liked me much at first, nor had I cared for him. He was Master Los apprentice, guide, and companion-his magpie, Master Lo called him. I remembered my first sight of him, a lean-muscled young man with dark eyes glinting with disdain under a shock of unkempt black hair, carrying a steaming pot of bone-marrow soup over his shoulder on a bamboo staff.

That had been in Terre dAnge, the land of my fathers birth, the land toward which I first set out in pursuit of my destiny. A quest laid upon me by the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.

In my youth and folly, I thought I had found it straightaway in the form of Raphael de Mereliot, the healer with the charmed touch-Raphael, who was able to merge his gift with mine, to channel my magic to heal others. Raphael, the Queens favorite courtier and lover.

We had wrought miracles together.

And it had nearly killed me.

If it hadnt been for the Queen herself, it very well might have killed me. Jehanne de la Courcel. There, at least, was a memory that made me smile. Gods, Id gotten myself involved in an almighty tangle when I came between Jehanne and Raphael. And yet in the end, it was Jehanne who had rescued me from Raphaels ambition, and Jehanne whom I had come to love. My father was a priest of Naamah, the DAngeline goddess of desire, and his line was ancient in her service. Naamahs gifts ran strongly in my blood. I had found pleasure and pride in serving as Jehannes companion.

It had hurt to leave her. It had been too soon. When my infernal destiny summoned me to accompany Master Lo Feng, Jehanne was carrying the Kings child, and she was frightened. I wished I could have stayed until the child was born.

I couldnt regret leaving, though. Not after the purpose I had served in Chin. I had seen the dragon, once restored, launch himself in glory from White Jade Mountain, his undulating silver coils gleaming against the blue sky. I had ridden in his claw; Id seen him summon the rain and drown the terrible weapons of the Divine Thunder, ending the war. Id seen my impossibly valiant princess Snow Tiger restored to honor.

And yet

Bao.

My diadh-anam flared as my thoughts circled back to him. When had I even begun to harbor a fondness for him? I couldnt say. Somewhere in the long hours we spent together in Terre dAnge while Master Lo Feng taught us the Five Styles. Mayhap it was the first time Id won an almost-smile from him.

It was on the long journey on the greatship to Chin that matters had changed between us. Thrust into constant companionship, Bao and I had become friends, then lovers. Id caught a glimpse of the complicated knot of pride, stubbornness, and romantic yearning that lay behind his insouciant exterior. And Bao

I dont know what Bao felt for me, not really. Out of bed, we were always a little bit guarded with one another, neither of us certain how much our relationship owed to convenience, proximity, and Master Los unsubtle encouragement.

If things had fallen out otherwise, it might have been different.

But once we reached Shuntian, the imprisoned dragons jealousy had come between us, forcing us to be circumspect in our behavior. Later, we had said to one another; later. Over and over, in stolen moments throughout our long quest, we said this to one another. When this is all over, if we live through it, we will talk. Later.