Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [100]
I had refused.
That, no one knew. I’d never told anyone. But after tonight’s conversation with Mayor Porfirio Reyes, I was convinced that that was one of the wiser decisions I’d made in my young life. Even without a fallen spirit’s charm to invoke, the Aragonians would have gladly seen the vast majority of the population of the Nahuatl Empire wiped from the face of the earth by the killing pox.
And it was a piece of irony that even without Marbas’ gift, Raphael de Mereliot had spared the Nahuatl from that fate.
A small part of me that had once loved Raphael was glad for his sake.
I hoped he was, too.
THIRTY-FIVE
Come morning, we broke our fast with the mayor of Orgullo del Sol, dining once more in the courtyard on fresh fruit, eggs topped with a spicy sauce, and more of the flatbread Porfirio Reyes told us was made from a grain called maize. It was the staple item of the Nahuatl diet.
As the mayor gave us further advice on our journey, my mind wandered.
I remembered dining on a dish of spice-laced eggs and flatbread made of lentils with the Rani Amrita and her son, Ravindra, in Bhaktipur, and I wished I were there instead of here. I wondered how tall solemn Ravindra had grown since Bao and I had left, and how the women and children we’d rescued from the Falconer’s harem were faring.
I wondered if the vast change the Rani had implemented, banishing the practice of regarding no-caste people as untouchable, had begun to spread throughout Bhodistan or if it remained confined to Bhaktipur.
Thinking on the mayor’s lack of compassion and gazing at his unlovely face, I thought I would give a great deal to see Amrita again, to hear her musical laugh as she teased me affectionately.
But Bhaktipur was far, far away. Our business was here in Terra Nova. With an effort, I made myself concentrate on Porfirio Reyes’ advice. I might not like the fellow, but the truth was, he was being generous with us.
“… brought horses with you?” he was inquiring.
“Four pack-horses, all geldings,” Balthasar replied. “Don’t worry, we mean to respect the Aragonian ban on trading horse-flesh and steel weaponry.”
“Good, good.” Porfirio nodded in approval. “As long as you hew to the insistence that it’s forbidden by your gods, Achcuatli shouldn’t give you too much trouble. As much as he’d like to get his hands on them, he’s a superstitious fellow, too. But if I may give you an additional piece of counsel, you’d be well advised to spare one of the horses that Lady Moirin might ride.”
“Why?” I asked.
“In order to command respect,” he said to me. “My lady, I’ve seen your magic, and I’m willing to believe you’ve a measure of experience in the world, but there’s no telling what the Nahuatl will do when they get their first glimpse of a European woman. The more respect you can command, the better.”
Balthasar raised his brows. “Do they practice heresy?” He clarified in the face of the mayor’s incomprehension. “Do they force themselves on the unwilling?”
“Ah.” Porfirio’s expression cleared. “I’d forgotten that was the D’Angeline term. Given the opportunity, I don’t doubt they would.”
“Actually, it’s not a common practice among the Nahuatl,” Denis de Toluard murmured.
“It’s not?” The mayor appeared surprised.
“I learned a few things about them during my time here,” Denis said dryly. “I don’t dispute their many cruelties, but that doesn’t seem to be one of them.”
“Even so, it’s not a bad idea,” Bao said.
“I don’t want to ride while everyone else has to walk,” I protested.
Bao gave me a look. “I made a promise to your father, Moirin—and you have a knack for finding trouble. If there is a chance the Nahuatl will be hopelessly inflamed by your green eyes and foreign beauty, and a chance that riding astride will help convince them that you are a great and powerful royal lady whose person must be respected, I will take it.”
I shrugged. “All right, all right!