Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [105]
“I don’t know!” I said helplessly.
“Why don’t we ask them?” Denis said in an acidic tone. “As I recall, your grasp of the Nahuatl tongue was uncertain, messire.”
Once tempers had cooled, the matter was sorted out. It seemed our spotted warrior friend Temilotzin had indeed spoken favorably of our encounter to the Emperor’s chief advisor, who in turn had reported it to Emperor Achcuatli himself. The tale of a D’Angeline noblewoman in Terra Nova had piqued the Emperor’s curiosity. Without bothering to wait for a request, he’d sent Lord Cuixtli—that was the slender fellow waiting beside the palanquin, who explained the matter to Denis with an air of bored patience—to invite us to the palace for an audience.
“And the Emperor understands that I’m not a—a tribute-gift of some kind?” I was anxious to make that point perfectly clear.
Denis conferred with Lord Cuixtli. “Yes, of course,” he reported. “That’s why he sent the palanquin as a gesture of honor.”
I sighed with relief, and offered a slight bow to the Nahuatl lord. “Tlazocamatli, Cuixtli.”
He inclined his head in reply.
Grateful though I was, after ten days on the road, I’d vastly prefer to meet the Emperor after a bath and a good night’s rest. Not trusting my tentative skills in the Nahuatl tongue, I asked Denis to ask Lord Cuixtli if it would give offense if I asked for a day’s grace, adding assurances that I would hasten to accept the Emperor’s generous offer if it would.
The Nahuatl lord considered the request, his face impassive, at length giving his reply.
“He says it would not give offense,” Denis translated. He gave Diego Ortiz y Ramos an uneasy glance. “If anyone has given offense here today, it is the Aragonians. Lord Cuixtli will return tomorrow two hours after dawn to escort you and five men of your choosing to the palace.”
I thanked him again, and he gave me a faint smile, flicking his fingers toward his brow and chest in a casual approximation of the salute the spotted warrior Temilotzin had offered me. At a gesture, the warriors fell in line and bearers picked up the empty palanquin and began trotting toward the gates after him.
“Well, then,” Balthasar Shahrizai drawled. “Now that that’s over, may I present Lady Moirin mac Fainche to you, Messire Ortiz y Ramos? As well as her husband, the esteemed Messire Bao?”
The Aragonian commander had the decency to look abashed. “Forgive me, Doña Moirin, Don Bao.” He offered a courtly bow. “It was a misunderstanding. But may I ask why a D’Angeline noblewoman would choose to come to Terra Nova?”
“You may,” I said. “If you’re inclined to make amends with an offer of hospitality, I’d prefer to answer it over the course of a meal.”
His chagrin deepened. “Yes, yes, of course! I will see that your men are lodged and fed, and you and your chosen companions must join me.”
It was an awkward dinner. Although Diego Ortiz y Ramos did his best to make up for the misunderstanding with generous hospitality and courteous manners, the matter lay unspoken between us. He’d been quick to think the worst of me, quick to think the worst of Terre d’Ange—as though we would so profane Naamah’s gifts in exchange for easy commerce. And, too, I could not forget that the commander had deliberately withheld advice that would have benefited Prince Thierry. While he was relieved to find that our intention was to trace the Dauphin’s path rather than seek to establish trade with the Nahuatl Empire, it was clear he thought it madness.
Unlike Porfirio Reyes, he did not try to dissuade us.
I liked him less for it.
When the meal ended, it was a relief. I was grateful to retreat to a private chamber with Bao.
“Moirin.” Bao whispered my name.
I buried my face against the firm curve of his throat. “Aye?”
“Nothing,” he murmured against my hair. “Only that I love you.” I felt his lips turn upward in a smile. “You cannot blame the man for thinking what he did.”
“No?” I glanced up at him, uncertain.
Bao kissed me. “No. But only for all the best reasons.”
“Tell me.”
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