Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [200]
I took a deep breath. “It is to him I go. But before I do, I would see Cusi one last time.”
She hesitated. “The holy sacrifice rests in seclusion, preparing for a long night of prayer.”
Helpless, I spread my hands. “Might you ask if she will see me? It would ease my heart.”
Ocllo relented. “I will ask.”
As it transpired, Cusi received me gladly, glancing up with a dimpled smile as I entered her chamber. “I am happy you came, my sister,” she said in a cheerful tone. “I was hoping to say farewell.”
The knot in my chest tightened, and tears stung my eyes. “Cusi—”
She patted at my face. “Do not weep, lady! There is no need to weep. I am not afraid anymore. Tell me, did you offer prayers to the ancestors?”
I took another deep breath. “I did.”
Cusi’s smile deepened. “Did you find them splendid?”
“Aye,” I said honestly. “I did.”
“Then all is well.” Rising on her toes, she kissed my cheek. “All is as it must be, my sister. Go, and do not trouble yourself with further thoughts of me. You have your own duties.”
Wordless, I nodded and held out my hand.
Cusi clasped it firmly, the memory of shared blood pulsing between our joined palms. “Go,” she repeated softly.
I went.
To steal into the palace, it was necessary to summon the twilight again. This, I did. Unseen, I found my way past the ants and sentries to Raphael’s quarters, where I released the twilight and set my wards. Four stones, smoothed by the river. I pricked my hand with the dragon-hilted dagger that had been a gift from my Ch’in princess Snow Tiger what seemed so long ago, reopening the wound Cusi had given me.
I smeared my blood on the rocks, planting them in the four quadrants of the compass along the verges of Raphael de Mereliot’s bedchamber.
There, I waited.
When he came, he was querulous, complaining to his companions. “No, no, it is not the most important thing,” Raphael said irritably. “But I am telling you I need her.” He checked at the sight of me. “Moirin.”
“Raphael.”
He frowned. “Why did you not come when I sent for you?”
I clasped my hands together. “I am here now.”
“How did you get in—” He sighed. “No, never mind. I know full well how you got in here.” Turning, he dismissed his companions. “You may go. I need to speak with her alone.” Once they had left, he closed the door firmly behind them and turned back to me. “Now, about tomorrow—”
I summoned the twilight, and the anchor-stones flared to life, holding the cloak of the twilight in place within their compass.
Raphael startled, then glared at me. “What do you mean by this, Moirin? I’ve seen your magic at work, and I do not fear it.”
“I know,” I said. “It was one of the things that first drew me to you, my lord. When everyone else in Terre d’Ange found the magic of the Maghuin Dhonn strange and fearful, it delighted you. Would that I had known why, and where it would lead us.”
He sighed again. “Moirin, now is not the time—”
I raised my voice. “Jehanne!”
“I told you not to say—” Breaking off, Raphael stared at me.
Moonlight.
That was what it felt like as Jehanne’s spirit filled me—like being filled with moonlight, cool and silver and shimmering. I drew a breath to speak, and found I could not. My tongue was no longer my own.
Forgive me, my beautiful girl. Jehanne’s light voice flowed through my thoughts. I could not explain it before.
I blinked, seeing double for a moment, as though I looked through two sets of eyes. I blinked again and my vision settled. Standing opposite me, Raphael de Mereliot looked stricken.
Jehanne unclasped my hands and raised them, and they were no longer my hands. They were the pampered hands of one who had been raised as a courtesan, lily-fair skin, translucent, polished nails.
She gazed at Raphael, and I gazed through her eyes.
“No!” He recoiled from her, his face twisting in fury. “I know this trick! Do you think my knowledge of arcane history lacking,