Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [220]
“Stupid girl,” Bao breathed, crossing the courtyard in a few swift strides. His hands rose to cup my face, and he kissed me hard. “You knew the Emperor had already chosen. You were just trying to torment me, weren’t you?”
“A little,” I admitted. “I made you a promise, Bao. You might have trusted me to keep it.”
He gave me a wry look. “When it comes to matters of fidelity, history is not on your side, Moirin.”
I returned his kiss. “Nor yours, my magpie. I did not wed the Great Khan’s daughter, or bed the Spider Queen Jagrati.”
Bao’s hands slid to my waist. “Jagrati does not count,” he whispered against my lips. “I thought you were dead, not cavorting in the wilderness with some strapping milk-sop of a Vralian lad. And you would have done whatever Jagrati asked of you, were it not for the Rani Amrita.” He kissed me again. “Which is another story, isn’t it?”
I pressed a finger against his lips. “And you know why. I will not have you speak a word against our lady Amrita.”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “Shall we speak of your dreams instead? Dreams held on the very eve of our wedding?”
“No.” I twined my arms around his neck and kissed him. “If you don’t mind, I’d sooner we don’t speak at all.”
Bao smiled. “I don’t mind.”
“You are a very strange people,” Temilotzin commented, slinging his club over one shoulder. “Truly.”
SEVENTY-EIGHT
Two days later, we departed the city of Tenochtitlan escorted by a mounted company of Aragonians and trailed by a long line of Nahuatl porters carrying laden baskets.
Diego Ortiz y Ramos was none too happy about the turn of developments, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. Emperor Achcuatli had made it clear we were in his favor, and the new allegiances he had formed within the Nahuatl Empire were strong enough that the Aragonians no longer dreamed of outright conquest, but worried about maintaining such favor as they had acquired.
Once more, we passed beneath the shadow of the White Mountain of Iztactepetl, eyeing its plume of smoke warily; but once more, the volcano remained quiet. I prayed it would do so for a good hundred years, and that the Nahuatl might have no cause to placate their gods with blood sacrifice.
The Maghuin Dhonn are not a folk who relish change, but it comes nonetheless; and that is not always a bad thing. Emperor Achcuatli spoke the truth. The world changes, and we change with it.
Without change, there can be no growth; and without growth, we stagnate and die.
The Aragonian port city of Orgullo del Sol had become larger and more refined in our absence, but after the splendors of the great cities of Terra Nova, it still looked crude and rough-hewn to my eyes. Septimus Rousse had had the presence of mind to suggest sending a few members of our company ahead to alert the crew that they might make ready to sail, but by their reactions, I daresay they hadn’t let themselves believe until they saw us.
Alaric Dumont, the first mate, wept openly as he embraced his captain in the city square.
“Sorry, sir,” he muttered, dashing his forearm over his eyes. “I fear we’d been running short of hope for far too long.” Turning to Thierry, he proffered a deep bow. “Your highness, I cannot tell you how much it gladdens my heart to see you alive and well. And I speak for all of us when I say it would be my very greatest honor to escort you home and see the rightful heir to Terre d’Ange restored to the throne.”
Prince Thierry smiled quietly, laying a hand on the fellow’s shoulder. “And I do believe I speak for all of us when I say I would like nothing better.”
Someone raised a cheer, and it was taken up by scores of voices, ragged and heartfelt. Men pressed close to clasp Thierry’s hand or clap his back. He accepted their acknowledgments with dignity.
Thierry de la Courcel had also grown and changed.
Amidst the joyous cacophony, there were a few