Naamah's Blessing - Jacqueline Carey [28]
“You were stupid,” Bao said bluntly.
Lianne spread her hands. “I do not argue the point, Messire Bao. But to come so close to succeeding in our long quest… it was more heady and intoxicating than joie on the Longest Night. Compulsion gripped us like madness, ever driving us to make just one more attempt, just one more.” She shook her head. “I do not seek to justify it, only to explain.”
Bao was silent.
Having tended him through the ravages of opium-sickness, I suspected that he understood her explanation better than he wished. “You’ve made no further attempts?” I inquired.
“No.” Her tone was adamant. “None. I swear it.”
“Good.”
She looked steadily at me. “Moirin, I confess it; I resented you. All of us did. It seemed unfair that we, who had studied for so long and worked so hard, were dependent on a backwoods Alban half-breed blessed with a gift of undeserved magic for our success.”
I raised my brows at her.
“But I was wrong to do so,” Lianne admitted. “I have a poet’s trained memory. I have lived and relived those moments over a thousand times, and I have come to realize that the voice of protest you raised was a wise one. And to conclude that mayhap there are forms of wisdom that owe nothing to diligence, ambition, and intellect; and that mayhap the gods in their own wisdom bestow their gifts accordingly.”
Her expression was sincere, and as close to humble as I suspected it ever came. I toyed with the bangles on one wrist, thinking. “I asked you why you did it, once. Do you remember what you told me?”
Lianne tilted her head, the sunlight making her golden-brown eyes glow. “Of course.”
“You told me that there are always further thresholds to cross,” I said slowly. “That despite the skills you already possessed, you sought words of such surpassing beauty that they would melt the hardest heart of stone.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I looked northward. “I thought of those words in a country far, far away. In Vralia, where I was held captive in chains that bound my magic, by a man whose beliefs were as rigid as stone. I tried and tried to tell him truths his faith would not allow him to hear. I would have paid any price to succeed.”
It piqued her poet’s ear. “I would hear that story.”
“It’s a terrible story,” Bao muttered. “I hate that story.”
I ignored him. “I will tell it to you if you like; that, and others, too. And I will grant you my forgiveness… for a price.”
Lianne Tremaine smiled wryly. “You’re not exactly the naïve backwoods soul you were, are you?”
“His majesty Daniel de la Courcel means to appoint me his daughter Desirée’s oath-sworn protector,” I informed her.
Her lips parted. “That’s… awkward.”
“It is,” I agreed. “It will be unpopular in certain circles. But I have accepted the offer for the child’s sake.”
There was a shrewd look on her face. “You want my aid.”
“I do.”
“It’s a good story.” Lianne drummed her fingertips against the arms of her chair. “A story that gets to the heart of all that Terre d’Ange holds sacred. A love-match, an unlikely love-match… no, not one. Two, three… ah, Elua! You’re a descendant of Ysandre de la Courcel and Drustan mab Necthana. Alais the Wise and her Dalriadan harper-boy. Then there is your mother’s liaison with a Priest of Naamah. It may not have been a love-match, but it was certainly unprecedented.” There was compassion in her gaze as it settled on me. “And you and Jehanne de la Courcel—the courtesan queen and her unlikely companion.” She paused. “You did love her, didn’t you?”
My throat tightened. “Stone and sea! Aye, I did.”
She met my gaze evenly. “I can work with this.”
“Will you?” I asked.
“Yes.” Lianne’s expression was candid. “Have I not made myself clear, Moirin? I crossed the will of the gods, and I have paid a price for it. I do but seek to regain their favor.”
“This is not only a means of redemption,” Bao warned her. “A child’s happiness is at stake. She should not suffer