Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [102]
He was silent a moment.
I raised my brows at him. “Aleksei, whatever sins must be committed in the pursuit of freedom, I will gladly take on myself. If you are going to scruple at it, stay. Stay and take your punishment, and break your mother’s heart. Only tell me first where I might find a smithy south of Riva.”
“Moirin, you can’t go south.”
I glanced in the direction of Bao’s distant diadh-anam. “Oh, but I am.”
“Not right away,” Aleksei said in stubborn tone. “That’s exactly where my uncle will look for you. And he will look, believe me.”
I shrugged. “He cannot find me in the twilight.”
“Can you work your magic while sleeping?” he asked shrewdly. “Can you be on guard every minute of every day? Do you imagine there’s a single village between here and the border that doesn’t remember you passing through it in those chains? It’s not a sight one forgets. Any smith you approach would know you in an instant for the Patriarch’s witch. Any baker in the market, any… anyone!” He shook his head. “I may not have thought this through, but this part, I have. It’s too dangerous to do exactly what my uncle will expect.”
I didn’t like it, but he had a point. “Where, then? We haven’t much time to debate this.”
“Udinsk,” Aleksei said promptly. “It’s a city some days away to the northeast. It’s a trade center. I thought I could find work there. I’m sure we could find a smith willing to ask no questions, and aught we need to purchase for the journey.”
“The journey south,” I said.
He nodded. “In two weeks’ time, my uncle will realize his mistake and begin searching farther afield. Then we can slip through, amply provisioned, hidden by your magic when need be.”
I hesitated.
Every impulse in me yearned to go south, toward Bao, to flee. To trust to my magic to conceal me, to my hard-won skills to allow me to survive. But I’d ventured into Tatar territory alone despite being warned of the danger and nearly died because of it; and I’d had all the supplies I thought I would need there. If I’d learned nothing else from this ordeal, I’d learned a measure of patience.
And, too, there was Aleksei to consider. He was betraying everything he held dear to help me. I owed it to him, and especially to his mother, Valentina, not to do anything rash and impulsive for once in my life.
“So be it,” I said. “Let’s go to Udinsk.”
Cloaked in the twilight, we stole through the Patriarch’s living quarters, Aleksei carrying bread and cheese and a few weighty yards of bespelled silver chains knotted in a worn woolen blanket.
My senses heightened in the twilight, I let my awareness roam through the quarters, touching on its inhabitants.
Stone and sea, it was good to feel wholly myself once more!
Pyotr Rostov slept deep and hard, and the acrid taste of his dreams reminded me of the sulfur and saltpeter of the Divine Thunder. Even in his sleep, he was angry. I shuddered, and looked elsewhere.
His wife, Luba, slept beside him, more lightly. She was smiling in her sleep, no doubt dreaming of selecting the perfect stone to hurl at me come dawn.
Valentina…
She was awake, kneeling in the antechamber by the outer door, her head bowed and her arms wrapped around herself, filled with a despairing mix of hope and fear.
“Aleksei.” I touched his arm. “Your mother is waiting for us. I think she wishes to say farewell.”
His eyes widened. “How do you know?”
“I just do.”
A moment later, he saw her huddled figure. A faint sound escaped him. Valentina didn’t hear it, didn’t raise her head. Aleksei glanced at me in alarm. “Moirin…”
“It’s all right, sweet boy.” I brushed his cheek with my fingers. “I told you, they cannot see or hear us in the twilight. I will try to bring her into it.”
I breathed it in deeper, blew it softly over Valentina, spinning it around her like a gentle cocoon.
Her head came up. “How—?” She glanced all around her, eyes stretched wider than her son’s. “What is this? Am I dreaming?”
I smiled at her, helping her to her feet. “No, my lady. It is only a small piece of magic. I will release