Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [141]
It wasn’t entirely devoid of life. In places wild onion grew, and a kind of low scrub-grass. There were birds, little plovers that ran on long legs and hunted for insects on the desert floor.
My young companion, Dash, took great pleasure in telling me about a legendary worm that inhabited the desert, a bright red segmented creature that resembled a cow’s intestine. He cheerfully informed me that it could grow up to five feet in length, and spat acid that would eat one’s skin.
That had me in a state of trepidation for days. Even after Dash admitted that no one he knew had ever seen one of these fabled insects, I kept a wary eye out for the sight of anything creeping and scarlet.
As we travelled, I did my best to make use of the time and learn what I could about the Falconer, the Spider Queen, and the Lady of Rats.
The Tufani traders were my best source of information, and I found them a cheerful, friendly folk. During the day, it was too hot and dusty for conversation—only Dash managed to find the energy to chatter—but we spoke at night around campfires of dried camel-dung gathered along the way, gnawing on strips of dried meat and hard cheese, softening both with judicious sips of water.
“Oh, yes.” Dorje, one of the traders who spoke fluent Tatar, nodded when I first inquired. “The Falconer in his eyrie, he is real. Ten years ago, he stole a great jewel from Tufan.”
“What kind of jewel?”
Dorje smiled with sorrow. “The human kind. A young woman named Laysa who was born to a family of yak-herders. She was very beautiful, and so gentle that it seemed as though a light shone from her face. Everyone who saw her said she must be a reincarnation of a great saint, one of the Enlightened Ones come back to guide us.”
“Did you ever see her?” I asked him.
“I saw her,” he said quietly. “It was true. She had a grace that one cannot put into words. Surely, she was meant to accomplish much on the Path of Dharma. But the Falconer heard of her, and sent his messengers to fetch her. She refused to go, and her father and brothers said that they would fight anyone who tried to take her.”
One of the other traders, following the conversation, drew a hand across his throat in a slitting gesture.
I winced. “They were killed?”
Dorje nodded. “One of the Falconer’s assassins came the next night, a dark-skinned southern Bhodistani warrior. He fought with a battle-axe in each hand. He killed all the men, and took Laysa away. No one has seen her since.”
“He takes real jewels, too,” the second trader offered. “Did you hear of the famous Phoenix Stone?”
I shook my head.
“A ruby the size of my fist.” He held out a clenched fist to illustrate. “Flawless, with a heart of fire. It belonged to the Maharaja of Chodur, who gave it to his bride on their wedding night. When the Falconer’s spider-wife heard of it, she wanted it. He sent his messengers to demand it. The Maharaja laughed, sent them away, and doubled his palace guard. The next morning…” He made another throat-slitting gesture. “The Maharaja and his bride were dead in their beds, and the Phoenix Stone was gone.”
“That may only be a traders’ tale,” Dorje said cautiously. “We do not know if it is true.”
The other shrugged. “We do not know it is not. And there are others like it, too many for all to be lies.”
I sighed. “Does he have a name, a real name, this Falconer? Where exactly does he live? What about his wife, the Spider Queen?”
“Oh yes, he has a name,” Dorje confirmed. “Tarik Khaga, the Raja of Kurugiri. That is the name of his eyrie, his stronghold in the mountains. It is south of Tufan, looming above the Path of Heaven’s Spear. His Spider Queen wife…” He shrugged, too. “She is called Jagrati. It is a Bhodistani name. But no one knows where she came from, not for certain.”
Hearing the name Jagrati spoken, one of the other Tufani traders ventured a comment in his own tongue. They conferred amongst themselves, and for the thousandth time in my life, I wished humankind didn’t have so many