Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [156]
On the cusp of this tantalizing nearness, the first deadly storm of early winter struck us. Manil Datar was minded to push on throughout the day in an effort to outpace it, but for a mercy, he listened to Sanjiv, and we broke early to make camp in a gorge where an outcropping of rock provided a natural windbreak.
The storm raged for over a full twenty-four hours, winds howling with unrelenting force, the heavens dropping an unholy amount of snow on us. I spent the time huddled in my tent, dozing fitfully. For once, I wasn’t fearful of Manil Datar—even he wouldn’t attempt to assault me in this tempest—but I was afraid my tent would collapse and suffocate me. And I daresay there was a good chance it would have if Sanjiv hadn’t twice waded through the gathering drifts to dig me out, bringing a waterskin filled with hot, buttery tea. How and where he had managed a fire in that gale, I couldn’t imagine.
The second time, even with my feverish eyes, I could see he looked weary enough to collapse himself, and he was shivering with effort and cold.
“Stay,” I croaked. “Don’t go back. Unless you are afraid to take sick?”
“No.” Sanjiv shook his head and accepted my offer, crawling into my tent and sealing the flap behind him. “I am born here. I will not get the mountain-sickness.”
I shared my blankets and my sheepskin with him. Almost instantly, he fell into a deep, exhausted sleep, his back turned to me. I curled against his back, and for the first time in more days than I could count, I slept soundly.
Somewhere in the small hours of the morning, the storm blew itself out. I awoke to stillness.
Sanjiv was asleep. I gazed at him in the faint, dull light that filtered through the tent’s worn seams. Above the raking scars that disfigured his features, dragging them sideways, his long lashes broke like waves below his smooth lids, as lovely and innocent as a boy’s. I wondered at a world that produced such a simple, kindhearted soul alongside a Manil Datar, a sweet boy like my Aleksei alongside a Pyotr Rostov.
And yet when Sanjiv awoke, he flinched away from me.
I smiled wryly. “It is well. Do not fear.”
“Thank you, Lady Dakini!” he said breathlessly, scrambling to leave my tent and return to his duties.
Outside, the world was transformed, buried beneath a thick blanket of white snow. Overhead, the sky was a remorseless blue, and the sun shone blindingly bright on the white snow, forcing us to squint and shield our eyes.
Despite it all, I felt a little bit better. A full day’s rest and a sound night’s sleep had done me a world of good. Once the porters floundered through the snow, took stock of the damage, restored our camp to order, and kindled a proper cook fire, I managed to eat a full bowl of rice and lentils, managed to swallow without wincing.
Leaving the gorge was a long, hard slog. The porters and the yaks went first to break a trail, wading through chest-high snow. The rest of us followed in their wake, our mounts struggling in the churned snow.
Bao’s diadh-anam called to mine.
Close.
So close.
Closer and closer with every step Lady took as she labored her way up the path out of the gorge, close enough that it was like a drumbeat inside me. But I had to be careful; I had to concentrate. I felt better, yes, but I was not well. If I moved my head too quickly, a wave of dizziness came over me.
I breathed the Five Styles, concentrating.
Once we passed the treeline, the path was clearer, windswept. Upward and upward we clambered, scaling the long ascent. I concentrated on Lady’s bobbing head, on her pricked-forward ears. When we gained the summit on the second day after the storm, a new vista unfurled before us—and my diadh-anam gave a clarion call I could not ignore.
I drew rein, staring.
The Path of Heaven’s Spear had led us along the shoulder of a low mountain peak. Now it would lead us downward, down a long, long descent. In the distance, I could see forests, and more greenery beyond them, a promise of a warmer, gentler clime.
But opposite us, a higher peak towered.
To be sure, I had seen higher;