Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [163]
In between bites, I spun out my story.
For a mercy, I didn’t have to lay out the whole complicated length of it. The traders who crossed the Abode of the Gods carrying tales of the Falconer and his Spider Queen, and the Lady of Rats, also carried tales in the opposite direction. At the first mention of Ch’in, the Rani let out a startled sound.
“Oh!” Her eyes went round, her gaze shifting from mine to the bangle on my wrist, and back. “The Emperor’s jade-eyed dakini!”
“You heard the tale?” I asked.
“Yes.” The Rani’s expression turned somber, and she regarded me differently, less lightly. “I wish to hear it from you, but that, I think, will wait. What brings you here, looking for me?”
I explained about Bao’s death and the Maghuin Dhonn Herself and my divided diadh-anam, struggling more than usual to do so in a scarce-familiar tongue. Mother and son listened attentively, hands resting on their knees, thumbs and forefingers touching in identical poses. For a boy of ten, Ravindra was uncommonly grave. I told them how I had set out after Bao and wintered among the Tatars, only to find him wed to the Great Khan’s youngest daughter.
For the first time since I had mentioned Ch’in, the Rani’s sparkling smile returned. “Bad boy, eh?”
“Yes,” I agreed. “And yet…”
Her gaze softened. “You love him.”
I nodded, and told the rest of the tale. How the Great Khan had betrayed me to the Vralians, and sent Bao on a quest in the opposite direction, one that had led him into the lair of the Falconer and the Spider Queen. How I had learned of it from the Khan’s daughter, whose advice had led me here.
When I finished, mother and son exchanged a glance, both of them looking troubled.
“I wish…” Ravindra said in a plaintive tone.
“I know, little prince.” The Rani tilted her head. “It is late. Go, go meet with your tutor. I will speak to Moirin, and we will speak more, later.”
“Yes, Mama-ji.” He went obediently.
A sense of foreboding brushed over me, light as a feather, and just as subtly barbed. I had found sanctuary in this place, but nothing else. “You cannot help, can you, highness?” I murmured.
“Amrita,” she said softly. “You may call me by my name, please.” There was a world of sorrow in her dark, lustrous eyes. “I am sorry, Moirin. I would like to help you very much indeed, you and your bad boy, this Bao of whom you speak. It is only…” She spread her hands, and there was nothing in the gesture but helplessness. “I do not know how. Tarik Khaga had my husband slain. Believe me, if I could have rid the world of the Falconer and his unholy bride, I would have done so by now.”
It was exactly as Manil Datar had said.
I frowned, thinking. “I’ve seen the paths up the mountain to Kurugiri. It is a maze, yes, but there are only so many ways. Why not…?” I didn’t know the word for blockade. “Put men there so no one can come or go? Would they not starve, and…?” I didn’t know the word for surrender, either. “Do as you say?”
The Rani Amrita shook her head gently, the filigreed gem on her brow swaying. “You cannot see it from below, but there is a valley in Kurugiri. Not so green and good as Bhaktipur, no. It is higher, much higher. But enough grows there that they would not starve, and they raise yaks.”
“So they do as they wish?” I asked, frustrated. “Take what they wish? Who they wish?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “Here and there, the falcon takes a few lambs. Such is the cost of living. The shepherd dare not abandon his flock to the wolves in order to seek the falcon’s lair; and I am the shepherd here. I am sorry, but I have no aid to give you.”
“Why did he not take you?” I flushed. “Forgive me, highness. That is not a nice question. But he wanted you. I try to understand, only. He killed your husband. And you are still very beautiful. How did it go?”
Amrita was silent