Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [171]
Amrita studied the board. “So, young chess-master! You have thought out a strategy two moves ahead of our opponent. Knowing you, I suspect there is at least one more.” With one finger, she nudged a third white pawn into play, raising her brows at her son. “What is the third?”
Ravindra smiled. “An ambush. Only we must plan it now, before it is a possibility in their minds.”
“My lady, my young lord…” I shook my head. The thought of either of them coming to harm made me feel ill. “This is growing too difficult and too dangerous. I cannot ask you to take such risks. Better I should go to Kurugiri.”
“No!” mother and son said in unison, exchanging a glance.
“But—” I began.
Amrita sighed. “It is not only for you, dear one, nor for your young man. I said before that the shepherd dare not abandon his flock to hunt the falcon. But what you have given us here…” She made a gesture I didn’t know. “It is a chance to lure the falcon into a trap, and I think it is a chance I cannot ignore. Perhaps this is what the gods intended in sending you here.” Her face was very serious. “What does your bear-goddess say?”
My diadh-anam shone like a beacon, and I could not lie about it. “It seems She agrees,” I murmured.
“Tarik Khaga had my father killed, Moirin,” Ravindra said in a subdued tone. “And many other people, too. Will you not let us try?”
“Aye,” I said reluctantly, fearful at the thought of risking them. “I will.”
The following day, the Rani Amrita delivered our response to the Falconer’s messenger, her demeanor calm and dignified.
“I fear the dakini Moirin mac Fainche does not believe your master’s words,” she said in a vaguely apologetic tone. “She requests that his majesty Tarik Khaga send the young man Bao to Bhaktipur that he might deliver his refusal in person. Only then will she accept this edict that there may be no trade.” Amrita gave a slight, helpless shrug. “Forgive me. As I said before, the dakini Moirin is not mine to command.”
The messenger pursed his lips and glanced at me.
Summoning my mother’s best glare, I folded my arms and glowered at him under my lashes. As an added measure, I called the twilight. Although I could not vanish into it with his gaze on me, I felt it sparkle around me.
The Falconer’s messenger turned pale, his throat working as he swallowed nervously. For the first time in four encounters, he was a bit afraid.
I was glad.
He bowed to Amrita, palms pressed together. “I will convey your message and return with a reply, highness.”
SIXTY-ONE
Waiting, waiting, and more waiting.
Gods, I hated it!
My lady Amrita was not idle. Guided by her preternaturally clever son’s counsel, she met with the commander of the Royal Guard, which was the nearest thing to an army that Bhaktipur had. Together, they chose a spot in neutral territory suitable for an ambush, a plateau above the valley of Bhaktipur, but below the peaks of Kurugiri. It had enough open space to inspire trust, but there were copses of spruce trees that would hide a mounted battalion with a bit of creative effort.
A battalion of fifty skilled riders and archers was dispatched, hurrying to make camp and conceal it before the possibility of such an action might arise in our opponents’ minds. It was important to remain three steps ahead of them.
We waited.
On the advice of the commander of her guard, we confined ourselves to the palace grounds, and Amrita and her son abandoned their sleeping-quarters to pass their nights in the hidden room her husband had commissioned before he dared to wed a beautiful, young bride.
I had to own, it was a clever design. Young Ravindra must have inherited his head for strategy from his father. The steep, narrow stair that led to the hidden room was concealed behind an elaborately embroidered wall-hanging depicting the goddess Durga on her tiger. Nothing about the architecture of the palace suggested it