Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [173]
No, it was a hereditary mantle. For many generations, there had been a Falconer in Kurugiri, amassing years of knowledge of deadly killing arts. Until the advent of Jagrati the Spider Queen, none had killed save for hire.
This Falconer, Tarik Khaga, was different. Worse. He killed on a whim—his, or his Spider Queen’s.
It was a surety that his men would have weapons hidden on them—subtle weapons, garrotes and throwing knives, mayhap poisoned darts like the one with which Black Sleeve had killed Bao.
I was afraid for myself, but the insistent blaze of my diadh-anam told me I had to go. More so, I was very afraid for the Rani Amrita, and I wished very, very much that she would not undertake this venture.
“I have to go, Moirin,” she said calmly when I sought to dissuade her. “It is clear now that the gods sent you to me. It is my kharma.”
“I do not see why you must risk yourself personally!” I said in frustration. “There is no sense in it.”
Amrita was silent a moment. “I felt the same when my lord Chakresh insisted on facing the Falconer’s assassins with his men,” she said presently. “He insisted it was a matter of honor and duty. Now that the same choice is upon me, I understand.” She laid a hand on my arm. “Please, do not quarrel with me, Moirin.”
Reluctantly, I acceded.
It was an auspicious day when we set out, clear and bright. The Rani Amrita bade farewell to her son in private and for the first time, I saw Ravindra as a child in truth. His narrow shoulders shook as he embraced his mother and wept, his tears dampening the cloth of her sari. She held him close, kissing the top of his head.
“Be brave, jewel of my heart,” she murmured. “I will draw strength from your courage.”
Ravindra straightened. “I will do my best, Mama-ji.”
We made our way through the streets of Bhaktipur in a splendid procession, surrounded by a hundred guards and dozens of attendants. Only ten guardsmen would accompany us to the plateau, but Hasan Dar meant to take no chances until it was necessary, especially in the crowded streets of the city.
I rode beside Amrita in her palanquin. Folks pressed as close as the guards would allow, tossing flowers and calling out blessings. Others begged the Rani not to go, echoing my sentiment. They didn’t know about the ambush, of course, but they knew she meant to meet with the Falconer, and they were afraid for her.
When the outskirts of the city gave way to orchards and farmland, we abandoned the palanquin for horses and set out across the valley. Despite my pervasive fear, I was glad to be in a green, living place once more, and no longer cooped up behind the palace walls. I breathed the Breath of Trees Growing, willing my nerves to be calm.
An hour into our journey, I felt a shift occur that made me catch my breath, my diadh-anam flaring sharply inside me. Amrita glanced at me with concern. “What is it, Moirin?”
“Bao,” I whispered. “He’s moving, coming closer.”
Her eyes widened. “You can tell this?”
I nodded. “Not over very vast distances, but this is near enough that I feel it. He’s coming.”
Amrita smiled. “Then that is very good news, is it not?”
“I don’t know.” Although I could sense it drawing closer, Bao’s diadh-anam didn’t quicken with eagerness like mine did. It was as sickly and guttering as it had been for all those long months since I’d first sensed it in Vralia. I had been certain, so certain, that once we were together, no thrall could hold him. Now I wasn’t so sure. “I hope so.”
All throughout the day, pace by pace, I felt the distance between us lessen. I wanted to be joyful at the prospect, but I was too anxious.
By the end of the day, we had ascended into the foothills at the northern