Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [176]
Jagrati.
I stole a glance at the Spider Queen. Her face was gaunt and striking, dark-skinned, high cheekbones with hollows beneath them, but not so terrible a beauty as I had expected. The rest of her was draped in a black cloak fastened high around her throat.
The Rani Amrita broke the silence. “Greetings, my lord Khaga,” she said, pressing her hands together, her voice clear and sincere. “I thank you for consenting to this meeting. Shall we unhorse ourselves and speak as civilized folk?”
His gaze flicked briefly to Jagrati, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. “As you wish, little Rani,” he said in a dismissive tone.
Both parties dismounted. It would give our mounted archers waiting in ambush a few more seconds of time to close the distance between us; still, I felt uneasy. I kept glancing at Bao, and away from the seething hatred in his gaze. He didn’t even look like himself. With the ban on weapons, his ever-present bamboo staff was missing. The unruly shock of his black hair had grown longer, caught and tamed by a clasp at the nape of his neck, and there were gold hoops in his earlobes.
“So, my lord—” the Rani began.
The Falconer cut her off with a gesture. “You shall have what you came for.” He beckoned. “Bao!”
Like his master, Bao looked to Jagrati for assurance; and she nodded at him, too, her expression softening briefly. For a second, he looked grateful; and then the mask of hatred returned to his face as he moved toward me.
“Bao, please…” My voice shook as I took a step forward. My diadh-anam roiled and blazed in anguish.
“No!” His voice cracked like a whip. “Whoever you are, whatever you are, I want no part of you or whatever sick game you play! Do you understand? Go, and leave me to the service of my lord and lady Khaga!”
“Bao, it’s me! Moirin!” I touched my chest, my heart aching. “How can you not know me?”
He leaned forward, nostrils flaring. I could feel the heat of his fury rolling off him, the hot-metal forge smell of his skin. His pupils were too wide, his eyes fever-bright and wild. “Because Moirin mac Fainche died almost a year ago!” he shouted at me, his hands clenching and unclenching. “Do you think I did not feel it? Whatever foul spirit has stolen her face, stolen the very spark of her soul, I want nothing to do with it!”
Tears blurred my eyes. “Bao, it’s me! I wasn’t killed, I was bound by magic! That’s why you couldn’t sense me!”
“No.” Bao shook his head. “No, that is the lie the Great Khan told me, and I will not believe it twice. In Kurugiri, I learned the truth.”
“No, you didn’t!” I cried in frustration. “The lord and lady of Kurugiri never had anything to do with it! It was Vralian priests who took me prisoner, using Yeshuite magic! Chains, like the one the Circle of Shalomon tried to use to bind the demon-spirit they summoned, the one you and Master Lo helped me banish. Remember?”
Bao hesitated, frowning.
“The Great Khan told you a lie to send you in the opposite direction,” I whispered. “But I am here now.”
His diadh-anam flickered.
“You feel it!” I said. “You do, don’t you?”
“Oh, no, no, I’m afraid that is not an acceptable outcome,” another voice said—a woman’s voice soft and sibilant, with a faint rasp like silk drawn over a whetstone. “This has gone on long enough, I think.”
Bao glanced at Jagrati, who smiled tenderly at him.
He smiled back at her, relieved and certain once more.
And then the Spider Queen smiled at me, her long-fingered hands reaching up to undo the clasp of her cloak. It fell away, revealing the collar of gold filigree that adorned her long, slender throat, an immense black diamond set in the middle of it, filled with glowing hues that shifted like embers.
I was wrong.
She was as terrible and beautiful as Kali dancing, terrifying and compelling. She was tall, taller than me, taller than most women, with long limbs that moved with angular grace. I stood frozen as Ja—grati drifted toward