Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [211]
A soft snore answered me. Resolving to tell him again in the morning, I fell into an exhausted sleep.
In the morning, the task before us seemed even more daunting, the scope of it revealed in the harsh light of day. There were over a score of corpses to be transported down the winding mountain path, over a score of women and children in the harem to be escorted to safety, plus dozens more servants. There were over a dozen men too badly injured to be moved yet; and one more had died in the night while we slept. There were farmers and herders in the valley nestled to the northwest of the fortress yet to be consulted. There was the question of what to do with the spoils of war, the gilded trappings and fine tapestries that adorned the fortress, the coffers of jewels found in Jagrati’s chambers.
There was the question of Kurugiri itself, and who, if anyone, should lay claim to it. By right of inheritance, it should pass to the Falconer’s eldest son—but none of his harem-born offspring wanted it. By right of conquest, it belonged to the Rani.
“I do not want it!” Amrita said, dismay in her musical voice. “It seems a cruel gift to inflict on anyone.”
“So let it stand empty and crumble over time back into the mountain,” Bao suggested. “Or give it to the valley-folk if they want it.”
They didn’t.
The Rani sent an embassy led by Pradeep to address the farmers and herders in the valley. He returned to report that the folk he had talked to were pleased to know that the Falconer and the Spider Queen were no more, but that Kurugiri had a name as a cursed place, and that they would be well content to let it stand empty and live their lives in peace without being forced to tithe the lion’s share of their crops and herds to the fortress.
“They are happy to grow barley and poppies and raise yaks, highness,” Pradeep said with a shrug. “I cannot blame them.”
So it was decided; Kurugiri would be abandoned and left to stand empty, a stark reminder of the cruelty and self-absorption that could be bred in a place that combined deadly power and isolation.
After conferring with Hasan Dar, mercifully alive and surprisingly lucid, the Rani Amrita concluded that a swift messenger should be sent to Bhaktipur to let Ravindra know we had triumphed, requesting the aid of those guards left to ensure his safety. Meanwhile, the bulk of our guards would follow on a slower mission, escorting the Rani and members of the harem, and transporting the dead back to Bhaktipur.
Bao and I would remain to tend to the wounded, assisted by members of the household staff. We would also see that a full inventory of Kurugiri’s goods was conducted. Stolen treasures that could be identified, like the fist-sized ruby called the Phoenix Stone that the Tufani trader Dorje had spoken of so long ago, would be returned in time to their rightful owners. The rest would be sold, and the proceeds divided among the victims of Kurugiri.
“I do not like leaving you in this place, Moirin,” Amrita fretted. “I would prefer to know you were home safely in Bhaktipur!”
I touched her warm, smooth cheek. “I know. But the danger is over, and I will be safe with Bao, my lady. For whatever reason, the gods have seen fit to join us together. Having spent the last year of my life following him to the far ends of the earth, I’m not leaving him.”
“I told you a long time ago that you would fall in love with me,” Bao said with obnoxious good cheer, leaning on his staff. “Didn’t I?”
I glanced sidelong at him. “Yes, O insufferable one.”
He chuckled.
My lady Amrita shook her head, her lustrous eyes shining at us. “I will see you wed, the two of you. You most definitely deserve each other, eh?”
We gathered the dead.
It was a long, arduous process. Limbs had stiffened in the rigor of death, and it was difficult to wind linen sheets around them. Men swore, wrestling with corpses, repenting of their harsh words only