Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [212]
No one wanted to touch Jagrati, so Bao and I tended to her.
Even in death, she had a terrible beauty: gaunt-faced, her sunken cheeks collapsed to the bone. I wiped the dried flecks of froth from her lips, sensing Kamadeva’s diamond in my pocket singing to me. Her dead skin was ashen, but it seemed to me that her spirit lingered. Hungry for vengeance against the world that had harmed her—but somewhere beneath it, I thought Jagrati hungered for acceptance, too. I remembered how she had recoiled from Amrita, and it seemed to me that it was more than the strength of the Rani’s warding mudra at work there. It was due to a lifetime of Jagrati being taught that her touch was unclean and polluting. She’d had no problem taking her vengeance on men, no problem touching me, a foreigner and Kamadeva’s victim.
It was different with the Rani Amrita. She may have been all that Jagrati had despised, but the habits of a lifetime had overridden her hatred.
I pitied the Spider Queen, mayhap more than I ought to. When Bao asked quietly if we should remove the rings and bangles that adorned her fingers and wrists, I shook my head. “Let her keep them,” I said. “There’s more stolen treasure than anyone needs within the walls of this bedamned place. Let her take the baubles she died wearing to the afterlife with her. Maybe it will ease her angry spirit.”
Bao looked relieved. “Good.”
Together, we wound Jagrati into a shroud; and both of us were relieved to have it done.
There was a blend of joy and sorrow in the procession that departed from Kurugiri when the work of gathering the dead was finished. Sorrow for the losses incurred, joy at the innocent victims liberated, the women and children of the harem who still looked happy and dazed at their good fortune. Only the tulku Laysa appeared serene and unsurprised, but nonetheless glad and grateful.
Amrita hugged me close in farewell, tears in her eyes. “Promise me you will be well, Moirin! I do hate leaving you here.”
I returned her embrace, kissing her cheek. “It’s only for a little while, my lady.”
“Too long, even so.” She laughed ruefully, wiping her eyes. “We must have known one another in a different life, eh? Or else how could you have become so dear to me so quickly?”
“Moirin does,” Bao informed her. I gave him a sharp look, and he grinned at me. “What? You do.”
“You do,” Amrita agreed. “So, my bad boy Bao! You will keep her safe for all of us, eh?”
He pressed his palms together and bowed to the Rani. “I have determined it is my life’s work, highness.”
I rolled my eyes.
Bao snuck a glance at me, still grinning.
“He only pretends to jest,” Amrita observed, her hands forming a mudra. “But I will hold you to your promise, Bao-ji. And I will remind you that it is Moirin who came here to rescue you.”
He sobered. “I do not forget it, highness. I will not ever forget it.”
“That is well, then.” Amrita’s radiant smile returned, her irrepressible laughter chiming like golden bells. “And I shall have great fun planning your wedding!”
Together, Bao and I watched the Rani Amrita and her procession depart, entering the long, winding labyrinth, men on foot and men on horseback, some riding double with women or children behind them in the saddle, some carrying terrible burdens, escorting the joyful living with care, carrying the lamented dead with dignity and honor—and the unlamented dead, too.
I sighed.
Bao kissed me, his lips lingering on mine. “The Rani was right, Moirin. I was not jesting.”
“I know.” I stroked the nape of his neck, feeling the strong sinew drawn tight beneath his skin. Naamah’s gift stirred in me, and Kamadeva’s diamond sang to it; but it was not right yet. Not here, not now. “Shall we go count some jewels?”
He nodded. “Let’s.”
SEVENTY-FIVE
Taking inventory of Kurugiri’s treasures was a prodigious task. The coffers in Jagrati’s private chambers alone revealed untold wealth.
“Stone and sea!” I plucked out an impossibly long strand of pearls the size of quail eggs, each one perfectly spherical and uniform in shape, shimmering