Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [216]
But we succeeded in emerging from the maze by midday, our company spreading out around the base of the mountain. Although the wounded were groaning in their litters, all had survived. Relief suffused Bao’s features.
“We should keep going,” I murmured to him when the last stragglers stumbled out of the maze. “We need to reach that plateau before night if we want to make a proper camp—and I think we do.”
He nodded, gazing upward. “One moment.”
From this vantage point, the stone fortress was hidden; but it was there. Kurugiri. The spirits of generations of rulers styling themselves the Falconer haunted it, sending assassins to do their bidding. The vengeful spirit of the Spider Queen haunted it: the dark lady Jagrati, despising the world and speaking bitter truth to it.
I watched Bao.
“Done,” he said softly. “It is done. I am done with this place, forever.”
SEVENTY-SIX
After Kurugiri, we got Hasan Dar into a litter, where he tossed and turned, restless with fever.
We made camp on the arid plateau, which seemed a paradise after sleeping on the mountainside. Tents were pitched against the worst of the cold, pegs pounded into the hard earth. Supplies were shared, our mounts fed and watered, albeit in a miserly fashion.
Bao examined Hasan Dar’s wound and found it red and inflamed, flesh swelling around the stitches. “Stupid man,” he muttered. “I told you not to ride. Did you think I didn’t know what I was talking about?”
The commander’s reply was incoherent.
“Listen to me!” Bao slapped his cheek lightly. “The Rani Amrita needs you; her son, Ravindra, needs you. If they are going to change the world, they need a strong arm beside them. So stay with us, huh?”
Hasan Dar shivered. “I will try.”
“Try harder,” Bao said ruthlessly.
For a mercy, Hasan was the only one of the injured to have taken a serious turn for the worse. The others would endure.
“Pride,” I murmured. “It will be his downfall if he does not survive. Take it to heart, my magpie.”
Bao gave me a sidelong look. “Is that a warning, Moirin?”
“No.” I shrugged, too tired to argue. “I don’t know, mayhap it is. I only know you would have insisted on the same in his place.”
“Mayhap,” Bao mused. “I will think on it.”
Downward.
The air thickened and grew richer the next day, as we wound our way out of the heights, wound our way toward the meadow that lay beneath the Sleeping Calf Rock. I watched gladness settle onto the faces of the servants of Kurugiri. And two days later, as we descended into the fairy-tale valley of Bhaktipur with its warm air and lush, verdant growth, that gladness gave way to wonder.
“Is this real?” the steward Govind asked in awe.
“Oh, yes.” I smiled at his expression. “And the Rani Amrita has promised that all of you will be well cared for here.”
“It’s been so long!” Sudhakar breathed. “I’d forgotten how lovely it was. Only I wonder…” His brows furrowed. “How shall I live here?”
I hadn’t thought about the implications of this homecoming for him. Sudhakar was one of the no-caste lads that Jagrati had taken from the untouchable camp outside the city, the only one to have survived. Leaning over in the saddle, I laid my hand over his. “Don’t worry, Sudhakar. The Rani will take care of you, too.”
Sudhakar flinched away from my touch and didn’t respond. In my mind, I heard the soft, tearing rasp of Jagrati’s laughter. The habits of a lifetime died hard.
That and Hasan Dar’s deteriorating condition were the two shadows that lay over our return to Bhaktipur. Our procession was spotted making its way along the valley, and by the time we reached the outskirts of the city, there was a royal reception awaiting us with Pradeep and a company of guards, and the Rani Amrita herself standing before her palanquin, glowing in a purple sari embroidered with gold, Ravindra resplendent beside her in a saffron tunic and loose breeches, a purple turban on his head.
Both of them were smiling so brightly, it made my heart ache.
Bao and I dismounted to approach on foot. When we were yet a few paces away,