Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [40]
“This is Moirin,” Batu said at length, speaking slowly for my benefit. “She is a guest under my roof.” He nodded significantly at the blue silk scarf I wore draped around my neck. “My wife, Checheg, has given her a gift of kinship.”
“So I see.” General Arslan’s gaze settled on me. “Moirin mac Fainche.” He made a point of pronouncing my name with care. “I would speak with you. Alone.”
“I will accompany her,” Batu said.
The general raised his left brow in a familiar, sardonic gesture. “Surely you do not question the hospitality of my roof?”
Batu hesitated, then shook his head, defeated. “No. Of course not.”
“Good.” General Arslan beckoned to me. “Come.”
I followed him into the ger. There was a youngish woman there who did not meet my eyes, and two girls no older than Sarangerel who stole curious glances at me. The youngish woman poured a bowl of salty tea and offered it to me, all the while avoiding my gaze. I accepted it with thanks. As soon as she had done the same for the general, she gathered her daughters and left.
“Let us sit.” The general indicated the table and low chairs. I sat warily opposite him. He sipped his tea and studied me, taking my measure without speaking.
Suspecting I could not match his capacity for silence, I didn’t bother trying. “You wished to speak to me?” I asked politely.
“Yes.” He took another sip of tea. “First, I wished to see you. Having done so, I understand why my son is enamored.”
I inclined my head. “You are kind to say so.”
“Have you bewitched him?” he asked in a steady tone. “There is talk of it.”
I flushed. The inquiry evoked painful memories of Cillian, my lost first love. His mother had accused me of bewitching him, too. And yet this time there was an element of truth to it. “No,” I said slowly. “We are bound together, he and I. But it was not by my choice. I did not know it would happen.”
General Arslan took a thoughtful sip of tea. “Then why are you here?”
“Because we are bound together,” I said, adding, “And I love him.”
He ignored my last comment. “If it is true that you are bound, it seems to me that until you arrived, my son sought to break that binding.”
I shifted in my chair. “I do not believe that is exactly true, but I cannot speak for Bao. It may be that there are truths of his heart he has not shared with you.”
He raised that eyebrow again. “Of course there are. I am not so foolish as to believe he came seeking me with an open heart. But he came seeking knowledge of himself, and he has found more than he expected.”
“Yes,” I said. “And now he is ready to leave.”
The general folded his hands atop the table. “I do not wish to lose my son,” he said in a formal tone. “When I lost my wife, I spent many long months searching for her, and many months avenging her loss.”
“I know,” I murmured.
“I did not take another wife for a long time,” he continued. “When I did, she gave me nothing but daughters. I have yearned for a son.”
“The Emperor of Ch’in is content to take pride in a daughter,” I observed.
“Yes.” The scar tissue on General Arslan’s right eyelid tightened. “So it is said. The warrior princess who descended from heaven in a dragon’s claw to reunify the Celestial Empire.” His eye twitched. “It is rumored that you are more than passing familiar with the tale.”
I held my tongue—and my breath, too.
“Of course, that means that there is a good possibility that the same holds true for my son,” he mused. “So I will not pursue these rumors. You might wish to tell Batu that his young tribesmen are not discreet when their tongues are plied with airag.”
I let out my breath in a sigh. “I am sorry for the loss of your first wife, for it seems you loved her very much. And I am sorry that your second wife has not given you sons. But Bao’s choice is his