Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [48]
“Gods, that was well done, Moirin,” he said in a low, fierce voice.
The victory didn’t feel as sweet as I would have reckoned. “Why does the Khan want to confer with his shamans?”
Bao shrugged. “He knows what boon you will ask. I suppose he wants to talk to them about releasing me from my marriage vows.”
“Oh.” I relaxed a little.
“You should go celebrate with your tribe.” He nodded toward Batu and the others. “They are nearly bursting with pride.” He gave me a smile filled with rare, genuine tenderness. “I feel the same way, but I will wait until the Great Khan’s boon is granted to show it.”
I smiled back at him. “Tomorrow, I hope.”
“I hope so, too,” he agreed.
Due to the amount of resentment in the camp, our celebration was muted, but it was heartfelt nonetheless. Many, many bowls of airag were consumed, the frothy, fermented mare’s milk all Tatars loved.
In the late hours of the night, Batu gave me a drunken, fatherly embrace. “If all goes well tomorrow, I hope you will be happy with your young man.”
“Thank you, Batu.” This time, I did plant a kiss on his cheek. “You have stood as a father to me, and I will always be grateful for it.”
It had been a long time since I’d drunk spirits of any kind; and too, I’d been too nervous to eat much that day. Although I did my best to keep up with my adopted Tatar tribe, the celebration was still under way when I gave up and staggered to my pallet, my head swimming with airag.
I felt dizzy, drunk, and more than a little nauseated; but I felt good, too. The warmth of the tribe’s response had let me savor my victory. As soon as the walls of the ger ceased the semblance of spinning around me, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
It seemed as though only a few hours had passed when one of the tribeswomen shook me awake—Solongo, her name was. I propped myself up on one elbow and squinted at her through the haze filling my head.
“The Great Khan Naram sends for you, Moirin,” she whispered. “He wishes to see you now.”
“Oh.” The inside of my mouth felt foul. I licked my dry lips and swallowed against a sudden surge of nausea.
Solongo shook her head. “You may shoot like a man, but you cannot hold your drink like one,” she said, not unkindly. “I will bring you tea.”
The hot, rich tea helped. I drank it down in gulps, willing it to settle my stomach. The ger was filled with snoring, slumbering men sleeping off the aftereffects of too much airag. Not wanting to disturb anyone, I washed my face in a bucket of clean water and went to answer the Great Khan’s summons.
He had sent an escort of ten warriors. They greeted me with nods of acknowledgment, and we set off through the campsite. It was early. The sun had not yet cleared the horizon. In the east, faint streaks of gold lit the sky, but it was still dark in the west. The Khan’s men set a brisk pace, and I stumbled as I tried to keep up with them. I felt disheveled, disoriented, and out of sorts, and irritated at the Great Khan for exacting such a petty revenge.
Inside a spacious ger with a splendidly painted door, the Great Khan Naram was waiting for me, flanked by a pair of somber, bearded Vralian men with gold chains around their necks, heavy medallions dangling.
I blinked, perplexed. The Khan’s men crowded into the room behind me.
“Moirin mac Fainche.” Like General Arslan before him, the Khan pronounced my name with care. There was no expression I could read on his face. “These fine men from Vralia wish to meet you.”
Both of them inclined their heads.
I supposed they were among those few who had stayed out of idle curiosity. I couldn’t imagine why they cared about the outcome of a Tatar archery contest, or why they wanted to meet me, but I inclined my head in polite reply. When one of them stepped forward and extended his hand toward mine, I gave it to him.
Instantaneously, his fingers tightened around mine in a crushing grip. His other hand came from behind his back, trailing a rattling chain. Before I could react, he had clamped a cuff of silver metal around my wrist.
I pulled back sharply, drawing breath