Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [50]
It gave me a glimmer of hope.
The Khan Naram saw it, and crushed it with pleasure. “In time, I will relent and tell him what befell you. I have a fine tale prepared.” Another cruel smile curved his lips. “One that will send him far, far away from where you are going.”
I closed my eyes in despair.
The Great Khan gave an order.
Someone struck me hard from behind. Pain burst across my skull, and stars of spangled light burst behind my eyelids, flickering and fading.
I fell into darkness.
SEVENTEEN
I awoke in a covered cart, jolting over the plains.
At first I thought it was a bad dream, a nightmare brought on by strained nerves and too much airag, a jumbled mess of old fables and dire magic spun by my sleeping mind. But when I stirred, chains rattled.
Bound.
I was bound, well and truly bound. I remembered the shackles being clamped on to me and locked into place, the Vralians’ grave, dispassionate faces. My head ached ferociously. My diadh-anam was a faint, defeated spark inside me. I couldn’t sense Bao’s presence anywhere. I couldn’t feel a thing beyond the confines of my skin.
My stomach lurched, and I swallowed bile. Gods, I needed air! Frantic as a trapped animal, I scrambled blindly toward the rear of the cart, dragging my chains, bumping into obstacles I couldn’t make out in the dim light.
It was a tarpaulin of oiled canvas that covered the cart, secured in place by ropes. It gapped at the far end, glimpses of the brightening blue sky visible between the rope lashings.
Rope could be cut. Ignoring my chains, I groped at the sash around my waist for the dagger that Snow Tiger had given me, with its ivory hilt carved in the shape of a dragon’s coils.
It was gone.
Wheels creaking, the cart ground to a halt. Deprived of any sense beyond the ordinary mortal ones, I lay still and took quick, shallow breaths, listening to the faint sound of approaching boot steps. Unseen fingers fumbled with unseen knots. I willed myself to be calm, and sought to summon the twilight.
It was gone, too—or at least, it was beyond my reach. With my magic constrained by these bedamned chains, I could no more take a half-step into the spirit world than I could fly to the moon.
The canvas was folded back to reveal a bearded Vralian face peering at me. Filled with an unreasoning mix of panic and fury, I tried to hurl myself at him. Weighted down by shackles and chains, I merely fell over the tailgate of the wagon, the impact driving the air from my lungs.
“No good!” Retreating out of reach, the Vralian wagged a stern finger at me, speaking a limited version of the Tatar language. “We save you.”
I heaved myself and my chains backward, huddling in the rear of the wagon, wrapping my arms around me until I caught my breath. “Why?”
The second Vralian, who looked to be a few years younger than the first, came to confer with him, speaking in an unfamiliar tongue. The first raised his medallion to his lips and kissed it. “God wills it,” he said in a reverent tone.
“Then I am grateful to your god,” I said slowly and carefully, unfolding one arm and extending it. “If you will take off these chains, I will go with thanks.”
Free of the chains, I could summon the twilight and pass through the campsite like a phantom, taking Bao with me.
The Vralian smiled gently and shook his head at me, as though I were a child who’d said somewhat foolish. “We save you from you.”
I stared at him, and then raised my voice. “Well, then, I bedamned well don’t want to be saved!”
He shrugged. “God wills it.”
“I don’t care!”
He made a hushing sound, pointing backward toward the Tatar campsite. “Not far yet. No trouble, or the young man…” He made a slashing gesture across his throat. “Khan say he kill.”
Bao.
I weighed my choices. My head ached too much to think straight. If Bao was awake, he would know something had happened to me, for as surely as the