Naamah's Curse - Jacqueline Carey [92]
What he was thinking, I couldn’t begin to guess. I put out my hands, palms upward. “If I were free, I would invoke Naamah’s blessing for you, Aleksei. You think you understand what that means. You don’t. There would be healing in it for you.”
He glanced at me, unable to hide the hunger and the yearning in him. “You seek to tempt me.”
I smiled wryly. “For quite some time now, yes. But this is an honest offer. You need not accept it. I am asking you to free me out of the kindness of your heart. And,” I added, “because I do not think you wish to see me cut down in a hail of stones, my skull cracked open and my brains leaking onto the cobbles.” Aleksei jerked as though I’d struck him, then winced in obvious discomfort. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Are you wearing that bedamned goat’s-hair vest again?”
“No,” he murmured, bringing his shoulders forward. “I… after your punishment, I thought it only fair I endured the same. If I had been a better teacher, you would not have been punished.”
I drew a sharp breath. “Your uncle beat you?”
Aleksei shook his head. “No. Oh, no. I administered it to myself.” He gave me an earnest glance. “Mortification of the flesh is good for the soul.”
I wanted to cry. “Aleksei…”
“It’s all right, Moirin,” he said quietly. “I don’t mind.”
“I do!” I wrestled myself back to calmness, breathing slowly and trying to find words that would reach him. “You know, I do believe your mother would do it if she dared. Set me free.”
“Nooo…” He drew out the word, uncertain.
“I understand her fears,” I said. “I didn’t at first. But she is a woman shunned by her society, always and forever paying for her youthful mistake. It is a cruel world for one such as her, and she has nowhere else to go. It would be different for you. You’re a young man, healthy and strong. You could apprentice yourself, learn a trade.”
Aleksei squared his shoulders. “I have a trade. A calling. My uncle has raised me—”
“To convert D’Angelines,” I finished for him.
He flushed. “Yes.”
“That is his dream, his interpretation of God’s will.” I eyed him speculatively. “What is yours? With your fluent tongue, you could find work as an interpreter in the D’Angeline embassy. With your training, you could go west and study with those priests who took Rebbe Avraham’s words to heart, those on the opposite side of the Great Schism.”
That hit home.
Aleksei’s fists knotted, his raw-boned knuckles turning white, the book of scriptures forgotten in his lap. The hot flush on his rugged cheekbones deepened, and his blue eyes darkened with anger and despair. “You seek to tempt me!”
“No,” I said simply. “I seek to live. And I am only telling you the truth, whether you welcome it or not.”
He surged to his feet with fluid grace, all awkwardness forgotten in the heat of the moment. The book of scripture fell to the floor. He paced the confines of my cell, muttering to himself in Vralian, his fists clenching and unclenching.
I watched him, fearful and fascinated.
At length, Aleksei fetched up before me, looming over my narrow bed, wild-eyed and grim-faced, his tawny hair tousled. “I cannot do it, Moirin. After so long, I dare not succumb to temptation. I cannot set you free. I cannot betray my uncle. Everything I am, I owe to him. Everything! Do you understand?”
“Aye,” I murmured with regret.
He wasn’t finished. “Nor can I watch you die and believe it God’s will in truth. So…” His chest rose and fell. “Instead, I will teach you.”
“Teach me?” I echoed. “Were you not listening when I said—”
“Yes.” Aleksei cut me off. “I was.” He picked up the fallen book, kissing it reverently.
I was confused. “I don’t understand.”
He settled onto the stool. “In a little more than two months’ time, the Duke of Vralsturm will come to Riva to attend the midsummer festival. It is my uncle’s hope that he might present you as his greatest success, and gain the Duke’s patronage. If he succeeds, the Duke might petition his kin in Vralgrad on behalf of his D’Angeline crusade. It is my uncle’s fondest dream, to see the prophecies of Elijah of Antioch