Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [124]
Thierry gave me that.
He didn't ask until Raphael bade me farewell for the night. He didn't say he'd be spending it with Jehanne in her quarters, but it was clear.
"Take the carriage, Moirin." Raphael touched my cheek before drifting past me. "I'll see you at home anon."
Anon and anon and anon.
Too many anons.
Why should I be jealous? I was there with the Dauphin of my own accord.
"Stay." Thierry's hands were on my shoulders. He kissed me. He tasted of wine and innocence. It didn't set my blood afire, but it was nice. "I'll send someone to dismiss de Mereliot's driver. Stay."
"All right."
Thierry was a skilled lover. I should have expected it; he was the heir to Terre d'Ange. And he brought to our bed all the unstinting ardor I could have wished of Raphael, for I was its focus. Not my gifts, just me. I performed the languisement Jehanne had taught me on him, relishing his groans of pleasure and the hot, irresistible rush of his seed spilling into my mouth. He returned the favor until I begged him to stop.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered as he entered me. "So are you," I whispered back.
And I wept silent tears, because it was true. He was young and kind and beautiful, and it wasn't enough. But for one night, I pretended it was.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Claire Fourcay finished speaking the first conjuration. I pushed and opened the doorway.
Thanks, mayhap, to Master Lo Feng's teaching, I was more aware of myself and the flow of my own energy than I had been. When the crimson light erupted, I understood in my flesh and blood that there was a toll to be paid for keeping the door open. I could feel it ebbing steadily from me.
The extent of its cost would be determined when it closed.
Caim manifested as an ordinary man, olive-skinned and hawk-nosed, a wooden staff held loosely in one hand.
A sigh of relief ran around the Circle.
Orien de Legasse put the first question to him in their unintelligible tongue. Claire Fourcay had chalk poised over her tablet lest he write it in fiery letters.
Instead, the spirit bowed politely and spoke at length.
"Oh, hell!" someone swore. "Tell me he didn't just say what I think he said."
"He did," Orien said grimly.
I shifted into the twilight. I'd learn more there.
The spirit greeted me. Moirin.
"Aye," I agreed. "You're Caim?"
I am. In the world half a step away from the mortal one, Caim was still mostly human. But antlers like a young buck's rose from his brow, a tangled bird's nest wedged in one fork. His eyes were round and golden like a hunting owl's. They regarded me curiously. The bear's child does not require this gift. Why have you summoned me?
I gestured at the shadowy Circle. "For them. What trick did you play them?"
His round, golden eyes flared. No trick.
"They're angry."
Yes. Cairn looked complacent. I am teaching them the language of ants. It is composed of scent and touch. When I am finished, I will teach them the language of crickets. You will have collapsed by then and the doorway will have closed, but if it were not, I would proceed to the language of honeybees, which is composed largely of dance. It is quite fascinating.
I didn't know whether to laugh or weep. "Why? Marbas gave me his gift with a single roar. Surely you could do the same. Would it be such a bad thing for humans to have greater understanding?"
He shook his head. The bird's nest lodged in his antlers wobbled. You sense the thoughts and feelings of your animal brethren. Your people never lost that bond. This is different. If you were to truly comprehend in its entirety the language of every creature on earth that creeps, crawls, flies, and swims, the cacophony would drive you mad. No mortal could endure it.
I sighed. "Why offer the gift at all?"
Cairn's round eyes glowed. It is the game.
Jehanne's words in the Hall of Games came back to me. This was a game I was bound to lose. I bowed to Caim. "Thank you for your honesty."