Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [229]
I eyed her, uncertain whether or not she was teasing me. "Mayhap it is because I love the world and many people and things in it, my lady."
Master Lo raised one finger. "Ah, but what if the followers of the Enlightened One are right, and the world is but an illusion? Then your love is equally illusory, and the attachments you form to illusions prevent you from perceiving the truth."
Betimes he made my head ache.
But I liked listening to him, and it was a relief to be spared the sole burden of entertaining the princess. The young men talked endlessly while they took turns at the oars, mulling over the ideas Master Lo fed them. Not Bao, who had long been his pupil, but the others. I could almost hear their brains stretching. No one had ever spoken to them as though they were worth teaching before.
I thought, too—although some of my thoughts I kept to myself. I thought a great deal about desire, being constrained not to express any for the first time in my young life. I found it surprisingly difficult. It wasn't a question of celibacy; even if our guises and the dragon's jealousy hadn't made that necessary, our quarters on the boat rendered it a moot point. It frustrated me to have my fledgling relationship with Bao forced into an impasse where neither of us could speak openly of our feelings, but I could accept it for the duration of our quest. What bothered me most was being denied almost the whole spectrum of physical affection.
That, I hated.
I yearned for it, yearned to touch and be touched with an ache that was no less real than thirst or hunger.
I thought about Naamah, the bright lady.
Jehanne had told me that each House of the Night Court held that Naamah had given herself as she did for different reasons. Now, with naught to do but listen and think and watch the river flow, I thought mayhap it was simply in her nature. She was desire. She could no more keep from giving herself over to it, whether it was the carnal desire to take a lover or the innocent desire to caress a child's soft cheek, than the sun could stop from shining or the rain from falling.
And if Master Lo was right and all ways led to the Way, the path of desire was as valid as any other.
One day, I said so.
It made the stick-fighters snicker self-consciously, although Bao didn't. The princess turned her head away slightly, as though to suggest the topic was of no interest to her. Master Lo was intrigued.
"How so?" he inquired.
I fidgeted, uncertain how to articulate my half-formed thoughts. "There is an element of surrender in it, Master. Of giving oneself over to a greater force. If it is done with the kind of mindfulness you describe in the practice of the Path of Dharma, if it is done with love and compassion… well, then. On the greatship, you said perhaps the gods of Terre d'Ange were capable of using desire to lead their children to wisdom and harmony. Might it not also lead to a greater form of enlightenment?"
To my surprise, he understood. "You speak of one such as your father."
"Yes, exactly!"
"Indeed." Master Lo nodded. "Having met one who treads it, I think we may infer that such a path exists." He studied me. "Do you think it is yours to follow?"
I flushed. "I don't know. I am only thinking about it because of your teaching, and because of… other things I am thinking about."
"I am pleased to find any pupil of mine thinking." He glanced at the princess, her expression unreadable behind the veil. "Though perhaps it would be best if we confined our discussion to the topic of more traditional paths. Although one might argue it is the least of my worries, I do not think his Celestial Majesty would be pleased to find this conversation taking place in his daughter's presence amid such mixed company."
As the days wore onward, we began to see more traffic on the river. Ships flying the Imperial banner—not greatships, but very large ships—carrying hundreds and hundreds of soldiers passed us, making the princess and the dragon restless.
"Our progress is too slow," she