Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [262]
"Oh," I whispered, my blood running cold.
"Yes." Snow Tiger sighed. "And I can see no argument against it. It is a difficult choice only the Son of Heaven can make."
It seemed to me that there was some argument, some way that no one had conceived, but whatever it was, I was too exhausted to think of it.
"Let us sleep, my lady." I blew out the lanterns, one by one, until only dim light from the campfires outside filtered through the tent's walls. "Sleep is a great healer and restorer. Perhaps in the morning, all will be clear."
"Perhaps."
The dragon's absence yawned like a chasm between us. Knowing the princess would never ask, I went to her bed unbidden, settling my arm around her and pulling her into the curve of my body.
"I feel so empty, Moirin," she whispered into the darkness. "Although we have won a great victory, I cannot rejoice. So many dead! And I miss him. Deep inside me, I ache at his loss. I cannot say it to anyone else. But I do."
Already falling asleep, I kissed the nape of her neck. "I know. I miss him, too."
She found my hand and squeezed it. "I know."
Alas, morning did not bring clarity.
Morning brought news of the capture of Lord Jiang Quan and Master Lo Feng's son Lo Yaozu, better known as the alchemist Black Sleeve.
Long before their arrival, our camp buzzed with the news; both camps, in truth, the two having been combined into a sprawling one. And I daresay the soldiers who had fought under Lord Jiang's standard were more bloodthirsty than those who had fought beneath the standard of the Imperial dragon, for they had been lied to and misled, profoundly betrayed, their loyalties twisted and used against them. On the heels of their surrender, Emperor Zhu had been quick to ensure the true story of Lord Jiang and Black Sleeve's treachery was made known, and the news had spread like wildfire throughout the former enemy camp.
After the dragon's appearance yesterday, not a man among them doubted it.
We saw them approaching in the distance, two men on horses, surrounded by several dozen of their former retainers armed with bows and arrows, their dirty faces grinning with triumph.
Emperor Zhu had issued an order that no one was to harm them, and no one did. The crowd of soldiers parted ranks. Not a few of them hissed and spat onto the ground as they passed, but no one raised a hand against Jiang Quan and Black Sleeve.
And we were there to see it. The Emperor and his daughter had given us a place of honor at their side—me, Bao and Dai, and Master Lo Feng.
Him, I worried about.
Stone and sea, it was his son who was the architect of this horror. That plump, laughing toddler I had seen in his memories, the joyful babe playing with a shimmering pearl the size of a ball, had been his son. A man, now, bitter and angry.
For many, many years. No one but Master Lo knew how many.
They came, riding slowly.
Far away in the blue skies, the peak of White Jade Mountain erupted in splendor. I felt the dragon coming and smiled to myself. Gods, he was glorious! His glistening coils decorated the sky as he arrowed toward us, growing larger and larger the nearer he drew, a hundred thousand shouting throats heralding his arrival. He descended softly, drifting downward like a gentle avalanche to settle onto the former battlefield, his gleaming claws digging into the earth, his opalescent eyes regarding the proceedings, all-seeing and impassive.
Heaven's emissary had arrived.
Lord Jiang Quan was a broken man. I don't know what else I had expected. Once, he had been a strong and stalwart fellow, a brave, ambitious leader. But he had taken a terrible gamble and lost. He dismounted before the Imperial presence, his head bowed, shoulders slumping.
"Jiang Quan." Emperor Zhu's voice was clear and deadly. "You stand accused of rebelling against the Mandate of Heaven. You stand accused of sacrificing your own eldest son to your ambitions. Do you deny it?"
Lord Jiang shook his