Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [272]
I smiled at him through tears. "And I rejoice to see you in splendor."
He arched his neck, preening. "Yes." I laughed. The dragon extended one clawed foreleg. "I made you a promise. Will you come with me to the slopes of White Jade Mountain to plant the bulbs you have carried so far? I will watch over them, forever and always, thinking of you." He paused, then lowered his immense voice. "Where is the princess? I would like it if she came, too."
"So would I," I agreed.
Ah, gods! It was a poignant, painful, and glorious thing. For the second time in our lives, Snow Tiger and I rode in a dragon's claw. He cast himself like a spear into the skies, corkscrewing through the air, carrying us tenderly. I clutched my worn canvas satchel, trying to hear the snowdrops' song, hoping they were still alive. The princess leaned against the dragon's palm, her face more peaceful than I had seen it in days.
Up and up and up, we soared.
The air was thin in the heights, gaspingly thin, but oh, so pure. The dragon settled gently on peaks where no mortal foot had tread, opening his claw.
I smelled dirt beneath the snow and dug, unearthing soil. "Here?"
His opalescent eyes gleamed. "It is a good place."
The princess and I dug together, making the hole wider and deeper, getting dirt beneath our nails. The dragon watched and rumbled his approval.
I rummaged in the depths of my satchel and found the jar with three snowdrop bulbs nestled within it.
I breathed on them.
They answered. Faint; oh, so faint. But alive.
Tears stung my eyes. I laid the bulbs in the hole we had dug, thinking of Master Lo Feng, who had wanted so badly to bring them to Ch'in. Thinking of Terre d'Ange and my first intoxicating taste of joie, of the pageantry of the Longest Night and the beautiful licentiousness of Cereus House, the adepts of the Night Court indulging in every pleasure.
Jehanne, her eyes sparkling with delight…
And later, on the ship.
Bao…
"Very tonic, Master Lo," I whispered. "Very tonic, indeed." With loving care, I covered the bulbs with soil.
"They will thrive," the dragon assured me. "And perhaps here on these sacred slopes, they will grow even stronger." His long jowls parted in a smile. "Perhaps one day they will play a role in someone else's story."
I wiped my eyes. "I hope it is a beautiful one with a happy ending."
"So do I," Snow Tiger murmured.
And then the dragon carried us back to the village. He flew low over the battlefield where the Imperial armies were preparing to break camp. Everywhere, men turned their faces to the sky, lit with joy for the sheer beauty and majesty of the dragon in flight.
In the village square, we bade farewell to the dragon for the last time. I put my arms around his sinuous neck, pressing my cheek to the smooth, silvery scales.
"Be well, treasured friend," I whispered. "Guard your pearl carefully."
I will. He spoke in my thoughts, pouring all his incomprehensibly vast affection into me. Do not fear, Moirin. All will be well in time.
"Thank you," I said, adding, "What does time mean to a dragon?"
The dragon only laughed deep in his chest.
I withdrew to let the princess say her farewell to him in privacy. Whatever was said, their voices were inaudible—a feat I hadn't reckoned the dragon capable of achieving. She stood for a moment in the tender embrace of his coils, then walked away toward where I was waiting with Ten Tigers Dai and an escort of patient guards.
The dragon launched himself in glory, undulating against the blue sky. We stood and watched his gleaming figure dwindle, watched until he had settled himself atop the distant peaks of White Jade Mountain, blending into the snow-covered landscape.
Snow Tiger sighed. I reached out to take her hand, squeezing it. She returned the pressure gratefully. "He is where he belongs."
"Aye," I agreed. "Home."
Home.
It was a lovely word that made my heart ache. I wasn't sure what it meant to me anymore. What was home? The cave in Alba where I had grown up, warmed by my mother's