Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [47]
Caroline no Bryony gazed at me with parted lips, then gave herself a shake. "I nearly find myself believing it," she said in a wondering tone. "And not nearly so convinced that the City of Elua will eat you alive." She slid the paper with the address of the temple across her desk. "You'll find the temple in the Tsingani quarter. And do heed my advice and seek out Benoit at the Atelier Favrielle. The D'Angeline peerage may be contemptuous of anyone they think rustic or provincial, but they're mad for novelty. The right attire can mean the difference between the two."
"They sound a shallow folk," I observed.
She began to protest, then smiled with self-deprecating charm. "We can be, yes. Shallow and vain and insular. Also, proud, valorous, and great-hearted. I hope you will find somewhat to love in us."
"I already have," I assured her.
She laughed. "Elua have mercy on the City, Moirin of the Maghuin Dhonn."
Two days later, I set sail for Terre d'Ange.
It was the single most terrifying thing I'd ever done in my young life. Up until the moment came, I hadn't truly contemplated the enormity of what I was doing. There was a part of me still numb from Cillian's death, and another part lulled and reassured by the assistance of Caroline no Bryony and her confidence in me. But when I saw the Heart of Gold bobbing at anchor in the harbor and the wide sea stretching beyond it, it struck me with a vengeance.
Alba was my home. I was born and bred here. All that I knew and loved was here, all that was dear and familiar. And I was about to leave it. My mouth went dry, my limbs went cold and tingling, and I found it hard to breathe.
"Moirin?" My mother searched my face. "You're white as a ghost."
My mother. Stone and sea, how could I leave my mother?
I opened my mouth, but no words came.
"You don't have to do this," my mother said fiercely. She turned to Oengus. "She doesn't, does she?"
He bowed his head. "I cannot say."
I thought about staying, leaving this city of stone and its bustling harbor, fleeing to the comfort and solitude of the forest. My heart leapt at the thought; but deep inside me, the spark of my diadh-anam guttered. I saw once more the Maghuin Dhonn turn from me with sorrow and regret, the slow, rolling surge of Her gait and the earth trembling beneath Her mighty paws as She walked away, this time forever.
And that loss ached even more than the one I faced.
"I have to go." I forced the words out. "I wish I didn't, but I do. I'm sorry. Please, if you love me, don't speak against this."
"I'll fetch the captain, shall I?" Mabon murmured. I was so grateful to him for understanding, all I could do was nod.
Captain Josephe Renniel was a tall, lean man with pale red-gold hair tied in a braid and wrinkles fanning from the corners of his blue-grey eyes. He managed to survey the four of us with considerable equanimity.
"Lady Moirin, I take it?" He spoke in slow, deliberate D'Angeline and bowed, then offered me his arm. "Will you come aboard?"
I took a deep breath, willing my racing heart to slow. "May I say good-bye to them?"
He nodded gravely. "Of course, my lady."
I hugged Oengus and Mabon. For as little as I'd seen of them throughout my life, it didn't matter. They were my folk, they were kin.
My mother.
Her tears were damp on my skin where her cheek pressed hard against mine. I closed my eyes for a long time. When I opened them and gazed over her shoulder, I saw sympathy in the captain's gaze. My mother squeezed my arms.
"Tell that man that if harm comes to you in his care, I will call down the curse of stone and sea and sky upon him," she said in a low, savage voice. "Until the very earth disdains his touch and every man's hand is against him!"
"Fainche," Oengus murmured.
She gave me a shake, eyes glittering. "Tell