Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [50]
I wasn't entirely clear on the role this Philippe had played, but it seemed he'd been there at nearly every turn, and that was enough for Damien.
"All the good stories are old stories," he said wistfully after finishing one. "Nothing exciting like that happens anymore."
"What about the new land discovered across the western sea?" I suggested. Cillian's tales of cities in the jungle and folk dressed all in feathers and jade had certainly sounded exciting.
Damien scowled. "Terra Nova? King Daniel's content to let others explore it."
"Oh?"
He lowered his voice. "They say there are fortunes to be made, too. But he's not even sent a delegation. The Aragonians are setting up trade in the south, Vralians and Gotlanders and the like in the north. Even your Cruarch's talking about the prospect of establishing permanent trade posts between the two. We're doing naught but twiddle our thumbs."
The words boggled me. "Doing what?"
He demonstrated. "It's just an expression, my lady. It means we're idle."
"Oh, aye." I thought about it. "Terre d'Ange is a wealthy country in its own right, is it not? Mayhap there's wisdom in being content with what one already has. Would that I'd appreciated it more ere I lost it."
That intrigued him. "What did you lose?"
I gazed at the open sea behind us. "Everything."
"Why?"
I shrugged. "Because the Maghuin Dhonn Herself has chosen a destiny for me. What it is, I've not the slightest idea. Only that I'm meant to seek it."
The lad's blue eyes glowed. "Take me with you!" he breathed. "Don't you see? If the captain will release me, I could swear myself into your service like Philippe Dumont and Phedre no Delaunay!"
It seemed unlikely, but I supposed there were worse things than a garrulous young companion if that was what fate willed for me. I consulted my diadh-anam and saw in memory the visage of Herself turning away in sorrow and regret. Whatever his ancestry, he was no more meant to accompany me than my mother had been.
"No," I said gently, touching his sun-gilded hair. "I don't think so, Damien. I'm sorry."
He pulled away from me. "It's not fair!"
I watched his retreating back. "No, it's not."
We made harbor at the port of Bourdes, navigating the estuary. A great statue of Shemhazai stood on the bank of the wide river-mouth gazing westward, an open book in one hand. I'm sure it was very fine and impressive, but it wasn't what pleased me the most. I stood in the prow of the Heart of Gold and breathed in the scent of soil and green growing things.
Vines.
This was D'Angeline wine country, terraced and tamed. It was rich, though. I could taste the air on my tongue, taste the pride in the burgeoning grape-clusters, a faint silvery sheen on every fruit. I was sorry when we sailed past the outlying islands and the inland fields to put in at harbor and enter the city proper.
Stone and sea, it was vast.
Bigger than Bryn Gorrydum, bigger than anything I'd seen.
I tried to find Damien to bid him farewell, but he'd made himself scarce. So instead I accepted Captain Renniel's offer of assistance. He led me through the streets of Bourdes, carrying my satchel while I carried the new bow and quiver Mabon had made me over my shoulder. The streets were wider than in Alba and filled with the clatter of hooves. This, too, made my head ache.
We found the stagecoach post.
"City of Elua?" The man behind the counter glanced up, then gave me a startled second look. "Departs on the morrow,