Jacqueline Carey - Naamah's Curse

Unlike most folk I had encountered, the Tatars did not find it strange that the Maghuin Dhonn worship the Great Bear Herself. They simply nodded, accepting it as a matter of course; and I found myself grateful for that simple acceptance.

Like folk everywhere, they marveled at the opulence and licentiousness of the D’Angeline lifestyle. Although I couched the details in discreet terms for the benefit of the children, Batu and Checheg were shocked to learn that the King of Terre d’Ange not only wed a courtesan, but allowed her to take lovers.

“Heh!” Grandmother Yue cackled with delight. “I say good for her!”

Some details, I chose to withhold. Reckoning they would find it too unlike their customs to understand, I didn’t tell them that Jehanne had seduced me quite thoroughly, only that she had rescued me from Raphael’s deadly ambition.

Everyone agreed that Raphael was a right scoundrel, but they reveled in the tales of the fallen spirits we summoned and how they tricked Raphael and his companions. Checheg and Batu’s daughter, Sarangerel, especially loved to hear about the spirit Caim, who had eyes like an owl and antlers with a bird’s nest caught in them. According to lore, Caim could bestow the gift of communicating with all living creatures. He tricked Raphael and the others by teaching them the language of ants, which was composed wholly of scent. They gave up before the spirit Caim moved on to crickets.

It was a time of peace, but it was also a time of prolonged yearning, that endless Tatar winter. The warmth and kindness everyone extended to me made me miss my home. Gods, I missed having a home. I missed my taciturn, oh-so-familiar mother in Alba, and the lovely, gracious father I had discovered in Terre d’Ange. I missed my sparkling lady Jehanne, with whom I would always be a little bit in love. I missed Snow Tiger, whom I had come to cherish in a very different way.

I missed the dragon, my splendid friend.

And always, always, always, I ached for Bao’s presence. I could sense his diadh-anam burning like a beacon, near enough that I could have ridden there in ten days were it not for the deadly cold. I ached to be reunited with the missing half of my diadh-anam . That was a constant. And it frustrated me, not only because I could not go to him, but because I could not sort out in my confused heart what was real and what was the result of the binding Master Lo Feng had laid upon us.

I knew where my feelings began and ended. They began with a sneaking fondness for Master Lo’s magpie, the proud, stubborn peasant-boy with whom I had bickered and quarreled for so long, before we fell into bed with one another and began a thorny love affair. They ended with Bao walking away from me, leaving me alone and bereft, the spark of my sundered diadh-anam burning steadily inside him.

It was the missing parts in between that confused me.

There were good days and bad days. On good days, I thought mayhap it was for the best that I had this time to reflect. As harsh as they were, the frozen Tatar grasslands had a sweeping majesty to them. Although I felt guilty whenever I wasn’t aiding Checheg in the ger , I liked being outdoors, liked the impossibly vast blue sky arching above me.

I liked doing simple tasks like fetching water from the nearby river, or even gathering cow-dung to dry. I liked to practice the Five Styles of Breathing in the achingly cold air. While I still missed trees, I liked the elemental rhythm of Tatar life.

On the bad days…

On the bad days, I questioned myself. If I had not tarried in the Celestial City in Shuntian an extra week, dallying with the princess, mayhap I would have beaten the weather and gained Bao’s side before winter’s onset, so we might use these long nights to resolve matters between us.

That had been my doing, all my doing.

Snow Tiger had asked me to invoke Naamah’s blessing on her behalf, and I had done it gladly. She had not asked me to tarry. I was the one who had badgered her to let me stay, at least for a week’s time. She had agreed to it without much persuasion needed. And I did not want to regret it, for it had been a time of profound grace.

I would have stayed longer had she let me. I would have spent the winter in Shuntian with her.

The Emperor’s daughter’s face swam in my memory, her dark eyes grave. It is too easy to accept the comfort you offer, Moirin. I have duties that lie elsewhere. You have a destiny to follow .

She was right, of course. But it didn’t stop me from resenting my everlasting destiny on the bad days. It seemed unfair that it constantly drove me away from people for whom I cared deeply, and doubly unfair that the one person to whom my destiny was inextricably linked was bound and determined to evade me.

I wondered what Bao was feeling.

Bit by bit, I learned more about his circumstances. I learned that General Arslan was high in the Great Khan’s favor. Batu confirmed that he would have been the one to lead a raid on Tonghe village twenty-some years ago.

“Very good warrior,” he said slowly to me. “Strong man.”

“Why?” I asked. “Why fight and kill?”

Batu frowned and shook his head, deciding it was too complicated a matter to explain to me with my limited Tatar language. He beckoned Grandmother Yue over and spoke to her at length.

“Ah, child!” she said when he finished. “It’s the way of the world, that’s all. The Ch’in raided Tatar camps, too. When the men were away, they kidnapped women and children and enslaved them, put them to work building the wall.”

I took a sharp breath. “Put them to work building the very wall meant to keep them out? That’s a piece of bitter irony.”

She nodded. “I told you, it’s the way of the world. Arslan lost his young wife. He was only taking vengeance.”

“By raping an innocent woman?” I asked in outrage.

“I did not say I agreed with it,” Grandmother Yue said in a gentle tone. “I said it was the way of the world, Moirin. It is in the nature of mankind.”

I thought about her words when I breathed the Five Styles and meditated, doing my best to be mindful of Master Lo’s teaching and let one thought give rise to another. It was hard, and I thought mayhap there were things in the world I didn’t want to understand. In my travels, I had learned that the followers of the Path of Dharma believed that to live was to suffer. I was not willing to accept their wisdom as truth, but I could understand why many did.

Master Lo had allowed the possibility that mayhap I had my own path of enlightenment to follow, the Path of Desire.

These days, it seemed a very distant possibility.

Oh, I could have taken a lover if I had wished it. After the initial shock of my appearance, almost everyone at Batu’s camp treated me with genuine warmth. I had a way with animals, and that endeared me to their keepers. The Tatars lived closer to nature than any folk I’d encountered save my own. I continued to be surprised and pleased by their acceptance. Although I understood there was some lingering debate as to whether or not I was a forest spirit from the distant mountains, it was generally agreed that it was a good thing if it were true. From time to time, I caught sidelong glances from some of the bolder young men in the camp, suggesting a tryst would be welcome.

But my diadh-anam disapproved, and the bright lady was silent. It seemed Naamah’s gift had gone dormant for the winter.

Life held other pleasures. Living in the ger , I came to value Batu’s quiet strength, his obvious love for his wife and children. I treasured Checheg’s steady kindness and guidance. Their eldest son, Temur, spent a good deal of time blushing in my presence, but that was to be expected at his age, and he was a good-hearted lad.