Jacqueline Carey - Naamah's Curse

“I do.”

“Let me see it, then.” He gestured. “Your magic.”

I shook my head. “No.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why?”

I took a deep breath. “Because it is a gift of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, and a sacred trust given to my people to hold. Because I have let myself be used unwisely in the past. I will not perform tricks to satisfy your curiosity.”

“Will not or cannot ?” General Arslan eyed me speculatively. “The Vralians tell a tale about one of your kind, you know. He was either cursed or sainted. I am not certain.”

“Both,” I murmured.

“Can you take on the form of a bear?”

I didn’t answer.

“I think not.” He pushed his chair decisively away from the table. “I think that although there may be a kernel of truth to these tales, you are weaker than you pretend. And I will ask you one last time, Moirin mac Fainche. Will you go from this place and leave my son in peace?”

“No,” I whispered. “I can’t.”

The general inclined his head. “So be it.”

I rose to my feet, leaving my tea untouched on the table. “Is that all? Are we enemies, then?”

“No.” He drained his bowl of tea noisily, then shoved it away as though it had offended him, his face stony. “But we are not friends, either.”

Bao, your father is a bit… scary.”

“Yes,” he agreed, not sounding particularly displeased by it. “I think so, too.”

I shivered. “He wants you to stay.”

“I know.” As we walked through the campsite together, Bao and I behaved in a circumspect manner, making sure to keep several feet of space between us. It didn’t matter. He was near enough that our diadh-anams whispered together. It felt at once odd and familiar. “But I am going.”

“How?”

“ How is the problem.” He paused to watch a pair of wrestlers engaging in a practice bout. I’d been wrong, the formal games had not yet begun. “The Great Khan has informed me that he has no intention of allowing me to leave his daughter. But if I won one of the contests, I would earn the right to ask him for a boon. He would not like it, but he would be honor-bound to grant it.”

I felt relieved, remembering the ease with which he had dispatched his opponents the other day. “Well, then! Fighting is what you do best, right?”

“Fighting, yes.” Bao looked somber. “But there is no fighting that suits my skill in the contests. Only traditional Tatar sports. Horse-racing, archery, and wrestling.” He pointed at the two men grunting and straining for purchase as they grappled with one another. “They have been doing this all their lives. I do not think I can beat the best of them.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “Armed with my staff, I would gladly take on any man here with any weapon he chose. Unarmed, I am very good in a brawl. But I’m not a wrestler, Moirin.”

I believed him. Gods knew, Bao wasn’t given to false modesty. He wasn’t given to idle boasting, either. If he said he could do a thing, he could. If he said he could not, it must be true. I swallowed my disappointment.

Horse-racing was out-and archery, too. I’d seen Bao ride, and while he was skilled enough, I was a better rider. If I couldn’t win against the young men of Batu’s tribe, there was no way Bao could win against the best here. And he had become a stick-fighter because peasants were forbidden edged weapons in Ch’in. He had no skill with a bow.

I did, though.

I contemplated that fact in silence for a moment. It was a daring enough notion that it made me sweat with anxiety at the mere thought of it. “Bao… in the archery contest, do they shoot on foot or from horseback?”

“Both,” he said. “There are three contests. Two for the short bow-one on foot and one on horseback at a full gallop. One for the long bow on foot. But, Moirin, I’m not-” He paused, gazing at me with a speculative gleam in his eye. “ You are. Do you think you could outshoot a Tatar?”

I licked my lips, finding them dry. “Not on horseback, no. But on foot I held my own against Batu’s folk.”

“Against men?” Bao asked. “Because there are no contests only for women.”

I scowled at him. “Aye, against men!”

“Peace, Moirin. For you, I am willing to swallow my pride. I only wanted to be certain.” He flashed a grin at me. “I know you are a very good archer. Do you remember in Shuntian when that fellow interfered in my fight with Ten Tigers Dai, and you shot the hat clean off his head? Even a Tatar would think twice at taking that risk.”

It made me smile. “Well, I was angry-and it was at close range. I don’t know if I could beat the best here, Bao. Probably not. Do you think they would even let me try?”

He rubbed his chin. “Maybe. I do not think there is any rule forbidding a woman to compete against the men, it is only that women are not strong enough to draw a bow hard enough to shoot as far as a man.” He glanced sidelong at me. “If you won, they would say it was magic.”

“Like as not,” I agreed.

Bao’s gaze was candid. “Would it be?”

I opened my mouth to say no, then paused, frowning. “Truly? I don’t know, Bao. I’ve been shooting for the pot since I was a child in Alba. My skill is fairly earned.”

He followed my thoughts. “What about your bow? Is it charmed?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “My uncle Mabon made it for me. My mother said he had a gift for working with wood.” I shrugged. “I don’t know if she meant an ordinary knack, or a gift of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.”

“Your mother wasn’t very talkative, was she?” Bao observed.

It was true, and I laughed. “No.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He gave a dismissive wave. “They will claim it, but they cannot prove it. I have seen your bow, and there is nothing remarkable-looking about it, nothing to suggest it is charmed in any way. Actually, it looks quite primitive.”

“Nonetheless, it is a very fine bow,” I said with a touch of indignation.

“So it is.” Bao’s expression turned grave. “Moirin, this might be our best course. If you fail, the worst that will happen is that your opponents will gloat. And I think they might permit it in the hope of that outcome. Are you at least willing to try?”

I eyed him. “Are you sure you’re not a wrestler?”

“Very,” he said with regret. “Given a few more months’ time, I might become one. I’m good at learning such skills. Now?” He shook his head. “As little as I like to admit it, I stand no chance of winning.”

I sighed. “Then I will try.”

“Good,” he said simply.

We walked together in silence for a time, keeping our careful distance from each other. Folk in the camp steered away to give us a wide berth, no one willing to start trouble so long as we were discreet. Giving the lie to appearances, our diadh-anams twined with one another, flickering and teasing, rising and falling joyfully in a private celebration. It was a sensation in some ways more intimate than a touch, both pleasurable and unnerving.

“Strange as it is, I am learning to live with it,” Bao said presently. “Now that you are here, it is not entirely unpleasant.”

I did not need to ask what he meant. “Yes, I know. Bao…” I halted. “I would like to speak with her.”

His brows shot upward. “Erdene?”

I squared my shoulders. “Yes. I would like to apologize to her. I owe her that much, at least.”

His expression turned dubious. “Moirin, I think it is very wonderful that you always wish to do what you think is right and honorable. But it is not always what people want. Erdene is angry, very angry. Believe me, I have tried to apologize to her many times already. She is not ready to hear it.”