Jacqueline Carey - Naamah's Curse

“Mayhap she is ready to hear mine,” I said.

“Mayhap,” he said doubtfully.

She wasn’t, at least not at first.

I called on the Great Khan’s daughter later in the day, taking Oyun and one of the other young tribesmen as an escort. Erdene made me wait a long time outside her ger before deciding to honor the laws of hospitality and allow me to be admitted. She did not go so far as to offer me the traditional bowl of tea, for which I was just as glad. By the look on her face, it would have likely been poisoned.

It felt strange being in the dwelling she shared with Bao. Although I hadn’t known it at the time, the ger to which he had led me that first day belonged to another family who had vacated it willingly at the request of the Great Khan’s son-in-law. It embarrassed me to think on it.

Here, I saw signs of Bao’s presence. There was a string of dried snowdrop bulbs hanging from the framework, their number diminished since I last saw them. The square of embroidered black and white magpies I had given to him was unfolded in a deliberate display on a bed.

That, I thought, was Erdene’s doing. Bao would not have flaunted it. She wanted to remind me they shared a bed.

Having granted me admission, Erdene sat stiffly on a chair, several attendants around her. She did not invite me to sit.

“Greetings, your highness,” I said politely. “Do your cattle prosper?”

A flicker of irritation crossed her face. “What do you want, witch?”

So much for pleasantries. “I come to offer an apology,” I said in a steady tone. “My actions have caused you pain. I am sorry.”

Erdene’s nostrils flared. “Then undo it! Undo your magic and give me back my husband!”

“I cannot undo it,” I said softly. “And Bao is not mine to give. His choices are his own to make.”

Her mouth hardened. “You lie.”

“No.” I shook my head. “My father once told me that the gods use their chosen hard. I believe it is true. I believe it is also true that the gods are careless of those whose fates are crossed by their chosen.”

In a flash, Erdene rose from the chair and launched herself at me, plucking a dagger from her sash. It was so quick and unexpected, it took me utterly by surprise. She planted the tip of her dagger against my throat, grabbing my hair with her other hand. “I do not want to hear you speak! One more word, and I will cut out your tongue!”

I forced myself to breathe slowly and calmly-the Breath of Ocean’s Rolling Waves, the most soothing of all the Five Styles. The Great Khan’s daughter was a head shorter than me, but there was a great deal of strength in her small, sturdy figure.

Her grip on my hair tightened, the point of the dagger digging into my skin. “Do you understand?” she asked fiercely, her voice trembling. “Do you, o chosen one?”

I gazed at her without speaking. There were angry tears in her wide-set eyes. Gods, she was young! No more than sixteen.

Erdene pressed the dagger harder and I felt a warning pin-prick of pain as the tip pierced my skin. “Do you?”

“Yes, your highness,” I said quietly, ignoring the trickle of blood at my throat and speaking to the hurt and anger within her. “Better than you know. I am a woman, too. I once loved a man who could not give his heart to me. I persisted in loving him well beyond folly. Bao has been cruel to you in his thoughtlessness, but I do not think he meant to be. This man used me badly on purpose, and I let him.”

The pressure eased.

“I understand the pain, the sense of shame, the anger at the unfairness of it all,” I continued. “But it is not your fault. There is no shame in loving, no shame in honest desire. You did nothing wrong. It is only that the gods have decreed otherwise.”

The Great Khan’s daughter blinked rapidly, her throat working. “It hurts !”

“I know,” I whispered, my heart aching for her. “I know it all too well, which is why I am so very sorry.”

She released me abruptly, turning to hurl her dagger across the ger . Her attendants flinched.

“Go.” Erdene kept her back turned to me, her shoulders hunched and tight. “I have heard your apology. I do not wish to hear more.”

I bowed, and went.

The archery contest was set to take place three days later, and I was to be allowed to compete in it.

All in all, spirits were running high in the campsite. There were exceptions, of course. The Great Khan’s daughter was miserable; the Great Khan himself was disgruntled. His loyal general Arslan was unhappy. I was torn between guilt and hope; and I knew Bao felt much the same.

Everyone else was excited.

It was almost all Tatars, now. Whatever negotiations took place among the northern Bhodistani and the Vralians had been concluded. Most of them had departed, only a few lingering out of a mild curiosity, I supposed. No one but the Tatars truly cared about the contests.

And they cared very much. They were eager to see me humiliated, or at least most of them were.

When I thought about it, I felt sick and scared inside. I was no warrior, raised to take pride in my prowess with a bow. I was just… me. I had only learned to shoot to help provide for my mother and myself. It was a way of life, nothing more.

“That is the best reason of all, Moirin,” Batu said firmly to me. “Survival. Do not worry. Whatever happens, you will not embarrass yourself.”

“No?”

“No.” His kind eyes crinkled. “I am aware of the games that were played in the deep of winter. It has always galled the young men of my tribe that they cannot defeat you in this sport. Do you think that we are so unskilled that we cannot hold our own with the best of the Great Khan’s men?”

“No.” I smiled at him. “Batu, with your kindness and generosity, I am quite sure you are the best of the Great Khan’s men.”

He blushed and averted his head, which I found utterly charming. I would have kissed his cheek, except I knew it would scandalize him. “I have asked everyone to cull their arrows to choose those with the straightest shafts and the finest fletching. We will do our best to make sure you have arrows that fly true.”

I was touched. “I will try not to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, Moirin,” Batu said in a gentle voice. “I wish you well.”

I spent many hours practicing away from the campsite, honing my skill. Alone, I was better able to concentrate, and I found that the discipline that Master Lo had taught me served me well.

On the day before the archery contest, Bao rode out to meet me. Although it was hard to be apart, we had continued to be circumspect. There had been little contact between us since it had been decreed that I would be allowed to compete. My heart and my diadh-anam leapt inside me at his approach, and I knew he felt the same.

We found ourselves smiling foolishly at each other, both of us self-consciously aware of it, yet unable to help ourselves.

“So,” I said.

“So,” Bao echoed, dismounting. “It is almost upon us. I will be glad when this is over, Moirin.”

My anxiety returned ten-fold. “So will I, but, Bao, please don’t count on me to win! Truly, I think the odds are very much against it.”

“They are,” he observed. “Almost no one is wagering on you. And yes, I know it is unlikely. It is only that it is our best chance of seeing the matter resolved peaceably.”

I was relieved that he wasn’t putting unreasonable expectations on me. “What happens if I do lose? Other than the gloating.”