Jacqueline Carey - Naamah's Curse

“The Great Khan Naram sends for you, Moirin,” she whispered. “He wishes to see you now .”

“Oh.” The inside of my mouth felt foul. I licked my dry lips and swallowed against a sudden surge of nausea.

Solongo shook her head. “You may shoot like a man, but you cannot hold your drink like one,” she said, not unkindly. “I will bring you tea.”

The hot, rich tea helped. I drank it down in gulps, willing it to settle my stomach. The ger was filled with snoring, slumbering men sleeping off the aftereffects of too much airag . Not wanting to disturb anyone, I washed my face in a bucket of clean water and went to answer the Great Khan’s summons.

He had sent an escort of ten warriors. They greeted me with nods of acknowledgment, and we set off through the campsite. It was early. The sun had not yet cleared the horizon. In the east, faint streaks of gold lit the sky, but it was still dark in the west. The Khan’s men set a brisk pace, and I stumbled as I tried to keep up with them. I felt disheveled, disoriented, and out of sorts, and irritated at the Great Khan for exacting such a petty revenge.

Inside a spacious ger with a splendidly painted door, the Great Khan Naram was waiting for me, flanked by a pair of somber, bearded Vralian men with gold chains around their necks, heavy medallions dangling.

I blinked, perplexed. The Khan’s men crowded into the room behind me.

“Moirin mac Fainche.” Like General Arslan before him, the Khan pronounced my name with care. There was no expression I could read on his face. “These fine men from Vralia wish to meet you.”

Both of them inclined their heads.

I supposed they were among those few who had stayed out of idle curiosity. I couldn’t imagine why they cared about the outcome of a Tatar archery contest, or why they wanted to meet me, but I inclined my head in polite reply. When one of them stepped forward and extended his hand toward mine, I gave it to him.

Instantaneously, his fingers tightened around mine in a crushing grip. His other hand came from behind his back, trailing a rattling chain. Before I could react, he had clamped a cuff of silver metal around my wrist.

I pulled back sharply, drawing breath to shout.

A hard hand covered my mouth from behind-one of the Khan’s men. He twisted my head, wrenching it backward and sideways until my neck bones strained in agony.

Terror flooded through me.

Now the Great Khan’s face came alive with righteous fury. “Struggle, and he will snap your neck,” he hissed at me. “Do you understand?” Behind the warrior’s hand, I made a faint, terrified sound of assent. “Good.” He gestured at the Vralians to continue.

One of them produced a key, locking the silver cuff in place around my right wrist. I felt the beginning sensation of my spirit being suffocated, the way I still felt sometimes in man-made places. Panicked, I breathed hard through my nose.

Chains jangled. A second cuff was clamped on my left wrist, and then a larger circlet around my neck. The Tatar holding my head wrenched sideways moved considerately to make room for the Vralians, who worked gravely and dispassionately.

With each shackle, the sense of suffocation intensified-and my awareness of Bao’s diadh-anam faded.

And then the Vralians yanked off my thick, felt-lined boots and placed shackles and a chain on my bare ankles, and the process was complete.

My spirit was bound.

My diadh-anam was a frantic blaze inside me, beating at the walls of my chest like a caged hawk. I could no longer feel Bao’s presence in the camp. I could no longer sense the faint call of destiny in the west. I couldn’t even sense all the familiar things I took for granted, like the whisper of grass growing.

Seeing the horror written on my face, the Great Khan smiled slowly. “The witch is contained, I think. Now you will listen.” He raised one finger. “I will tell my man to release you. If you hold your tongue, I will honor my agreement with the Vralians. You will go with them, alive. If you cry out for help…” He plucked a dagger from his belt. “I will simply kill you here and now. Will you be silent?”

I nodded as best I could.

The Khan gestured to the man holding me. He let go of my head. I fell to my knees in a rattling tangle of chains, breathing hard, my neck aching.

“You cheated yesterday.” The Great Khan stooped to grab a handful of my hair, yanking my head upright. “My shamans agree. You used witchcraft to still the wind.”

I gave my head a faint shake of denial.

“Do not lie!” Clutching a hank of my hair, he gave my head a fierce shake. My scalp burned, bringing tears to my eyes. He narrowed his gaze at me. “I will not allow you to make a mockery of me, to bring shame and dishonor upon my family.”

“Please…” I whispered.

The Khan struck me across the face-hard enough to sting, no harder. It was only a warning. “You will be silent.” He released his grip on my hair, setting his hands on his belt and contemplating me. “Clearly, you possess magic. I think Arslan is right, and you are not so powerful as you pretend. Still, your tongue is a dangerous weapon. As much as he resents you, you charmed him to the point where he would not counsel violence against you.” He raised his brows. “Batu’s tribe is bewitched. Even my own daughter softened toward you. Should a daughter of mine accept her own humiliation?” He shook his head. “Never. I regret that she did not cut out your cursed tongue, but listened to it instead.”

I swallowed hard.

He leaned over me. “What did you say to her? That it was not her fault, that she had done nothing wrong?” With a cruel smile, he quoted my words. “ It is only that the gods have decreed otherwise . Perhaps you may take comfort in those words as you find your fate is not as you had imagined.” Straightening, he nodded toward the Vralians. “It seems their gods have decreed otherwise.”

My heart was hammering in my chest, competing with my frantic diadh-anam . And yet I had to speak, even if the Great Khan struck me again. “Bao,” I whispered, flinching in anticipation. “He will know.”

“Yes.” Magnanimous in victory, the Khan withheld the blow I deserved. “I daresay he will when he wakes. Like you, he was plied with strong drink last night. If the magic of Vralia’s gods is as strong as they claim, my son-in-law will be free of the ties that bind you to him. Perhaps he will choose to stay after all.” He shrugged. “If not, for the sake of my soft-hearted daughter and my good general Arslan, I will show him mercy.”

It gave me a glimmer of hope.

The Khan Naram saw it, and crushed it with pleasure. “In time, I will relent and tell him what befell you. I have a fine tale prepared.” Another cruel smile curved his lips. “One that will send him far, far away from where you are going.”

I closed my eyes in despair.

The Great Khan gave an order.

Someone struck me hard from behind. Pain burst across my skull, and stars of spangled light burst behind my eyelids, flickering and fading.

I fell into darkness.

I awoke in a covered cart, jolting over the plains.

At first I thought it was a bad dream, a nightmare brought on by strained nerves and too much airag , a jumbled mess of old fables and dire magic spun by my sleeping mind. But when I stirred, chains rattled.

Bound.

I was bound, well and truly bound. I remembered the shackles being clamped on to me and locked into place, the Vralians’ grave, dispassionate faces. My head ached ferociously. My diadh-anam was a faint, defeated spark inside me. I couldn’t sense Bao’s presence anywhere. I couldn’t feel a thing beyond the confines of my skin.