Jacqueline Carey - Naamah's Curse

Hui translated.

The proprietress turned on me with irritation, then gaped with comical surprise. She let go of Song’s earlobe and stroked the girl’s braided hair with an absentminded affection that belied her scolding, then questioned Hui in the local dialect. He grinned and replied. The proprietress bowed and spoke rapidly, gesturing at the door.

“Auntie Ai says you are most welcome here, Moirin,” Hui said helpfully. “Of course, you may come in and speak to Song and her mother. If you would like to purchase some very fine embroidery work, that would also be good.”

I smiled. “My thanks.”

Auntie Ai led us through the crowded front room with squares of embroidered fabric stacked in piles. Although most of the material was plain cotton, the quality of the embroidery was indeed quite fine. The girl Song stole glances at me, her face alight with eager curiosity. She was a pretty girl, and I saw traces of Bao in the shape of her ears, the angle of her jaw, and her full lips. She couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen, hovering on the brink of womanhood.

“You’re her?” she asked me shyly, speaking the scholar’s tongue with more skill than her father.

“I’m her,” I agreed.

She clapped her hands together with unbridled delight. Auntie Ai shook her head, but she smiled, too.

I knew Bao’s mother at a glance. She rose to her feet in amazement as we entered the sewing chamber, a tangle of fabric and silk thread spilling from her lap. One hand touched her lips, her eyes brightening with tears. “It’s true?”

“Aye, my lady,” I said gently.

A joyful laugh spilled from her. “I knew he would not lie! Oh, tell me! Tell me everything!”

So I did, once Auntie Ai had bustled around and served cups of hot, fragrant tea and sweet bean-cakes. I told the whole long story of how I had met Bao and Master Lo Feng in Terre d’Ange, how Master Lo had taken me on as a student. How I had accompanied them across many seas in a greatship when the Emperor’s men came to fetch Master Lo to tend to the afflicted princess.

“Is it true that Princess Snow Tiger killed her husband on their wedding night?” Song asked in a hushed whisper.

“Oh, yes.” I nodded. “It was a very awful thing. Everyone thought it was a demon that possessed her. But it was the dragon, waking in terror and panicking at finding himself trapped in her flesh.”

It was worse than they knew. The dragon had awoken while Snow Tiger and her bridegroom were engaged in the act of love. In his panic, the celestial creature had struck out in blind terror, and with dragon-infused strength, the princess had torn her bridegroom from limb to limb. I knew, I had seen her memories. After she had come to trust me, I had held her in the small hours of darkness when the nightmares came.

“But you saw the dragon inside her!” Song said triumphantly.

“Aye.” I smiled. “I did. And with the magic that is the gift of my mother’s people, I was able to let the princess see the dragon in the mirror.”

Bao’s mother, whose name was Yingtai, shook her head in wonder.

I told the rest of the story, from our escape from Shuntian and our journey in disguise across Ch’in to our victory at White Jade Mountain. Hui translated in a low tone for Auntie Ai. They knew it, of course. Everyone in Ch’in knew it. Bao had told it to them himself. But it was the sort of story that bore hearing over and over, the sort of story for retelling during long winter nights around the fire.

When I had finished, Yingtai sighed with profound pleasure. “I knew he was not lying,” she said in a soft, wistful voice.

“Your husband did not believe him,” I said.

“No.” Her brow furrowed. “Ang Shen is a good man at heart. After the Tatar raid, after it was clear that Bao was not his son… the shame of it broke him.” She glanced at her daughter. “Then, for many years, I did not get pregnant again. He… perhaps we did not try often enough. In ten years of trying, Song is our only child. When my Bao returned claiming a hero’s status, it broke him all over again.”

Song fidgeted. “Father is disappointed that I am a girl.”

“Perhaps he might think on the pride that Emperor Zhu takes in his daughter,” I suggested. “A pride the entire Empire shares.”

That made her smile. “Is Princess Snow Tiger as beautiful and brave as they say?”

“Every bit and more,” I assured her. “Now, tell me about Bao. How long did he stay? How long has he been gone? Did he say where he was bound?”

“He was troubled.” Bao’s mother’s gaze rested on me, careworn and concerned. “I did not understand… he died ? And you brought him back to life?”

I had skipped that part of the tale, reckoning it was not something a mother wanted to hear. “He died, yes, struck by one of Black Sleeve’s poisoned darts. It was Master Lo Feng who used my magic to trade his life for Bao’s.”

Yingtai looked away. “I could see that there was a shadow over him. He was at odds with himself. He asked me… he asked me about the Tatar who fathered him. If there was aught I could tell him.”

The sewing room was very quiet.

“Was there?” I asked at length.

“Yes.” She looked back at me. “He had a scar, here.” She drew a line from brow to cheek over her right eye. “I have not forgotten.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured.

Yingtai gave a stoic shrug. “Men can be cruel. I begged Bao not to seek him out. Even if he succeeds, I can see no reason for it.” She folded her hands in her lap, studying me. “Although he did not declare his feelings, his face changes when he speaks of you,” she said softly. “At last, I asked him. Why, when his feelings for you were written so clearly on his face, was he going in the opposite direction? He could not explain it to me.”

“I don’t think he knows,” I said. “Not really.”

She nodded. “He is searching for an answer for which no question exists.”

I smiled ruefully. “That sounds about right.” Feeling the weight of strong emotion in the cloistered room, I changed the subject. “How did you learn the scholar’s tongue? You speak it well.”

“From my grandfather.” Yingtai stroked her daughter’s hair. “A long time ago. I taught Song as much as I remember.”

Song cast a sharp glance toward Hui, who was surreptitiously stuffing the second to last of the sweet bean-cakes into his mouth. “If I were a boy, I would sit for the examination one day!”

He sputtered a defiant, unintelligible reply. Auntie Ai cuffed his head absently and snatched the plate away, offering it insistently to me. I took the last sweet out of politeness, the jade bangles around my wrist tinkling as I reached for it.

“Oh!” Song touched one of the bangles. “So beautiful! May I see?”

“Of course.” I extended both arms. Her slender fingers danced over the polished stone bracelets. “That one is the exact color of the reflecting pool beneath White Jade Mountain, where the dragon gazes at himself,” I said when she paused over my favorite, a vivid translucent green bangle. “The very place where we freed him. Princess Snow Tiger chose it herself.”

“And this?” She pointed at the bangle next to it, a deeper, more intense shade of green.

“That’s called Imperial jade.” I touched another, a pale milky-white bangle with cloudy patches. “This is leopard jade. And this, this red one is said to bring luck. Which is your favorite?”

Song contemplated the six bangles I wore with great seriousness. “This one,” she said at length, touching a clear, pale green piece with honey-colored highlights. “It looks like a river in sunlight with fish swimming in it.”

I worked it free. “Then it is my gift to you.”