Naamah's Blessing (Moirin's Trilogy #3)

“Fine,” I murmured. “He won’t. He needs me.”

Reluctantly, Bao released me. “There’s someone here I think you will very much want to see.”

For the space of a few heartbeats, I didn’t recognize the gaunt, work-hardened, sun-browned man approaching me—and then I did.

“Thierry,” I whispered.

The Dauphin of Terre d’Ange tried to summon a smile, but his dark blue eyes were red-rimmed with grief. “Moirin mac Fainche of the Maghuin Dhonn. You shouldn’t have undertaken this journey. Neither of us should.”

“Oh, gods!” I covered my mouth with both hands, realizing that he would only just have heard the news from home. Tears stung my own eyes. “Oh, Thierry! I’m so sorry about your father!”

“Thank you.” Thierry embraced me, kissing me on both cheeks. “I’m sorry to have led you here.”

One by one, others came to join us. It pained me to see the faint glimmer of hope in their eyes at the sight of my freedom.

“Any chance of talking sense into the Mad Lord de Mereliot?” Balthasar inquired. He looked around at the stream of ants that ringed the field, my own entourage having merged with their sentries. “I’m really not fond of insects.”

I glanced at Cusi, who appeared to be straining her ears and concentrating hard. “Not yet, no.”

Balthasar followed my gaze. “Ah.”

“She spies for that idiot Lord Lion Mane?” Bao asked me in the Shuntian scholar’s tongue.

I nodded. “Oh, yes. She believes he is a god.”

Bao’s jaw hardened. “Figures.”

Gazing at Prince Thierry, a thought struck me. “Your highness, Raphael de Mereliot knows no more than you did of the tragic events that have passed in Terre d’Ange. If he has any lingering care for Jehanne’s daughter, it may be that they will move him. I do not think I can sway him from his course here, but mayhap I can persuade him to free you to return to Terre d’Ange.”

Thierry gave a hollow laugh. “Do you think I’d stand a chance of reaching it? I barely survived this journey.”

I beckoned to Eyahue. “Would you guide him?”

The wiry old pochteca dug in his ear with one finger. “Eh?”

“Would you be willing to guide the prince back to Tenochtitlan if it could be arranged?” I asked patiently. “You and Temilotzin?”

“Oh, aye!” Eyahue brightened. “Anything to get out of here!”

“My ship Naamah’s Dove waits in Orgullo del Sol to carry you home, highness,” Septimus Rousse added. “Commanded by my able second, Alaric Dumont. It would be an honor to provide that service.”

“I would not save myself at the expense of the rest of you,” Thierry murmured. “Do not shame me.”

“You wouldn’t be saving yourself,” I said to him. “And there is no shame in attempting this. You would be saving your young sister, Desirée, whom I have sworn an oath to protect, and the rule of law in Terre d’Ange, which has currently been usurped by the Duc de Barthelme. Is that not worth doing?”

After a moment, Thierry de la Courcel nodded, his sun-browned face leaner and older than I remembered it, faint lines etched in the corners of his eyes. “In my father’s memory, yes.”

“I will try,” I promised him.

“What happens if you fail?” Balthasar asked me.

I shrugged. “We try somewhat else.”

My handmaid, Cusi, was quiet most of the way back to the palace, her features screwed up in thought. “I think there are many things I do not understand,” she said slowly. “Many things.”

“Ask, then,” I said. “I will tell you whatever you want to know.”

She gave me a startled look. “Arí?”

“Arí, yes,” I agreed.

Cusi frowned. “No. I think I am not wise to know what question to ask or what answer to believe.”

Despite everything, I laughed aloud. “If you know that much, you’re already wise beyond your years.”

It won a shy smile from her, the first since I’d quickened the fruit tree. “Yes?”

“Yes.” I laid one hand on her arm. “I will make you a promise, Cusi. No matter what you ask, I will answer it truthfully. I know you may not believe me, but I promise it nonetheless. I will not lie to you.”

She was silent a moment. “I will think.”

I nodded. “For as long as you like. I will answer whenever you are ready.”

Upon returning to the palace, I sent her to request an audience with Lord Pachacuti. It seemed to shock her a bit that I would dare to presume such a thing, and all the more so that he granted it.

Raphael heard me out in the throne room, his face expressionless as he dipped into his basket, feeding leaves to his crawling horde. From time to time, he popped a leaf into his own mouth, chewing it leisurely. For some reason, that unnerved me as much as anything else.

I opened with humility, hoping it might soften him. “Thank you for permitting me to visit Prince Thierry today, my lord. Forgive me; I apologize for having doubted you.”

Raphael snorted. “False humility doesn’t become you, Moirin. What do you want?”

So much for that gambit. “A boon,” I said. “You never asked what brought me to Terra Nova. May I tell you?”

He cocked his head, considering the request, then spat out a wad of chewed leaves into the waiting hand of one of his maidens. “All right.”

I spun out the tale of Denis de Toluard’s return with the news of Thierry’s disappearance that had led King Daniel to take his own life, the rise of Duc Rogier de Barthelme to the regency, and his swift move to declare Desirée’s betrothal to his loathsome son.

Not wanting to give him further leverage over me, I did not tell him I was Desirée’s oath-sworn protector. But I told him of my vision that Thierry was alive, taking care not to mention that it was Jehanne who appeared in my dreams, and of Edouard Durel’s attempt to sabotage our mission at the Duchese de Barthelme’s behest.

It disturbed him. Raphael rose to pace the floor as he listened, streams of ants skittering out of his path. “You’re right,” he said when I’d finished. “This is unacceptable. But don’t worry, I’ll deal with it when I return to Terre d’Ange.”

I blinked. “My lord?”

Raphael laughed. “You didn’t think I intended to remain in Terra Nova, did you?” He gestured carelessly. “Among these savages?”

One of the purported savages’ eyelids flickered briefly, and several others stiffened.

“I thought you had adopted them as your people.” I hoped Raphael would further refute my claim, but he caught himself.

“Yes, of course.” He bestowed a charming smile on his handmaids, who relaxed. “But I am D’Angeline, after all. Once I have been acknowledged the Sapa Inca, I will appoint a regent of my own and return home. The matter has already been decided. The Quechua in Vilcabamba understand this.”

Clearing my throat, I sought to steer the conversation back on course. “That is some time away, my lord. There is a swifter resolution to the troubles at home at hand. Were you to free Prince Thierry and a few guards, the pochteca Eyahue will guide them back to the Nahuatl Empire, where a ship awaits.”

Raphael raised his brows. “I see no urgency to the matter, Moirin. Betrothal or no, a royal wedding would be many years in the offing.”

I shook my head. “The damage would be done long before that day.” My palms were sweating, and I wiped them unobtrusively on my gown. “She’s her mother’s daughter, Raphael,” I said softly. “High-spirited and willful, a handful even as a child. But she is a child, and spirits can be broken. Desirée’s will be. I’ve seen it.”

His storm-grey eyes seemed to darken, sparks flashing in their depths. “I asked you not to speak of Jehanne!”

“You asked me not to speak her name,” I said. “And I am speaking of her daughter.”

“Daniel’s daughter,” he retorted.

I held his gaze with an effort. “Daniel de la Courcel could barely bring himself to look at the child, so much the image of her mother is she. He took his life and left her an orphan, with no one in Terre d’Ange capable of protecting her interests. I tried and failed. Thierry is her brother, and the rightful heir to the throne. I am begging you to let him go. It will change none of your plans here.”

“The image of her mother, eh?” Raphael mused.

I nodded.

He returned to his seat on the throne, lost in thought for a long moment. When his gaze returned from the distance, it was keen and clear. “Mayhap that was what was destined all along. I do not intend to return to Terre d’Ange as a mere lord, Moirin—nor a mere mortal. I intend to return as the God-King of Terre d’Ange and Terra Nova alike.” He smiled at me. “And based on what you tell me here today, I do believe I intend to take Desirée de la Courcel as my bride.”

I stared at him in horror. “You can’t be serious!”

“Oh, but I am.” Raphael drummed his fingers on the armrests of his throne. “Once the summoning of Focalor is complete, I will have all his gifts. The wind will blow at my command, the lightning strike, the seas rise and fall. I shall be as powerful as the legendary Master of the Straits, and far, far more ruthless.”

“But Jehanne’s daughter,” I protested. “Surely—”

“I told you not to speak her name!” he shouted at me. The restless river of ants stirred, and the Quechua handmaids grew still.

“It is no way to honor her memory,” I whispered. “You loved her, my lord! I know you did.”

His face had turned stony. “And how did she repay that love? With too little, always too little.”

I said nothing.

“It will be different with her daughter,” Raphael said. “As you say, she is a child yet, and malleable.” He nodded to himself. “Yes, this is what destiny held in store for me. I will not break her spirit, no. But I will mold it to suit my own.” Dipping into his basket, he tossed a handful of leaves to the ants and shoved a few more into his own mouth, chewing. “Thank you, Moirin,” he said to me. “This has been very helpful. You may go now.”

Sick at heart, I went.

FIFTY-SEVEN

No?” Thierry asked the following day, reading my expression.

I shook my head. “No. I’m sorry, your highness. I tried. I fear I only made matters worse.”

A sigh of regret rippled through the remnants of our company. Cusi, who had not yet availed herself of my offer to answer her questions, glanced from face to face, her gaze intent. She was not the most subtle of spies.

I’d feared Thierry might succumb to despair after having his hopes raised and dashed, but instead it seemed to instill a new resolve in him. “This uncanny gift of Raphael’s and the undertaking he has planned,” he said. “It all goes back to the Circle of Shalomon, doesn’t it?” I nodded. “Explain it to me.” He glanced at Cusi. “To the extent that you deem prudent.”

I shrugged. “I promised not to lie to her. Let her hear the truth and make of it what she will.”

I described the summoning of spirits; of Caim and the gift of the language of ants he had bestowed on the Circle; of Focalor, and how the fallen spirit had nearly taken possession of Raphael. How a piece of his essence endured, fed by the worship of the Quechua people, and how Raphael believed that with my aid he could summon and control the spirit in its entirety once he was coronated as the Sapa Inca and worshipped by the whole empire.

“Can he do it?” Thierry asked me steadily.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I wish I did, but I don’t. If Raphael believes it, it’s certainly possible.” Sorrow brushed me. “I would that Denis de Toluard were alive. He would have known better than I.”

“At least he redeemed himself twice over on the journey,” Balthasar murmured. “It meant a great deal to him.”

Wiping my eyes, I nodded.

“This oath you swore,” Thierry mused. “It’s of grave import to your people, is it not? And there are dire consequences for breaking it?”

“Aye.” My diadh-anam flared painfully within me. Swallowing, I glanced at Bao. “More dire than ever, I fear. I would lose the spark of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself and be cast out of Her presence forever. And Bao…” I couldn’t say the words.

“I’m not afraid to die, Moirin.” Bao smiled wryly at me. “After all, I’ve done it before.”

Cusi let out a stifled shriek, then clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and fearful above it.

Thierry gave Bao a puzzled look. “Whatever do you mean?”

“That’s right, you haven’t heard the myriad tales surrounding our Messire Bao, your highness,” Balthasar remarked. “Among other things, he died in faraway Ch’in and was restored to life by Moirin’s magic.”

“You can bring men back from the dead?” Thierry stared at me.

“No,” I said. “Not exactly. It was our mentor, Master Lo. He gave his life to restore Bao’s; but it required half my diadh-anam, too. It’s what binds us together.”

“Dispinsayuway,” Cusi whispered unexpectedly, tugging at my sleeve. Her brown skin looked ashen. “Excuse, please! I go now.” She gestured in the direction of the palace. “You can find?”

“Yes, of course,” I said to her.