Naamah's Curse

“Pemba says he heard that the Spider Queen Jagrati was born to the lowest of the low among her people,” Dorje said in a hushed whisper. “She is what the Bhodistani call an untouchable.”

I was confused. “I don’t understand.”

He studied me gravely. “You know nothing of Bhodistani society and religion?” I shook my head. “It is all very complicated. Everyone is born into a caste that determines their role in life, based on the life they lived before this one. The priests are the highest. Second are the rulers and warriors, and merchants are third. Fourth come the workers, who toil to serve the higher castes. The lowest of the low, the untouchables, they do not even have a caste. They perform tasks that are unclean.”

The word unclean stirred an uneasy memory of the Patriarch and his creamy smile within my memories. “Such as?”

“Such as handling corpses and gathering night-soil. Tasks so unclean that even the shadow of an untouchable can pollute one’s food, so it must be discarded.” Dorje stretched out his hands and regarded them. “That is not the belief of those of us who follow the Path of Dharma and Sakyamuni’s teaching. But it is the belief in Bhodistan, where they worship many different gods.”

It was enough to make my head spin.

Stone and sea, the folk of the world hold a great many peculiar beliefs! That night, I was glad when Unegen bade us in an irritable voice to cease our yammering, extinguish the coals, and take to our bedrolls.

And in the morning…..

More desert.

More dust.

“What about the Lady of Rats?” I asked Dorje on the second night into our journey. “Can you put a name to her?”

“Rats?” he echoed in an inquiring tone.

I nodded. “I was told she is the Falconer’s enemy. Tarik Khaga’s enemy,” I said in clarification. “He sought to acquire her, and her husband refused. He was killed by Khaga’s assassins—and yet she remains to defy him.”

A heated discussion ensued among the Tufani.

“Yes,” Dorje said at length. “There is such a woman, a widow. The Rani of Bhaktipur, who rules in the valley kingdom below the Falconer’s eyrie. The Raja hid her away when the Falconer sent for her. The Falconer’s assassins slew him, but they did not succeed in taking his widow.” He shuddered a little. “Why, no one knows for sure, except that the men who guard her are also fiercely loyal. And there is a temple there, a very famous temple among the Bhodistani, where rats are worshipped as an aspect of one of their goddesses.”

“So it is true,” I mused. “Rats.”

He nodded. “Rats.”

It was a long journey. Over the course of weeks, I must have heard a hundred tales of the Falconer and the Spider Queen, of his acquisitive nature, of her unholy wiles. Of the myriad assassins they employed, and the myriad ways in which they dispatched their targets. Dash listened to them with a boy’s morbid delight, contributing details he had heard. Unegen shook his head in disapproval, but he held his tongue more often than not.

I tried to sort through it all and cling to what was real.

The Falconer was real; so be it. He had a name, Tarik Khaga. He lived in a place, a real place, called Kurugiri.

The Spider Queen…..

Well, at least she had one name. Jagrati. Where she came from and what mysterious thrall she wielded were much in debate.

The fact that she did wield a mysterious thrall, wasn’t.

FIFTY

Midway through the journey, I saw the mountain range on the horizon.

The Abode of the Gods.

It stretched east and west as far as the eye could see, but at first glance, I didn’t think its snow-capped peaks seemed all that imposing. In a few days’ journey, I thought, we would reach the base.

I was wrong.

It took us two more weeks of slogging across the barren desert, the mountains remaining tantalizingly distant. By the time we were travelling beneath their shadow, I was well and properly in awe of their scale.

I was also profoundly grateful that I hadn’t had sufficient coin to book Unegen’s caravan for an exclusive passage across the desert. I’d grown fond of the good-natured Tufani traders, and Dorje had seen fit to take me under his wing. He promised me that I might travel with them through the first series of passes into the trade-city of Rasa in Tufan. There, he assured me, I would be able to find an escort to guide me through the Path of Heaven’s Spear, to the distant valley kingdom of Bhaktipur.

The day we reached the base of the Abode of the Gods, we made camp beneath their looming presence. In Alba, the foothills alone would have been reckoned formidable mountains. I gazed beyond the foothills at the narrow crease of the first great pass, ascending sharply into the unknown heights. The late-afternoon sun drenched the eastern half of the pass in golden light, plunging the western half in stark shadow.

“This is where you left Bao?” I asked Dash.

He nodded. “In the morning, he set out alone, and Grandfather and I turned back to cross the desert.” He paused. “How is Bao?”

Dash knew I had a sense of Bao’s presence. Over the course of the journey, there had been ample time for me to tell my half of our story, which the boy had been eager to hear. I consulted our diadh-anams. Mine burned strongly within me, a clean, blazing spark urging me into the dizzying heights.

Bao’s was motionless and unchanged.

It was as it had been from the moment Aleksei had unlocked my chains—dull, sullen, and guttering.

“The same,” I said soberly.

Young Dash knitted his brows. “That’s not good, is it? Moirin….. let me come with you. I can help. I’m sure I can.”

His grandfather’s head jerked up in alarm.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I settled for bowing gravely to Dash in the Ch’in manner, hand clasped over fist. “Thank you, young hero. Your heart is wise and courageous beyond its years. But this task was set before me by the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, and I cannot allow you to risk yourself; nor can I risk depriving Grandfather Unegen of his pride and joy, the light of his heart.”

The elderly Tatar grunted, relaxing.

Dash flushed, his cheeks reddening. “But I want to help!”

“And so you have,” I said gently. “You are my piece of good luck, Dash. You found me when I did not think I wanted to be found, and because of you, I have reached the mountains safely, with good companions to continue the journey. I will carry the hope of that moment forward with me, always.”

He looked away. “It’s just…..”

“I know.” I knelt and hugged him. “You will find your own story, young hero. This is only a piece of it.”

Dash returned my embrace, his wiry young arms flung tight around my shoulders, his face pressed against my neck. And there beneath the shadow of the Abode of the Gods, I could not help but think that Master Lo was right. All ways led to the Way. From one thing, all things arise.

Son, brother, lover, stranger….. it was all part of the same river of life.

My heart ached.

“You will find Bao?” Dash’s dark eyes searched mine. “Find him and save him? He told me things and taught me—oh so many things! I know it was only a short time, but he became as a brother to me, an older brother. I always wanted one. Promise me, Moirin! You’ll save him, won’t you?”

I leaned my brow against his. “I will do my best, little brother. Nothing is certain. I can promise no more.”

Unegen coughed.

I kissed Dash on the cheek and stood. “Yes, Grandfather?”

“Eat and sleep,” he said with rough gentleness. “No time for stories tonight. You will need all your strength tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. You will not find it easy in the heights where the air is thin.”

I inclined my head toward him. “Thank you. I will heed your advice.”

The following day, I saddled my mare and loaded my pack-horse for the first time in weeks. The Tufani supervised the transfer of cargo to their own string of pack-horses. After all of us had checked our goods and supplies one last time, there was nothing left to do but say farewell.

Dash gave me one last hug, and so, to my surprise, did his grandfather. I was touched by the gesture, at least until the old fox reached around and gave my buttocks a firm squeeze, startling a squeak from me.

“Heh.” Unegen released me with a sly grin. “A man wouldn’t need dried root tonic with the likes of you.”

I shook my head at him. “You’re a bad man, Grandfather.”

His grin only widened. “I’m not your grandfather, girl, and that memory will keep me warm at night come winter.”

I didn’t mind, not really. There had been no malice in it, and if Unegen or any of the others had intended me harm along the way, they would have had ample chance to act on it. And it brought a moment of levity that made the parting easier.

All was in readiness.

On Dorje’s word, our company set out to begin the long climb over the foothills. At the top of the first, I paused to look backward. Unegen and Dash led the caravan of camels across the desert plain. Already, they looked small and distant.

“You grew fond of the boy,” Dorje observed.

“Aye, I did,” I agreed. “It’s just that my life seems to be filled with so many partings. It saddens me to think of how many good folk I’ve met that I’ll never see again.”

He leaned over in the saddle and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Do not let it sadden you, Moirin. You are blessed to have met so many worthy souls. It should gladden your heart to think on it.”

“Oh, I’ve met my share of unworthy ones, too,” I said.

“I do not doubt it.” Dorje’s expression was grave. “But I think the good ones outnumber the bad, do they not?”

I thought about my experiences among the Tatars, and nodded. Despite the Great Khan’s betrayal, I had found a great deal of kindness and generosity among his folk. “Yes.” I smiled at him. “And you are surely numbered among the good ones, Dorje. I will be sorry to part from you, too.”

He smiled back at me. “Everyone loves a tale of great romance, but it is seldom that one gets to play a part in one. I am happy we can help you on your quest to find your young man.” His expression turned grave again. “What will you do if you find he is well and truly under the Spider Queen’s thrall? Have you a plan?”

I shook my head. “No.”

It was a worry I had pushed to the back of my thoughts. I had to survive the desert and the mountains before figuring out how to free Bao from the clutches of a sinister queen abiding in an impregnable fortress ruled by her equally sinister husband.

The naïve, hopeful side of me wanted to believe that it would be easy, that all I had to do was find Bao, that once I did, the irresistible force of my diadh-anam calling to his would bring us together as simply and effortlessly as it had during the Tatar gathering that seemed so very, very long ago.

But since that time, I had been forced to confront my limitations. My diadh-anam was a symbol of living proof of the divine grace of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, of Her love for Her children, of the gifts She had given us.

And yet it was fragile and vulnerable, too.

As I had experienced all too vividly, it could be constrained by foreign magics. Never in my life had I felt more helpless than I had during my captivity in Vralia.

If it was magic that held Bao captive, it must be at least as powerful. More, mayhap. He was a skilled, clever fighter. I had no doubt that in my place, Bao would have found a way to escape his captors long before they crossed the mountains into Vralia, throttling them with his own chains.

But he hadn’t found a way to escape this.

By now I thought it unlikely that Bao was injured or ill, as I had first suspected. It had been too long. His condition would have improved or worsened, not remained in the same unchanging state for months.

Well and so, that was a good thing, wasn’t it? My new friend Dorje would say so. I made myself believe it, pushing my worries aside once more. When the time came, I would find a way. For now, it was enough to concentrate on the journey.

Our small caravan descended the far side of the first foothill, and began ascending the second. Although I was glad to leave the desert, the terrain was still harsh and barren. Dorje assured me that there would be lakes and pastures along the way, pockets of green, growing life.

I hoped so.

On the first day in the mountains, we crossed three enormous foothills and made camp at the base of the third.

On the morrow, we would enter the first great pass. After tending to my horses, I sat and breathed the Five Styles, watching swift dusk fall over the tall peaks on either side of it, blue shadows turning to darkness.

Bao had set out on this path alone.

I wondered if he had been scared.

I was.

FIFTY-ONE

On the second day, we entered the first pass.

We climbed upward, ascending into the Abode of the Gods.

Upward.

Upward.

Upward.

And although I was riding, and my poor, laboring mare—whom I had named Lady, for lack of a more creative inspiration—was doing all the work, still, my breath came short as the air grew thin.

I felt pressure building behind my eyes, making my head ache fiercely. Betimes, my vision grew dark and spangled.

Stubbornly, I refused to succumb to it. I focused my gaze on Lady’s bobbing ears and breathed the Breath of Wind’s Sigh, calling it into the space behind my eyes, embracing the height and the thin air.

When I did, the pressure eased. Once again, I was indebted to Master Lo’s teaching. The thought made me wistful, but it also served to increase my determination to find Bao and rescue him. It was unacceptable to think that Master Lo Feng had given his life to restore his magpie’s in vain. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">