D
awn came, breaking golden over the steppe.
It did not bring a Tatar princess with it.
I waited restlessly, torn between staying and going. I’d slept poorly, anxious that I’d made a bad decision once more, wishing I had pressed Erdene harder to tell me about this mysterious Falconer fellow.
Why, oh why, had I trusted her?
I was an idiot. Oh, I could cloak myself in the twilight when I saw the Khan’s hunting-party come searching for me, and like as not I’d get away; but they would know I was there. They would pursue me. And sooner or later, I would have to sleep—and my campsite and I would be vulnerable.
I thought wistfully of home. I’d not had time to learn all the myriad possibilities that the gift of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself possessed, but I remembered that when my mother had taken me to attend the vigil at Clunderry, where we remembered Morwen’s folly and Berlik’s cruel sacrifice, there had been a celebration in a glade afterward, and the entire glade had been wrapped in the glimmering twilight.
It must have been a ward of some sort, for no one was minding it, no one was concentrating on holding the cloak in place. No, they had been reveling in the aftermath of the grave vigil, drinking
uisghe
, feasting, playing music, and dancing—a rare party for my folk, who seldom gathered in numbers.
I wondered how it was done.
My mother hadn’t taught it to me. Mayhap it was a gift she didn’t possess, or mayhap she hadn’t thought it necessary. I didn’t know.
Trying to distract myself as the sun inched higher above the horizon, I breathed through the cycle of the Five Styles and pondered the matter. I drew the twilight deep into my lungs, and flung it out as far as I could, encompassing the whole of my campsite, my neatly laden packs and gear.
Pushing myself, I extended it farther, encompassing my grazing horses, doing their best to find fodder in the abandoned pasture. To be sure, I had grown stronger; but I had to hold it, mindful and conscious. The moment I let my awareness lapse, it faded.
So how did they keep it in place?
Remembering Master Lo’s teaching, I forced myself to stop thinking about it, to stop worrying at it. To let my thoughts arise one by one, one thought giving birth to another. Once again, I sat cross-legged and breathed the Five Styles, accepting what thoughts came.
I would figure it out, or I would not.
Erdene would betray me, or she would not.
I would find Bao, or I would not.
A sense of calm settled over me; and strangely, it was Aleksei’s voice that nudged at my thoughts. A memory of a passage from the endless scriptures he had read to me merged with an image in my mind, an image of a compass rose etched on a map, the four cardinal points clearly marked.
Aleksei’s voice persisted, hesitant and faltering, but persistent nonetheless.
For the life of the flesh is in the blood, and I have given it to you on the altar…
A compass rose, four cardinal points.
A dragon-hilted dagger, lost and restored.
All these things converged in my thoughts. “Is it that simple?” I said aloud. I opened my eyes, startled and chagrined to realize I’d had them closed for so long. A quick glance assured me that the horizon was still empty. If Erdene had betrayed me, her father’s men were not coming yet—although neither was she.
I turned my hands palm upward on my knees, gazing at them. Gazing at the blue veins in my wrists. I breathed the Breath of Earth’s Pulse.
Mayhap it
was
that simple.
Well and so, there was one way to find out. Rising, I called in the horses, tethering them close. I paced around my camp in a circle, glancing at the sun and marking the cardinal points of the compass in my mind.
I needed anchors.
Where that thought came from, I could not say; but it arose unbidden in my mind, the image of the compass rose now linked with that of an anchor rising from the deep, dripping with saltwater and seaweed.
Stones in the river called to me.
“All right,” I murmured. “All right, then. Stone and sea and sky, and all that they encompass. The life of the flesh is in its blood. Let us see, shall we?”
The horses watched with pricked ears and curious eyes as I shucked my boots and waded into the river, hoisting my skirts. I selected four smooth, fist-sized stones, carrying them in the apron of my skirt as I waded back to shore.
I spared another glance toward the horizon.
Still empty.
Drawing the dragon-hilted dagger that my princess Snow Tiger had given me and Bao’s princess Erdene had restored to me, I set the sharp point against the ball of my left thumb and pushed, grimacing at the sting as it pierced my skin. A bead of blood welled and gathered there. I dabbed it on one of the river-stones. Another rose to take its place, another and another, until all the smooth stones were anointed.
I stuck my thumb in my mouth, contemplating them.
Anchors.
The word felt right, the stones felt right. Beneath the mildly curious gazes of my horses, I retraced the steps of my circle, placing one blood-smeared stone at each of the four cardinal points of the compass.
I retreated to the center, and summoned the twilight.
The anchor-stones flared to life, setting and holding the cloak of the twilight within their compass. Even when I released my conscious hold on it, it remained in place.
“Ha!” I felt a fierce grin split my face. “I am learning, Great One,” I said, bowing toward the west where the Maghuin Dhonn Herself resided. “I am Your child. Always and always, I am trying to do Your will, no matter how hard I find it. And always and always, I am grateful for Your gifts. I will try…”
I heard hoofbeats.
Glancing toward the east, I saw a rider approaching, a lone rider, small and sturdy in the saddle.
Erdene.
Late though she was, she hadn’t lied. She had come alone. I saw the familiar shape of the yew-wood bow my uncle Mabon had made for me slung over her shoulder, the battered canvas satchel I had carried for so long tied to her saddle. I watched her slow her mount, gazing about nervously as she neared my campsite.
I blew out my breath, deliberately banishing the twilight and extinguishing the anchor-points.
A sharp gasp escaped her. “Moirin!”
“Aye, my lady.”
“I’m late,” Erdene said simply, dismounting in the bright sunlight. “I’m sorry. And you’re… real.”
“So I am,” I agreed. “And you are no oath-breaker. I apologize for doubting you.”
She handed over my bow and quiver, and set about untying the satchel. “I cannot say I blame you.”
I ran my fingers over the well-worn wood of my bow, reveling in the smooth feel of it. “Tell me about this Falconer.”
“His kingdom lies in the Abode of the Gods.” Erdene tugged the satchel free and hauled it over to sit cross-legged opposite me.
I took the satchel and gave her an inquiring look. “Oh?”
“It’s the name of a mountain range to the south,” she said. “A very, very large and deadly mountain range.”
“I see.” I untied the mouth of the satchel and began removing and examining its contents.
“Everything is there.” Erdene’s tone was stiff. “I didn’t steal anything.”
“I didn’t think you did,” I said mildly, smoothing the square of silk embroidered with bamboo that Bao’s half-sister had sewn. “I am taking stock and reuniting with old friends, that’s all. Tell me more. Why is he called the Falconer?”
Erdene watched me lay the other items on the cloth square. “His stronghold is high in the mountains, inaccessible to anyone who does not know the secret path. Many have tried seeking it, and all have died. Only the Falconer, the Spider Queen, and their stable of assassins know the path.”
I raised my brows. “Spider Queen? Assassins?”
She nodded, her round face grave. “The Spider Queen is his wife. Together they train the finest assassins in the world. His falcons, you see.”
“I see.” I felt a little ill. “And who do they kill?”
“For a price, anyone.” Erdene watched me peer into a small purse, counting coins. “
That’s
the most valuable thing you own, you know.” She pointed to the Imperial jade seal medallion I’d laid on the embroidered square. “You could trade it for almost anything to someone seeking guaranteed safe passage across Ch’in.”
“I’d rather not,” I said.
She shrugged. “Think on it. There is but one passage south through the Abode of the Gods—the Path of Heaven’s Spear. And you do not have coin enough to purchase the services of a caravan.”
I set down the purse and examined my mother’s signet ring with a pang, reminded once more how far from home I was. “I’ll manage.”
“No, you won’t.” Erdene shook her head. “You have your magic, and it is clear you have skill at living in the wild. It is not enough. Believe me when I tell you you will die in the mountains without guides.”
“All right. Tell me more,” I said. “Why would this Falconer have sent for me? And why is his wife called the Spider Queen?”
“He demands things that catch his fancy,” she said. “Sometimes famous jewels for his queen.” Her mouth twisted. “Sometimes legendary beauties for himself. If they are not given to him, he sends his assassins—and his assassins never fail. They are all fiercely loyal, for the Spider Queen has some magic that keeps them in her thrall.”
“Like a spider in its web,” I murmured. Erdene nodded. Now I felt more than a little ill. “Do you think that’s what happened to Bao?”
“I don’t know.” She looked sick, too. “When he left… when he set out after you, I was certain he would catch up to the Falconer’s men long before they reached his stronghold, and that he would find a way to free you. He’s very clever and very stubborn, you know.”
“I know.” My throat felt tight. “But I was on my way to Vralia instead, and there were no men for him to catch up to, so he must have gone all the way to the Falconer’s stronghold…”
“And the Spider Queen’s lair,” Erdene finished my thought.
We gazed at one another in silence.
“Do you really mean to go after him?” she asked at length, looking and sounding terribly young.
“Aye, I do.”
Erdene took a deep breath. “There is someone who may be able to help you. The Lady of Rats.”
“Rats,” I repeated.
She gave me a wry smile. “I’m sorry, I cannot remember their names properly. They are all foreign, and until you vanished, these were but tales told on a long winter’s night, brought by northern Bhodistani traders and repeated to pass the hours. But she is real. She is a widowed queen whose husband was killed by the Falconer’s assassins when he refused to surrender her. Her kingdom is in a valley below the Falconer’s, and she is his enemy.”
“Why rats?”
“It is said they follow her.”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Falcons, spiders, rats… my lady, how much truth do you reckon there is to these tales?”
“I don’t know,” Erdene said steadily. “I have heard tales of a jade-eyed witch who freed the Emperor of Ch’in’s daughter from a dragon’s curse, brought a dead man back to life, and dazzled a thousand others into losing their memories. How much truth do you reckon there is to that tale?”
“Some.” I smiled ruefully. “The memories were offered freely. The curse wasn’t the dragon’s doing, and it was Master Lo Feng who restored life to the dead man.”
She swallowed. “Bao truly died?”
I nodded. “Bao truly died.”
Her face was vulnerable. “I didn’t know.”
“He should have told you,” I said quietly. “And I will say again, I apologize to you. I didn’t know about you, either.”
“No, I know.” Erdene sniffled. “Stupid boy!”
I laughed.
Through her tears, she summoned a faint smile. “You must love him very much. I thought I did, but I would never undertake such a quest.”
“Oh…” I glanced toward the south where Bao’s distant
diadh-anam
guttered, still and always calling to mine. “You might if your bedamned destiny insisted on it.” Rummaging in my satchel, I found the last item I was missing—the crystal vial of Jehanne’s perfume, her parting gift to me. Tilting it, I could see that a bit of liquid remained. The cut facets caught the bright sunlight, refracting it into tiny rainbows. My heart ached anew at the loss of her. “And where last I called home, nothing but grief awaits me.”
“It’s pretty, that bottle,” Erdene offered in a soft tone. “And the scent smells so very, very nice.”
“Yes, it does.” I put it away, back in the satchel. “Thank you, my lady. You didn’t have to do this. I am grateful.”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know.” I busied myself repacking everything. “But I am grateful nonetheless. Is there more you can tell me about this menagerie of enemies and allies I face?”
Erdene shook her head. “Nothing useful.”
“I should be going, then.”
“How do you plan to cross the desert?” she asked.
I blinked at her. “Desert?”
“Yes, Moirin.” She gave me an impatient look. “Beneath the shadow of the Abode of the Gods, no rain falls. It is all desert. Do you know the route to the caravanserai?”