“Why would they do that?” Thalia asked, also rising up from the bed. The covers fell away, and the cool morning air inside the ger touched her nakedness. Her nipples tightened.
In the middle of buttoning his shirt, Gabriel glanced at her, and his fingers stilled while his eyes narrowed. He growled—there was no other word for it. A primitive thrill coursed through her.
Focus, Thalia, she commanded herself. She hunted down her clothes. Trousers, drawers, del, socks and…scraps of cotton? She held up the pieces and realized that the fabric was all that remained of her chemise, which Gabriel had torn off her body. He recognized the chemise, too, judging by the flush creeping up his neck.
Gabriel returned to the buttons of his shirt, which for some reason seemed a difficult task for his agile fingers.
“Maybe,” he began, but his voice was too full of gravel, so he cleared his throat and tried again. He busied himself with the last of his shirt buttons, then pulled on his waistcoat. “They didn’t want foreigners guarding the ruby, getting close to its magic, using it.” Gabriel checked the ruby’s case and was satisfied when he found it safe.
“They could have just prohibited us from entering the nadaam,” Thalia pointed out.
“Probably, they didn’t think we could win,” he said, rumbling. He pulled on his boots, strapped on his revolver and knife, and donned his jacket. “The Heirs might have had a hand in it, too.”
Thalia plucked a fresh chemise from her pack and finished dressing, shaking her head. “We should talk to Bold and Oyuun,” she said. “Not question or interrogate them. They have been our generous hosts until now, and I cannot insult them.” Fully clothed, Thalia faced Gabriel, placing her hands on his chest as he started for the door. “I will do the talking.”
He grumbled at this, but saw that she would not be dissuaded. “If there’s anything suspect,” he vowed, “then I’ll be the one breaking bones. You stay out of danger.” Thalia started to protest, yet his will matched her own. “Is that clear?”
Seeing that there was no way around him, she answered dryly, “Yes, sir.”
He looked down at her hands on him. Gone immediately was the toughened soldier, and his expression turned to something much more warm, and so incredibly wonderful it felt like pain. He picked up her hands in his own and kissed the backs of each, but it wasn’t exactly gallant, not the way his golden eyes glinted with undisguised sexual hunger. For her.
“I like this very much,” he said, nibbling on the tips of her fingers. “An army of two.”
“Who’s in command?” she answered as she fought for breath.
What a wicked smile he had. “Let’s take turns.”
There was no way to make her questions sound anything but accusatory, so Thalia figured the best approach was to be as straightforward as possible. Naturally, Bold and Oyuun both denied having put anything into Thalia or Gabriel’s food or drink. Oyuun, particularly, looked hurt by the questions, and Thalia could not blame her. Mongols took their hospitality quite seriously, and their guests had cast doubts on one of the most important tenets of their culture. It wouldn’t take much for word to spread from herdsman to herdsman that the white Mongol woman was one of those strange and foul creatures known as an ungrateful guest. Thalia and her father would not be welcome anywhere.
“That big man from yesterday at the nadaam,” Thalia quickly explained, “whom Gabriel guai wrestled at the very end—he is part of a group of men who want to hurt us, who want to hurt the whole of Mongolia. We are trying to stop them.”
“What do they want?” Bold asked stiffly.
“I cannot tell you, for your safety.” She turned pleading eyes to Oyuun, who had treated Thalia as a younger sister rather than guest and now looked betrayed. “Please understand, these men are dangerous and ruthless. They might have persuaded or even forced you to drug Gabriel guai and me.”
Oyuun said nothing, her mouth taut.
“These men might have treated our food without you knowing it,” Gabriel added, which Thalia translated.
“I cooked it myself and never once left anything alone,” Oyuun said. “I even brewed the tea myself in this kettle.” She marched over to the hearth and snatched up the object in question, an old, battered piece of metal that looked as though it had been in use for literally generations. “I boiled the meat in this pot,” she continued, striding to her well-used cooking vessel, which, even then, boiled milk for cheese.
Thalia’s attention snagged on something. “Might I see the tea kettle?”
Without a word, Oyuun thrust the kettle into Thalia’s hands, then she crossed her arms over her chest.
Gabriel was immediately at Thalia’s side, making her color. “Tell me what you see,” he murmured.
She made herself focus on the iron vessel in her hands, even though she couldn’t stop her reaction to Gabriel’s nearness. “This kettle,” she answered quietly as she turned it over in her hands. “It isn’t Mongolian. It’s Chinese. The shape is different, so is the metal. Strange.” It was also, she realized, incredibly old. Having studied many objects and artifacts from Mongolia and nearby regions with her father, Thalia knew how to date a piece based on clues from its appearance. The heft, the way it was made, even the small dents and rubbings on its surface all told her one thing: the kettle was hundreds of years old, maybe even more. And it felt…alive…in her hands.
“Maybe they got it from a Chinese trader,” he suggested.
“What can you tell me about this?” Thalia asked Oyuun. “When did you get it?”
The chieftain’s wife looked at her husband, who answered, “We’ve always had that kettle. I remember my grandmother brewing tea in it, and she said it belonged to her grandmother. But we have made tea for everyone in our tribe using it, and no one has ever become ill afterward.”
“And any visitors?”
“None of them, either.”
“Do you know if any of them…” Thalia could not bring herself to look at Bold. Concentrating on a painted cabinet that stood behind him, she cleared her throat and felt her cheeks heat. “Did any visitors…sleep with anyone…after?”
“We all sleep in the ger together.”
Everyone stared at Thalia; she wondered if it was possible to will oneself out of existence by sheer embarrassment alone. Mongols were open about their sexual lives, but there was a part of Thalia, a very English part, that couldn’t quite be comfortable with such complete candor. Even Gabriel, who was as unpolished as a wolf, looked a trifle red.
“Not sleep,” she said through her teeth. “Share a bed. Two people. In a bed. Together.”
The smile the chieftain and his wife shared made Thalia long for a herd of stampeding horses to come through. “Ah,” said Oyuun, momentarily forgetting her tension. “If they did, no one said so, and we did not see it.” Her husband nodded to confirm this.
Despite her embarrassment, a strange current began to run up and down Thalia’s neck as she stared down at the humble object in her hands. “I would like to borrow this for a moment.”
Before Bold or Oyuun could reply, Thalia was already outside, with Gabriel easily matching her long strides with his own. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
“Not sure, yet,” she said. “It’s only a feeling. But I believe we triggered something last night.” When she turned and headed toward where the hunting eagles were perched, he nodded with comprehension. Thalia smiled to herself. She did not need further words with Gabriel. He understood her.
As she and Gabriel neared the eagles, the birds began shifting on their perches and ruffling their feathers. The closer they came to the birds, the more unsettled the animals became.
Standing in front of the birds, Thalia and Gabriel exchanged glances. He nodded at her, and she held up the kettle so it was no more than a few inches away from the eagles. Their screeches flared out over the steppes, causing horses, camels, and sheep to look up from their grazing. Even the men and women who were performing their daily chores paused to see what was causing such a commotion.
Thalia quickly took the kettle away, and the eagles quieted. As a test, Gabriel held up the ruby again. The birds remained silent. Once more, Thalia presented the eagles with the kettle, and people, including Batu, came out of their gers to investigate the birds’ renewed shrieks. Bold and Oyuun were also watching from the doorway of their tent, mystified.
“Oh, my God,” Thalia breathed. “The Source isn’t the ruby.”
Gabriel put the ruby into the inside pocket of his jacket. He held her eyes with his as the weight of their discovery settled over them. It was both ridiculous and also profound. “The bloody Source everyone’s chasing,” he said with a shake of his head and rueful smile. “It’s a damned shabby kettle.”
“Magic?” Bold repeated. “That cannot be.”
“It seems strange,” said Thalia, “but the test with the birds is always accurate. Your tea kettle holds a powerful magic.”
“We would have known,” Oyuun put in. She examined the kettle as if it were a familiar dog that had suddenly begun to speak. She turned questioning eyes to Thalia and Gabriel. “Wouldn’t we?”
Since Gabriel was almost entirely unfamiliar with the realms of magic, he stood with his arms crossed over his chest and let Thalia do the explaining to Bold, Oyuun, and almost the entire tribe, most of whom were now gathered inside the large ger that had been used for the feast before the nadaam. Instead of engaging in raucous merrymaking, however, the large assembly of people were almost completely silent, save for a few babies and children fussing. Everyone wore similar stunned expressions. Except Thalia, Gabriel, and Batu.
“Not necessarily,” Thalia explained. Batu provided Gabriel with a running translation. “Sometimes magic is contained in an object and it takes a special set of words or actions to release it. But we already know that this kettle contains some kind of power. Gabriel guai and I felt it last night”—though she did not explain under what circumstances—“but more than that, the crimson flowers that follow the tribe come from that power.”
A murmur of startled understanding rippled through the crowd.
“How can we release the magic?” a man asked.
Now it was Thalia’s turn to look mystified. She honestly had no idea. Whenever she had discussed the use of Sources with her father and other Blades, they had never mentioned exactly what one might need to do to access a Source’s power. There were many combinations of words and rituals, too many to know where to begin. Then a horrible thought occurred to her. Would she and Gabriel have to make love in front of the entire tribe to bring forth the magic? That was a spectacle in which she had no desire to participate.
“Water,” Gabriel said behind her.
Surprised, Thalia turned to face him. “What’s that?”
He strode forward, taking the kettle from Oyuun. “It has to do with water, I’d reckon. Why else place magic inside something that heats water?”
“But they boil water inside the kettle every day,” Thalia pointed out. “And nothing has happened.”
Gabriel considered this for a moment while staring intently at the kettle. “Water’s scarce in Mongolia,” he finally said. “So they might not have used enough or,” he added, brows drawn down in concentration, “perhaps they used too much.” He turned to Oyuun. “We’ll need water and a fire.”
Oyuun nodded at the translated command and gestured for some women to assist her, which made Thalia smile a little to herself. Ever the soldier, Gabriel could order around even a chieftain’s wife with no resistance. His air of authority would not allow questioning or disobedience. Thalia recalled how he’d demanded that she repeat her full name to him a few nights before, and ordered her to the bed, how she’d been unable to deny him. In the middle of the large ger, with hundreds of eyes surrounding her and the mystery of the Source unfolding, she couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure, remembering him buried deep inside of her.
Pressing a hand to her fluttering stomach, Thalia watched as a fire was set up and the kettle filled. Gabriel placed the kettle onto the fire.
“And now?” Thalia asked him.
He did not take his eyes from the kettle. “Now, we wait.”
In the strained silence of the tent, the noise of water gradually coming to boil could be heard like a soft song. Steam rose up from the spout as the water heated. After several minutes, the water evaporated, and the steam disappeared. Still, Gabriel would not take the kettle from the fire. Thalia shifted her gaze back and forth from the tea kettle to Gabriel, wondering what each would do next. It seemed somewhat useless to continue to heat the kettle without more water.
“I should refill it,” Thalia said, stepping forward.
Gabriel held out his hand, a wordless imperative to stay where she was.
Both she and the assembled tribe grew restive as they continued to wait. Yet no one would disobey Gabriel or even dare to move more than necessary.
After what seemed like lifetimes, the kettle heating over the fire, Thalia gasped. She reached out and gripped Gabriel’s arm. “Do you—?”
“I see it,” he answered, clipped.
It started as a small puff, but within a moment, thick, sweet-smelling steam began to pour out of the kettle. Nothing could be left inside the kettle to create that steam, and certainly not so much of it. But it continued to flow from the kettle unchecked, warm and fragrant. It formed a heavy cloud just above their heads. Figures began to appear within the cloud, gathering shape and substance.