He gave a sharp nod.
I counted. “One… two… three!”
Bao dropped like a stone into a deep crouch, ducking his head and raising his staff at a steep angle above it in a last effort to ward off the descending battle-axes. The assassin’s eyes shone.
Aiming high, I loosed my bow.
The arrow caught the fellow in the throat, piercing it clean through. He staggered backward, the battle-axes falling forgotten from his hands, which rose to feel at the feathered shaft. His face softened into that bewildered look that comes when death takes a man unaware, and he sat down hard on the trail, his breath gurgling wetly in his throat.
Once again, I swallowed against a rising tide of bile.
Bao was on his feet, bending over the fellow. I looked away as he ripped the arrow free from his throat.
The sound the man made as he died was dreadful.
Bao met my gaze. “The Rani?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
Word travelled up and down the long, twisting line of our company. One man was dead, and a half dozen more seriously injured. The Rani Amrita was alive and safe. Hasan Dar had protected her with his own body, throwing himself from the saddle. He had suffered a grievous injury in the process, one of the razor-edged quoits lodged between his ribs.
He might live-or not.
The second assassin was dead, brought down at last by our own archers. Four down altogether; five left to go, plus the Falconer.
Kurugiri was still awaiting us.
“Moirin.” Bao touched my arm. “Can you continue?”
I gazed at the corpse of the axe-wielding assassin, remembering a story the trader Dorje had told me. “I think I’ve heard of this one, or at least one like him,” I murmured. “I think he stole a Tufani yak-herder’s daughter and slaughtered her family. Does that tale sound familiar to you?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “It does.”
“I thought so.” I remembered the weight of the prayer-urns as I turned them outside the temple of Sakyamuni in Rasa, the light touch of the boy-monk’s slender fingers on my tear-stained cheeks as he sought to comfort me, the dense, fragrant scent of incense all around us. His face blurred in my memory with Ravindra’s, with the boy Dash from the caravan; his fingers blurred in memory with the image of my lady Amrita’s graceful hands forming a mudra, with Sameera’s severed fingers discarded on the storeroom floor.
Kamadeva’s diamond sang to me.
I shook my head, willing it clear. I could continue because I had to continue.
“Moirin?” Bao nudged me.
“Aye?”
He flashed his incorrigible grin. “Marry me if we live through this?”
My heart gave an unexpected jolt, but I managed to raise my brows at him. “You already have a wife, my Tatar prince.”
“Nah.” Bao’s grin widened. “The Great Khan dissolved our union. So?”
“Oh, fine!” I took a deep breath, drawing the twilight into my lungs, spinning it softly around us both, finding new reserves of strength. “Yes.”
Bao kissed me. “Good.”
SEVENTY-ONE
Hours later, we gained the summit.
There had been no further assassins awaiting us in the maze, and none awaited us atop the peak of Kurugiri. Only the fortress itself, stark, solid, and forbidding.
One by one by one, members of our company straggled out of the narrow paths-or at least most of us. One dead, another half dozen injured, Hasan Dar among them. We had been forced to leave them behind, swaddled in blankets against the cold.
I dismounted and found my lady Amrita surrounded by anxious guards, and embraced her with relief. “You’re well?”
She shivered. “Well enough, young goddess. Hasan-”
“I know,” I said. “I pray he survives.”
Amrita laid one ice-cold hand against my cheek, shuddering uncontrollably in the thin air. “Let us make an end to this, shall we?”
I nodded. “Yes, my lady.”
“Moirin has agreed to wed me if we survive,” Bao informed her.
Despite everything, it made her smile, made her tired, lustrous eyes sparkle with gladness. “Well, then, we shall have to make sure of it, eh? All this effort and sacrifice must not be made in vain.”
The sun was beginning to sink low in the west, streaking the horizon in tones of gold and saffron. The snow-topped mountain peaks glowed. In the valleys and deep crevasses, the shadows of night were already gathering. Taking the place of his injured commander, Pradeep rallied his troops, assigning them their duties.
The men who had worked so hard to carry the battering ram up the twisting maze gave way gratefully to a fresh crew of guards. The new men wrapped the ropes that bound it around their hands, taking firm stances. On a count of three, they surged forward, swinging the bronze-capped ram.
The sound boomed and echoed over the peaks; but the tall wooden doors held.
“Again!” Pradeep called.
Again and again, they assailed the entrance, until the doors began to bow inward, the bar that held them shut straining. At last, the bar gave way altogether with a creaking, splintery groan, and the doors crashed open. The fellows manning the battering ram backed away hastily, but no one emerged. Although the place seemed almost deserted, the flicker of lamplight within its walls told us otherwise.
Somewhere in the depths of Kurugiri, Kamadeva’s diamond called to me.
Cloaked in the twilight, Bao and I made a careful survey of the entryway and found it empty. “Can you sense them?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “It doesn’t work as well in man-made places. But I know where Kamadeva’s diamond is.” I pointed. “That way.”
“The throne room,” Bao said with satisfaction. “I was right.”
My skin was beginning to feel warm, the call of the diamond like a caress. “Where are all the others? Surely there must be servants.”
“Hiding,” he said briefly. “And like as not praying we succeed.”
We returned to report to Pradeep that the way was clear, and our apprehensive company filed through the doors.
The plan was to have had Hasan Dar and two dozen of his best fighters lead the attack on the Falconer and his assassins, while Pradeep led the rest in rescuing the women and children of the harem. In Hasan Dar’s absence, Bao volunteered to lead the attack on the throne room, and Pradeep readily agreed to let him, not even bothering to hide his relief.
With that, our company divided.
Making our way through the empty fortress was a frightening process, all of us jumping at shadows. Even though I held myself and my lady Amrita wrapped in the twilight, I was tense and fearful. Bao was right, Kurugiri was a strange place. The architecture was plain and utilitarian, but everywhere, opulence gleamed. There were gilded braziers and lamps that burned silvery in the twilight, gorgeous woven hangings on every wall, the spoils of generations’ worth of tribute-and later, outright theft.
I didn’t like it, not one bit. Every wilderness-born instinct I possessed was telling me to turn and flee, that this was a bad man-made place made by bad men. And at the same time, Kamadeva’s diamond was setting my blood to beating hard in my veins, setting Naamah’s gift stirring in me. For once, it didn’t feel like a flock of doves taking flight. Ravens, mayhap-ravens with sharp-edged wings and cruel beaks, ready to pick me apart.
“Moirin?” Amrita took my hand in concern.
It helped, and I squeezed hers in reply. “We are close, my lady. Very close.”
Outside another set of tall doors, Bao gestured silently for everyone to halt. “Is she here, Moirin?” he asked in a low tone.
I stared at the doors. I could almost see Kamadeva’s diamond through them, nestled below the hollow of Jagrati’s long throat. “Yes. Oh, yes.”