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.
The Tufani were at ease in the mountains, bright-eyed and cheerful, reveling in the heights. Throughout the long, arduous climb, their spirits rose. All along the caravan, they called back and forth to one another in their own tongue, laughing and jesting.
I envied and admired them, forcing myself to concentrate. The path through the pass was steep and narrow. Sure-footed though she was, from time to time, Lady’s hooves slipped and scrabbled on loose rocks. And I had my pack-horse, whom I called Flick, on a lead-line, and must not hurry him, letting him pick his way with equal care.
By the time we reached the path’s summit, the sun was beginning to set-or at least, so it seemed in the gorge, stark shadows settling over us.
And then we did reach the summit.
“Oh!” I blinked, startled. A shallow descent led to a green, sun-gilded valley. There was a small lake nestled there as though within a cupped palm, its waters a startling turquoise hue. To the east and west of us, immense snow-capped peaks soared skyward with untouchable majesty.
I could not help but think of White Jade Mountain and the dragon. I thought that had been a vast peak, but these dwarfed it. And I understood, truly, why they called this range the Abode of the Gods. Surely nothing less than the gods themselves must dwell in those incredible heights.
Dorje smiled at my awe. “Now you see, Moirin. These are sacred places.”
I didn’t need to be told; I could feel it prickling against my skin. Even so, I smiled back at him. “I do see. It’s very, very beautiful here.”
We made camp in the valley beside the lake, turning the grateful horses loose to graze their fill. Once again, I watched dusk settle over the mountains. At this height, it was even more spectacular, vivid gold and ruddy pinks slowly giving way to shifting hues of blue and deep indigo darkening to pitch-black in the crevasses. I didn’t think one could ever tire of the sight, and I found myself looking forward to dawn that I might see the entire process in reverse, the shadows retreating up the white-mantled glory of the peaks.
It was cold, though. Once the sun was altogether gone, I realized how much colder it was in the heights. And it was only going to get colder as winter drew nigh.
In my tent, I wrapped myself in my blanket and shivered myself to sleep. I would need warmer clothes and blankets if I was to survive this journey.
Come morning, the matter preyed on my thoughts. I would have to act swiftly in the trade-city of Rasa. If I didn’t, I’d get caught out by winter once more, and Dorje had warned me that the Path of Heaven’s Spear would be impassable for months.
I thought it very possible that I might die of impatience if I were forced to delay my quest for months.
Dorje was confident that so long as we met no trouble along the way, we would arrive in Rasa in time for me to join one of the last Bhodistani trade caravans going south. What troubled me was the matter of payment.
I’d given well nigh the last of my coin to Unegen, and while I didn’t think the old fox had cheated me, it meant that Erdene was right, and the last item of great value I had was the Imperial jade seal.
It was a precious gift, and one that spoke of the great trust that Emperor Zhu had placed in me. I felt profoundly guilty at the notion of bartering it, although I would do it if necessary. At the same time, I was unsure if it would be as valuable as I needed it to be to Bhodistani traders going in the opposite direction from Ch’in. As an added difficulty, I would be facing a considerable language barrier.
As we made our way along the narrow trail, through gorges, along mountainsides, I weighed the matter, breathing the Breath of Wind’s Sigh to clear my head of the aching dizziness that came with the thin air.
Toward the end of the day, our path intersected with one of the great rivers that carved its way through the Abode of the Gods. We made camp alongside the river in a broad, shallow gorge, pounding tent-stakes into the loose scree and anchoring them with heavier stones. While there was still light, I fetched my satchel and took stock of my possessions once more, sitting cross-legged before my tent, laying each item out on the square cloth embroidered with bamboo.
A handful of coins, no more than a pittance.
An ivory-hilted dagger.
The Imperial medallion.
Arigh’s Tatar bow, superfluous now that I had my own yew-wood bow. The latter, I had no intentions of parting with. At some point, my survival might depend on it.
The last three items were dear to my heart for different reasons, and I would hate to part with any of them-but none of them would save my life.
A crystal bottle with a few drops of perfume.
My mother’s signet ring.
Reluctantly, I worked the blue-green jade bangle loose from my wrist and added it to the array.
“Dorje?” I called to him. “Would you be willing to counsel me?”
He came over cheerfully, squatting across from me. “Yes, of course. What is it?”
I pointed. “I’ve almost no coin left to me. Along with passage to Bhaktipur, I will need warmer clothes and blankets. These are the items I have to trade, but I do not know how to value them.”
Dorje clicked his tongue. “You should not trust a trader!”
“I am not trusting just any trader,” I said steadily. “I am trusting you. Will you not advise me?”