“Perhaps,” I acknowledged. “Although they both had good hearts. Jehanne… I do not think being a mother was some magic that would change her. It was time, that was all. Already, before the child, she was changing, letting herself be kinder and wiser. And Bao…” I thought of the vast streak of impossible romanticism that lay beneath his seemingly careless exterior, and smiled. “Oh, he is not such a bad boy, really.”
“I hope not.” A troubled expression settled over her lovely face. “Moirin… I do not know what is truth and what is only a tale. But it is said that Kamadeva’s diamond cannot compel false desire.”
A shudder ran the length of my spine. “Are you saying Bao is a willing victim?”
Amrita tipped her head back and forth, and made an ambiguous gesture with one hand. “No. Willing, no. He crossed the Abode of the Gods in search of you, a journey as difficult as your own. Since he does not come to you, it must be that his will is not his own. But Jagrati could not bind him to her with Kamadeva’s diamond if there were not a spark of true desire present.”
I glanced unerringly in the direction of Kurugiri, where Bao’s diadh-anam was a dull, guttering spark. “Is she beautiful, this Jagrati?”
“I have not seen her,” Amrita admitted. “But the tales say so. Beautiful and terrible at once, like Kali dancing.”
The image of the goddess Kali I had seen surfaced in my memory, her tongue thrust out in a frenzy as she danced, wearing a necklace of human skulls and a girdle of severed arms around her waist.
I shivered.
Bao had died-died, and lived. There was a shimmering darkness that hung over him that had not been there before. Mayhap such a terrible beauty spoke to him.
“Oh, Moirin!” Amrita said with dismay, reaching out to stroke my arm. “I did not mean to frighten you.”
“No, I know.” I raised her hand to my lips and kissed it. “Better to know, yes? There are many kinds of desire, my lady.”
She shook her head at me, but she was smiling again, which pleased me. “You are a little bit of a bad girl, I think.”
I smiled back at her. “I am a child of Naamah’s line, and desire is my birthright. I do not need a god’s ashes to make it so. I hold it sacred. It is my path. I am enough of a D’Angeline that I am not afraid to fight for love. I am not afraid to acknowledge it where I find it, including in your person, highness. And when it comes to Bao, I am not afraid to match desire for desire with the Spider Queen.”
Amrita’s gaze lingered on mine, caring and worried. “Is that wise, Moirin?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, my lady. I hope so. But so long as the gods remain silent, who can say?”
Ten days later, the gods broke their silence; or at least the mortal agents by which they made their will known surfaced. I found out why my diadh-anam had been content to allow me to linger in Bhaktipur.
The Falconer sent for me.
I would have expected high drama, a clever assassin armed to the teeth and filled with dire threats. But no, the messenger was an utterly unprepossessing fellow, not remarkable in any way in the slightest, save his utter lack of fear at being sent to deliver such a message. The assassin, I suppose, came later.
The Rani Amrita granted him an audience, sending for both her son, Ravindra, and me to attend it.
We heard him out.
“It has come to the attention of his majesty Tarik Khaga that the Rani of Bhaktipur gives shelter to a foreign dakini of surpassing beauty and power,” the fellow droned, rocking back on his heels, his gaze raking over me with unabashed appreciation. “He demands that you send her to him immediately.”
The Rani raised her brows. “Or?”
The messenger smiled, his upper lip curling to show his teeth. “I believe your highness knows the price of refusing such a request.”
I glanced at Amrita, but she silenced me with a slight shake of her head. “We will take counsel, and give you our reply within a day.” She raised her right hand, palm outward, and there was enough quiet strength and power in the gesture that the Falconer’s messenger took an involuntary step backward. I had come to learn the meaning of some of these ritual gestures, and this one symbolized her lack of fear, and her protection of me. “Go, and return tomorrow.”
The fellow pressed his palms together and bowed. “I will do so, highness.” He hesitated, his gaze shifting from me to her to Ravindra. “Do not do anything foolish, highness,” he murmured. “The boy has already lost his father.”
“Tomorrow,” the Rani repeated.
Once he had left, we met to discuss the matter. My heart was beating fast and my chest felt too tight.
Kurugiri.
It was the opportunity I had sought, and yet… I was scared. In the old tales, Phèdre nó Delaunay had entered a terrible kingdom of death and despair to rescue the missing prince, giving herself over to the kingdom’s dark ruler. Now that the moment was upon me, I wasn’t sure I had the same courage.
“Sit and breathe, Moirin,” Amrita said gently. “Calm your thoughts.” She pressed the tips of her fingers and thumbs together in a ritual gesture intended to aid in focus and concentration, and Ravindra emulated her, his young face graver than usual. “Come, let us all think.”
I took the thinking-pose, too, and forced myself to cycle through the Five Styles of Breathing.
It helped settle my nerves, but it brought no insights. “I have to go with him, my lady,” I said. “I cannot let Tarik Khaga send his falcons after you. I will go with him, find the path to Kurugiri, find Bao. It must be what the gods intend.”
“Is that what your bear-goddess says to you?” Amrita inquired.
Frowning, I consulted my diadh-anam. It was flickering with eagerness, like coals blown into fresh flame, but it was not flaring with certainty. “I’m not sure.”
“Then there must be another way,” she said calmly. “And I would very much like to find it.”
Ravindra, who was now idly pushing pieces around the chessboard, was silent.
A thought came to me, so simple and logical that I didn’t know why it hadn’t come to me right away. “No matter what we say, the messenger has to bring our reply back to Kurugiri, does he not? I could call the twilight and follow him.”
“They know about your magic, Moirin,” Ravindra said without looking up from the chessboard. “He knew you are a dakini. It is likely that your Bao has told them everything about you.”
I winced.
“I’m sorry.” He gave me an apologetic glance. “But I think we must assume this is a trap.”
Amrita stroked her son’s hair. “Wise boy. I think so, too. And I am not going to let you walk into it, Moirin.”
“Well, I am not going to let the Falconer send assassins after you, highness!” I said in frustration. “I could not live with it.”
“It is not your choice!” There was a sharp note in her musical voice I had never heard before.
I spread my hands. “Do you intend to lock me away? Unless you do, I will go. The gods have sent a sign. What else am I to do?”
“It is a game to them, I think,” Ravindra said in a clear, precise voice, one slim finger touching the carved figure of the black king. “The Falconer and his Spider Queen. They sit atop their mountain, controlling the board with their pawns and knights. This was the opening gambit. What we must do is neither accept nor reject it, but offer a gambit of our own.”