I pointed a finger at him. “You do not have leave for blame, my stubborn boy. You let Jagrati make you her toy.”
“You would have, too,” he said. “I saw it. Only-”
“Only my lady Amrita refused to allow it.” I knelt on the bed beside him, tugging at his sweat-sodden tunic. “So. If nothing else, we have established that I have far better taste in royal ladies than you do. Although I must say, your wife Erdene still loves you, and she proved helpful in the end.”
“Did she?” Bao smiled faintly. “I’m glad.”
“Yes.” I tugged harder, to no avail. “Lift your arms, won’t you? Else I’ll have to summon Hasan Dar to aid me.”
Bao shifted obligingly and lifted his arms, and at last I was able to ease his soaked tunic over his head, removing it.
I caught my breath.
There were new markings on his corded forearms-fresh, stark, and unfamiliar. Vivid black tattoos inked onto his skin in a complicated zig-zag pattern that forked like lightning, each turning marked with a symbol in a strange alphabet. Remembering old tales, I wondered if they were part of some charm or spell that further bound him to the Spider Queen.
I traced the pattern. “Bao? What is this?”
“What?” He glanced at his forearms. “Oh, that.” He shrugged. “It is the path through the maze to Kurugiri, Moirin.” He lifted his right arm a fraction. “This way is up.” He let it fall, and lifted the left. “And this is down.” An involuntary shudder racked him. “Do you think it will be helpful?”
I kissed him, reckoning it was best done before the vomiting began. My diadh-anam sang happily within me, reunited with its missing half.
“Yes,” I said. “Oh, yes!”
SIXTY-FIVE
Bao was miserable for days.
He trembled and shook, racked by bone-deep pains. He tossed and turned and sweated, unable to find ease, unable to sleep. There was vomiting and worse, as though his body sought to expel every foreign substance within it along with the dregs of the opium he had smoked for months.
It was perhaps the most spectacularly unromantic lovers’ reunion in the annals of history.
Still, he had done something no one else had ever done. He had walked away from the Spider Queen and Kamadeva’s diamond of his own will, breaking the spell that bound him to her.
And he had brought the secret of the path to Kurugiri with him.
Hasan Dar was cautiously elated. The entire palace remained on high alert, watching for the Falconer’s elusive poisoner. Guards in civilian clothes were posted over every storeroom, watched over every well, accompanied the Rani’s cooks to the market. Meanwhile, the commander took counsel with the Rani and her clever son, trying to forge a plan that would take advantage of the maze’s key.
Bao’s presence was kept a secret that we might not alert our enemies to his betrayal. Let Tarik Khaga and Jagrati think he had failed, that he had been captured or slain, and the nature of his tattoos remained a mystery.
In between bouts of agony, Bao told Hasan Dar everything he knew about Kurugiri’s vulnerabilities.
Some of the news was good. Due to the stronghold’s apparent unassailability, the Falconer didn’t maintain anything like an army, relying instead on his impenetrable maze and over a dozen skilled assassins.
The bad news was that the path was narrow and twisting, filled with switchbacks and blinds in which assassins could lurk alone or in pairs and defend the path against an oncoming army. Superior numbers would prevail in the end, but gaining the peak would come at a steep cost.
And the Spider Queen and Kamadeva’s diamond awaited at the top, a danger not to be underestimated a second time.
Throughout his ordeal, I tended to Bao and did my best to ease his suffering. The Rani’s physician was right, nothing really helped, but at least I could change his sweat-soaked linens and clothing, give him peppermint tea to drink, and see that his chamberpot was exchanged for a clean one-the cursed Jagrati’s harsh words on the matter of human ordure ringing in my ears as the latter task was accomplished.
My lady Amrita was right. I did not disagree with what Jagrati had said. The stench of ordure could be washed away. It was foul deeds that made a person unclean.
Amrita visited several times a day, bringing Ravindra with her that he might witness Bao’s suffering and appreciate it as a cautionary tale, lest opium tempt him one day. I was not entirely sure it worked, for despite Bao’s obvious misery, Ravindra was more interested in and awed by his feat of swinging from the branch of a sprawling banyan tree in the garden to gain my balcony.
“That was a very long leap, Bao-ji,” he said with respect.
“Heh.” Bao flashed a grin at him, the first one I’d seen from him since he arrived. “I know, highness.”
“Were you afraid of falling?” Ravindra inquired.
Bao scoffed. “I never fall.”
Amrita shook her head in mild despair. “I fear he is not such a very good influence, your bad boy.”
“No.” I ruffled Bao’s damp hair. “But he seldom boasts in vain.”
Despite her gentle teasing, it was clear that Amrita too was kindly disposed toward Bao, solicitous of his suffering, and grateful for the warning and incredibly valuable information he brought.
Bao liked her, too. “Better be careful, Moirin,” he murmured after their first visit. “Your White Queen, she will be jealous of that one.”
I winced in unexpected pain.
“What?” He searched my face. “I’m sorry, was that cruel to say?”
“No.” I dipped a clean cloth in a basin of cool water, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “No, you couldn’t have known.” The words brought a lump to my throat, but I forced them out anyway. “I learned in Vralia that Jehanne died giving birth to a daughter.”
He caught his breath in a sharp hiss. “Oh, Moirin! I am sorry.”
I nodded my thanks. “You always liked her, too, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” Bao smiled a little. “She did whatever pleased her, and never apologized for it.”
“Like Jagrati?” I asked carefully.
His face clouded. “I do not want to talk about her yet. After all, you haven’t told me half of what happened to you in Vralia.”
“Nor will I, until you’re recovered.” I wrung out the cloth. “Fair enough.”
“No, not like her,” Bao said after a time. “Your Jehanne, she was not angry at the world. There was no hatred in her, only much passion. Also, she saved you from that conceited Lord Lion Mane,” he added. “And she gave much honor to Master Lo. So yes, I liked her, and I am very sorry she is gone.”
I wanted to ask him more about Jagrati, but it would wait until he was ready. And I had not told him the whole truth about Vralia yet, because I was afraid it would send him into a fury that would delay his recovery. My stubborn peasant-boy and I had a great deal to talk about.
For now I was just glad to have him back.
On the fourth day after Bao’s arrival, two things happened-both of them good, for once. The first was that the worst of the opium-sickness seemed to have passed, leaving Bao weary and drawn, but no longer racked with pains or afflicted by sweating, nausea, and worse.
I was grateful.
The second thing was that Hasan Dar’s disguised guards had caught the poisoner Divyesh Patel.
Thanks to Bao’s advice, they had been on the lookout for any strangers selling edible goods in the markets of Bhaktipur-and that was exactly what they found. One slight, nondescript, unprepossessing fellow who approached the Rani’s kitchen staff with an enticing offer of fresh-caught river fish, plump and gleaming.
The Rani’s staff dickered.
The slight fellow smiled when they came to accord, handing over his fish.