Naamah's Curse by Jacqueline Carey Read Free Book Online Page A

falling.
Well, then, mayhap you do
. She would have smiled and beckoned to me anyway, her eyes sparkling.
But you are still mine for now, my lovely savage
.
    And I would have gone to her. Once, on the greatship, I had asked Bao why he was jealous of Raphael but not of Jehanne.
Might as well be jealous of the moon for shining as that one,
he had said in a philosophical tone. There was no one in the world Jehanne couldn’t charm when she chose.
    Thoughts of opulent Terre d’Ange were an incongruous thing on the Tatar plain, riding with dung beneath my fingernails, but they helped sustain me. It was good to remember that there had been a time when my world had consisted of more than endless grass plains, frigid, shivering nights, and dried yak-meat. There had been feasts with all manner of delicacies, bottomless pitchers of wine. There had been balls with music and dancing, splendid garments, a thousand shimmering lanterns. I’d had my own quarters at the Palace, the enchanted bower that Jehanne had caused to be made for me, warmed with braziers and filled with every kind of green, growing plant imaginable. Fragrant orange and lemon trees, dwarf firs in pots, tall fronds of ferns casting green shadows over my bed.
    Here, there was grass, grass, and more grass.
    I missed trees.
    One day, I came across an unfamiliar structure. From a distance, it looked like a mound of sticks tied about with blue rags. Wary of human presence, I hesitated to approach it, but I sensed no one, and the prospect of wood drew me.
    At closer range, I saw it was true. It was a conical cairn built of weathered branches—wood, firewood, enough for half a dozen merry campfires. I dismounted in haste, already calculating how best to bundle and load it, and how much additional weight Coal could carry, my cold fingers reaching eagerly to dismantle the structure.
    And then my
diadh-anam
stirred in warning, and I hesitated.
    Scarves of vibrant blue silk hung from the branches. There were little bowls nestled around the base of the cairn, tucked into niches. Some held a dried residue that might have been milk. Others held what looked to be the petrified remains of some kind of dumpling, pale and smooth as river-stones.
    I sighed.
    “This is a sacred place, isn’t it?” I said aloud, gazing at the immense blue vault of the sky. A breeze sprang up as if in answer, setting the blue scarves fluttering.
    So be it.
    I didn’t have milk or dumplings to offer, but I worked a strip of dried yak-meat free from the pouch that hung from my sash. Although I was worried about my stores growing low, I had learned in my travels that it was always wise to offer respect to foreign gods. I bowed and placed the meat in a bowl, hoping that it would not offend the original donor, hoping that whatever gods the Tatars worshipped would not think me stingy.
    And then I heaved myself back astride Ember, and we continued on our plodding way across the endless plains, Coal trailing behind us.
    It was two or three days afterward that I saw the herders. I saw the cattle first, scores of them ambling from the northwest on a course to intersect mine. I heard the shouts of the boys before I saw them. It was another cold, clear day, and their young voices carried across the plain.
    I glanced around, but there was nowhere to hide on the flat, empty expanse of grassland. For the first time in longer than I could recall, I summoned the twilight.
    Despite my lack of practice, it came easier than I had reckoned. I had seen dusk fall over the plain many, many times since I had passed through the gate, and the discipline that Master Lo taught me had focused my gift. I breathed the living memory of Tatar dusk deep into my lungs, feeling my
diadh-anam
flicker and glow. I breathed out the twilight, letting it settle over the horses and me.
    The sunlit world turned shadowy and dim, the grass silvered, and the sky filled with deep purple and indigo hues.
    With a silent thought, I asked the horses to