Naamah's Kiss (Moirin's Trilogy #1)

Naamah's Kiss (Moirin's Trilogy #1) Page 37

Raphael nodded. "Only Valac."

I should have said no.

Of course I should have said no.

But it had felt so very, very good to hear Raphael tell me he loved me, even if it was a lie—and there was the pulse of my diadh-anam inside me.

"All right," I said. "Yes."

I slept on and off for the entire day. Come morning of the following day, I felt stronger. Raphael summoned his coach and we returned to the City of Elua with promises to return to the manor in three evenings' time. That afternoon, I went to keep my appointment with Master Lo Feng in the gardens of the Academy.

He looked disapproving. He sat on his mat and held a fan, which he wielded with every bit as much skill and elegance as Jehanne de la Courcel. "Yesterday I waited. But you did not come."

I clasped my hand over my fist and bowed to him. "Forgive me, Master. My lord de Mereliot required my services, and I am in his debt."

Lo Feng pointed at me. "You are weak."

I blinked. "Your pardon?"

"Your chi ebbs." He clucked his tongue. "You must take better care of yourself, no matter what Raphael de Mereliot believes he requires."

Bao, clutching his staff, muttered under his breath.

I stole a sidelong glance at him and flushed, remembering how his visage had flashed before my eyes at the moment I'd climaxed. He shot me a sour look in reply, and the memory faded. I must have been a little mad to imagine it.

Master Lo Feng rapped my knuckles with his fan. "Would you learn?"

I bowed my head. "I would."

He rapped them again. "Then attend."

I attended.

That day, he taught me the Breath of Ocean's Rolling Waves. I breathed in through my nostrils, breathed deep into the middle pit of my belly. I breathed out through my mouth. I breathed and breathed until I caught the rhythm of it—the slow-building waves gathering in the deep sea, building and building, surging toward the shore. Building and breaking; drawing back and reclaiming their essence, only to rebuild once more. Over and over, the rhythm repeated itself.

I was almost sorry when Master Lo Feng declared an end to the exercise. I felt better than I had since the summoning. Bao helped his mentor to his feet, then busied himself with rolling the mats around his staff.

"Why does he always carry that thing?" I asked, curious.

"It is his weapon," Lo Feng said calmly. "In Ch'in, peasants are not allowed to carry blades. Bao is very skilled with a staff."

"Is he your bodyguard?"

"Among other things." He smiled at Bao, who actually smiled back at him. "He assists me with preparing medicines and tonics. He serves as my eyes and ears and my strong right arm. He is quick to learn foreign tongues. Bao is my magpie."

I wondered if Master Lo Feng would ever speak of me with the same warm affection. "I'm sorry I failed you yesterday. I would have sent word if I'd known."

"Mmm." He gave me a contemplative look. "What was this difficult matter you undertook for Raphael de Mereliot? Another healing endeavor?"

"Ah….." I'd promised not to speak of it. "In a sense."

Lo Feng thrust his fan into the sleeve of his robe and steepled his fingers. "Raphael has great promise and great skill. I have enjoyed teaching him. But he is young and ambitious. Ambition untempered by caution is like a river in flood. It leaps from its natural channels to forge the shortest course, and it sweeps away all in its path. Do not get swept away, Moirin."

I kissed his cheek impulsively. "I won't. Thank you."

His eyes crinkled. "In our culture, it is inappropriate to demonstrate affection in public thusly. But you are welcome."

The next few days passed without incident. I continued my lessons with Master Lo Feng. I began reading the Trois Milles Joies, the book Queen Jehanne had sent to me, and discovered that she had not, in fact, been teasing in anything she had taught me and that Naamah's arts were even more extensive than I'd reckoned. On an evening when Raphael was closeted with the Queen, I accepted an invitation from Prince Thierry to attend the Hall of Games, where he and a handful of young peers took great pleasure in teaching me the rudiments of piquet and jeu de table. I enjoyed myself and wished once more that my destiny, whatever it was, were less complicated—because every time I thought about the forthcoming attempt at summoning Valac, dread crept over me. It wasn't the spirit himself I feared so much as it was the way the process drained me.

Still, I did it.

On the appointed evening, we returned to the de Toluard estate, where I was greeted with a mixture of gratitude, appreciation, and resentment. Claire Fourcay and Orien de Legasse seemed particularly put out.

"They're jealous," Lianne Tremaine informed me.

"Why?" I asked. "This business isn't exactly pleasant for me."

"They've worked harder than anyone else to master the language and the rituals," she said in a pragmatic tone. "It galls them to have to depend on a young, untutored, half-breed bear-witch from the back of nowhere."

Balric Maitland laughed deep in his chest. "Especially a beautiful one."

"But not you?" I asked them.

The silversmith shook his head. "I'm a craftsman," he said simply. "I don't reckon you're after my trade."

"Nor mine," Lianne said.

"I'm not after anyone's trade!" I said in frustration. "I'm not after anything."

Lianne smiled her foxy smile. "You're after Raphael de Mereliot."

I gazed across the parlor at him. He was speaking solicitously to Claire Fourcay, soothing her ruffled feelings. Lamplight gleamed on his tawny hair. As though sensing my gaze, he glanced at me and gave me a fleeting wink. As always, my diadh-anam quickened. "I suppose."

Denis de Toluard circulated, pouring cordial. "Drink, friends! The hour is nigh. To knowledge!"

"To knowledge!" we all echoed.

Everything was the same. The sense of man-made stone closing around me. The robes, the hyssop-scented water, the medallions. The only difference was that this time the linguists had writing tablets and chalk with them. We entered the chamber and took our places. Raphael took my hand in his, entwining our fingers. His lips brushed my temple in a kiss. I wished it didn't feel so comforting.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

I nodded.

This time I didn't wait for his guidance. I knew what to expect. I saw the light-streaming doorway in my mind's eye as soon as Claire Fourcay finished speaking the first conjuration. I summoned the twilight, breathed it around me, and pushed. A column of crimson light sprang from the flagstones and faded.

Valac.

I held on to the twilight. In the world a mere half-step away, a member of the Circle was speaking to the figure of a pretty boy in a white tunic. I was aware of it in the distance, like the sound of insects droning on a hot summer day. In the world I inhabited, a half-naked boy with raven's wings and goat's eyes grinned at me, baring pointed teeth.

You again.

"Me again," I agreed. The distant droning sounded agitated. "Will you not give them what they want? They'll let us both be if you do."

He shook his head. I've already done so. Having obeyed the injunction once, I am not compelled to repeat myself.

"Is this a game to you?" I asked.

His pointed grin widened. Yes.

I sighed. "Good to know."

In the world behind me, the droning changed in pitch, sharpening. Someone was speaking harsh, irritated words of ritual dismissal.

Valac laughed soundlessly. Good-bye, Moirin. And don't be a fool. If they get what they want, they'll only want more. They'll use you up until you're gone.

He vanished.

It was as though he took the greater part of my strength with him. I crashed back into the mortal world and fell to my knees, my hand slipping from Raphael's grip.

"Moirin?" He knelt beside me.

"Here," I said feebly. "Still here. Raphael….. I think this is a foolish pursuit. It's a game to them, nothing more. They mean to trick you at every turn."

His eyes darkened. "Well, we'll just have to outwit them, won't we?"

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

I slept for a full day while the Circle of Shalomon debated and argued. I didn't care what they decided. I wanted only to sleep. During my brief moments of wakefulness, I was glad I'd sent word to Master Lo Feng not to expect me.

"They want to try again," Raphael told me on the carriage-ride home.

I leaned my head against the stiff cushions. "Valac says he's already obeyed their injunction. He's not obliged to repeat himself."

"Not Valac."

I cracked my eyes open. "Who?"

"Marbas," Raphael said softly. "He's another lesser spirit, I promise. But he holds forth the offer of the same gift. The revelation of things hidden. It may be we could complete the spell. And more, too."

"Oh, aye?"

He nodded. "Diseases and their cure."

I studied his grave face. "That would mean a great deal to you, wouldn't it?"

Raphael swallowed hard. "It would."

I closed my eyes again. "Just not soon."

"No." He pulled me into his arms and settled my head on his shoulder. "Not soon. So Valac spoke to you again? He admitted to playing a game with us?"

"Aye," I murmured.

"What else did he say?"

I was silent a moment. "He said if you get what you want, you'll only want more. You'll use me up until I'm gone."

His body stiffened. "That's a damned lie!" Is it?

"Moirin." Raphael shifted me and took me by the shoulders. His grey eyes were stormy and intense. "I swear to you on my parents' graves that I would never allow such a thing to happen. I'm a physician. It would violate my oath and every tenet I hold sacred." His gaze softened. "Not to mention the fact that I'm passing fond of you."

"Oh?" I said. "The other night you said you loved me. But perhaps that was just the fever speaking."

"No." His hands flexed on my shoulders. "Moirin….. if you want to go no further, I understand. I can see the toll it takes on you. But you're young and resilient and stronger than you know. Who will you choose to trust? Me, or a spirit who's freely admitted to playing tricks on us?" His fingers tightened. "Fate brought us together for a reason. If we can win just one gift, one concession from one of them….. the cure for just one form of pestilence, mayhap….. we will have done something great and wonderful."

"And you would be content with that?" I asked. "One gift?"

He hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. "Yes."

"All right."

Raphael let go my shoulders and kissed my brow. "Is it terrible?" he asked gently. "You've seen and spoken to a spirit in his true form. Do they frighten you so very badly?"

"No." My head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. I laid it back down on his shoulder. "You do."

His voice rose. "Me?"

"You. The Circle." I yawned. "Raphael, you can swear all you like that you'd be content with one gift and you may even mean it, but they won't be."

"Well, they'll have to be." His arms came around me again, warm and strong and comforting. "Trust me."

I sighed, and slept.

The summoning had taken more out of me this time—or mayhap it was just that there was less of me from which to take. The next day,

I was still as weak as a day-old kitten, and had to send word to Master Lo Feng that I wouldn't be able to come. Daphne fed me hot beef broth and clucked over me.

"Just what is it his lordship puts you up to out there in the countryside?" she asked darkly. "There are rumors, you know."

"Oh?" I asked.

"They say that Denis de Toluard practices alchemy." She saw my blank look. "He's searching for the formula to turn lesser metals into gold."

I rubbed my eyes. "Well, if he is, it's naught to do with me." I doubted the words the moment I uttered them. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if that was one of the secrets the spirits held out as a taunting promise.

"They say there's all manner of nonsense involved." Daphne lowered her voice. "Virgin's milk and lizards and such."

I laughed. "No lizards—nor any virgins, either, I suspect."

She sniffed. "I mislike it. And now he's got you mucking about with that Ch'in fellow, too. I wish you'd all have the sense to leave well enough alone."

I shrugged. "I'd as soon you didn't speak ill of Master Lo Feng. He's been very kind to me."

Daphne eyed me. "To be sure, you're an odd one yourself, my lady."

The next day, I felt strong enough to resume my lessons with Master Lo Feng. My heart gave a leap of gladness at the sight of him—and even of surly Bao leaning on his staff. Daphne might disapprove all she liked, but the lessons made me happy and I felt a sense of rightness in Lo Feng's presence—even if he gave me a reproving look and chided me for failing to heed his advice.

"I'm heeding," I said. "I'm here, aren't I? Not washed away."

He merely shook his head. "Today I will teach you the Breath of Trees Growing. It's soon, but if we wait any longer, we may have to wait for spring for you to get the proper feel of it."

Bao spread our mats beneath a stand of graceful beech trees, sunlight streaming through their golden canopies.