THIRTY-TWO
At dawn on the morrow, we set sail for Terra Nova on the ship Naamah’s Dove.
There was no ceremony, no great fanfare, all of that having taken place at the previous night’s dinner, only a handful of folk saying one last farewell to loved ones. My father came to the wharf to see us off, looking out of place in his elegant priest’s crimson robes, his oak-brown hair loose and shining on his shoulders.
“You have the letter for my mother?” I asked him.
He nodded. “I do. And I will deliver it in person, I promise.”
For the first time, I saw that there were fine lines on his face, fanning from the corners of his green, green eyes.
It made my heart ache.
“Thank you,” I whispered, embracing him. “Thank you for all the kindness you have given me.”
My father held me. “How could I not?”
Aboard the ship, a sharp whistle sounded. Septimus Rousse leaned over the railing. “Lady Moirin!” he called in a good-natured tone. “Come aboard, won’t you? We’re losing daylight.”
Reluctantly, I released my father.
He turned to Bao. “Keep her safe?”
Bao clasped one hand over his fist, bowing in the Ch’in manner. “It is my life’s mission, Brother Phanuel.”
And then there was nothing left to say, nothing left to do but board the ship. Another ship, another journey. We cast off from the wharf and began to make our way down the broad surface of the Aviline River. I stood in the stern and watched as the figure of my father dwindled to a crimson speck, and then vanished altogether as the white walls of the City of Elua fell away behind us.
“So we’re off on another adventure,” Bao said softly.
“Yes, and I expect it’s going to be every bit as dreadful as I feared,” Balthasar Shahrizai announced, joining us with Denis de Toluard in tow. “Have you seen the size of the cabins?” He shuddered. “Ghastly.”
“At least you have a cabin, my lord!” one of the sailors called cheerfully to him. “If you want to see truly cramped quarters, come sling a hammock in the main berth!”
Balthasar gave the fellow a jaundiced look. “I think not.”
Bao laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll get used to it.”
He shuddered again. “Elua have mercy, I hope not! Months on end of living cheek by jowl with a motley group of increasingly malodorous, malnourished adventurers… no, no thank you.”
“Are you going to carry on like this for the entire trip?” Denis de Toluard asked with asperity.
“I might,” Balthasar admitted.
The other rolled his eyes. “You didn’t have to come, you know. It would have been enough to back it.”
“Actually, it wouldn’t.” Balthasar’s gaze fell on me. “You may not think much of my sense of honor, Denis, but I couldn’t have abided knowing a young woman’s courage put mine to shame.” He shrugged. “So here I am. Now, shouldn’t we be singing sea shanties or throwing the old knucklebones or some such thing? Something nautical to while away the tedium?”
I laughed. “Give it a few hours, my lord. We’ve only just set sail.”
He heaved a dramatic sigh. “It’s going to be a very, very long journey, isn’t it?”
For a surety, it was.
As the days passed, we settled into a routine. Bao and I shared a narrow berth in a small cabin off one of the two wardrooms, with the remaining five cabins occupied by Balthasar Shahrizai, Denis de Toluard, and three other ranking noblemen: a hot-tempered Azzallese baron’s son named Alain Guillard; a steady L’Agnacite fellow named Brice de Bretel, younger brother of another baron; and the third son of a Namarrese comte, copper-haired Clemente DuBois, who had a tendency to make bad jokes whenever he was nervous.
Once we passed the harbor of Pellasus and left the relative placidity of the Aviline River for the open sea, that was quite often.
There were times when I could understand why sailors loved the sea, both for its endless beauty and the primordial challenge it offered; but I will own, they were few and far between. For better or worse, I was a creature of earth and trees and green growing things, and I didn’t like being away from land. In my experience, sea voyages entailed long periods of tedium broken up by storm-tossed hours of terror.
Still, we endured.
As the only woman aboard the ship, not to mention a bear-witch of the Maghuin Dhonn whose vision had launched the expedition, I was an object of curiosity; but for the most part, both the crew and our force of fighting men were polite and respectful. Bit by bit, I came to know most of them by name.
On most evenings when the weather was good, Captain Rousse invited Bao and me, and usually Balthasar and Denis, to dine in his cabin, which was larger and more well appointed than our wardroom.
Septimus Rousse was a clever fellow beneath his bluff good cheer, and I soon came to value him. On our first evening together, he posed a blunt question to me.
“So tell me, Lady Moirin, what did your vision show you?” he inquired. “Do you know where to find his highness? What’s befallen him?”
“I wish I did,” I said with regret. “But no, I’m afraid not. All it told me is that Thierry’s alive. That is the only thing of which I’m certain.”
He sighed. “The gods are stingy with their directions, aren’t they?”
I nodded. “That they are, my lord captain.”
Septimus Rousse slapped a broad hand down on the table. If the table hadn’t been bolted to the floor, it would have jumped; I know I did. “With your permission, I’d like to come with you, my lady.”
I raised my brows. “On the search?”
“Aye, on the search!” He leaned forward. “Why not? I’ve got a good crew and an able first mate in Alaric Dumont, one of the best, a genuine descendant of Philippe Dumont. If anything were to happen to me, you’d be in good hands.”
“Assuming whatever happened to you didn’t happen to the rest of us,” Balthasar Shahrizai observed.
“True enough.” Captain Rousse grinned at him. “The jungles of Terra Nova! We could all die out there, couldn’t we?”
“In ever so many ways,” Balthasar agreed with a sidelong glance at Denis de Toluard. “Or so I’m given to understand.”
Denis frowned. “Would you prefer I painted an unrealistic picture of the dangers we face?”
“His highness Prince Thierry was bound for a mighty river in search of this alleged empire, wasn’t he?” Septimus Rousse asked shrewdly, ignoring their bickering. He reached around the table with one long arm, pouring each of us a measure of perry brandy from a decanter. “Tell me, what do the lot of you know about navigating rivers?”
Bao coughed. “Quite a bit, actually. There are mighty rivers in Ch’in.” I kicked his shins beneath the table. “But doubtless not as much as you, lord captain,” he offered.
“We would be grateful for your aid and expertise, my lord,” I added. “If you are truly minded to accompany us, I accept the offer with gratitude.”
Septimus Rousse hoisted his snifter of perry brandy, swirling and studying it before tossing it back in one gulp. “Done and done!” he proclaimed, slamming the empty snifter onto the table. “I’m coming with you.”
I was glad.
Days wore onto weeks. We sailed and sailed, Naamah’s Dove riding abreast the waves, bellying her way over the swelling crests, plunging into the troughs. Captain Rousse studied his charts, studied the night skies, consulted his sextant, plotting our course across the trackless ocean. His capable sailors went about their business, fearless and uncomplaining.
The rest of us simply did our best to stay out of their way and pass the time as best we might—reading or telling tales, playing at dice or card games, studying the Nahuatl tongue under Denis de Toluard’s tutelage. It was every bit as tiresome and cramped as Balthasar had predicted, and with a limited supply of fresh water for bathing, we did indeed grow increasingly malodorous.
For me, there was also a certain loneliness at being the only woman in the expedition. Despite the fact that the men were polite and respectful, there was a rough-hewn sense of camaraderie among them that excluded me. Men have their own way of communicating, their own set of jests and boasts. When the seas were calm enough to permit it, they sparred with one another on the decks. Even when the seas were choppy, they scuffled and arm-wrestled and found ways of testing one another’s strengths.
I didn’t begrudge them, but it left me feeling isolated. It wasn’t the first time I’d been the sole woman in the company of men, but never before had I been confined in close quarters with so many of them for such a long time.
When I dreamed of Jehanne some six weeks into our journey, it was a welcome relief.
Once again, I was back in the Palace, standing in the marble hallway before the door to my plant-laden bower.
This time, I smiled as I opened it.
“Hello, Moirin.” Jehanne’s blue-grey eyes sparkled at me. She was sitting curled on my bed clad in only a thin shift of white silk, her fair hair loose and shining over her shoulders. The wonderful fragrance of her perfume mingled with the green scent of sun-warmed plants. “Have you missed me?”
“Always.” I closed the door behind me. “Have you a message for me, my lady? Have the gods deigned to grant you further knowledge?”
“Mayhap.” Jehanne tilted her head. “Or mayhap it was your loneliness that drew me out of mine. Come and kiss me.”
I obeyed gladly; glad, too, that in my dream, I was freshly scrubbed and clean, clad in clean attire.
“Again, please,” Jehanne said; and there was a vast ache of loneliness in her voice, vast enough to put mine to shame. I climbed onto the bed beside her and slid my hands into the shimmering, silken curtain of her hair, pulling her against me and kissing her thoroughly and deeply. When at last I released her, she shuddered all over and sighed with profound gratitude. “Thank you.”
I stroked her bare arm, marveling at how real it felt. “Is this about Thierry?”
“No.” Her star-bright eyes were filled with candor and regret. “I wish it were.”
I couldn’t help sighing. “Why are the gods so stingy with their directions?”
She didn’t answer right away, watching my fingertips trail over her fine, fine skin. “There is a balance that must be maintained, Moirin,” she said at length. “Even gods dare not upset it with their interventions, lest all the worlds crumble. Did not the dragon tell you as much in Ch’in?”
I blinked. “You know about the dragon?”
Jehanne smiled with quiet sorrow. “I know many things, few of them useful. For instance, I know that Naamah has showered uncommon blessings on you, especially for one who had never pledged herself to her service. Would you not agree?”
“Aye, my lady,” I said. “But—”
She laid a finger on my lips, silencing me. “You have served her in your own way, I know.”
“You do?”
“Yes, Moirin.” Jehanne glanced at me beneath her lashes. “I know about your Ch’in princess, and your broad-shouldered Vralian lad. I know about your wedding night. But I am here to tell you that the sacrifices Naamah asks of us may not always be so pleasant and easy. You have a hard choice coming.”
“What is it?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “I am not allowed to say. Only to remind you that you have been blessed with uncommon grace.”
“All right.” I nodded. “Thank you. I will be mindful of it.”
“Good.” Looking relieved, Jehanne wound her arms around my neck. “Tell me you loved me best, Moirin,” she murmured, kissing me. “At least among the women you’ve known. Lie if you must; I won’t mind. I know I was not the most worthy among them.”
“I loved you best,” I said truthfully.
“Did you?”
I laughed. “Yes, Jehanne. Worthy or not, among the women I have known, I love you best.”
She gave me a sparkling look. “I’m glad.”
Ah, gods! It was true. I had come to cherish my friendship with my fiercely reserved Ch’in princess Snow Tiger, and I had delighted in her willingness to show her vulnerable side to me in asking for Naamah’s blessing; and I would always be a little bit in love with my lovely Rani Amrita for her unfailing courage and the immense kindness she had shown me, not the least of which came about when I was tormented by Kamadeva’s diamond, racked with desire beyond my control.
But neither of them was Jehanne, whom I had loved first and best.
In my dream, I demonstrated it at length.
I awoke to bells clanging, and shouting abovedeck.