Naamah's Kiss
Page 40

He nodded and did so.
Claire Fourcay spoke the words in a sour tone. Caim-the-man vanished and the doorway closed. I sank to my knees with a sense of blessed relief.
For better or worse, it was over.
It took me a few days to recover. I wasn't quite as drained as I had been after Marbas' summoning—I'd conversed with him the longest— but I had the nagging feeling that each time, there was less of me left to recuperate. Raphael didn't dance attendance on me the way he had last time. After assuring himself that I would recover, he returned to the City for two days, coming back to fetch me on the third.
None of the Circle called on me in his absence.
"They're angry, aren't they?" I said when Raphael returned.
He took a deep breath. "They are. Not at you. Elua! It's not your fault. But yes, they're angry. They've been tricked and tricked, again and again. After years of study and effort, all we have to show for it….." He wrinkled his nose and rubbed it, an odd look in his eyes. "Thank the gods it's almost winter."
I was confused. "Why?"
Raphael shuddered. "All those scent-trails. Forage, forage, forage. Back to the colony, dig, dig, dig."
I touched his hand. "I'm sorry."
He looked at me sidelong. "Caim spared you, didn't he?" Aye.
"I wonder why," he mused.
I shrugged. "They, um, seem to like me."
Raphael uttered a sharp laugh. "They're not human, Moirin. They don't have likes and dislikes as we understand them."
"Why not?" I plucked at the bedsheets. "They're what Elua's Companions once were, aren't they? You'd never say they were incapable of loving. Why shouldn't their brethren be capable of at least liking?"
He frowned and gazed into the distance. "Mayhap they were alike long, long ago. But those of the One God's servants who chose to follow Blessed Elua did so out of love, and in the process, they became far, far greater than they had been. Those who rebelled and failed did so out of envy and anger, and they are less than they were." He rubbed his nose absently. "At least we know they can be compelled."
"Ah, no!" I said in alarm.
"I'm not breaking my promise." Raphael laid his hand over mine. "It's in my thoughts that mayhap this wondrous gift of healing we're able to share was all that destiny ever intended. But the Circle has worked so very hard." His grey eyes were dark and grave. "They're returning to their studies for a time. If they can find a way to outwit one of the spirits, may I tell them you'll at least listen to what they propose?"
"I'll listen," I said. "But they'll be wasting their breath."
"Listening is enough," he assured me.
We returned to the City of Elua, where I discovered that the best gift I could have hoped for awaited me: My father was back. I laughed aloud with delight when I learned that he'd called on the townhouse in our absence, and went straightaway to the Temple of Naamah to see him. I found him kneeling in contemplation before the effigy modeled on my great-great-grandmother, the first royal companion. His face was glad and serene, his scarlet robes were pooled around him, his brown hair a shining fall down his back. I stood in the doorway a moment, just watching him. He had something of Master Lo Feng's gift for stillness. Then he caught sight of me out of the corner of his eye.
"Moirin." He smiled and rose, opening his arms. "Come here."
I hugged him hard. "I'm so glad you're back."
"As am I." My father returned my embrace, then studied me with a faint frown. "Have you been ill?"
I shook my head. "No. Why?"
"You look….." He hesitated, touching my cheek with gentle fingers. "Beautiful, of course. But there are shadows beneath your eyes. Has there been trouble?"
"No, no. I wa….." I blew out my breath. "I've overexerted myself, that's all. A lack of sleep. It's fine. I'm fine."
"If you say so." He still looked concerned. "What have you been up to?"
I answered with a half-truth. "I've been studying with Master Lo Feng. Do you remember? You told me to seek him out."
"Ah." My father's worried expression eased. "The Ch'in physician, yes. And has he helped you find your destiny?"
"No," I admitted. "But he's teaching me to breathe."
"To breathe," he echoed blankly. "This I must hear."
I glanced up at the oculus of the dome and gauged the position of the sun. In my excitement, I'd forgotten all about my lesson. "I can do better," I said. "Would you like to meet him?"
"Very much so."
It was a wonderful meeting.
A light dusting of early snow had fallen, frosting the barren branches and the evergreen shrubs in the courtyard. The embers in the little brazier glowed cheerfully, sending up curling tendrils of fragrant smoke. We were only a little bit late. Master Lo Feng was there awaiting me, his hands folded in his sleeves. Beside him, Bao leaned idly on his staff.
Not much surprised those two, but I saw their eyes widen at the sight of my father in his crimson robes.
"Master Lo Feng." I bowed in the Ch'in manner. "Forgive my tardiness. This is my father, Brother Phanuel Demarre, only just returned to the City. Father, this is Master Lo Feng and, um….. Bao."
"Filial duty takes precedence." Lo Feng waved away my apology. He bowed to my father. "It is an honor."
My father clasped hand over fist and returned his bow as gracefully as though he'd been doing it all his life. "Well met, my lord. The honor is mine. I understand you're teaching my daughter to breathe?"
Master Lo Feng's eyes crinkled. "You find it strange?"
My father smiled his lovely smile. "I find it unfamiliar. But I am eager to learn more if you are willing to suffer a novice's presence."
Unexpectedly, my mentor chuckled and stroked his two-pointed beard. "Your path chose you long ago, Brother Phanuel. I do not think this humble scholar has much to teach you. But I would be honored by your presence."
My father inclined his head. "And I grateful for your forbearance."
There were only three mats. After a discussion fraught with insistence and demurral, my father accepted one, thanking Bao for his sacrifice. Bao shrugged and didn't reply, but his face was softer than I'd ever seen it, except for a few unguarded moments when he looked at Master Lo Feng.
I sat cross-legged on my mat, emulating Lo Feng. My father knelt on his, sitting effortlessly on his heels and tucking the folds of his robes beneath his legs. Bao stooped over the brazier and blew on the embers, making them flare to life, then retreated to keep watch over us.
"So." Master Lo Feng tucked his hands into his sleeves. "The Breath of Embers Glowing….."
I listened.
I breathed.
Mostly, I stole glances at them. And it seemed to me that day that there were so many kinds of beauty in the world. They were all so very different, these three men from three generations. My father's presence seemed to illuminate it.
When it was over, Master Lo Feng chided me for my inattentive-ness, but he did it nicely. And then he asked to have a few private words with my father.
Bao and I withdrew to the far side of the courtyard and stood together in awkward silence. I tried to think of something to say, but between my lingering weariness and sudden happiness, my mind was a blank.
"He's nice," Bao ventured at length in a grudging manner.
I was just pleased that he'd deigned to speak to me. "He is, isn't he? I liked him as soon as I met him."
He frowned. "You never met him before?"
I shook my head. "Only a little while ago. I grew up in Alba with my mother."
"Huh." He leaned on his staff and stared at the two men conversing.
Well, it had been a promising start. "Where did you grow up?"
Bao screwed up his face. "I do not know the word. People who do….." Unexpectedly, he tossed his staff high in the air and threw a standing somersault. He caught the staff on its descent, planted the butt, and vaulted into a flip, landing with the staff tucked neatly under one arm. "Like so."
"Stone and sea!" I clapped. "That's wonderful!" He shrugged. "So you were born into a circus family?" I prompted him. "Performers? Acrobats and jugglers?"
"Not born." Bao's face darkened. "Sold."
"Oh." I felt like an idiot. Belatedly, I remembered that Lo Feng had said Bao was a child of violence. "I'm sorry. How old were you?"
"Three." He summoned a fierce, hard smile. "Fifteen when I run away."
"Is that when you met Master Lo Feng?"
"No." Bao eyed me. "Why you ask so many questions?"
"I'm curious."
"Why?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I just am."
At that moment, Master Lo Feng called us over. My father smiled and reached out his hand and I took it.
"Strangely, I find all this breathing has given me an appetite," he said. "Moirin, would you join me for an early dinner?"
I smiled back at him. "I'd love to."
We dined at an inn in a part of the City known as Night's Doorstep because it was at the base of the hill where the Houses of the Night Court resided. It encompassed the Tsingani quarter and the inn was owned by a Tsingano. It was called the Cockerel and it had a long and venerable history in the City. The owner was a tall, scowling fellow with an imposing mustache, but he broke into a wide grin at the sight of my father.
"Brother Phanuel!" He beckoned with both hands. "Come, come. Always a table for you."
"Thank you, Stefan." My father laid a hand on my shoulder. "This is my daughter, Moirin."
The Tsingano raised his fist to his mouth and bit his knuckle. "Such a beauty! Not born of any milk-white D'Angeline, either. Was her mother one of ours?"
"I was born to the Maghuin Dhonn," I said.
His eyes widened and he took a step backward. "You're the witch! The one they're all talking about."
"She's my daughter," my father said mildly.
"Of course." Stefan didn't quite meet his eyes. "There is a fine dish of stuffed cabbages if you and your daughter are hungry, Brother Phanuel."
"That would be very pleasant, thank you."
Although I would have enjoyed it more if the innkeeper weren't looking askance at me, the food was simple and hearty and good, and we washed it down with tankards of foaming ale.
"So." My father pushed his empty plate away. "Master Lo Feng is concerned about you. He says you've been engaged in some secret business with Raphael de Mereliot that….. how did he put it? Drains your vital chi."
I toyed with my last bite. "I'm fine."
"Moirin."
We may have known each other only a short time, but that was a parent's voice to be sure. I sighed. "I promised not to speak of it. But it's all right. It's over. I won't be doing it anymore."
He leveled a stern green, green gaze at me. "You promise?"
"Yes! I promise."
"Do I need to speak to Lord de Mereliot?"
"No!" I laid one hand on my chest. "I'm trying to follow my diadh-anam. But whatever it requires, I don't think that was it." Unless it had aught to do with the topaz jewel lodged in my thoughts, anyway.
"All right." My father relaxed. "So everything else passes well? I trust that Jehanne's not bedeviled you beyond bearing since you're still keeping company with de Mereliot. You've managed to avoid further entanglements on that front?"
"Ahh….." I remembered seeing a pair of letters addressed to me and stamped with the crest of House Courcel on the receiving tray at the townhouse. I'd hurried out without bothering to open them. "Well. Almost."
He frowned. "What?"
"Prince Thierry has been courting me," I admitted. "I may have, um, encouraged him more than I intended."
My father closed his eyes. "You bedded the Dauphin?"
"Only once!"
His shoulders shook. He wiped one hand over his face and got himself under control. When he opened his eyes, they were bright with a mixture of mirth and rue. "Moirin….. Elua have mercy!"
"It was only once," I repeated.
My father shook his head. "One thing's for sure. Whatever else you may be, you're Naamah's child and no mistake."
CHAPTER FORTY
My father stayed in the City for a whole month. It was the nicest time I'd had since I came there. The scholarly members of the Circle had retreated into their arcane research. In the absence of activity, the rumors faded as the gossipmongers of Terre d'Ange moved on to the next topic.
My strength returned, drip by drip.
To be sure, there were setbacks. Raphael concentrated on his work as a physician. A few times, he asked my aid, but only in times of dire need. That, I couldn't begrudge. Together, we saved the life of a woman in childbirth—the young Marquise d'Ilon. She'd begun bleeding heavily during labor.
We staunched the bloodflow, Raphael and I.
There were times when I thought I did love him, and that was one of them. When he placed the squalling babe in the grateful young mother's arms and grinned at me through his exhaustion, hair plastered to his brow. He'd attended her while she labored for hours before he sent for me, knowing the toll it would take to aid him.