Naamah's Blessing (42 page)

Balthasar stepped forward to gather a fistful of soil. “Clemente DuBois,” he murmured. “You were the most annoying companion with whom I’ve ever shared a living space. Now I will miss your dreadful jests.”

There was a brief, shocked silence; and then men laughed and groaned in rueful acknowledgment. With a quiet smile, Balthasar sprinkled dirt on the grave.

Another fellow came forward. “Richard de Laroche,” he said in a ragged tone. “You were a good man and a good friend to me. I promise not to tell your mother that you died because you couldn’t manage to buckle your helmet properly.”

One by one, others came forward.

All the dead were named, all were acknowledged with a last tribute and a fond jest. When it was done, the mounds of dirt painstakingly hewed from the plain were shoveled by hand into the grave and tamped into place.

And then there was nothing left to do but carry onward. Men with damaged gear sorted through the armor and weapons of the slain, replacing pieces as needed. Septimus Rousse outfitted himself with a full set of gear. Bao declined an opportunity to do the same.

“You might at least consider a helmet,” I said to him.

He shrugged. “It does not suit the style of a stick-fighter. The weight would unbalance me. Besides, I have a very hard head, Moirin.”

I eyed him. “The gods know that’s true.”

In accordance with our plan, all the unclaimed armor and weapons were loaded onto a pair of pack-horses and carried half a league downstream to be dumped into the deepest part of the river. Temilotzin and Eyahue regarded this development with obvious regret, but neither of them spoke against it.

Despite Balthasar Shahrizai’s speech, there had been no shifting in the lines of rebellion that had been drawn. Alain Guillard and his two allies remained firm in their resolve to turn back. Our injured fighters raised no protest. Although they were not happy about the prospect, they recognized their limitations. And having relocated his courage, Mathieu de Montague remained desperately adamant that he would not lose it a second time.

I could not help but pity the lad, who was another of the youngest members of our party.

“There’s no shame in it,” I said gently to him. “A warrior’s path is not for everyone.”

Young Mathieu flushed, the blood creeping in a crimson tide beneath his alabaster skin. “Do you think me unworthy, my lady?”

“No!”

“Moirin, don’t coddle him,” Balthasar said in passing, slapping the lad on the back. “You’ll do, won’t you?”

“I will!” the lad said fiercely.

“That’s the spirit,” Balthasar noted with approval. “Remember, if
I
can do this, anyone can.”

Keeping a sharp eye on the distant mountain-top settlement of the Cloud People, our fighting men at last allowed themselves to wash the dried gore of battle and the dirt of its aftermath from their skin in the river.

I consulted with the knowledgeable Septimus Rousse and the
pochteca
Eyahue regarding what we could spare from our goods to aid those turning back toward the Nahuatl Empire in their journey.

Some hours past noon, we parted ways. It might have been wiser to wait, but no one wanted to linger on the plain beneath the shadow of the Cloud People’s mountain where their dead awaited retrieval.

I’d allotted one pack-horse, a sack of ground
maize
and a quarterfull sack of
cacao
beans to our rebels, reckoning it generous.

“You needn’t do this, my lady,” Alain Guillard said in a stony voice, not meeting my gaze. “We’ll find a way to manage.”

“I am not doing it for you,” I said calmly, nodding toward the injured men. “I am doing it for
them
.”

He said nothing.

And so we parted, trudging across the plain in opposite directions.

Terra Nova stretched endlessly before us.

FORTY-SIX

F
or many days afterward, our company was on edge, nerves raw and frayed. We took it as a matter of faith that we remained on the trail of Prince Thierry’s expedition. We posted shifts of multiple sentries at night and avoided settlements of the Cloud People whenever possible.

But it seemed Eyahue was right. There were no further attacks. And bit by bit, we began to relax. Grumbling over the rigors of the journey, which had abated in the wake of the battle and subsequent rebellion, resumed. It seemed to be of a harmless nature, and I was content to let the men complain.

We’d been so long on the road, I almost didn’t believe Eyahue when he announced we had reached the isthmus that connected the northern land-mass of Terra Nova to its southern counterpart. But several days onward, our trail ascended into a forested mountain range, following along the shoulder of a long, winding spine that snaked southward.

And when we scaled the first peak, we caught a glimpse of the sea—not the sea we had crossed on our journey to Terra Nova, which lay to the east of us, but a vast, uncharted sea to the west.

All of us stared at it in awe.

“Name of Elua!” Balthasar murmured. “What do you suppose lies on the other side of it?”

“We can’t confirm it without navigating it,” Septimus Rousse said. “But if the theories are correct, I’d say Messire Bao’s homeland.”

Pointing to the highest peak some leagues ahead of us, Eyahue informed us that if we were to climb to the very top, we would see both the eastern and western seas from its heights.

Septimus’ eyes gleamed. “I’d like to see that! Is there perchance a river that connects the two?”

Eyahue shook his head when the question was translated for him. “No. Many rivers, yes, but not one such as that.”

“A pity,” Septimus said with disappointment. “One could sail all the way around the world if there were.”

Denis de Toluard unbuckled his helmet and removed it to ruffle his sweat-damp hair. “Waterways can be built,” he said thoughtfully. “Look at what the Nahuatl accomplished with canals in Tenochtitlan, or the Caerdicci in La Serenissima. If the isthmus is as narrow as Eyahue says, it might be possible to devise one using existing rivers.”

The two men exchanged a glance.

“It would be a mighty endeavor,” Septimus mused.

“Aye, and it’s an endeavor for another day,” I said firmly. “If we live through this, you can plan it.”

It was a lush land, and a sparsely inhabited one. There were no great settlements, only small villages along the way whose denizens appeared peaceable and regarded us with wonder and curiosity.

Eyahue assured us with disdain that they were beneath a
pochteca’s
notice and had nothing worth trading for save food goods. They spoke myriad dialects, of which he spoke but a smattering. Whenever he was able to question villagers regarding a party of white-faced strangers passing through before us, he received blank looks and head-shakes in reply.

“Do not worry.” Eyahue patted my hand after the third such failed attempt. “It is likely that they took a different route thinking it would be easier to travel through the lowlands. They were wrong. That is why you are lucky to have me.”

I prayed he was right.

There was abundant animal life in the unpopulated areas between villages, and thanks to the absence of human predators, they were
quite fearless. On several occasions, I was able to procure deer with very little effort, although I could not help but feel a pang of guilt shooting creatures that stared at me with the same mild wonder as the villagers. Temilotzin, who had equal success with his throwing spear, laughed at my discomfort.

At length, our path descended from the shoulder of the mountain range into the dense lowland jungles.

“The worst is ahead of us,” Eyahue announced. He pointed south. “This jungle is not so bad. But in two, three days, we will reach the swamp. That will be bad.”

It was.

I didn’t mind the jungle. It was hot and dense, and I felt awful for the men laboring in their armor, but it was beautiful, too. We travelled along narrow footpaths through the thick greenery. Here, we began to see the flowers of surpassing beauty that Denis had mentioned so long ago—an incredible array of orchids that sprouted from the trunks of living trees or rose defiantly from the decay of fallen trunks, ladders of delicate blossoms nodding on long, slender stems, impossibly lovely.

Iridescent emerald hummingbirds darted here and there amidst the blossoms, their wings a buzzing blur. Monkeys chattered at us from the trees, and birds with dazzling plumage took flight with raucous cries.

“It reminds me of Bhaktipur,” Bao said to me.

I smiled wistfully. “It does, doesn’t it?”

But all too soon, as Eyahue had predicted, the jungle turned to swamp. Firm trails turned into a quagmire, with as much as half a foot of standing water underfoot. Everything smelled of vegetal rot. The thick muck sucked at our feet, making every plodding step an effort. I did not know who fared worse, the men in armor struggling to make progress, or our poor pack-horses, who sank knee-and hock-deep in the mire at times, plunging free with difficulty.

I did my best to encourage the former and soothe the latter, but stone and sea! It was hard going.

“How far, Eyahue?” I gasped on the first day.

The old
pochteca
grunted. “Tomorrow or the next day. You are lucky to have me,” he added again. “I know the best paths.”

I daresay it was true.

Thanks to Eyahue’s guidance, we were able to make camp the first night in the swamp on land that, while not precisely dry, was merely muddy. After gnawing on stale flatbread, men rolled themselves into their cloaks and dropped into an exhausted sleep. While well watered, our pack-horses went hungry for the night.

The second day was worse; and the second night worst of all. There was no solid land, dry or muddy, to be found. We slogged through the swamp until the light failed us, and dozed as best we could, soaked and miserable, wedging ourselves in the crooks of the hardy trees that sank their roots deep into the mire.

On the third day, we won clear of the swamp. Bit by bit, the ground grew more solid, the trees sparser, until a vast savannah of grasslands stretched before us.

Balthasar Shahrizai whooped in approval, flinging his arms into the air. “Blessed Elua be praised!”

“We’ve not reached Tawantinsuyo yet,” Eyahue said in a testy manner. “There’s a long way to go.”

“But you said that was the worst of it?” I asked him.

He pursed his wrinkled lips. “The worst until we reach the river passage.”

Although there were hours of light left, everyone was exhausted and the horses were famished. We unloaded them and turned them loose to graze, then set about building a roaring bonfire despite the heat, propping our sodden clothing on stakes to dry, the men tending to their gear. Septimus Rousse made a hearty porridge of sweet potatoes and
maize
from our stores, and all of us felt better for having a warm meal in our bellies.

“It really does feel like a whole new world,” Denis said in a contemplative tone, gazing across the sea of waving grass. “And to imagine that for thousands of years, no one knew it was here.”

“Except for the millions of people who lived here,” Bao pointed out.

Denis waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, you know what I mean! I’ve never been to Ch’in, but I knew it was there, as surely as you knew Terre d’Ange existed before you set foot on it.”

Bao stifled a yawn. “I never thought about it. I would not have left Ch’in were it not for Master Lo.” He gave me a tired smile. “And I would not have left it a second time were it not for Moirin.”

“Denis, why did Thierry want to come here so badly?” I asked him. “I know he did, but I never fully understood why.”

“Glory,” Balthasar murmured when Denis did not reply right away. “Adventure. All his life, Thierry felt overshadowed by the deeds of his ancestors in the past, and stifled by the tragedies that befell House Courcel in his father’s lifetime. He wanted to live life to its utmost, to walk the knife’s edge between terror and exhilaration. He wanted to pit himself against the greatest challenge he could imagine. In our lifetime, that’s the exploration of Terra Nova.”

There was a little silence.

“What the Circle of Shalomon attempted didn’t help,” Denis said quietly. “Seeking to explore a different kind of uncharted territory. It further convinced Thierry that Terre d’Ange needed to find a way to seek greatness.” His mouth twisted. “One that didn’t involve loosing a fallen spirit on the world.”

To that, I had no reply.

“You didn’t help, either, Moirin,” Denis added. “I’m not saying it was your fault.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t. But when you sailed off on that enormous Ch’in ship in pursuit of some arcane destiny, it fanned the flame within him.”

I felt guilty. “I didn’t
want
to go.”

Bao stirred. “Hey!”

“I’m glad I did,” I said to him. “But I didn’t want to. I didn’t choose my everlasting destiny!”

“Thierry did,” Balthasar said. “Or at least he tried to. And he would have chosen it with or without you idiots attempting to summon demons, or Moirin’s date with a mysterious destiny.”