Naamah's Kiss (23 page)

It was beautiful, very beautiful. I marveled at the buildings and templesand aye, the folk. It didn't seem as noisy or bustling here as it had in Bourdes. The denizens of the City of Elua went about their business at a more leisurely pace, gathering in small knots to chat with friends.

"Home." Lydia sighed with pleasure.

"Home," Florette agreed.

The coach station was on a street near Elua's Square. The moment we descended from the carriage, a handful of young men appeared to offer their services as porters. Me, they regarded uncertainly, but they flirted shamelessly with the ladies. I watched Florette engage in shrewd negotiations with a likely pair.

"Do you know where you're bound, dear?" She cast a disapproving eye over me. I had my satchel over one shoulder and my bow and quiver over the other. "Have you kin here? You never did say, did you? Have you lodgings?"

"You'd be welcome to stay with us for a time," Lydia added.

Florette pursed her lips, then gave a firm nod. "It's no trouble."

I smiled at them both. "You're very kind. But I've lodgings arranged and I've a fancy to stretch my legs and see a bit of the City."

They gave me the address of the townhouse they sharedit belonged to Lydia, Florette having lost hers to her dead husband's creditorsand made me promise to call on them if I'd need of aught.

"You take care of yourself, dear." Lydia patted my cheek. "Remember us!"

"I will," I promised.

As maddening as they'd been, I watched them toddle away with a certain sense of fondness. I turned to find Theo leaning against the stable doorway, watching me.

"You were right," I said. "They weren't so bad."

"They would have felt differently if they knew what you are," he said quietly. "Do you really have lodging arranged?"

I shrugged. "I've an address."

He hesitated. "I'd be pleased to escort you there."

"No," I said slowly. "I think not. You made your choice."

"Forgive me." Theo stepped forward and brushed his lips against my brow in an awkward kiss. He gave me a rueful smile. "Somehow, I suspect FU tell my grandchildren about this encounter one day, Moirin of the Maghuin Dhonn. Whatever it is you're bound for, I'm sorry I wasn't bold enough to play a greater role in the journey."

"So am I," I said.

Theo bowed, exacting and formal. "Blessed Elua hold and keep you, lady."

"And you." With that, I left.

I hadn't lied to the ladies; I truly did have a fancy to see the City. Or more rightly, I had a fancy to see the great oak tree in Elua's Square, scarce glimpsed from the window of the coach. It grew in the very heart of the City and was said to have been planted by Blessed Elua himself.

It was old.

Very old.

The thoughts of trees grow slower and more ponderous with age. This was the oldest I'd ever encountered. Even at a pace away, its thoughts were silent. I stood beneath the vast green canopy and laid my hand on its bark.

"Hello," I said softly.

It was a long time before I felt the tree respond. Slow, so slow! And yet it had a tremendous awareness, greater than any I'd ever encountered. The oak tree remembered centuries. It was only a blink of time ago that Prince Imriel had scrambled into its branches, digging out a hidden gemstone. It remembered when there was no City, only a tiny village in a lush river valley.

It remembered Elua.

It remembered how he had cupped an acorn in the palm of his hand and smiled, turning to one of his Companions. And the Companion had smiled in reply and taken Elua's hands in his and blown softly on the seed.

Anael, the Good Steward.

A little green tail had split the shell of the acorn and wriggled free. Together, Elua and Anael had planted it here.

"So long ago?" I marveled.

So long ago.

I bent my brow against the rough bark. "You've seen so much."

The oak agreed.

And someone stole my purse.

"Oh, gods bedamned!" I felt the tug at my waist as my purse-strings were severed and raised my head in outrage. A wiry youth dashed across the square.

I was angry enough at both myself and him to set out in pursuit. I summoned the twilight without thinking and set out after him at a quick trot, dodging D'Angelines strolling in the square. I might not have known the City, but I was a good tracker and I managed to keep the lad in sight. Sure enough, after turning down a couple of streets, he glanced over his shoulder and slowed down, seeing no one behind him. He smiled and tossed the purse in the air and caught it, clearly satisfied with himself.

I meant to get it back. Although it was not so very much money and I had the letter of credit Caroline no Bryony had given me, I'd no idea if it would be honored as promptly as my claim in Bryn Gorrydum, where Alais the Wise herself had established the fund. And I'd learned enough on my journey to know that the last thing one wanted to do was start out penniless in the City of Elua. I stole closer, concentrating on the lad. I drew nearer, only a block behind him. I didn't intend to harm him, only to snatch the purse back. It would give him a scare that would serve him right.

I was so intent on my task, I didn't heed the carriage rounding the corner ahead of me.

To be sure, its driver didn't see me .

Later, I would learn that it was travelling at a goodly pace, mayhap faster than it should have been in the City. And I would learn that the horses veered, sensing my unseen presence. The carriage struck me nonetheless, knocking me off my feet and onto a hitching post outside a wineshop. The impact jolted me backward and I fell, hitting my head on the street.

Then, I had only the shocking sense of a series of mighty blows and the world whirling around me, going from twilit dimness to dizzying brightness, then darkness.

There were voices in the darkness.

"came out of nowhere! Swear to Elua, my lord!"

"No, no. Don't move her, Denis."

The darkness retreated, pain surging in its wake. I was lying in the street. My chest was filled with searing pain and it was hard to breathe. A man knelt beside me. He was so beautiful I thought mayhap I was dead or dreaming.

"Lie still." His voice was deep and soothing. "I'm afraid my carriage struck you. Can you breathe?"

Barely. I mouthed the word.

He nodded. His eyes were grey like Cillian's, and utterly unlike Cillian's, intense and stormy. "Slow and shallow. Try to relax. I'm going to feel for injuries."

I closed my eyes and concentrated on easing a meager bit of air in and out of my lungs. He felt me all over, his touch deft and light and expert.

"Can you move your head?" he asked.

I tried. I could, but it set off new waves of agony throbbing at the back of my skull, which in turn made me feel sick. For a moment, I thought I might vomit and choke on my own bile.

"Easy." He placed his fingertips on my temples and peered into my eyes, tawny hair framing his face. "Name of Elua, what are you?" he murmured to himself. I couldn't answer and didn't try. "All right, listen. I fear you've dislocated a rib. I'm going to attempt to maneuver it back in place. Can you lie still without struggling?"

I blinked in affirmation.

"Good girl." He turned to someone else. "Denis, come here." He raised my left arm over my head. If I could have screamed, I would have. "I'm sorry," he said in his soothing voice. "I know it hurts. But I promise you, I know what I'm doing. Denis, pull lightly on her arm. Lightly."

Oh, stone and sea, it hurt!

"You're very brave." The tawny-haired man fished my signet ring on its thong from my gown. My eyes widened in alarm. "It's all right, I'm just moving it out of the way. A family heirloom, is it? We'll make sure it's safe." He glanced at it and went still. "Nevil." His voice was tight. "She had a bag. Find it."

"Aye, my lord," a third voice said.

"Right." He turned back to me, then closed his eyes and rubbed the palms of his hands together, murmuring a prayer. When he opened his eyes, they were more intent than ever. "Relax as best you can and keep still."

He put his hands on me.

Warmth radiated from them. It felt like golden sunlight spilling over my skin. Even through the pain, I could feel pleasure in it. He felt along my ribcage, pressing first with his fingertips, then with the heel of one hand, slow and steady.

Something inside me moved.

Of a sudden, the pain in my chest diminished and I could breathe. I took a deep, relieved gasp, then another and another. Air had never tasted so sweet.

The tawny-haired man smiled. "Better?"

I nodded, which was a bad idea. My stomach lurched and a scalding tide of sickness rose in my throat. I turned my head and retched.

"Oh, hells !" the man Denis swore. "You owe me a new pair of breeches, Raphael."

"My lord?" The coach-driver's voice, high and strained. "I found her bag. You're going to want to see this, my lord."

"Stay with her, Denis," the tawny-haired man advised. "If you're inclined to chivalry, I'd suggest you put your doublet beneath her head, and I'll stand you the cost of a whole new outfit."

"You're being almighty solicitous of some half-breed street urchin," Denis grumbled, although he obeyed.

The doublet was soft beneath my aching head. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing, fearful I'd vomit a second time. I heard the tawny-haired manRaphael, the other had called himutter a startled oath, then confer with his driver in hushed tones. The world went in and out around me. When I opened my eyes, he was leaning over me.

"Moirin?" he asked.

I gave a faint nod.

"Moirin mac Fainche of the Maghuin Dhonn?" His voice was low and steady. "Descended from Alais de la Courcel and Conor mac Grainne?"

"Aye," I whispered.

"Blessed Elua bugger me!" Denis exclaimed. "Are you jesting?"

The man Raphael ignored him. He laid a gentle hand against my cheek, that wonderful warmth still radiating from it. "You've taken a hard blow to the head, my lady, and I'm worried that rib could have punctured a lung. As you've seen, I'm a physician trained in the healing arts. With your permission, I'd like to take you to my home to recuperate. I promise, you'll be treated with the utmost of solicitousness. Is that suitable to you?"