Naamah's Kiss (41 page)

I followed him into the bamboo gallery. A scroll of paper was stretched vertically on his easel. In a handful of elegant brushstrokes, he had captured the essence of the tame grove, using only black ink, each stroke filled with purpose. I traced the graceful lines of the bamboo, not quite touching the soft, absorbent paper.

"They yearn to bend and sway," I said.

"Yes," he agreed. "They do."

I pointed to three lines of strange characters. "And this? This is writing in your alphabet?"

"It's a poem." Master Lo Feng said in a tranquil tone.

I searched his face. "Will you tell it to me?"

He inclined his head. "Leaves like green spears seek to pierce the glass dome of Heaven; leaves seek and fail. The air breathes in a quiet hush. Beneath the bamboo, I am melancholy."

"That's very beautiful," I said.

"It is a poor translation," he said modestly. "But I would be honored if you would accept this painting as a gift."

"Ah, no!" I protested. "You're too kind."

"Not at all." After determining that the ink was sufficiently dry, Master Lo Feng took the scroll from its easel and rolled it. He presented it to me with a bow. "The other day, you gave me the gift of wonder. This is a small gift to give in return."

I accepted it. "Thank you. I will treasure it."

"May I ask how you got through the entry past Bao just now?" he inquired. "No one gets past Bao."

Bao, leaning on his staff, muttered darkly.

"Oh." I flushed. "I'm sorry. He did say you weren't to be bothered."

"Bao is rude and overprotective," Master Lo Feng said calmly. "I am not angered. I wish to know."

I told him.

"Hmm." His expression was thoughtful. "You draw yin energy from the earth itself in the spirit world. Is this what you used to heal the young man's broken bone the other day?"

"Aye," I said. "Only I didn't use it, Raphael did."

"You cannot do it on your own?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Only with plants."

Lo Feng's eyes shone. "Will you show me?"

I glanced around. "Everything here is healthy. I could quicken it. Coax it to flower."

Bao snickered.

"This species flowers but once every hundred years," Master Lo Feng said apologetically. "It is a rare event. Perhaps we should"

I closed my eyes and breathed in the twilight.

Laid my hand on the nearest stalk and breathed it out.

Coaxing.

Although it was quiet, it felt like a shout. The energy passed through me, passed into the slender stalk, leaving me drained in a pleasant way. It raced upward and downward. Travelled beneath our feet through an intricate series of connected roots and rhizomes. A little breeze sprang up. The spear-shaped leaves rustled.

All at once, the bamboo flowered.

All at once.

I sank to my knees, happy.

"Lady Moirin?" Master Lo Feng stooped before me. Concern was written on his face. Over his shoulder, I could see Bao scowling. Inside my breast, my diadh-anam pulsed. "Are you well?"

"Yes." I smiled at him. "Would you take me on as a student?"

His eyes crinkled. "Of what?"

"Whatever you deem fit."

He smiled back at me. "Of course."

"I will begin by teaching you to breathe," Master Lo Feng said the following day when we met in the Academy's gardens.

I blinked at him. "What?"

"It is the essential process by which we draw energy into ourselves for you, even more than most. It lies at the heart of your gift. And although this magic of yours is foreign to me, I believe I may help you hone your ability to wield it." He gestured to Bao, who whipped his staff off his shoulder and twirled it. Three mats of woven palm fronds unfurled. Bao arranged them on the grass. Master Lo Feng sat cross-legged on one. "Sit."

I sat.

Bao followed suit, his back upright, his staff across his knees.

"Does he ever let go of that thing?" I asked.

"Do not concern yourself with Bao," Lo Feng said. "Now. The Five Styles of Breathing correspond to the Five Elements. We will begin with the one that is near to your own essence, the Breath of the Pulse of the Earth."

He told me to concentrate on the earth beneath me, to inhale and exhale through the mouth. To draw the breath into the deepest part of my belly, to the very pit of my groin. To listen for the slow pulse of the earth and match the rhythm of my breath to it.

"That's all?" I asked.

"Yes," he said simply. "For now."

For such a simple thing, it was surprisingly difficult. I found myself distracted by passing scholars shaking their heads, by a bell ringing in a tower summoning them to a lecture, by ants crawling on a nearby chrysanthemum.

"You are not going deep enough," Master Lo Feng said in reproof. "Do not focus on the things that live and grow upon the earth's surface. Close your eyes and listen for its pulse."

I closed my eyes and listened.

"You are breathing through your nose."

"Oh." I breathed through my mouth.

"Breathe into your belly, not your chest," he said.

I breathed into my belly, slow and steady. For a time, there was silence. Mayhap it meant I was doing well. I cracked open my eyes and peeked. Master Lo Feng's eyes were closed, his face as serene as a statue's. Bao's eyes were half-lidded, dark, glittering slits watching me. He drew deep, even breaths between parted lips.

"Moirin, do not concern yourself with Bao," Master Lo Feng said without opening his eyes.

"Bao is concerning himself with me," I complained.

"Ignore him."

I tried harder. I closed my eyes again. I thought about the earth beneath me and how deep it went. Deeper than the taproot of Elua's Oak. I listened for its pulse. I drew breath deep into the pit of my belly and breathed it out slowly. I thought about the bright and dark world beyond the stone doorway, and how the tread of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself had made the ground tremble.

A measured tread, slow and stately.

Terrible.

Beautiful.

Like a heartbeat.

When the bell in the tower rang a second time, it seemed faint and distant, summoning me back to myself.

"Oh!" I opened my eyes with an effort, my lids feeling oddly heavy. The shadows cast by plants and shrubs in the garden had moved. A good deal more time than I reckoned had passed.

Master Lo Feng's eyes crinkled. "Well done."

"Was it?"

"Indeed." He struggled to rise. Bao was on his feet in a flash, planting his staff and lending his master a solicitous hand. Master Lo Feng accepted it without a trace of embarrassment. "Old knees," he said ruefully. "Forgive me. Proper breathing will prolong life, but mortal flesh and bone is still mortal."

Bao muttered under his breath in Ch'in.

Master Lo Feng ignored him. "So. You bade me teach you as I saw fit. Will you continue?"

"Is this what you taught Raphael?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No."

"Why?"

"It is not what he wished to learn," he said patiently. "Nor where his gifts lay. Lady Moirin, I ask again: Is it your will to continue?"

I took a deep, experimental breath. My body reverberated with the memory of the Maghuin Dhonn's heavy tread shaking the earth, and the earth's answering pulse. My diadh-anam sang inside me. "It is."

He bowed. "Come tomorrow."

I thought Raphael might laugh when I told him that night at dinner that Master Lo Feng was teaching me to breathe, but he didn't.

"Odd as it sounds, there may be merit in it," he said. "I've found it to be true in other matters. As I said before, the Ch'in believe energy flows through the body in specific patterns, concentrating in various points. Under his tutelage, I've learned to sense and manipulate it." He smiled at me. "Greatly more so with your aid. I'm eager to see if that holds true in other endeavors."

"Your secret project?" I guessed.

Raphael nodded. "Make no mistake, Moirin," he said in a somber tone. "This is a private matter and you're not to discuss it outside the Circle."

"The Circle?"

"A handful of scholars dedicated to pursuing knowledge. We call ourselves the Circle of Shalomon." He hesitated. "It's naught that's illegal or treasonous, I promise, and we will follow every safeguard and take every precaution. But there are those in the realm who would question the wisdom of our pursuit. Once we've succeeded, it will be different."

I frowned, sopping up meat juices with a piece of bread. "May I ask exactly what it is that you're attempting to do?"

Raphael glanced at the chef standing beside the tray with the roast, the manservant hovering beside him. "You may ask, but I've said as much as discretion permits. I'll divulge no details here. Tomorrow. All right?"

"Oh, I don't know." I eyed him. "What will you give me in exchange for my aid and patience, my lord de Mereliot?"

He smiled. "What did you have in mind?"

"You fell asleep in a rather inconsiderate fashion last night," I pointed out. I'd kept my word and performed the languisement Jehanne had taught me. It hadn't made him weep, but it had pleased him greatly. And to be fair, I hadn't followed her instructions to the letter. I wasn't entirely sure she hadn't been teasing about putting my finger in his bottom. She had looked altogether too amused at my reaction to the suggestion. Once I could get past being disconcerted by the lingering scent of her perfume, I'd have to spend some time reading the book on Naamah's arts she had sent me.

"Consider it a tribute," Raphael said.

"Consider this a request," I replied.

He laughed and granted it.

It was nice, the nicest it had been between us that night. Raphael was thorough and considerate, taking his time to please me. I loved the feeling of him inside me, moving in and out, the slow waves of pleasure building. I loved the golden warmth of him. I loved the feeling of his shoulder blades beneath my hands, his hips rocking between my thighs. I matched my breathing to his, Master Lo Feng's lessons somewhere in the back of my mind. I wished it could always be this nice and simple.

Afterward, Raphael slept.

I lay awake for a time, my body sated, but my mind still alert. Raphael sleeping looked younger and more vulnerable. I stroked his tawny, silken hair. "What are you up to, Raphael de Mereliot?" I murmured. "What manner of business best left unsaid before your household?"