Naamah's Kiss (99 page)

"Perhaps."

The dragon's absence yawned like a chasm between us. Knowing the princess would never ask, I went to her bed unbidden, settling my arm around her and pulling her into the curve of my body.

"I feel so empty, Moirin," she whispered into the darkness. "Although we have won a great victory, I cannot rejoice. So many dead! And I miss him. Deep inside me, I ache at his loss. I cannot say it to anyone else. But I do."

Already falling asleep, I kissed the nape of her neck. "I know. I miss him, too."

She found my hand and squeezed it. "I know."

Alas, morning did not bring clarity.

Morning brought news of the capture of Lord Jiang Quan and Master Lo Feng's son Lo Yaozu, better known as the alchemist Black Sleeve.

Long before their arrival, our camp buzzed with the news; both camps, in truth, the two having been combined into a sprawling one. And I daresay the soldiers who had fought under Lord Jiang's standard were more bloodthirsty than those who had fought beneath the standard of the Imperial dragon, for they had been lied to and misled, profoundly betrayed, their loyalties twisted and used against them. On the heels of their surrender, Emperor Zhu had been quick to ensure the true story of Lord Jiang and Black Sleeve's treachery was made known, and the news had spread like wildfire throughout the former enemy camp.

After the dragon's appearance yesterday, not a man among them doubted it.

We saw them approaching in the distance, two men on horses, surrounded by several dozen of their former retainers armed with bows and arrows, their dirty faces grinning with triumph.

Emperor Zhu had issued an order that no one was to harm them, and no one did. The crowd of soldiers parted ranks. Not a few of them hissed and spat onto the ground as they passed, but no one raised a hand against Jiang Quan and Black Sleeve.

And we were there to see it. The Emperor and his daughter had given us a place of honor at their sideme, Bao and Dai, and Master Lo Feng.

Him, I worried about.

Stone and sea, it was his son who was the architect of this horror. That plump, laughing toddler I had seen in his memories, the joyful babe playing with a shimmering pearl the size of a ball, had been his son. A man, now, bitter and angry.

For many, many years. No one but Master Lo knew how many.

They came, riding slowly.

Far away in the blue skies, the peak of White Jade Mountain erupted in splendor. I felt the dragon coming and smiled to myself. Gods, he was glorious! His glistening coils decorated the sky as he arrowed toward us, growing larger and larger the nearer he drew, a hundred thousand shouting throats heralding his arrival. He descended softly, drifting downward like a gentle avalanche to settle onto the former battlefield, his gleaming claws digging into the earth, his opalescent eyes regarding the proceedings, all-seeing and impassive.

Heaven's emissary had arrived.

Lord Jiang Quan was a broken man. I don't know what else I had expected. Once, he had been a strong and stalwart fellow, a brave, ambitious leader. But he had taken a terrible gamble and lost. He dismounted before the Imperial presence, his head bowed, shoulders slumping.

"Jiang Quan." Emperor Zhu's voice was clear and deadly. "You stand accused of rebelling against the Mandate of Heaven. You stand accused of sacrificing your own eldest son to your ambitions. Do you deny it?"

Lord Jiang shook his head, defeat etched on his broad features. "No."

The dragon rumbled deep in his chest.

"Noble Daughter, do you wish to take this on yourself?" Although a company of Imperial archers stood at the ready, the Emperor turned to the princess, offering her the right of vengeance she had once craved. I was glad when after a moment's hesitation, she refused it with a slight shake of her head. She had enough blood on her hands, and I cared for her, more than I had ever reckoned. The Son of Heaven nodded, raising one hand and lowering it. "So be it. Let us make an end."

Imperial bows rose and sang.

I don't know how many arrows pierced the stalwart figure of Lord Jiang Quan, the enemy I barely knew. A dozen? Two dozen?

Enough. He fell without a sound, his body bristling with arrows.

Black Sleeve was different.

Clad in crimson robes, he sat upright in the saddle. However old he was, he looked no older than fifty or sixty years, a younger version of his father. His long, elegant face was rigid with disdain, dark eyes blazing with fury in it, his gaze locked on his father's. Master Lo returned it without flinching, returned it with grief and compassion. The alchemist made no move to dismount until the Emperor gestured, and several of his guards stepped forward to prod the captive with spears.

"Lo Yaozu, known as Black Sleeve." This time, there was sorrow in Emperor Zhu's voice. "You stand accused of conspiring against the Mandate of Heaven and inciting rebellion. You stand accused of exploiting one of the Celestial Beings to defile the reputation of the Imperial heir. Do you deny it?"

Head held high, Black Sleeve made no reply until the dragon arched its long, shimmering white neck and uttered another menacing rumble. At that, the alchemist paled, though he held his ground. "I make no denial."

" Why? "The word slipped from Master Lo's lips, filled with anguish. He bowed rapidly three times toward the Emperor. "Forgive me, Celestial Majesty. I cannot help but ask."

The Emperor nodded. "And I would hear Lo Yaozu's answer. Why?" He gestured at Lord Jiang's motionless, bristling body. "Jiang Quan's ambitions, I understand. He sought the Throne of Heaven for himself. What did you seek and why?"

A spasm of emotion crossed Black Sleeve's face, curling his upper lip. His gaze settled on us, one by one.

I shivered at the pain and venom in it.

"Look at them, Honored Father," he said with contempt. "You would not lift a finger to aid your beloved wife, my beloved mother, when she lay dying; and yet you crossed oceans and mountains to aid this abomination of an heir to the Throne of Heaven, this girl masquerading as a warrior."

Snow Tiger's head snapped up, eyes blazing, her sword singing free of its sheath.

Black Sleeve ignored her. "And them." He jerked his chin at Bao and me. "You would not consent to teach your own son. Do you not see what promise I held? I might have saved my mother if you had consented to teach me. Look at the pupils you chose instead. A common peasantsome Tatar's bastard by the look of himand a sorcerous barbarian, neither with the wits to master the ancient arts." The pain of an old, old wound trembled in his voice. "Are you proud, Father? Are you proud?"

"No," Master Lo Feng said quietly. "I am not proud of the youthful folly that led me to steal a dragon's pearl. I am not proud of the youthful ambition that led me to seek to overturn the order of nature. Most of all, I am not proud of my failure to convey the wisdom of my maturity to my son. For that and what my failure has wrought, I grieve most deeply. Oh, Yaozu! Do you not understand that your mother died as she wished, at peace and in harmony with the world?"

The alchemist turned away, averting his head as though to avoid his father's words.

Master Lo's voice continued, gentle and sad and remorseless. "It is true. And yes, my son, I am proud of seeking to aid her Noble Highness, a warrior in truth, violated by your deed. I am proud to play a role in undoing the folly of my youth."

The dragon made an approving sound.

"And I am proud of my pupils, so very proud." Master Lo glanced at us, love and kindness shining through his deep, deep sorrow. "What I have been privileged to teach them, they have learned very well indeed."

"Have they?" Black Sleeve's voice quivered with rage. "Then let us see how well you have taught them, Father."

He turned in a graceful arc and flung out one hand, the sleeve of his crimson robe flaring.

Why is he called Black Sleeve?

In the blink of an eye, a handful of poisoned darts sped toward us. I heard the dragon's helpless roar of fury. Beside me, Snow Tiger was already in motion, her sword angled, avoiding Dai's efforts to protect her; but she no longer possessed the dragon's immortal strength and speed. Skilled as she was, she was no longer the quickest person there.

Bao was.

With a fierce cry, he flung himself between us and the alchemist's darts, whirling like a dervish, one half of his broken staff in each hand. The deadly little darts thudded into the battered bamboo.

All but one.

If Bao's staff hadn't been broken, he might have done it. He was that quick, that deft, and that good. But there was a gap between the broken halves, a gap that he filled with his own body. The dart caught him in the throat, in the sculpted curve beneath his jaw where I liked to press my face and breathe in the scent of his skin. There, the haft of the dart jutted forth. Such a tiny thing.

He took a step toward us, his face apologetic. "Moirin" he saidand crumpled.

With a look of sick determination, Black Sleeve began another graceful turn, the other sleeve of his crimson robe swinging toward us. Half-blind with tears, I reached for my bow, knowing it was already too late.

A streak of silver shot past me, followed by the belated echo of Imperial bowstrings thrumming.

The arrows found their target, but Snow Tiger's sword found it first. She had thrown it with furious and immaculate skill. I knew it by the gilded filigree on the round guard, the golden silk tassel dangling from its hilt.

Black Sleeve sank to his knees, wrapping his hands around the hilt that protruded from his chest. He looked down at it, uncomprehending. He might have been a hundred years old, a hundred and fifty. But in that moment, his face was a wounded boy's.

"Father." He raised his face toward Master Lo Feng, his gaze bewildered. A trickle of blood spilled from one corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry."

My mentor made a choked sound.

His son fell over sideways, eyes fixed and motionless.

I ran for Bao, flinging myself on my knees beside him.

Late, too late. Black Sleeve's poison was fast-acting.

I plucked the dart from Bao's throat, bent my head, and tried to suck the poison from his skin. I sucked and spat, my lips turning numb and tingling.