“Sit and breathe, Moirin,” Amrita said gently. “Calm your thoughts.” She pressed the tips of her fingers and thumbs together in a ritual gesture intended to aid in focus and concentration, and Ravindra emulated her, his young face graver than usual. “Come, let us all think.”

I took the thinking-pose, too, and forced myself to cycle through the Five Styles of Breathing.

It helped settle my nerves, but it brought no insights. “I have to go with him, my lady,” I said. “I cannot let Tarik Khaga send his falcons after you. I will go with him, find the path to Kurugiri, find Bao. It must be what the gods intend.”

“Is that what your bear-goddess says to you?” Amrita inquired.

Frowning, I consulted my diadh-anam. It was flickering with eagerness, like coals blown into fresh flame, but it was not flaring with certainty. “I’m not sure.”

“Then there must be another way,” she said calmly. “And I would very much like to find it.”

Ravindra, who was now idly pushing pieces around the chessboard, was silent.

A thought came to me, so simple and logical that I didn’t know why it hadn’t come to me right away. “No matter what we say, the messenger has to bring our reply back to Kurugiri, does he not? I could call the twilight and follow him.”

“They know about your magic, Moirin,” Ravindra said without looking up from the chessboard. “He knew you are a dakini. It is likely that your Bao has told them everything about you.”

I winced.

“I’m sorry.” He gave me an apologetic glance. “But I think we must assume this is a trap.”

Amrita stroked her son’s hair. “Wise boy. I think so, too. And I am not going to let you walk into it, Moirin.”

“Well, I am not going to let the Falconer send assassins after you, highness!” I said in frustration. “I could not live with it.”

“It is not your choice!” There was a sharp note in her musical voice I had never heard before.

I spread my hands. “Do you intend to lock me away? Unless you do, I will go. The gods have sent a sign. What else am I to do?”

“It is a game to them, I think,” Ravindra said in a clear, precise voice, one slim finger touching the carved figure of the black king. “The Falconer and his Spider Queen. They sit atop their mountain, controlling the board with their pawns and knights. This was the opening gambit. What we must do is neither accept nor reject it, but offer a gambit of our own.”

Now my diadh-anam flared—and I knew.

“A trade,” I whispered. “Me for Bao.”

Ravindra nodded in approval. “That is a very good gambit, Moirin.”

“No!” Amrita shook her head. “No, I do not like it, not at all. What if Tarik Khaga accepts it?”

I swallowed. “Well, then….. I go to Kurugiri and bide my time until I can escape. Sooner or later, I will find a way. After all, I am a dakini.”

She looked unhappy. “Yes, and you are also a young woman of whom I have grown fond. You will suffer there.”

“Do not worry, Mama-ji,” Ravindra said in a soothing tone. “He will not accept the trade.” His hovering finger moved from the black king to the black queen. “Jagrati will not let him.” He picked up the piece and moved it, setting her in play. “The interesting thing will be seeing their countermove.”

I eyed him. “You will make quite a ruler one day, young highness.”

He smiled modestly. “Thank you.”

SIXTY

The Falconer’s messenger returned the following day, and the Rani Amrita delivered our reply to him.

“I can say neither yes nor no to your master,” she said to him, her hands folded, middle fingers steepled. It was the ritual gesture I had seen her make the first day we met in the street outside the temple, one I now knew was meant to calm conflict. “As you noted, Moirin mac Fainche is a foreigner, and no subject of mine to compel.”

The fellow opened his mouth to protest.

“However!” Amrita raised her right hand in the pose of fearlessness. “She offers a trade. There is a young Ch’in man named Bao in your master’s service. He is the beloved of the dakini Moirin. If Tarik Khaga frees him, she will go willingly to Kurugiri.” She smiled. “A touching sacrifice, do you not think?”

The messenger scowled and stared at his feet. “I do not know if that is an acceptable answer, highness.”

She inclined her head. “Nonetheless, it is my reply. Go, and tell him.”

He went; and we waited.

I hated waiting, the hard lesson of patience that it seemed I was fated to learn over and over.

And yet….. I had learned it. And I had endured enough to be grateful that if I must be patient and wait, I was very, very fortunate to do so in this very pleasant valley kingdom, the guest of this kind and gracious ruler with her clever, thoughtful son who was wise beyond his years.

Days passed.

No one could say for a surety how long it would take. With Manil Datar’s caravan, I’d made the descent from the peak opposite Kurugiri in two days; but the region was deep in winter’s grip by now. Amrita assured me that the route to Kurugiri was at a low enough altitude that it would not become impassable for months on end, unlike other places in the Abode of the Gods. Still, it could be blocked for days if there were snow-storms.

And no one knew how long it took to ascend the slope itself, navigating the secret path through the torturous maze.

So we waited.

We traded tales. I told the whole long story of helping to rescue the Emperor’s daughter and the dragon, and ending a civil war in Ch’in. My lady Amrita and Ravindra listened to it wide-eyed, both of them clapping excitedly at the good parts.

She told me about growing up in the coastal Bhodistani city of Galanka, where her family enjoyed great prestige. Her noble father had been the liaison to the D’Angeline embassy, which was how she had come to know my own father’s folk before she was pledged in marriage to the Raja of a tiny valley kingdom far, far away to the north. Amrita was the eldest daughter in a large, sprawling family, and her voice grew wistful when she spoke of them.

“Will you ever return there, do you think?” I asked her.

“No,” she said simply, her gaze settling on Ravindra. “My kharma is here.”

I nodded, understanding.

Amrita taught me more of the mudras, the ritual hand gestures that focused the mind’s thoughts and the body’s energies, tapping into the vast harmonies of the world. It was not unlike the meditation Master Lo had taught me, and yet I could not begin to achieve Amrita’s fluid grace, nor the sense of power that emanated from her slender hands when she took a pose. As clever as he was, not even young Ravindra could come close to matching his mother’s grace and power.

Still, I tried.

And in turn, I taught them both the Five Styles of Breathing. It was not an unfamiliar discipline, for there were similar teachings in Bhodistan. Even so, both of them found the rhythms difficult to master.

I found myself missing Bao.

It was foolish, in a way; I missed him all the time, the yearning of my diadh-anam as persistent and constant as a sore tooth. But trying to teach Amrita and Ravindra reminded me of how it had all begun.

Bao and I sitting cross-legged, our knees brushing, listening to Master Lo’s tutelage aboard the greatship.

We had gone from reluctant companions to comfortable ones, bonded by our long journey together and our mutual respect for Master Lo, then drifted sideways into genuine affection. I missed that familiarity and comfort. I missed his cheerful boasting. I even missed his teasing.

All of which made it that much harder when the Falconer’s messenger returned to deliver Tarik Khaga’s reply to our gambit.

Once again, the Rani granted him an audience with Ravindra and me in attendance, and once again, we heard him out. It was a brief reply.

“His majesty Tarik Khaga offered to release the young man Bao from his service,” the fellow announced. “Bao declined his offer. He refuses to go. There will be no trade.” He gave a thin smile. “His majesty’s demand stands as issued.”

“Very well,” the Rani Amrita said in acknowledgment. “Go, and return in a day. You shall have our response.”

And once again, we retired to take counsel.

Although I hadn’t really expected a happier outcome, still, it was disheartening. Amrita rubbed the back of my neck, consoling me while Ravindra pored over the chessboard. “Bao’s will is not his own, Moirin. You know this to be true, for he would have already found a way to you.”

“I know. It’s just…..” I sighed. “If I could just see him, talk to him….. surely it would be enough to break the spell.”

“That is what we will demand, then,” Ravindra said calmly, moving a white pawn. “We will refute the Falconer’s claim as a lie, and demand that he send Bao to Bhaktipur so Moirin may hear him refuse his freedom in his own words.”

“Do you think he will agree?” I asked dubiously.

“No.” Ravindra advanced a black pawn. “I think Tarik Khaga will invite you to Kurugiri to hear Bao’s response in person.”

“Ah!” Amrita reached down to advance a second white pawn. “And we will propose a meeting of both parties on neutral ground, eh?”

“Where both of us will seek to trick and betray the other,” Ravindra agreed. “And that will be very interesting!”

“Perhaps, jewel of my heart, but you will not be there to see it,” his mother said in a firm tone. “If it even comes to pass. You are trusting a great deal to the belief that Tarik Khaga and his queen will play this game.”

“Yes, Mama-ji. I am.” He steepled his fingers in the thinking-pose. “But the Falconer’s men could not find you when they tried, thanks to the hidden room. That failure will be on his mind, and I do not think he is a man who likes to fail. And also remember, since they know of Moirin’s magic, it is likely that they know she can make herself unseen, and very impossible to find and abduct on hostile ground. So I think yes, they will play the game and hope to trick us.”

Amrita studied the board. “So, young chess-master! You have thought out a strategy two moves ahead of our opponent. Knowing you, I suspect there is at least one more.” With one finger, she nudged a third white pawn into play, raising her brows at her son. “What is the third?”

Ravindra smiled. “An ambush. Only we must plan it now, before it is a possibility in their minds.”

“My lady, my young lord…..” I shook my head. The thought of either of them coming to harm made me feel ill. “This is growing too difficult and too dangerous. I cannot ask you to take such risks. Better I should go to Kurugiri.”

“No!” mother and son said in unison, exchanging a glance.

“But—” I began.

Amrita sighed. “It is not only for you, dear one, nor for your young man. I said before that the shepherd dare not abandon his flock to hunt the falcon. But what you have given us here…..” She made a gesture I didn’t know. “It is a chance to lure the falcon into a trap, and I think it is a chance I cannot ignore. Perhaps this is what the gods intended in sending you here.” Her face was very serious. “What does your bear-goddess say?”

My diadh-anam shone like a beacon, and I could not lie about it. “It seems She agrees,” I murmured.

“Tarik Khaga had my father killed, Moirin,” Ravindra said in a subdued tone. “And many other people, too. Will you not let us try?”

“Aye,” I said reluctantly, fearful at the thought of risking them. “I will.”

The following day, the Rani Amrita delivered our response to the Falconer’s messenger, her demeanor calm and dignified.

“I fear the dakini Moirin mac Fainche does not believe your master’s words,” she said in a vaguely apologetic tone. “She requests that his majesty Tarik Khaga send the young man Bao to Bhaktipur that he might deliver his refusal in person. Only then will she accept this edict that there may be no trade.” Amrita gave a slight, helpless shrug. “Forgive me. As I said before, the dakini Moirin is not mine to command.”

The messenger pursed his lips and glanced at me.

Summoning my mother’s best glare, I folded my arms and glowered at him under my lashes. As an added measure, I called the twilight. Although I could not vanish into it with his gaze on me, I felt it sparkle around me.

The Falconer’s messenger turned pale, his throat working as he swallowed nervously. For the first time in four encounters, he was a bit afraid.

I was glad.

He bowed to Amrita, palms pressed together. “I will convey your message and return with a reply, highness.”

SIXTY-ONE

Waiting, waiting, and more waiting.

Gods, I hated it!

My lady Amrita was not idle. Guided by her preternaturally clever son’s counsel, she met with the commander of the Royal Guard, which was the nearest thing to an army that Bhaktipur had. Together, they chose a spot in neutral territory suitable for an ambush, a plateau above the valley of Bhaktipur, but below the peaks of Kurugiri. It had enough open space to inspire trust, but there were copses of spruce trees that would hide a mounted battalion with a bit of creative effort.

A battalion of fifty skilled riders and archers was dispatched, hurrying to make camp and conceal it before the possibility of such an action might arise in our opponents’ minds. It was important to remain three steps ahead of them.

We waited.

On the advice of the commander of her guard, we confined ourselves to the palace grounds, and Amrita and her son abandoned their sleeping-quarters to pass their nights in the hidden room her husband had commissioned before he dared to wed a beautiful, young bride.