Naamah's Blessing

is—” He used a word I didn’t know, but the meaning was clear. His fingers drummed. “I find that a grave offense.”
    My pulse hammered in the hollow of my throat. “I am not Aragonian,” I said quietly.
    “You are a stranger from across the sea.” He kept his gaze fixed on me, hard and implacable. “I offer you the chance to make good on this offense.” He held up one finger. “One day and one night. It is all I ask.”
    The uneasy feeling in my belly shifted, turning to the dove-winged flutter of Naamah’s gift awakening. Belatedly, I remembered the warning Jehanne had brought me in a dream the night Edouard Durel had attempted to steal the logbook.
    I am here to tell you that the sacrifices Naamah asks of us may not always be so pleasant and easy. You have a hard choice coming
.
    It seemed it was here.

THIRTY-EIGHT

    O n the heels of the Emperor’s proclamation, the throne-room burst into a babble of D’Angeline voices raised in protest.
    Only Bao and I were silent.
    Ah, gods! For reasons I could not fathom, Naamah willed this. I felt it in every part of my being. She had showered her blessings on me even though I was not sworn to her service, allowing me to serve as a vessel of her grace when it pleased me, never asking for aught in return.
    Until now.
    I glanced at Bao. Whether he sensed Naamah’s will through our shared
diadh-anam
, or he simply knew me well enough to read me, he returned my gaze with an expression as stoic as any Nahuatl warrior and said one word to me. “Bargain.”
    I raised one hand, and the D’Angelines fell silent. “You ask me to dishonor my husband, my lord.” The Nahuatl words came more easily to me than before, as though Naamah’s presence had graced my tongue—and mayhap it had.
    Emperor Achcuatli permitted himself a small smile. “I offer an exchange. For one night, I will send my youngest wife to your husband.” The various lords, warriors, and attendants in the throne-room murmured in surprise, and Achcuatli’s smile took on a tinge of satisfaction. “That is more than enough honor for any man.”
    “Moirin, you don’t need to do this,” Balthasar murmured to me. “Thierry wouldn’t want you to.”
    “He’s right,” Denis agreed.
    I ignored them both. Naamah’s gift was alive within me, coiling through my veins. The prickly heat I’d felt earlier had turned to glowing warmth. Achcuatli eyed me speculatively, his smile fading.
    He felt it, too.
    The Nahuatl Emperor had asked for me out of pride, not genuine desire, but he had invoked Naamah’s presence nonetheless.
    “I am a priest’s daughter,” I said softly. “I am the descendant of three royal houses. I have been a companion to queens and princesses. I am the Emperor of Ch’in’s jade-eyed witch and swallower-of-memories, and the Rani of Bhaktipur’s
dakini
. I have ridden in a dragon’s claw, and I have seen the face of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself. If I agree to this, it is more than enough honor for any man.”
    Stone and sea! I wasn’t sure where the words had come from; I wasn’t even sure what language I’d spoken. And yet it seemed everyone in the room had understood them, at least their general meaning.
    To be sure, Achcuatli had. Although his face remained expressionless, I could sense an answering heat rising in him.
    “Agreed,” he said, his voice taking on a slight edge of hoarseness.
    The image of rows and rows of grinning skulls flashed before my eyes, threatening my composure. With an effort, I forced it away. “And if I do, will you grant our request and give us the aid we seek?”
    The Emperor inclined his head. “In exchange for your tools of steel, I will supply your journey and order two
pochtecas
familiar with Tawantinsuyo to guide you.” He glanced at the spotted warrior, who grinned. “As well as the services of Temilotzin here.”
    I took a deep breath. “Then we have a bargain, my lord.”
    Emperor Achcuatli smiled to himself and made a gesture of dismissal. “Go with Cuixtli. I will send for you.”
    As soon as we were escorted out of the Emperor’s presence, the D’Angeline firestorm of protest reignited.
    “It is contrary to Blessed Elua’s precept!” Brice de Bretel fumed. “You should not have to do this thing because the damned
Aragonians
have given offense!”
    “Not to mention the fact that the damned Aragonians will now think they were right about us all along,” Balthasar said in a biting tone. “Don’t mistake me, I’m a great