Naamah's Blessing

DuBois, his slit throat gaping, his empty blue eyes gazing at the sky. He would never make another nervous jest.
    Stooping beside his body, I closed his eyelids gently.
    I straightened. “If anyone wishes to turn back, now is the time,” I announced. “My lord Guillard is right. In a few days’ march, you may return to the protection of Emperor Achcuatli’s realm.” I glanced at Arnaud Latrelle with his arm in a splint, and Gregoire d’Arnes, the fellow with the broken clavicle. To be sure, there was no point in their continuing onward. “You can escort the injured to safety. You can carry word to the crew of
Naamah’s Dove
in Orgullo del Sol that the journey to Tawantinsuyo is harder and longer than we knew, andorder them to wait for us. I will not compel anyone to accompany this expedition. But
I
mean to press onward. I mean to find Prince Thierry, and restore him to the throne of Terre d’Ange as the rightful heir to his father’s realm.”
    At that, there were cheers, and a few murmurs of dissent.
    I ignored the latter. “Who is with me?”
    As it transpired, quite a few—but not all. We lost Alain Guillard and two out of his three allies. The third, a fair-haired young man named Mathieu de Montague, changed his mind.
    “Will you trust me to address them, my lady?” Balthasar asked me discreetly.
    I nodded. “Of course.”
    “D’Angelines!” Balthasar got their attention in a ringing tone. “All of you who are hale and unharmed, think well before you make your final choice here.” He locked gazes with Alain Guillard, contempt creeping into his voice. “Will Azza’s famous pride allow
you
to sleep at night knowing yourself a coward and a quitter, Alain?”
    The fellow reddened, but did not reply.
    Balthasar turned to Mathieu de Montague. “And you, Messire de Montague! Do you imagine you can have another change of heart at the next skirmish?” He shook his head. “Don’t. Lady Moirin is overly generous. She is in command of this expedition, but I am in command of
you
.” He glanced around at all the men. “I will not attempt to gainsay her generous offer, but I will say this. It will not be repeated. Make your choices here and now. From this day forward, anyone who argues for turning back will be considered guilty of fomenting mutiny!” His voice hardened. “Is that clear?”
    There were nods all around.
    “See, Moirin?” Bao said to me. “
That’s
what they needed to hear.”
    “I suspect they needed to hear both things,” Septimus Rousse said diplomatically. “Commanding men unwilling to serve is a dangerous business.” He nodded toward the picket-line. “That is a lesson we may take from Pochotl’s betrayal.”
    And a bitter lesson it was, too.
    Once the matter of rebellion was settled, we buried our dead. Each of the slain men was wrapped in a cloak and lowered into the grave as gently as possible.
    I’d witnessed battles and tended to the dead before. In Kurugiri, Bao and I had been the only ones willing to handle the corpse of Jagrati the Spider Queen, winding her into a shroud to lend a measure of dignity to her death. But I’d never been responsible for the actual burial of the dead.
    There was a terrible finality to it. Once the last body had been lowered into the grave, we stood about uncertainly. I did not know the protocol for such matters, but I suspected I knew who did.
    “My lord captain,” I addressed Septimus Rousse. “Would you be willing to offer an invocation?”
    He inclined his head to me. “Of course.” He knelt to gather a handful of loose soil, then rose and stretched out his closed fist, holding it over the grave. “Today we bid farewell to six dear companions,” Septimus said in a firm, steady voice. “They perished in pursuit of a noble cause. May they pass through the bright gate into the Terre d’Ange-that-lies-beyond, and may Blessed Elua and his Companions receive them gladly.” Opening his hand, he let the soil trickle into the grave. “Blessed Elua hold and keep you.” He nodded at Balthasar. “Will you commence the speaking of their names, my lord?”
    Balthasar stepped forward to gather a fistful of soil. “Clemente DuBois,” he murmured. “You were the most annoying companion with whom I’ve ever shared a living space. Now I will miss your dreadful jests.”
    There was a brief, shocked silence; and then men laughed and groaned in rueful acknowledgment. With a quiet smile, Balthasar sprinkled dirt on the grave.
    Another