Naamah's Blessing

in the mountains in a sudden rockslide—or so we were forced to presume. On Thierry’s orders, we spent the better part of the day digging frantically amidst the rubble to no avail. Only the ominous creaking sounds from the slopes above us and Eyahue’s urgent warnings persuaded Thierry to abandon the effort.
    We mourned them and continued, entering the territory of the Cloud People, where we posted multiple sentries every night. We passed through without incident, those of us who remembered Pochotl’s betrayal breathing a sigh of relief, and crossed the invisible boundary that marked the southern verge of the Nahuatl Empire.
    There, we were greeted with astonishment. Eyahue and Temilotzin were hailed as returning heroes. And I began to believe that mayhap this seemingly endless journey had an end after all.
    Without the burden of plate armor slowing the men, our pace was quicker than it had been at the outset. Still, rumor ran ahead of us.
    We were some two weeks away from the city of Tenochtitlan when a startling sight greeted us—a company of mounted Aragonian soldiers in full armor, trailing a long line of pack-and saddle-horses, Commander Diego Ortiz y Ramos riding at their head.
    Our own company halted, uncertain.
    “Drop your packs,” Thierry murmured, suiting actions to words. He laid one hand on his sword-hilt. “And be ready for anything.”
    My throat tightened, and I prayed silently that the Aragonians had not grown ascendant in our absence.
    Commander Diego Ortiz y Ramos drew rein, his gaze sweeping over our weary, footsore crew and settling on Thierry.
    “Your highness.” He bowed from the saddle. “I am pleased to see that the rumors of your return are true, and that you are well. With the blessing of Emperor Achcuatli, my men and I are here to escort you and your people to the city of Tenochtitlan.” His lips thinned above his pointed beard. “I hope that you will speak kindly of us when you return to Terre d’Ange and lay claim to its throne.”
    I felt like cheering. Clearly, the fellow had not forgotten that Balthasar had threatened to report that the commander had deliberately withheld information that would have assisted the Dauphin of Terre d’Ange.
    Beside me, Bao chuckled.
    Thierry de la Courcel gazed up at the Aragonian commander, a slow smile spreading across his lean, sunburned face. “Ah, the demands of diplomacy!” He gave a gracious nod. “By all means, Commander. We would be grateful for your aid.”
    In remarkably short order, our remaining goods were redistributed among the pack-horses and our company mounted.
    After travelling so many leagues on foot, it felt strange to sit a horse. We travelled at a steady jog. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Eyahue jouncing in the saddle, his skinny legs dangling and his scrawny elbows akimbo as he sawed ineffectively at the reins, his mount sidling sideways and tossing its head in protest.
    “Hold tight with your thighs,” I advised him. “And use a gentle hand on the reins.”
    The old
pochteca
glared at me. “I’d sooner a woman’s thighs gripped me, lady! I’ve a gentle enough hand with
them
.”
    I smiled. “So I hear.”
    Eyahue snorted.
    “It puts me in mind of the first time Tortoise tried to ride a horse,” Bao said, eyeing him. “Remember, Moirin? Only Eyahue sits more like a bag of sticks than a sack of cabbages.”
    “I remember.”
    Our eyes met. We had so very many shared memories between us, Bao and I. Some were wondrous, and some were terrible.
    Some were both.
    “Poor Tortoise,” Bao said softly.
    The remainder of the journey passed swiftly. After so long away, even returning to Tenochtitlan with its splendid, bloodstained temples and its mighty causeways felt like somewhat of a homecoming. I’d thought that the commander would wish us to lodge in the Aragonian stronghold, but it seemed that under the terms of his agreement, he was to escort us directly to Emperor Achcuatli.
    Indeed, our approach had been noted, and a reception awaited us in the temple square beneath the rows and rows of hollow-eyed grinning skulls in the
tzompantli
. I could not help but steal a glance at them, and breathe a sigh of relief to find no fresh offerings among their ranks.
    The Emperor himself was seated atop a gilded dais beneath a feather canopy, clad in the full regalia of his office, golden sandals and all. A faint smile touched his lips at the sight of me, and I felt myself flush.
    At an order from one of