Naamah's Blessing

Orgullo del Sol, Edouard Durel dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
    “I’m so sorry, your highness,” he said in a broken whisper. “I was so sure you were dead, and this venture nothing but a vengeful woman’s folly. I’d have never done it otherwise, I swear.”
    Prince Thierry drummed his fingers on his sword-belt. “Underordinary circumstances, what would his punishment be, my lord captain?” he asked Septimus Rousse.
    “Death,” the latter said promptly. “The
Naamah’s Dove
was sailing under a royal charter. It would be considered an act of treason, one that could well have resulted in the loss of the ship and all hands aboard. And at sea, the captain’s word is law.”
    “And yet you chose to spare him.”
    Septimus Rousse nudged the fellow with the toe of one boot. “He’s the only one who can testify that Claudine de Barthelme and her despicable sprat of a lad put him up to this. Under those circumstances, I didn’t think you’d want him dead, your highness.”
    “No.” Thierry bent his gaze toward Edouard Durel. “You
are
willing to testify, I trust?”
    Durel nodded, still weeping.
    “I promised him aboard the ship that his wife and daughter will be cared for no matter what his sentence afterward,” Balthasar murmured discreetly. “I believe I mentioned it to you, my lord?”
    “You did, and I am in accord.” Thierry de la Courcel glanced around at our assembled company. “I do not blame any man here for harboring fears and doubts. We set forth on a journey of outlandish risk. If I had the choice to make over…” His voice trailed off briefly. “Let me say that I would never have caused my father such anguish. And you, my rescuers!” His voice grew stronger. “I would never have said my life was worth the cost of so many lost in the effort to save it. And yet, here on the far side of the world, we have witnessed wonders. Great and terrible wonders, beyond comprehending.”
    I found myself nodding in agreement.
    Thierry cleared his throat. “Since Captain Rousse has held his hand, it falls to the court of law to pass judgment on this man. For now, I would see the slate wiped clean ere we set sail. Let there be no further recriminations. What is done, is done. We are all victims of our own ambitions, our own follies, our own weaknesses. Let us set them aside, and venture forth joined in one single goal. Let us return to Terre d’Ange and reclaim her throne!”
    More cheers arose, and this time, there was a sound of unison in them. Thierry stooped, taking Edouard Durel’s chin in his hand.
    “Are you prepared to help convey me home, sailor?” he asked.
    Still on his knees, the fellow lifted his damp gaze, his eyes shining with tears and gratitude. “Aye, your highness!”
    “Good.” Thierry let him go. “Let’s be about it, then.”

SEVENTY-NINE

    T he same day, the
Naamah’s Dove
set sail.
    Her hold was laden with trade goods: nuts and kernels and seedlings from Tawantinsuyo and the Nahuatl Empire alike. Samples of
maize
and a dozen different varieties of potatoes.
Tomati
plants reckoned in error to be deadly, hot peppers that seared the tongue. Sack upon sack of
chocolatl
beans, and the fragrant seed-pods called
tlilxochitl
, or “black flower.” A few lengths of
vicuña
wool, fine-spun, light and airy.
    Feathers; glimmering feathers, wrought into capes and tapestries.
    Gold.
    It was true, Terra Nova was rich in gold. Our ship did not quite wallow beneath its weight, but we carried a great deal of it, samples of Nahuatl workmanship along with raw, unprocessed ore.
    I stood in the stern of the ship with Bao and Eyahue and Temilotzin, watching the shores of Terra Nova fall away behind us and the vast sea open up to swallow us, rendering us infinitesimal.
    “It’s big,” Temilotzin said in a subdued voice. “Very, very big.”
    “No bigger than your courage,” I assured him. “Do not fear, Captain Rousse will see us to safety.”
    Temilotzin glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “I hope you are right, lady.”
    I did, too.
    Days, weeks, months… it is hard to measure the passage of time ona journey. What matters is the distance between the starting point and the destination. League by league, wave by wave, we whittled it down, while Captain Rousse studied the skies and took complicated measurements with his instruments, marking our progress on his charts.
    I wondered how it was that the folk of Terra Nova, who were cunning