Naamah's Blessing

Shahrizai was to be in charge of the delegation that would meet with the Regent, and I had every confidence in his ability to handle the situation. It was odd to think how I had once rather disliked him, reckoning him nothing more than an idle courtier with a sharp tongue and an even sharper-edged gift. Now I knew that there was a steely core of courage and loyalty beneath his facile surface, and his barbed wit concealed clear-sighted judgment and a generous and compassionate heart. I would gladly trust him with my life.
    It was a warm spring day with a light drizzle falling when we at last reached the City of Elua and docked at the quay. Summoning the twilight, I ventured abovedeck and saw that a considerable crowd awaited us, keeping a respectful distance from the official reception party, which consisted of Duc Rogier de Barthelme, his sons Tristan and Aristide, and a score of royal guardsmen.
    I caught sight of my father among the throng of ordinary citizens, his crimson robes an unrecognizable color in the twilight, his normally serene face strained with worry—and the sight nearly startled me into losing my grip on my magic.
    Ah, gods! Of course he would be there. Caught up in my concern for Desirée, I hadn’t even thought of it.
    For a moment, my resolve wavered. Mayhap this was nothing but a cruel prank.
    I made myself look at Duc Rogier instead.
His
face was calm and composed. He had heard the rumors, and he was anticipating the news of our failure. No doubt he had a speech of earnest condolences already prepared, spiced with just a dash of sanctimoniousness forhaving been right all along about the folly of our mission. I could almost see him rehearsing it in his thoughts.
    At his side, his sons looked appropriately somber. Pretty golden-haired Tristan the Sun Prince was a young man now, taller and broader than the stripling I remembered. The younger lad, Aristide, took after his father. Him, I had met too briefly to form an opinion.
    Duc Rogier wore a modest gold circlet with low points around his dark hair, the metal silvery in the twilight. It wasn’t quite a crown, but it was a definitive step in the direction of one. The Regent of Terre d’Ange thought to solidify his hold on the throne today.
    In my mind’s eye, I saw Cusi’s blood spilling over the stairs once more, and Raphael de Mereliot reaching for the
Sapa Inca’s
crown.
    My resolve hardened once more. I would have the full measure of House Barthelme’s overreaching ambition exposed. My father would forgive me the temporary pain our ruse caused him.
    I ducked belowdeck where Bao and Thierry were awaiting me, and released the twilight. “The Duc brought his sons and a contingent of guards,” I reported. “There’s no sign of the rest of the royal household.”
    “Balthasar knows what to do.” Thierry’s face was pale, but there was a fierce light in his eyes. “Are you ready?”
    “Aye.” I hesitated. “My father is there.”
    Thierry paled further, thinking of how his own father had taken the news. “You don’t think he would—”
    “No,” Bao said firmly. “Brother Phanuel is not one to succumb to grief in such a manner. And the truth will soon be out.”
    I nodded. “Let’s be done with it.”
    And so I summoned the twilight once more, wrapping Bao and Thierry in its cloak. Thierry drew a soft breath. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured. “I never realized.” He smiled at me. “I am pleased to have a chance to see the world through your eyes, Moirin. Somehow, I feel I understand you better for it.”
    It made me feel better, too. A kind word at the right time can be bracing; and I thought once more that Thierry had the makings of a good ruler.
    Abovedeck, Rousse’s sailors worked to secure the final moorings and lower the gangplank. Balthasar had assembled his delegation, which consisted of a half-dozen men from our expedition as well as Eyahue and Temilotzin, representatives of Emperor Achcuatli. They had been careful to leave room for us, and we made our way to Balthasar’s side.
    “He will hear you if you will it,” I reminded Thierry.
    “Balthasar,” he whispered. “We are ready.”
    Balthasar lifted one finger on his right hand, our agreed-upon sign to indicate that he’d heard.
    It felt strange all over again to relive a familiar moment from the other side. I’d held Desirée’s hand in mine as we watched Denis de Toluard walk slowly down the gangplank to deliver his terrible news. Now I walked it