Naamah's Blessing

want you to go! Why can’t someone
else
go?”
    Ah, gods! I couldn’t explain the Circle of Shalomon and my foolishbehavior to a child; and I couldn’t tell her about her mother Jehanne’s warning, not in front of the smirking young Tristan de Barthelme. Not at all according to my father’s wise counsel, with which I agreed. It left me not knowing what to say.
    Bao rescued me. “Because heroes and heroines always get the hard jobs, young highness,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “It’s what we do. That’s why the gods choose us for the task.”
    Desirée pitched a tantrum anyway.
    It was a full-blown tantrum of epic proportions, filled with wailing and flailing, fists and heels pounding on the nursery floor. And gods help me, I was almost glad of it, for it meant the spark of quicksilver joy and temper in her that had guttered so low after her father’s death was yet alive and well. Also, it drove Tristan de Barthelme from the nursery in a sullen adolescent retreat, for which I was grateful.
    Sister Gemma hummed a soothing song, doing her considerable best to comfort the child.
    In time, the storm passed.
    “I don’t
want
you to go,” Desirée repeated, weary and fretful.
    I stroked her hair. “I know, dear heart.”
    She ground her rosy knuckles into her eyes. “You’ll come back, won’t you? Promise it!”
    I hesitated. “Dear heart, I know you’re still a little girl, but you’re a very clever one, so I’m going to tell you a very grown-up thing. Will you hear it?”
    Her tear-stained face was grave. “Yes, Moirin.”
    “I will not make you a promise I cannot be sure of keeping,” I said gently. “And I will not lie to you. Terra Nova is a dangerous place. But I promise that Bao and I will do our very, very best to find your brother and bring everyone home safe. You can help us by trying to be brave. Do you understand?”
    Desirée bowed her head, loose ringlets of silvery-blonde hair curtaining her face. “Yes, Moirin,” she murmured. “I will try.”
    “Good girl.” I kissed the top of her head. “I have a present for you.”
    At that, she looked up. “What is it?”
    Reaching into the purse at my waist, I withdrew a small, stoppered bottle of cut crystal with an inch or so of liquid in it. Sunlight slanting through the windows caught its facets, decorating the nursery with rainbow prisms. “Your mother gave this to me,” I said to Jehanne’s daughter, handing her the bottle. “So that I might never forget her. But I think she would want you to have it now.”
    “It’s pretty.” Desirée tilted the bottle, then gave me a perplexed look. “Thank you, Moirin. What is it?”
    “Perfume.” I pulled out the stopper for her, and a heady, intoxicating scent filled the air. “It’s a very special blend. Your father had it made for your mother when he was courting her. No one else was allowed to wear it and the Head of the Perfumers’ Guild swore he would never, ever tell anyone the formula.”
    She sniffed the bottle. “It’s
beautiful
.”
    I smiled, hiding a pang of sorrow. “Aye, it is. Like your mother, and like you. And it’s a gift given twice in love now.” Carefully, I guided her hands in replacing the stopper. “So any time you’re feeling frightened or lonely, I want you to smell this, and remember that your mother loved you. That
I
love you.”
    “Me, too,” Bao added. “Although I do not smell as nice as your mother or Moirin.”
    Desirée turned the bottle in her hands, regarding its sparkling facets. “Moirin… why doesn’t my mother visit
me
in my dreams?” She gave me a plaintive look. “Did she love you better?”
    “Oh, dear heart, no!” I hadn’t thought of that. “No, no, no. You know that my own mother’s folk are not D’Angeline?”
    She nodded. “You’re a bear-witch. That’s what Tristan says.”
    “Aye,” I said softly. “And because of it, I have a small gift for magic. That, and that alone, is the reason your mother, Jehanne, can speak to me in my dreams.” I touched her cheek. “If she could choose between us, she would choose you.”
    “Truly?”
    “Truly.” I folded her fingers over the bottle. “Never, ever forget it.”
    So it was done. Desirée hugged us both fiercely in parting, her arms clinging around our necks, making us promise we would see her before we left for Terra Nova. That, at least, was a promise I could make gladly.
    Sister Gemma escorted us to the door of the nursery. “That was well done,