Naamah's Blessing

onward.

THIRTY-FOUR

    W e were at sea for two more months.
    It was an uneasy time, to say the least. Edouard Durel’s attempt at sabotaging our mission had everyone on edge. Sailors and fighting men eyed one another uneasily, wondering if another traitor lurked in our ranks.
    Captain Rousse called in every member of his crew for a private interrogation.
    Balthasar Shahrizai spent countless hours in the crowded main berth, casually talking with and covertly eavesdropping on the force he’d assembled.
    In the end, it seemed that no one else had been approached. Claudine de Barthelme had had a limited amount of time in which to operate in the City of Elua, in which to find and exploit vulnerable members of our expedition.
    I dwelled on memories of her false smile, hating her. For my father’s sake, I was glad it was her, and not Duc Rogier, behind the attempt.
    I worried about Desirée.
    New protocols were established to protect the captain’s logbook. Edouard Durel was kept under restraint. Our ship,
Naamah’s Dove
, rose and fell on the trackless grey ocean; bobbing like a cork in foul weather, riding out the crests and troughs of the storms that assailed us, sailing calmly over placid seas, her sheets filled with wind. Westward, ever westward.
    When the cry of “Land ahead!” came from the lookout atop the central mast, I was profoundly grateful.
    Everyone who could fit rushed abovedeck to catch our first glimpse of Terra Nova, at first little more than a green smudge on the horizon. Bit by bit, we drew nearer and the green smudge resolved itself into a vast, sprawling landscape dominated by a tall mountain in the distance, tall enough that the sun glinted on snow atop its peak. For the first time, I felt a sense of awe at venturing into a new land, a land that had remained undiscovered by the rest of the world for countless centuries. A plume of smoke trailed from the mountain’s apex, white against the blue sky.
    “The Nahuatl call it
Iztactepetl
,” Denis de Toluard informed me.
    “White Mountain?” I was pleased with myself for being able to translate the name; and pleased, too, at the omen, reminded of the dragon’s beloved White Jade Mountain in faraway Ch’in.
    Denis nodded. “Well done.” He pointed at the smoke plume. “It’s a volcano. The first of many things that can kill you in Terra Nova.”
    “Oh.” Mayhap it wasn’t such a happy omen after all.
    Once we entered the wide harbor, I had to own I was a bit disappointed with my first look at the Nahuatl Empire. Thanks to Denis, I’d known that we would make landfall at the Aragonian port of Orgullo del Sol, but my head had been filled with the fanciful tales Cillian had told me years ago, when Terra Nova was first discovered. I’d had visions of marble temples rising from the jungle, folk going around adorned in shimmering feathers, gold and jade jewelry.
    Instead, it was a rough and ready port still undergoing major phases of construction, and it was filled with Aragonians, none of whom were any too glad to see us. But while Captain Rousse was contending with the harbor-master, I saw my first Nahuatl folk as a number of men gathered to peer at the ship, looking expectant. They certainly weren’t clad in feathers and jewels, but rather rough-spun garments, and they carried wooden frames on their backs, held in place with a braided thong around their foreheads.
    “Porters,” Denis said, following my gaze. “Members of the peasantclass. The Aragonians hire them for menial work. Almost everything’s carted on foot here. They’ve no pack-animals, and the Aragonians are careful not to trade in horse-flesh. It’s one of the advantages they hold.”
    The lack of finery notwithstanding, I thought they were a good-looking folk with ruddy bronze skin, black hair and eyes, and strong, prominent features.
    One of them caught my gaze and pointed, nudging the fellow next to him. All of them stared.
    “I think they like you, Moirin,” Bao remarked, leaning on his staff beside me.
    “Name of Elua!” Denis drew a sharp breath. “I hadn’t thought of
that
.”
    I was confused. “That the Nahuatl might like me?”
    “No, Moirin.” He shot me an impatient look. “They’ve never seen a European woman before.”
    “Not that our half-breed bear-witch exactly resembles the majority of them,” Balthasar observed.
    “But the Aragonians…” I gestured at the port city. “They’ve been here for years! Is there not a single woman among