Naamah's Blessing

them?”
    Denis shook his head. “Only men. If they want a woman, they’ll take a native mistress. I keep trying to tell you, Terra Nova is dangerous. Too dangerous for women.”
    “You really don’t know Moirin very well,” Bao commented. “Did you know she can outshoot a Tatar?”
    “I was lucky,” I murmured.
    Now the Aragonian harbor-master took notice of the staring Nahuatl porters and spotted me aboard the ship. He blinked and startled, and began questioning Septimus Rousse anew. Whatever the captain told him, it resulted in a deep, florid bow from the Aragonian official, and an invitation to disembark.
    After months at sea, the solid quay felt unsteady beneath my feet. I did my best not to sway as the harbor-master proffered a second bow, his long mustaches tickling my hand as he took and kissed it.
    “So lovely and so brave!” he said in heavily accented D’Angeline. “Doña Moirin, although I must advise against it, I admire your desire to discover the fate of your royal kinsman. Please, permit me to escort you and a few of your companions to the mayor’s quarters. He would be furious if I allowed you to take coarse lodgings elsewhere.”
    I spared a glance at Septimus Rousse.
    Our captain gave me a brusque nod. “Go, my lady. Don’t worry, I’ll see to what’s needful here.”
    Along with Bao, Balthasar, Denis, a large cask of perry brandy for the mayor, and several Nahuatl porters carrying our personal baggage, I accompanied the harbor-master through the streets of Orgullo del Sol, drawing stares and startled looks along the way. I daresay no one had expected to see D’Angelines returning in the first place, and with my gender and Bao’s distinctive Ch’in features, we made an unusual sight indeed.
    The mayor’s residence was one of the most ambitious buildings in the city, an elegant stone affair that stood in contrast to the wooden construction elsewhere. After a brief moment of shock and an exchange in Aragonian with the harbor-master, the steward hastened to fetch the mayor.
    In short order, we were introduced to Porfirio Reyes, mayor of Orgullo del Sol. He was a short, thickset fellow with a bit of a paunch and drooping eyelids, but he had the same courtly manners as the harbor-master and a commendable ability to conceal surprise. Fortunately for me, he also spoke fluent D’Angeline with barely a trace of an accent.
    “Such a sad tale, the loss of the young Dauphin!” He shook his head. “But it would be folly to compound the tragedy with your own needless death. Please, my lady, will you and your companions accept my hospitality, and allow me the chance to dissuade you from this madness?” He patted his substantial belly. “If nothing else, I assure you, you’ll be well fed! After so long at sea, you must be yearning for fresh fare.”
    “And a bath,” Balthasar murmured. “And the services of a laundress.”
    The mayor chuckled. “Ah, D’Angelines! Of course. I will gladly provide both, Lord Shahrizai.”
    I smiled at him. “It would be our pleasure.”
    Our baths were drawn by unsmiling Nahuatl women serving as maids, whom I tried without success to engage in conversation—whether due to my limited skills in the language, or their innate reticence, I couldn’t say.
    From what Denis de Toluard had told me, the Aragonians and the Nahuatl had an uneasy coexistence in Terra Nova. If the Aragonians could have seized the country outright, they would have done it, but the Nahuatl and their allies were too numerous. By the same token, the Aragonians’ superior weapons, armor, and ability to fight on horseback made them hard to assail, and the Nahuatl tolerated their presence and engaged in ongoing trade because the Emperor hoped to acquire valuable steel and breeding stock.
    Somehow, I doubted it was an arrangement that benefited the commonfolk of Terra Nova.
    After bathing and changing into my least filthy gown, and entrusting the rest of my attire to the mayor’s servants, I felt more myself.
    Bao, himself cleaned and scrubbed, eyed me appreciatively. “A whole room to ourselves in the mayor’s palace, huh? Not a tiny cabin in the wardroom where everyone knows everyone’s business.”
    I kissed him. “Dinner first.”
    He grinned, wrapping his arms around my waist. “And later?”
    “Later, we put our privacy to good use,” I assured him.
    The sun was setting over Orgullo del Sol when all of us joined Mayor Porfirio Reyes for dinner in a torch-lit courtyard