The Falconer sent for me.

I would have expected high drama, a clever assassin armed to the teeth and filled with dire threats. But no, the messenger was an utterly unprepossessing fellow, not remarkable in any way in the slightest, save his utter lack of fear at being sent to deliver such a message. The assassin, I suppose, came later.

The Rani Amrita granted him an audience, sending for both her son, Ravindra, and me to attend it.

We heard him out.

“It has come to the attention of his majesty Tarik Khaga that the Rani of Bhaktipur gives shelter to a foreign dakini of surpassing beauty and power,” the fellow droned, rocking back on his heels, his gaze raking over me with unabashed appreciation. “He demands that you send her to him immediately.”

The Rani raised her brows. “Or?”

The messenger smiled, his upper lip curling to show his teeth. “I believe your highness knows the price of refusing such a request.”

I glanced at Amrita, but she silenced me with a slight shake of her head. “We will take counsel, and give you our reply within a day.” She raised her right hand, palm outward, and there was enough quiet strength and power in the gesture that the Falconer’s messenger took an involuntary step backward. I had come to learn the meaning of some of these ritual gestures, and this one symbolized her lack of fear, and her protection of me. “Go, and return tomorrow.”

The fellow pressed his palms together and bowed. “I will do so, highness.” He hesitated, his gaze shifting from me to her to Ravindra. “Do not do anything foolish, highness,” he murmured. “The boy has already lost his father.”

“Tomorrow,” the Rani repeated.

Once he had left, we met to discuss the matter. My heart was beating fast and my chest felt too tight.

Kurugiri.

It was the opportunity I had sought, and yet… I was scared. In the old tales, Phèdre nó Delaunay had entered a terrible kingdom of death and despair to rescue the missing prince, giving herself over to the kingdom’s dark ruler. Now that the moment was upon me, I wasn’t sure I had the same courage.

“Sit and breathe, Moirin,” Amrita said gently. “Calm your thoughts.” She pressed the tips of her fingers and thumbs together in a ritual gesture intended to aid in focus and concentration, and Ravindra emulated her, his young face graver than usual. “Come, let us all think.”

I took the thinking-pose, too, and forced myself to cycle through the Five Styles of Breathing.

It helped settle my nerves, but it brought no insights. “I have to go with him, my lady,” I said. “I cannot let Tarik Khaga send his falcons after you. I will go with him, find the path to Kurugiri, find Bao. It must be what the gods intend.”

“Is that what your bear-goddess says to you?” Amrita inquired.

Frowning, I consulted my diadh-anam. It was flickering with eagerness, like coals blown into fresh flame, but it was not flaring with certainty. “I’m not sure.”

“Then there must be another way,” she said calmly. “And I would very much like to find it.”

Ravindra, who was now idly pushing pieces around the chessboard, was silent.

A thought came to me, so simple and logical that I didn’t know why it hadn’t come to me right away. “No matter what we say, the messenger has to bring our reply back to Kurugiri, does he not? I could call the twilight and follow him.”

“They know about your magic, Moirin,” Ravindra said without looking up from the chessboard. “He knew you are a dakini. It is likely that your Bao has told them everything about you.”

I winced.

“I’m sorry.” He gave me an apologetic glance. “But I think we must assume this is a trap.”

Amrita stroked her son’s hair. “Wise boy. I think so, too. And I am not going to let you walk into it, Moirin.”

“Well, I am not going to let the Falconer send assassins after you, highness!” I said in frustration. “I could not live with it.”

“It is not your choice!” There was a sharp note in her musical voice I had never heard before.

I spread my hands. “Do you intend to lock me away? Unless you do, I will go. The gods have sent a sign. What else am I to do?”

“It is a game to them, I think,” Ravindra said in a clear, precise voice, one slim finger touching the carved figure of the black king. “The Falconer and his Spider Queen. They sit atop their mountain, controlling the board with their pawns and knights. This was the opening gambit. What we must do is neither accept nor reject it, but offer a gambit of our own.”

Now my diadh-anam flared-and I knew.

“A trade,” I whispered. “Me for Bao.”

Ravindra nodded in approval. “That is a very good gambit, Moirin.”

“No!” Amrita shook her head. “No, I do not like it, not at all. What if Tarik Khaga accepts it?”

I swallowed. “Well, then… I go to Kurugiri and bide my time until I can escape. Sooner or later, I will find a way. After all, I am a dakini.”

She looked unhappy. “Yes, and you are also a young woman of whom I have grown fond. You will suffer there.”

“Do not worry, Mama-ji,” Ravindra said in a soothing tone. “He will not accept the trade.” His hovering finger moved from the black king to the black queen. “Jagrati will not let him.” He picked up the piece and moved it, setting her in play. “The interesting thing will be seeing their countermove.”

I eyed him. “You will make quite a ruler one day, young highness.”

He smiled modestly. “Thank you.”

SIXTY

The Falconer’s messenger returned the following day, and the Rani Amrita delivered our reply to him.

“I can say neither yes nor no to your master,” she said to him, her hands folded, middle fingers steepled. It was the ritual gesture I had seen her make the first day we met in the street outside the temple, one I now knew was meant to calm conflict. “As you noted, Moirin mac Fainche is a foreigner, and no subject of mine to compel.”

The fellow opened his mouth to protest.

“However!” Amrita raised her right hand in the pose of fearlessness. “She offers a trade. There is a young Ch’in man named Bao in your master’s service. He is the beloved of the dakini Moirin. If Tarik Khaga frees him, she will go willingly to Kurugiri.” She smiled. “A touching sacrifice, do you not think?”

The messenger scowled and stared at his feet. “I do not know if that is an acceptable answer, highness.”

She inclined her head. “Nonetheless, it is my reply. Go, and tell him.”

He went; and we waited.

I hated waiting, the hard lesson of patience that it seemed I was fated to learn over and over.

And yet… I had learned it. And I had endured enough to be grateful that if I must be patient and wait, I was very, very fortunate to do so in this very pleasant valley kingdom, the guest of this kind and gracious ruler with her clever, thoughtful son who was wise beyond his years.

Days passed.

No one could say for a surety how long it would take. With Manil Datar’s caravan, I’d made the descent from the peak opposite Kurugiri in two days; but the region was deep in winter’s grip by now. Amrita assured me that the route to Kurugiri was at a low enough altitude that it would not become impassable for months on end, unlike other places in the Abode of the Gods. Still, it could be blocked for days if there were snow-storms.

And no one knew how long it took to ascend the slope itself, navigating the secret path through the torturous maze.

So we waited.

We traded tales. I told the whole long story of helping to rescue the Emperor’s daughter and the dragon, and ending a civil war in Ch’in. My lady Amrita and Ravindra listened to it wide-eyed, both of them clapping excitedly at the good parts.