She told me about growing up in the coastal Bhodistani city of Galanka, where her family enjoyed great prestige. Her noble father had been the liaison to the D’Angeline embassy, which was how she had come to know my own father’s folk before she was pledged in marriage to the Raja of a tiny valley kingdom far, far away to the north. Amrita was the eldest daughter in a large, sprawling family, and her voice grew wistful when she spoke of them.

“Will you ever return there, do you think?” I asked her.

“No,” she said simply, her gaze settling on Ravindra. “My kharma is here.”

I nodded, understanding.

Amrita taught me more of the mudras, the ritual hand gestures that focused the mind’s thoughts and the body’s energies, tapping into the vast harmonies of the world. It was not unlike the meditation Master Lo had taught me, and yet I could not begin to achieve Amrita’s fluid grace, nor the sense of power that emanated from her slender hands when she took a pose. As clever as he was, not even young Ravindra could come close to matching his mother’s grace and power.

Still, I tried.

And in turn, I taught them both the Five Styles of Breathing. It was not an unfamiliar discipline, for there were similar teachings in Bhodistan. Even so, both of them found the rhythms difficult to master.

I found myself missing Bao.

It was foolish, in a way; I missed him all the time, the yearning of my diadh-anam as persistent and constant as a sore tooth. But trying to teach Amrita and Ravindra reminded me of how it had all begun.

Bao and I sitting cross-legged, our knees brushing, listening to Master Lo’s tutelage aboard the greatship.

We had gone from reluctant companions to comfortable ones, bonded by our long journey together and our mutual respect for Master Lo, then drifted sideways into genuine affection. I missed that familiarity and comfort. I missed his cheerful boasting. I even missed his teasing.

All of which made it that much harder when the Falconer’s messenger returned to deliver Tarik Khaga’s reply to our gambit.

Once again, the Rani granted him an audience with Ravindra and me in attendance, and once again, we heard him out. It was a brief reply.

“His majesty Tarik Khaga offered to release the young man Bao from his service,” the fellow announced. “Bao declined his offer. He refuses to go. There will be no trade.” He gave a thin smile. “His majesty’s demand stands as issued.”

“Very well,” the Rani Amrita said in acknowledgment. “Go, and return in a day. You shall have our response.”

And once again, we retired to take counsel.

Although I hadn’t really expected a happier outcome, still, it was disheartening. Amrita rubbed the back of my neck, consoling me while Ravindra pored over the chessboard. “Bao’s will is not his own, Moirin. You know this to be true, for he would have already found a way to you.”

“I know. It’s just…” I sighed. “If I could just see him, talk to him… surely it would be enough to break the spell.”

“That is what we will demand, then,” Ravindra said calmly, moving a white pawn. “We will refute the Falconer’s claim as a lie, and demand that he send Bao to Bhaktipur so Moirin may hear him refuse his freedom in his own words.”

“Do you think he will agree?” I asked dubiously.

“No.” Ravindra advanced a black pawn. “I think Tarik Khaga will invite you to Kurugiri to hear Bao’s response in person.”

“Ah!” Amrita reached down to advance a second white pawn. “And we will propose a meeting of both parties on neutral ground, eh?”

“Where both of us will seek to trick and betray the other,” Ravindra agreed. “And that will be very interesting!”

“Perhaps, jewel of my heart, but you will not be there to see it,” his mother said in a firm tone. “If it even comes to pass. You are trusting a great deal to the belief that Tarik Khaga and his queen will play this game.”

“Yes, Mama-ji. I am.” He steepled his fingers in the thinking-pose. “But the Falconer’s men could not find you when they tried, thanks to the hidden room. That failure will be on his mind, and I do not think he is a man who likes to fail. And also remember, since they know of Moirin’s magic, it is likely that they know she can make herself unseen, and very impossible to find and abduct on hostile ground. So I think yes, they will play the game and hope to trick us.”

Amrita studied the board. “So, young chess-master! You have thought out a strategy two moves ahead of our opponent. Knowing you, I suspect there is at least one more.” With one finger, she nudged a third white pawn into play, raising her brows at her son. “What is the third?”

Ravindra smiled. “An ambush. Only we must plan it now, before it is a possibility in their minds.”

“My lady, my young lord…” I shook my head. The thought of either of them coming to harm made me feel ill. “This is growing too difficult and too dangerous. I cannot ask you to take such risks. Better I should go to Kurugiri.”

“No!” mother and son said in unison, exchanging a glance.

“But-” I began.

Amrita sighed. “It is not only for you, dear one, nor for your young man. I said before that the shepherd dare not abandon his flock to hunt the falcon. But what you have given us here…” She made a gesture I didn’t know. “It is a chance to lure the falcon into a trap, and I think it is a chance I cannot ignore. Perhaps this is what the gods intended in sending you here.” Her face was very serious. “What does your bear-goddess say?”

My diadh-anam shone like a beacon, and I could not lie about it. “It seems She agrees,” I murmured.

“Tarik Khaga had my father killed, Moirin,” Ravindra said in a subdued tone. “And many other people, too. Will you not let us try?”

“Aye,” I said reluctantly, fearful at the thought of risking them. “I will.”

The following day, the Rani Amrita delivered our response to the Falconer’s messenger, her demeanor calm and dignified.

“I fear the dakini Moirin mac Fainche does not believe your master’s words,” she said in a vaguely apologetic tone. “She requests that his majesty Tarik Khaga send the young man Bao to Bhaktipur that he might deliver his refusal in person. Only then will she accept this edict that there may be no trade.” Amrita gave a slight, helpless shrug. “Forgive me. As I said before, the dakini Moirin is not mine to command.”

The messenger pursed his lips and glanced at me.

Summoning my mother’s best glare, I folded my arms and glowered at him under my lashes. As an added measure, I called the twilight. Although I could not vanish into it with his gaze on me, I felt it sparkle around me.

The Falconer’s messenger turned pale, his throat working as he swallowed nervously. For the first time in four encounters, he was a bit afraid.

I was glad.

He bowed to Amrita, palms pressed together. “I will convey your message and return with a reply, highness.”