I smiled. “Funny, that’s very much what Snow Tiger said when I made her the same offer.”
“Her bridegroom’s death?” he asked in a hushed tone. I nodded. “No, she wouldn’t dishonor his memory, would she? Not our Noble Princess.” Bao met my eyes. “I did not suffer anything so terrible as that here in Kurugiri. I am not proud of the things I did, or the man I was here, but since I found the strength to walk away when I needed it, on some level, I must have chosen this. So I will keep my memories, and learn to grow stronger from them. I did not murder anyone, if you are wondering,” he added. “I did not become an assassin, a killer of innocents.”
I had been wondering, but I didn’t let him know it. “You would not have let that happen,” I said firmly.
Bao’s mouth quirked. “I like to think it is true. But in truth, I was never ordered to do so.”
I took his hand, lacing my fingers through his. “Bao… there is a wellspring of relentless pride and nobility hidden in you. No matter how much you try to suppress it, it bubbles to the surface. That is why you did not become a killer of innocents. It is why you did your best to protect someone like poor Sudhakar; and why you walked away from your life as a prince of thugs to become Master Lo’s magpie.” I squeezed his hand, hard. “And it is one of the reasons I love you.”
Averting his head, Bao gazed at our entwined fingers; then gave me a glinting look under his lashes. “What are the other reasons?”
“You make me laugh,” I said promptly. He scoffed. “It’s true! And it’s worth more than you reckon. In Vralia, it helped keep me sane. I imagined you counseling me when the Patriarch was demanding my endless confession, especially when it came to you.”
“What did I say?” he asked, curious.
“You said, ‘Tell the stunted old pervert whatever he wants to hear, Moirin, and I will bash his head in when I have a chance.’” I smiled. “And then you grew indignant because Pyotr Rostov did not press for details about your prowess in bed.”
“That does sound like me,” Bao admitted.
“I know.”
“What else?”
“Remember on the greatship?” I asked softly. “You said you were afraid my destiny would swallow you whole. Gods, Bao! I’m afraid of my own destiny. It’s been a hard one thus far, and if the tulku is right, it’s far from over. But at every crossroad, you’ve never hesitated. Not once.”
His hand stirred in mine. “That’s not true. I left you.”
I shook my head. “That was a different kind of crossroad.”
“Was it?”
“Yes.” I freed my hand from his, laying one hand on his hard, firm chest and one on my own, feeling our shared diadh-anam twine and flicker. “This destiny, Master Lo laid upon us both. You had to find your own way to accept it, and I think I needed the time and distance to be certain of my own feelings, too. And… I don’t know, Bao. Mayhap the gods prompted him to do so. It has led us to bad places, dark places. Riva. Kurugiri. Even so, good things have come of it. I do believe what we have done serves the greater good.”
“The no-castes,” he murmured. “The untouchables.”
I nodded.
Bao’s eyes glittered. “We’re not done here yet, are we?”
“No,” I agreed. “Not yet.”
Two days later, the second company of guards arrived from Bhaktipur, and we set about organizing the last exodus from the fortress. All in all, there were fourteen wounded men to transport, along with several dozen servants, and the bulk of the treasure we had inventoried, saving only for the larger pieces of furniture.
Half of the injured had recovered to the point where they could sit a horse; the other half would require litters, which the new guards had brought.
Bao’s greatest concern was the cold. Hampered by the slow pace necessitated by navigating the awkward litters down the winding path without jarring the wounded, there was little chance we could manage the descent in a single day. Once night fell, we’d be trapped in the maze, the temperature plummeting. It would be a hardship for all of us, but it could take a deadly toll on the wounded men.
“Could we keep going by torchlight?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Better to rest and conserve chi energy. The cold will sap it and weaken them. I wish we had more blankets.”
I remembered how Bao and I had slept with the Rani between us at the foot of the mountain, sharing our warmth with her. “Tell them to huddle up,” I suggested. “Assign two healthy fellows to every injured man.”
“Good idea.” He chuckled. “It will be funny to see grown men curled up together like puppies in a litter.”
“It was not funny when it was me and Amrita,” I observed.
“No.” Bao grinned. “That would have been quite pleasant if it were not for the freezing cold and the sentries giving false alarms all night long.”
“Those are two very large ‘ifs,’ my magpie,” I said. “But I cannot argue the point.”
The following morning, we began our descent; and it was every bit as halting and torturous a process as I had imagined. Bao took the lead, with me behind him. Behind me was Hasan Dar, who insisted on riding against Bao’s counsel. I could hear the breath hiss through his teeth at every jolting step as we rounded the hairpin turns.
The long train of guards, servants, litters, and pack-horses stretched behind us, abandoning the mostly empty shell of the fortress.
I would be glad to see the last of Kurugiri.
We made it a good two-thirds of the way down the mountain before the light began to fade in the sky above us and shadows settled into the deep crevasses of the maze, making it impossible to read the symbols etched on the walls.
Bao called a halt. Some of the men had laughed self-consciously when he had ordered them earlier to huddle up come nightfall, pairing two each with an injured fellow. None of them laughed now as the day’s meager warmth fled.
It was an awkward business, made all the more so by the fact that our mounts were trapped in the labyrinth with us. Bao hobbled his lead mount, which was all that was needful; the path was too narrow for another horse to pass. My mare Lady gave me a mournful look, sensing no food or water in the offing.
“I’m sorry, brave heart.” I stroked her muzzle. “It was too difficult to arrange in the maze. Tomorrow, I promise.”
Bao squeezed past his mount to join me, and together we slipped past Lady to assist Hasan Dar, who dismounted with difficulty, his legs trembling.
“Why am I so cursed weak?” he asked in a fierce tone.
“Because you lost a great deal of blood and nearly died, commander,” Bao said in a matter-of-fact tone. “And the latter is still a possibility.” He spread a blanket on the stony floor of the path. “Rest, and eat if you can. Moirin and I will share our warmth with you, and hopefully the horses will not trample us in our sleep.”
“They won’t,” I said. “Horses have more sense than that.”
There were skins of water for the humans, and the roasted barley-grains mixed with yak-butter that was a staple in the mountains, reminding me of the trader Dorje and his kind wife Nyima, who had prepared a packet of the stuff for me. I rolled it into a ball, coaxing Hasan Dar to eat when he protested that he was too tired and not hungry anyway.
By the time the last traces of red had vanished from the sky, the cold intensified. Any heat lingering in the stone beneath us was gone. It was cold and hard, leaching the warmth from our flesh. Hasan Dar began to shiver violently. Bao and I pressed close against him, two blankets over us, taking turns breathing the Breath of Embers Glowing.
It was a very, very long night.
In the morning, the commander was feverish, his brow shining and damp in the cold air. “Forgive me, Bao-ji,” he said. “I am not sure I have the strength to ride.”