“But no longer?” I asked hopefully.

Denis shrugged. “The Aragonians have been working to convert the Nahuatl to the worship of Mithras, and they’ve had some success. But the practice continues on a lesser scale. I’ve seen it,” he added with a shudder. “And it’s horrible.”

Balthasar Shahrizai looked unwontedly pale. “Exactly where do they find all these victims to sacrifice?”

“Prisoners of war, for the most part,” Denis said. “They actually fight to maim and injure rather than kill in order to take prisoners to sacrifice to their gods. Warriors gain status that way. But there are also those who go willing to the altar, and reckon it an honor. Apparently, it’s one of two ways to ascend immediately to the highest heaven, bypassing some rather unpleasant stages of the afterlife.”

“What’s the other?” Bao asked.

Denis gave him a jaundiced look. “A noble death on the battlefield.”

I glanced at Bao. Upon dying a hero’s death, he had been granted a reprieve from the more unpleasant aspects of the Ch’in afterlife. By aiding Master Lo in trading his life for Bao’s, I had stolen that from him all unwitting. Bao caught my not-so-stealthy glance and returned a level gaze, reminding me without words that he had found a way to choose this fate for himself.

I cleared my throat. “So it’s a bloody place, and the Nahuatl are a bloody folk. Do you suppose Thierry ran afoul of them?”

“No.” Denis shook his head. “That’s the thing. I don’t. If we ran afoul of anyone, it was the Aragonians. They treated us civilly enough, but they weren’t happy about Terre d’Ange encroaching on their territory. And they weren’t happy that Raphael rose so high in the Emperor’s regard.”

“Do you suspect this commander… what was his name? Diego Ortiz y Ramos? Of being somehow complicit?” Balthasar inquired delicately.

“No. No, I don’t think so.” Denis hesitated. “Ah, gods! What do I know? I was shitting myself half to death with dysentery at the time. Here’s what I do know.” He unrolled a scroll on a low table between us. “This is a copy of the map the Emperor Achcuatli gave to Raphael, that he and Thierry might seek out the empire of Tawantinsuyo.” His finger traced a course. “Here is the isthmus overland.” He tapped the map. “Here the jungle begins; and here is the river on which they were meant to travel.”

I peered at the map. “My lord Denis, forgive me, but… why were you so sure Thierry died?”

He raised his voice. “Because he didn’t come back!”

“Aye, but—”

“Thierry’s word is his bond,” Denis said, and Balthasar Shahrizai nodded in agreement. “He’d no sooner break it than you would break your people’s oath, Moirin. He promised his father he would do everything in his power to return in two years’ time. He gave me his word the secondary expedition would return within a year’s time no matter what they found; and made me promise to sail without him if they didn’t. I waited for almost a year and a half. There’s a reason even the Nahuatl haven’t sought to conquer Tawantinsuyo. Do you know how many ways there are to die in the jungles of Terra Nova?”

I shook my head humbly.

Denis de Toluard regaled us with a litany of horrors ranging from hostile natives, raging rivers, poisonous snakes, strangling snakes, maddening insects, ravenous ants, hideous diseases, suppurating wounds, and razor-teethed fish that could strip a man’s flesh from his body in a matter of minutes. “That’s where you mean to go,” he said when he had finished. “That’s what you’re bound for.”

Everyone was silent for a moment.

“Well,” Bao said presently. “But people live there, don’t they? So it must have some merits.”

“They say it’s beautiful,” Denis murmured. “Beautiful and terrible. That there are flowers of surpassing beauty that bloom there and nowhere else in the world. That you can go for days and days without seeing the sky, only an endless roof of green leaves high overhead. It can drive a man mad.”

“In the Tatar lands, nothing blooms, there is only sky overhead, and you can ride for days and days without seeing a tree,” I observed. “I think I would like this better.”

“You really mean to go? You, yourself?” Denis asked. “Elua have mercy, Moirin! It’s no place for a woman.”

I shrugged. “I have to.”

“You and your bear-goddess,” he said in a mild tone that intended no offense. “All right. All right, then.” He took a deep breath. “I’m coming with you.”

“Are you sure?” Given our history, I didn’t like him well enough to relish the prospect.

Denis met my gaze and smiled bitterly. “If you’re right, Thierry’s alive and I abandoned him. All of them. I could have begged the Aragonians to mount a search for them, promising a vast reward, promising we would abandon efforts to infringe on their trade rights. I could have begged Emperor Achcuatli, promising him horses and steel weapons. I could have done something, and I didn’t. I gathered our crew, turned tail, and sailed for home, in time to deliver the news that drove the King to take his own life.”

To that, I said nothing.

“If I stay here, I’ll just drink myself to death,” he said. “Besides, I can be useful to you. I’ve met the Emperor, and I’m on fair terms with Commander Ortiz y Ramos. I learned quite a bit of the Nahuatl tongue.”

“He’s right, Moirin,” Bao observed.

“So be it,” I agreed.

“What about you?” Denis asked Balthasar Shahrizai, an edge of scorn creeping into his voice. “As I recall, you’re a fair hand with a sword. But I don’t suppose you’ve any intention of risking your pretty neck this time, either.”

“You wound me, Denis.” Balthasar studied his fingernails, which were neatly trimmed and buffed. “Actually, yes. I have every intention of joining the expedition.”

It surprised me. “You do?”

He glanced up at me. “Let’s just say I’ve a fancy to see these flowers of surpassing beauty that bloom nowhere else in the world, shall we?”

I found myself unexpectedly touched. “You needn’t risk yourself, my lord Balthasar. You’re already doing a great deal. This expedition wouldn’t be possible without the support of House Shahrizai.”

“All the more reason to keep an eye on our investment.” He shot a needling look at Denis de Toluard. “It didn’t turn out so well the first time, did it?”

Denis flushed with anger, but held his tongue.

“Well, I think it’s a fine idea,” Bao said cheerfully. “It will certainly make the voyage more interesting.”

Of that, I was certain.

By the time we left the de Toluard household, the City of Elua was abuzz with the news; and predictably, opinion was torn as to whether there was genuine cause for hope, or I was a lying charlatan bent on exacting revenge on the Duc de Barthelme by embarking on a fool’s errand bound to have a terrible cost.

My father came to pay us a visit, and I had no doubt what he thought. From the beginning, he had believed in me. He embraced me without a word and I clung to him, finding myself in tears again.

“My mother…” I whispered, the realization only just dawning on me. “Ah, gods! By this time, I’d hoped to be bound for Alba.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I mean to go in your stead, Moirin.”

I blinked away tears. “You do?”

“I do,” my father said firmly. “I’ll gladly carry a letter for her, but this news should be delivered in person. Twenty-some years ago, we made a child together. I mean to find Fainche, and tell her what manner of woman you’ve grown into since you left her side, and of the adventures that have befallen you.” He glanced at Bao with a faint smile. “I will assure her that I very much like your unusual husband, and that if anyone can keep you safe, he can. I will tell her that our very disparate gods brought us together for a purpose.” He took my hand. “And I will kneel beside her, and we will pray to our disparate gods, to the Maghuin Dhonn Herself, to Blessed Elua and Naamah and all the Companions, and any other gods that might be listening, that you will return safely home.”

“Thank you,” I said. “Just… thank you.”

Bao nodded in agreement. “You are a very kindhearted man, Brother Phanuel,” he said in a respectful tone. “Moirin is fortunate to have such a father.”

My father dismissed our thanks with a graceful gesture. “It is the least I can do. To be sure, my lord Rogier has no more use for me or my counsel.” His expression turned somber. “Have you spoken to the young princess about your plans yet?”

Bao and I exchanged a glance. “No,” I admitted. “Frankly, I’m rather dreading it, and if you have counsel, I would be grateful for it. Desirée’s been abandoned so many times, I fear she may take this as another.”

“It’s possible,” my father acknowledged, his gaze gentle. “And that cannot be helped. Be honest with the child. Be hopeful, but make her no promises you cannot be sure of keeping. Do not speak of any strife between you and Duc Rogier, nor attempt to warn her of your suspicions. Any such words you might speak would only be twisted and turned against you in your absence.”

“I wouldn’t!” I protested. “I would not put a child in such a position.”

He inclined his head. “You’ve been very careful to shield the young princess from the politics at stake here.”

I sighed. “I hate this.”

“I hate it, too.” The sorrow in my father’s green eyes made my heart ache. “Believe me, Moirin, I am more than a little angry at the gods myself today. They have already asked so much of you.”

“Don’t be.” I shook my head. “I fear I brought this on myself. Whatever happened in Terra Nova, I believe it is somehow connected to the summonings I helped the Circle of Shalomon perform.”

“I don’t see how it could be,” he said.

“Neither do I.” I touched my chest, feeling my diadh-anam flicker inside me. “And yet I am sure of it. If I had not been such a love-struck idiot, this would not have happened. Like my ancestors, I believed what I wished to believe. I failed to discern the will of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself.” I smiled ruefully. “And attempting to set matters right is the price I must pay for my mistake.”

“ ’Tis a steep one,” my father murmured.

“It was a pretty big mistake,” Bao said, shrugging at the surprised look my father gave him. “Well, it was! They nearly set loose a demon that wanted to wreak havoc on the world and slaughter as many people as possible.”

“But that catastrophe was averted, was it not?”

Bao shrugged again. “Thanks to me and Master Lo.”

“We set something loose.” Once again, I remembered the faint lightning flash I’d last glimpsed in Raphael de Mereliot’s stormy grey eyes, and gave myself a little shake. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t see what possible connection there is between the events; but then, we’ve no idea what happened in Terra Nova. Mayhap I’m wrong. After all, I was wrong before. Even so, I would still have to go. I swore an oath, and my lady Jehanne tells me this is the only way to keep it.”

My father didn’t argue. “Don’t wait overlong to discuss it with the young princess,” he said instead. “Someone’s bound to slip and gossip in front of her. Best she hear it from your own lips.”

“If someone hasn’t already told her,” Bao muttered.

“I suspect my lord Rogier would do his best to prevent it,” my father said. “For his own reasons.”

“Why?” I asked.

“He thinks you’re bound to fail,” he said simply. “That way, when her highness Desirée’s hopes are dashed, it will be the two of you, and no one else, who raised them; and she will blame you for it accordingly.”

“Then why would you urge us to—?” I began, puzzled. “Oh!”

Bao grinned. “He doesn’t think we’ll fail.”

My father smiled his quiet smile. “ ’Tis a considerable test of faith, especially when one is angry at the gods. But that gets to the very heart of faith, does it not? Here and in Alba, I will pray, and I will have faith that the gods are merciful and will answer my prayers. Wherever your fate takes you, whatever you find in Terra Nova, know that I will be here, keeping the flame of faith alight, believing that you will succeed.”

“Don’t cry, Moirin,” Bao warned me. “You’ve cried enough.”

“Oh, shut up.” I returned my father’s smile through tears. “Thank you. Surely, that will give me courage in dark times.”

He kissed my brow. “I am glad.”

TWENTY-NINE

On the morrow, Bao and I broke the news to Desirée.

It was difficult.

In the first place, Tristan de Barthelme was there in the nursery when we arrived, and insisted on remaining present for the conversation, refusing our polite request for privacy. “The Regency of House Barthelme is responsible for her highness’ well-being,” he informed us with fourteen-year-old hauteur. “I am here at my father’s wishes.” He turned to Desirée and held out his hand to her, his voice turning soft and coaxing. “Besides, you want me here, don’t you, ducky?”