“Oh, but it is.” There was sorrow in Lianne’s gaze. “If Jehanne had lived, mayhap it would have been otherwise. Mayhap you would have returned to find yourselves both too changed to resume the liaison. But Jehanne died, and it will ever be what it was, exactly as she said. Fixed in time, like a portrait of a delicate blossom cut too soon immortalized in paint.” Steepling her fingers, she touched her lips in thought. “That’s not a bad image.”
“Mayhap you can work it into your next poem,” I murmured.
Lianne grimaced. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to make light of your grief. But I do know what I’m doing, Moirin. No one will accuse you of comparing yourself to Anafiel Delaunay. They will blame me. That is the risk poets take when we exaggerate for the sake of effect, which is what we do. And believe me, there are many who agree with the sentiment.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I didn’t mean to question your knowledge of your craft. I’m grateful for your aid.”
She lifted her chin. “And you owe me for it. Tell me the tale of your ordeal in Vralia. No… wait. That’s not where it begins, does it?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Begin at the beginning,” she demanded. “Begin with the Ch’in expedition that came in search of that physician. What was it they were after? What was so urgent that the Emperor of Ch’in would send well nigh an entire army to fetch one lone man?”
I told her.
Not all of it; there were a few parts I left out. I did not tell her what had passed between the Emperor’s dragon-possessed daughter and me at our first encounter, when the dragon had chosen me for her mate; and I did not tell her what had passed between us at the end, when Snow Tiger had asked me to invoke Naamah’s blessing on her behalf. That, no one knew; nor was it anyone’s business but Naamah’s.
I did not tell her about the aftermath of the battle that had nearly torn Ch’in apart, when I had served as Emperor Zhu’s swallower-of-memories, using the gift of the Maghuin Dhonn Herself to take into myself the memories of every soldier, engineer, and alchemist with knowledge of the workings of the Divine Thunder. D’Angelines already had enough cause to fear the folk of the Maghuin Dhonn, and I did not need to give them one more reason.
But I did tell Lianne Tremaine one thing I’d told no one else. “There is a part of the tale I left out. Do you remember the spirit Marbas?”
“Of course.” There was an edge to her tone. We had not spoken of the summonings yet. “He took the form of a lion.”
I nodded. “And you could not compel him to speak, because you could not compel him to take human form.”
“I remember.” Her fox-like gaze was sharp.
“He spoke to me in the twilight,” I said slowly. “All of the fallen spirits did. But Marbas offered me a gift. He offered to teach me the art of shape-shifting, the art my mother’s folk lost.”
Lianne’s breath hissed between her teeth. “Name of Elua!”
“I refused it,” I hastened to add. “I will own, I was tempted, but the Maghuin Dhonn Herself took that gift away from us, and it is Hers, and Hers alone, to restore. But Marbas… Marbas said that for that, he would give me a gift unasked. And he did.” I took a deep breath. “The charm to reveal hidden things. He roared, and placed it in my thoughts like a jewel. He said the words would be there if I needed them.”
Her expression was unreadable. “Have you?”
“Aye,” I said. “In the reflecting lake on White Jade Mountain. When the princess and I jumped into its depths, nothing happened except that she began to drown, and take me down with her. It came to me that the dragon’s spirit was surely a hidden thing—and then the words of the charm were there, and I spoke them. That is when the dragon’s spirit emerged from the princess.”
“You never told any of us that the spirit Marbas had given you a gift,” Lianne said in a flat tone.
“No,” I said. “I didn’t.”
Lianne Tremaine rose from her chair and paced her tower chamber restlessly. “Elua have mercy! All that time we were haggling for gifts, and the spirits were showering you with them unasked.”
“Just the one,” I murmured. “And I suspect it was because it was unasked. I