She shrugged. “I treated them as human beings, not living filth. I gave them better lives than they would have had otherwise.”

“You treated them as living playthings, Jagrati,” Bao said. “Was it a better life for those who died fighting for the honor of sharing your bed?”

Jagrati laughed her dark tearing-silk laugh. “At least they died fighting for something they believed worth dying for, didn’t they?”

“Believing a thing does not make it true.” Bao shrugged. “You are not the only one in the world to have suffered, lady. The world can be cruel, even to men. I was sold into bondage when I was scarce more than a babe. I know what it is like to be used badly. I have not let it poison my heart.”

She met his eyes. “But you have been fortunate in the companions life has given you, have you not?”

Bao glanced at me, and didn’t answer.

“How lucky for you.” Jagrati gave him her bitter smile. “The peasant-boy found a noble mentor, grew up to be a hero, and won the hand of the fair maiden.” She clasped one hand over the other fist as though she meant to bow to him in the Ch’in manner. “The only luck I found, I made myself. All my old life gave me was the stink of human shit and cruelty.” She looked sidelong at Amrita. “Forgive me if I am not willing to return to a world where I must grovel when you pass lest my shadow soil your pure flesh, where I can only dream of the honor of touching your perfect feet.”

“Jagrati-” my lady Amrita began.

The Spider Queen’s long-fingered hands tightened, driving her fist into her palm. “Good-bye.”

There were jeweled rings on almost all her fingers, gleaming in the lamplight, and belatedly I remembered the poisoner and his ring with the hidden needle. But even if anyone had been minded to stop Jagrati, it was already too late. Her tall, angular body jerked and stiffened, and she fell gracelessly, a little foam rising to her lips.

The Spider Queen of Kurugiri was dead.

It was a long, difficult night.

There was a great deal of work to be done, little of it pleasant. But at least it began on an auspicious note as Pradeep came to report that the harem had been secured without any difficulty. The churlish messenger had been the only one to resist, and he was dead.

The Rani insisted on visiting it straightaway. It was crowded with women and children, and dozens of additional servants who had taken shelter there. None of them seemed to have been harmed in an obvious way, but they greeted us with profound gratitude, many of them weeping with joy and relief, overwhelmed at being rescued from captivity in Kurugiri.

I watched my lady Amrita go among them, talking to the women and some nine or ten children of varying ages, assuring them that they were safe and would be well cared for. It made me smile for what felt like the first time in years.

One of the women caught my eye and returned my smile. She had Tufani features, and her smile was as gentle and radiant as dawn breaking through mist. I remembered the boy-monk in Rasa giving me a message for the yak-herder’s daughter.

“Are you Laysa?” I asked her.

“Yes.” There was a little girl who looked to be five or six pressed against her side, and Laysa stroked her hair. “How did you know?”

“I met a young monk in Rasa, a… a tulku.” I dredged the word from memory. “Tashi Rinpoche. He said he was one of your teachers in your last lifetime together, and that it puzzled him that he was born younger than you this time. But now it makes sense, for you have lost ten years of your life. He is waiting in Rasa to teach you again.”

Her radiant smile widened. “That is very good news!” She kissed her daughter’s brow. “Is it not, my little Kamala, my little lotus?” The girl nodded warily, staring at me. Her mother whispered something in her ear, making her giggle and hide her face. “She was frightened by your green eyes,” Laysa said. “I told her it is because you are a magical deva sent to look after us. Now she is shy.”

My throat tightened.

It seemed impossible that such goodness could endure and blossom in this cruel place. The world had been unkind to Laysa, mayhap not as unkind as it had been to Jagrati, but near enough. Her family had been slaughtered, and she had been forced to endure servitude in the Falconer’s harem. The thought of Tarik Khaga with his hawk-nose and muscular paunch heaving and grunting atop her sickened me.

He’d gotten her with child; and she loved the child. A child she had been compelled to raise in fear that one day her daughter would be forced into an incestuous union with her own cursed father.

And still, there was joy and kindness in her smile.

“Why are you weeping, deva?” Laysa inquired, hugging her daughter. “Today is not a day for sorrow!”

I smiled at her through my tears. “Joy and sorrow both, I fear. Today has come at a cost. But I am honored to meet you, my lady.”

“Ah.” Her expression turned grave. “I am sorry for your losses. I will pray for them, and for you.” She regarded me with compassion. “Your journey is a long one, I think.”

“It has been,” I agreed.

Laysa shook her head. “I mean the journey that yet lies ahead of you.”

I sighed.

Her smile returned. “Do not fear, deva. You have a very great heart, and your gods love you very much.”

“Moirin?” Bao appeared at my side, sliding an arm around my waist. “You have that look on your face. Who are you falling in love with now? Some new royal lady?”

“No.” I leaned against him, grateful for his strength. “A yak-herder’s daughter who is the reincarnation of one of the Enlightened Ones on the Path of Dharma. This is Laysa, and she says I have a long journey ahead of me yet.”

“Yes,” Laysa said helpfully. “A great ocean yet to cross.”

Bao tightened his arm around me and kissed my temple, and I felt the flicker of his diadh-anam entwined with mine. “Good thing you don’t have to cross it alone, huh?”

I nodded. “A very good thing.”

“I remember you,” Laysa said to Bao. “You came here looking for a green-eyed woman. Where did you find her after all?”

“I didn’t.” He smiled at her. “She found me.”

That was the best part of the night. The rest of it was a nightmare of complicated logistics. We had dead and injured men within the fortress of Kurugiri, and injured men left in the winding paths of the maze where they might freeze to death. Living men who required food and rest to tend to the others. Horses left to stray outside the fortress, also requiring tending, food, and rest.

Bao shone.

He procured torches and led the expedition back into the maze to retrieve the wounded armed with blankets to serve as makeshift slings. Two of our men had not survived, but Bao’s party was able to rescue four others including Hasan Dar, as well as the young lad Sudhakar, bewildered and confused at the death of Jagrati and the loss of Kamadeva’s diamond’s influence.

“Who is our new mistress, Bao?” Sudhakar asked uncertainly, glancing from me to Amrita. His broken nose had swollen and his eyes were beginning to blacken. “How are we meant to serve her?”

“The Rani Amrita is your new mistress,” Bao said in an absent tone, examining Hasan Dar. “And you are meant to serve her by making yourself useful. Bring me all the bandages and medicines you can find. A basin of water and soap. And a sewing kit, and shears, too.”

“Yes, Bao.” The young man trotted away with alacrity.

When the fellow returned with the requested supplies, Bao cut Hasan’s tunic away from the deadly round quoit that protruded from it. Despite his efforts to be gentle, the commander gave a stifled groan.

Amrita winced in sympathy. “Will he live?”