Kushiels Scion

Page 70

 

  In the end, I left with my arms laden. "Master Ambrosius, will you do me a kindness?" I asked him. "If Canis should return at any time, will you send word to me? Only don't let him know. "

  He nodded sagely. "Owes you money, does he?"

  I hesitated. "Somewhat like, yes. "

  "I'll do it. "

  Obeying my whim, I departed the insula and headed for the D'Angeline embassy. The day's heat was rising and shops were beginning to close their doors, but I was able to purchase a cheap leather satchel in the Great Forum. It was poorly cured and stank a bit. I smiled, thinking about how we had cured gazelle hides to make waterskins by burying them in hot shale in Jebe-Barkal. It had worked better than whatever method had been used here. Still, the satchel served to contain my myriad pouches of incense, and I made my way to Lady Fleurais' palazzo trailing a most peculiar aroma behind me.

  At the embassy gates, the guard on duty stared at me. "My lord?"

  I stood before him in a miasma of ill-cured leather and incense. "Her ladyship said she would leave a standing order to admit me," I said. "But if she is available, I would speak with her. " He continued to stare, his gaze travelling from my face to my feet. I realized, then, the figure I cut. I was wearing dusty student's togs, rumpled with sleep, and the crude rope sandals I'd bought after the rioting. Until today, my ankle had been too sore to consider replacing my boots. "I know," I said. "But it's important. "

  The guard gave himself a little shake, then opened the gate to admit me. "Name of Elua!" He grinned at me. "The Comtesse de Montrève would die of shame to see you thus, your highness. "

  I laughed. "Like as not. "

  He escorted me to the temple garden and went to send word to the ambassadress. In the height of the midday heat, the garden was empty. Not even the priest was about. I took off my sandals and knelt in the green grass, removing the pouches of incense and arranging them in order. And then, one by one, I made my offerings at each of the altars, filling the bowl before each effigy and kindling the incense with the fire-striking kit that had been our guide Bizan's farewell gift to me.

  Another memory of Jebe-Barkal. It seemed fitting. As hard as the journey was, I had been happy there. It was there that Phèdre and Joscelin had found healing together. It was there that I had begun to know myself loved.

  I said prayers as I lit each bowl; prayers for all those lost in the zenana, all who had not survived the uprising. Remember this. I said prayers for the survivors, and most of all for Kaneka, tall Kaneka, who had been a pillar of strength. I said prayers for everyone we had met in our travels who had done us a kindness, and a few who had not. I prayed for my kin… the family of my blood, Mavros and Roshana and Baptiste, Ysandre and Sidonie and Alais. And for the family of my heart.

  Phèdre.

  Joscelin.

  And the others, too—all of Montrève's household, and most of all for Gilot. For him, I offered an incense of chamomile, hyssop, and cedar gum to Eisheth, praying she would send him healing. I prayed, surprising myself, for Maslin of Lombelon, a traitor's child who bore a dark shadow like my own on his soul. I remembered the joyous pride I had first seen in Maslin's face and offered Master Ambrosius' new mixture to Azza on his behalf, praying that he might regain it one day.

  I prayed for Dorelei mab Breidaia, whom I barely knew.

  And for Eamonn, whom I loved dearly, and Master Piero in his wisdom, and my haunted friend Lucius. For him I made an offering of attar of rose and amber to Naamah, hoping he might find love. I hesitated, then prayed for Claudia, too. I made her offering to Kushiel, spikenard and mastic, praying his justice would be merciful on the both of us.

  It was a long process.

  I saved the last offering for Blessed Elua; mistletoe and myrrh. And to Elua, I said no prayer, but merely knelt and bowed my head before his grace. I stayed there for a long time.

  "Prince Imriel?"

  I rose, stiff-jointed, and bowed. Midday had passed and the shadows were lengthening. In the center of the garden, Denise Fleurais gave a soft, wondering laugh, gazing around her. From seven bowls on seven altars, dying trickles of fragrant smoke arose.

  "'Tis a wondrous thing you've done, your highness," she said. "What does it mean?"

  "My lady," I said softly. "I'm ready to go home. "

  We spoke long into the night, first over dinner and then over glasses of cordial. As it transpired, the ambassadress had canceled an engagement to put herself at my disposal. It felt peculiar. So often, this self seemed unreal; Imriel de la Courcel, Prince of the Blood, third in line for the throne of Terre d'Ange. I'd not grown up knowing it. I'd grown up a goatherd, not a prince and a traitor's get. It had been thrust upon me unwanted.

  Inside, I was only me. Imriel; Imri to a few.

  An orphan among orphans, a slave among slaves.

  But it was real, and time enough I acknowledged it. And so I spoke of my thoughts and plans. I kept my word to Ruggero Caccini. I said nothing of the attempts against my life, and I said nothing of the letter I held implicating Bernadette de Trevalion in the matter. I would deal with her in my own time, and I hadn't yet decided the manner of it. But in everything else, I spoke candidly to Denise Fleurais. I saw the wash of relief that suffused her face. She was a diplomat. She knew what was at stake in Alba.

  "May I tell her majesty?" she asked.

  I shook my head. "I'd prefer to do it myself. You have couriers?"

  "Yes. " She rang a handbell. "I'll send for paper and ink. "

  I wrote two letters that evening. The first was to Ysandre, and it was formal and brief. I announced my plans to remain in Caerdicca Unitas for several more weeks to attend the wedding of a friend, and return to Terre d'Ange in autumn, before winter made the passage dangerous. I tendered my offer to wed Dorelei mab Breidaia in the spring, should all parties concerned still find it desirable.

  The second letter was to Phèdre.

  I lingered over it, but there was too much to put into words. In the end, I opted for brevity, with a promise to explain more upon my return. I smiled at the thought of the impatient happiness it would evoke in the household, and kissed the parchment before I sealed it.

  "Will your courier see this is delivered first?" I asked, handing it to Denise Fleurais.

  She raised her brows. "Before your missive to the Queen?"

  "Yes," I said. "Please. "

  The ambassadress studied me. "Will you permit me to have my couturier attire you for this wedding you're determined to attend?"

  I laughed. "I will. "

  Denise Fleurais inclined her head. "Then we have a bargain, your highness. "

  So the first step was taken, and I felt stronger for having made a decision and acted upon it. It was not the life I envisioned for myself, no. I wanted… what? I wanted what I had yearned after for a long time; to be a hero, like Joscelin. To love with the same desperate ferocity, to do impossible deeds. But such a destiny was vouchsafed to only a few, and it came at a terrible price. I knew; I'd seen him in Daršanga, and afterward.

  It was not my lot, and I should be glad of it. I had a chance to do good in my own way. To pave the path of peace, to rise to the challenge of being tender and kind. To being a good husband to Dorelei, a Cruithne stranger with a lilting laugh. That would be my sacrifice, because I wasn't tender and kind, not really. I craved more.

  But perhaps it would be enough to try.

  Canis had said so.

  So had Asclepius.

  After I left the embassy, I sent a note to Claudia Fulvia. It was the second step, and harder than the first. Her reply came quickly, arranging for a rendezvous at the atelier of Erytheia on the morrow.

  I kept the appointment. After so many, it felt strange not to strip and pose. Erytheia was working on another panel, but she eyed me with interest as I wandered her atelier, and Silvio watched, too, going quietly about the business of grinding pigments.

 
"We could use you," she said at length. "If you would be willing to sit… ?"

  I shook my head. "Once was enough. "

  She nodded. "As you wish. "

  It wasn't long before Claudia arrived, and Erytheia and Silvio took their leave without comment. I watched the quiet nod the women exchanged, and knew with certainty that which I had wondered. Whatever other arrangement there was between them, the artist was complicit in Claudia's plans; the plans of the Unseen Guild.

  "What is it?" Claudia made no move to touch me. The slanting sunlight turned her eyes to amber, and her gaze was curious and wary. "Are you well? You look… peculiar. "

  "I'm fine," I said. "Claudia, it's over. "

  A flicker of fear crossed her features, gone almost before it could register. "Over?" she asked lightly. "Oh, but Imriel! We've scarce begun. I was so proud to hear how you dealt with Caccini. You've a knack for this, you know. " She smiled, coming toward me. Her hand rose to brush my lips, trailing down my throat. "And I have so much more to offer you. "

  My body stirred at her touch, but it was an automatic response, nothing more. For the first time, I didn't feel as though I were sliding helpless into the pit of desire. My thoughts remained clear. I stood outside myself and saw Claudia. I saw cleverness, cunning, and ambition. I saw her carnal nature, powerful and abundant, and the delight she took in it—wielding it as a weapon and a tool for her own pleasure. And I saw their shadow-sides, too. Fear; fear of failing the Guild. Fear of aging, of no longer being found desirable. Fear that the young D'Angeline lover she held in thrall would wake up one day and find himself repulsed by her.

  I could have turned it against her, but I didn't.

  "I'm sorry," I said gently. "Claudia… a day ago, I meant to beleaguer you with questions. " I fished the broken pieces of Canis' medallion from my purse. "How do the members of the Unseen Guild acknowledge one another? Who is Canis and what is the meaning of the secret message inscribed here? And yet…" I tightened my fist, crushing the fragments, and let them trickle to the floor. "I find I don't care. "

  She inhaled sharply. "How can you not?"

  I shrugged. "You know, it's easier than I would have reckoned. I don't want it, Claudia. You…" I paused. "You've given me a great gift, bur the price is too high. The guilt, the secrecy… I don't like lying to my friends. "

  Her breast rose and fell rapidly. "Coward!" she spat.

  "No. " I thought about it. "Claudia, if we loved one another, no price would be too high. " I accorded her a courtly bow. "You are all that is glorious in a woman, and I will always be grateful to you for showing me what it means to plumb the depths of desire. I have worshipped your body with every part of mine, and I have no regrets. But when all is said and done, we do not love one another, and you know it. "

  For a moment, her face softened; and then it set in harsh lines. "And the Guild? Do you forget my warning?"

  "No. " I took a deep breath. "Anafiel Delaunay took his chances and walked away from the Unseen Guild. So will I. "

  "You're a fool!" Contempt laced her voice. "Delaunay could have prevented—"

  "So you said. " I cut her off. "But no one can know it for certain. "

  She trembled with anger. "You'll run back to her, won't you? Delaunay's little protegee, cocksure and ignorant! What gives an aging D'Angeline whore the right to think she can challenge—"

  A wave of fury swamped my composure. "Enough!"

  "You don't like that, do you?" Claudia laughed. "Oh, Imriel! Your precious Phèdre is overmatched here. You may cling to your foster-mother's skirts and have naughty dreams about sharing her bed, but don't think for a minute that she can protect you—"

  "Enough. " I repeated the word softly. "Don't provoke me. "

  Her chin raised in stubborn mutiny. "Do you dare threaten the Guild?"

  "I do. " I squared my shoulders. "And you, too, if you think to threaten me in turn. I'm sure Deccus would be quite interested to learn of our affair. Claudia, I will not expose the Guild. But understand, if anyone dear to me is harmed, I will break that promise. And if I am harmed…" I paused. "Yes, you will have Phèdre nó Delaunay on your doorstep; Kushiel's Chosen, filled with righteous fury, with the Queen's Champion guarding her back. She will ask questions, and she will find answers. It is what she does, and she does it well. And then you and the Unseen Guild will have the wrath of Queen Ysandre de la Courcel upon you, and the Cruarch of Alba, too. "

  "Politics," Claudia retorted. "The Guild doesn't fear politics. The Guild is politics!"

  "No?" I asked. "How about the Master of the Straits?"

  She was silent.

  "He's real, you know," I said to her. "He can command the seas to rise, rain to fall, and the wind to blow. And he's not bound to the Straits, not anymore. Phèdre freed him, although she went through untold hell to do it, and Joscelin with her. I know; I was there. " I smiled at Claudia. "His name is Hyacinthe, and he is her childhood friend, her one true friend. I imagine he could sink the port of Ostia beneath the waves if he took a fancy to do so. "

  Claudia had turned pale, very pale. "He wouldn't dare. "

  "Why not?" I asked. "What possible threat could the Guild use to deter the Master of the Straits?" I shook my head. "Claudia, let us both be wise and part as friends. I will stay for your brother's wedding, and then I will go. And nothing more will be said of this, ever. "