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What did surprise him was a pair of Cassiline daggers flashing out of their sheaths, Rousse's sailors hissing in disapproval, a curt order from the Cruarch of Alba, and half a dozen Cruithne and Dalriada blades pointed at his neck. I was right, Drustan did understand a fair bit of D'Angeline.
Ghislain de Somerville blinked.
"My lord," I said calmly. "I was born to an adept of the Night Court, trained by Cecilie Laveau-Perrin of Cereus House, and completed my marque in bond-service to Anafiel Delaunay de Montreve. Is my lineage in question, or the merit's of Naamah's Service?"
"Not at all. " Ghislain blushed; a smell of apples arose, mark of the Scions of Anael. "But the Servants of Naamah do not generally serve the Palace in, in such a capacity. "
Quintilius Rousse coughed. Drustan raised his eyebrows in inquiry. A rare glint in his eye, Joscelin translated the comment for him at some length in Caerdicci patois; Drustan relayed it to the rest in Cruithne.
Eamonn gave an unexpected grin, and Grainne laughed out loud, put ting a friendly arm about Ghislain de Somerville's shoulders. "They should," she said to him in Eiran. "Why else do you think the Dalriada came to fight for you?"
Truly, a stranger crew never landed on the shores of Terre d'Ange.
I took pity on Ghislain. "My lord," I said. "We have a very long story to tell you, but the short truth of it is, we have brought Alba's army, in accordance with the wishes of the Queen of Terre d'Ange, and we are in grave need of your guidance. That the Royal Army is beseiged at Troyes-le-Mont, we know, and little more. Will you grant us your hospitality and share your news? We bear foodstuffs of our own; I give my word that we'll not strip your camp. "
"Are you jesting?" Ghislain de Somerville gathered himself with a shake, carefully disengaging Grainne's arm. "You saved our hides, you're welcome to aught we have. Bring your folk ashore, we'll welcome them all!" He strode off shouting, and Azzallese scrambled to obey.
"He smells like apples," Grainne said thoughtfully.
"Yes," I agreed. "He does. "
EIGHTY-TWO
Ghislain De Somerville had more to recommend him than a pleasant odor.
Once his initial astonishment had passed, he proved a shrewd and able commander. The worktable in his tent was covered with detailed maps. He showed us exactly where Marc de Trevalion's forces were aligned along the Rhenus, and where the Skaldi had made sorties, the latest of which had nearly succeeded. He pointed out the course of the invasion through the Northern Pass, laying out his father's plan for the retreat to Troyes-le-Mont, giving us a thorough briefing on events since our departure.
Everything, it seemed, had gone according to plan; the problem was, quite simply, that no matter how cunningly they planned, there were too many Skaldi.
"All they have to do is wait," he said, his face grave, circling the point that marked the fortress with one finger. "There's a good well, and deep, no chance of losing water, and Father saw to it that Troyes-le-Mont was well stocked. But still, their food can only last so long, and Selig's got the whole damned country at his disposal. As long as his discipline holds . . . " He shrugged and shook his head.
Drustan pointed to the map and asked something in Cruithne.
"How many Skaldi?" I asked.
"Thirty-odd thousand. " Ghislain's face was heavy.
I translated it; Drustan went pale under his tattooing. "And in the fortress?" I asked.
"We can't be sure what losses we took. " Ghislain slid another map out and laid it atop the other, a sketch of the fortress. "Eight thousand, before the battle; how many survived, I don't know. Most, I think. They have an outer wall here, and trenches and stake-pits here, and here, with a second wall of fortifications here. " He pointed, indicating. "So far, they've held this belt of ground, but my news is no fresher than yours, if the Master of the Straits' sea-mirror told true. After that, they've naught but the fortress itself. "
"And after that?" Quintilius Rousse asked.
Ghislain met his eyes. "Prince Benedicte is doing all he can to rally a force among the Caerdicci city-states. If we had sufficient numbers, we could pin the Skaldi between us like hot metal on an anvil and hammer them. But the Caerdicci look to their own. It doesn't sound as though any help's coming from that quarter. "
"Then they fall," Joscelin said softly. "And Terre d'Ange falls with them. "
As long as Selig's discipline holds . . .
I stared at the map. "We have one chance," I said, thinking aloud, unaware that I'd spoke until Ghislain de Somerville looked quizzically at me. "Selig's army, it's fractious, there must be, what, a hundred tribes, at least?" I glanced at Joscelin. "Remember the day we rode into the All-thing?" I asked. He nodded soberly. "Some of them are blood enemies. If we stir them up, break Selig's discipline . . . it's somewhat, at least. "
"And how do we do that?" Rousse asked skeptically; but Ghislain was eyeing the map intently.
"The Cruithne scared them," he said thoughtfully, tapping the map. "All those blue faces . . . the Skaldi didn't know what to make of it. I could see that well enough, from the far shore. They're a superstitious lot, you know. If we could harry their flanks, small strikes, retreating fast. . . it would give them somewhat to think about, at any rate. We'd need a secure retreat, somewhere in the mountains here. Someplace hidden. "
I looked at Drustan, Eamonn and Grainne, and did not yet translate. "How many of us would be like to survive?" I asked Ghislain. "Truly. "
Glancing up from the map, he drew a deep breath. "None," he said quietly. "In the end? None. We'd live as long as we were lucky, and no longer. And it may be that we'd die for naught. You're right, it's our only chance; but it's a slim one at best. "
"Thank you," I told him, and then repeated it all to Drustan in Cruithne.
He took it soberly, walking half-gaited away to gaze out the door of the tent, startling the Azzallese guard. Eamonn and Grainne glanced at each other.
"Tell him I'll see his folk returned to Alba's shores," Quintilius Rousse said gruffly to me. "Every last blue-stained, lime-crested one of 'em. We didn't ask 'em here to commit suicide. "
I think Drustan understood, for he answered before the words were out of my mouth. "And what happens to your Hyacinthe?" he asked me, turning around, holding up one hand, light flashing on the gold signet. "If I do not wed Ysandre," his face was strained, "if I die, if Ysandre dies, and the curse remains unbroken, what happens to him? And how do we get home, if the Lord of the Seas remains chained to his rock, wroth with our failure? What song will sing us home, Phedre no Delaunay?"
My eyes burned with tears; I had brought him here. "I don't know," I whispered. "My lord, I am so sorry. "
"The fault is not yours. " His deep eyes dwelled on mine. "You followed your Queen's command; my destiny is my own, and you cannot change it. But I must give my people the choice. It is my destiny, but it is not their war. If they are to die, they must have the manner of choosing, to take their chance against wave or sword. "
I nodded, scarce seeing him. Drustan called sharply to Eamonn and Grainne, and they left, taking their guard with them. I related his words to the others.
"It's fair," Ghislain said softly, tracing Troyes-le-Mont on the map, head low. "Whatever you told them, they couldn't have understood the odds. None of us did. " He looked up then, his face grim. "But if you go, I'm going with you. My father's in there. " He gave Joscelin a hard look. "And if I'm not mistaken, so is yours, Cassiline. "
We spoke of it that night.
The stars were clear and bright in the vast black sky, familiar D'Angeline stars. There is no quiet place in a war-camp, but I found Joscelin a little distance away from our tents, seated beneath an elm and gazing at the camp. There was no celebratory atmosphere, as there had been after the defeat of Maelcon's army; this had been a skirmish, no more, a small victory in a hopeless war. The Azzallese cleaned their arms and wondered grimly what was next. There were
fires burning wherever Drus-tan's army was encamped, discussion going long into the night.
"Did you know?" I asked Joscelin, sitting beside him.
He shook his head. "I wasn't sure. I knew it was possible. I didn't see our banner, on the isle, but there were so many. "
"I'm sorry," I said softly.
"Don't be. " His voice was rough. "House Verreuil has always served. Did you know, my father fought in the Battle of Three Princes? That's when he won the title Chevalier. " One corner of his mouth quirked. "You know, the one you bestowed on Rousse's men. "
"I've no right to grant lands, though. "
"No. " He stared at the stars. "Verreuil's a small estate, but it's been in the family for six hundred years. Shemhazai's line, you know. We kept up the library, sent one son a generation to the Cassiline Brotherhood, and served the throne of Terre d'Ange as need required. "
"Is it just your father?" I asked in a low voice.
Joscelin shook his head again. "No," he said quietly. "Luc would have gone with him. "
"Luc?"
"My older brother. " He sighed, resting his chin on his knees. "I've a younger, too, but they'd have made Mahieu stay. Mother's comfort, the youngest; Father's strength, the eldest. It's the one born in the middle goes to Cassiel. So they say, in Siovale. My sisters used to tease. Three of those, too, you know. "
And eleven years since he'd seen any of them; I remembered that, well. It must be twelve by now. Better than half my life, and near as much for Joscelin. I'd come to think of him as nigh as rootless as myself, but it wasn't true.
I wanted to say something, but I'd no words. I took his arm instead, and he looked ruefully at me.
"I thought I'd have a chance to see them," he said. "Before . . . well, before the end. At twenty-five, they let us visit home, in the Brotherhood, if we've served well . . . " He shivered. "Or . . . they would have. I'm anathema, now. Does my family know, do you think? Or do they know only that I'm a condemned murderer, convicted of killing Anafiel Delaunay?"
"No one who knew you would believe it, Joscelin. "
"What do they know?" There was a hard note in his tone. "I was ten years old, Phedre! How do they know what I became?" He turned his forearms, starlight glinting on his steel vambraces. "I hardly even know myself, anymore," he whispered. "Ah, Elua! Did we come all this way for nothing more than this?"
"I don't know," I murmured, gazing past the campfires, across the darkened land. I had known the number of the Skaldi, had seen them, but even so . . . thirty thousand. Somewhere out there in the darkness, they camped around a fortress and made ready to rend the very fabric of all I held dear.
Joscelin drew a long breath, gathering himself. "Whatever may come in the morning, we'll make ready to ride to Trevalion. It's well-garrisoned and Ghislain's promised his hospitality. Rousse will spare a guard for you, too. His men wouldn't let him do aught else. "
I looked at him and said nothing.
"No. " His jaw set stubbornly; even by starlight, I could see the white lines forming alongside his nose. "Oh, no. Don't even think it. "
"They came at my word. "
"They came at the Queen's word! You did but carry it!"
"Ysandre de la Courcel did not play on the Twins' jealousy to spur the Dalriada to war," I said. "Or leave her oldest friend in the world bound to a lonely rock to win passage toward a doomed battle. I can't run from this, Joscelin. "
"What in Rousse's seven hells do you think you can do?" he shouted at me. "It's a war!"
I shrugged. "Put a face on what they're fighting and dying for. That's what you told me, isn't it?"
He had no answer for that. "And if they vote to retreat?" he asked, looking away.
"I'll go to Caerdicca Unitas and offer my services to Prince Bene-dicte," I said. Joscelin glanced back at me, surprised. "What other course is there? Drustan will stay, no matter what. Mayhap if the Caerdicci hear of the Cruarch of Alba's sacrifice, it will sway some few of them. "
"The Caerdicci won't fight for Terre d'Ange," Joscelin said softly. "The city-states are more fractious than the Skaldi, and more jealous than the Twins. Not even Naamah's wiles can bind them together, Phedre. "
"I know," I said. "But it's better than waiting to fall into Selig's hands. " Rising, I stooped and kissed his cheek. "I'm sorry about your family. I'll pray for them, Joscelin. "
"Pray for us all," he whispered.
I did, too. It had been a long time since I'd truly offered prayer to Blessed Elua, and not just the desperate pleas one gasps out in terror. I prayed to Elua and all his Companions, not only those who had marked me, for wisdom, for guidance, for some glimmer of hope to hold against our despair. I prayed for the safety of Joscelin's father and brother, for Ysandre de la Courcel and all immured in Troyes-le-Mont, for Drustan and the Twins and all of their folk, Rousse, Phedre's Boys, Ghislain and Trevalion and all the Azzallese, and Hyacinthe, alone at sea. For the Night Court and all her Houses, for the poets and players of Night's Doorstep, for Thelesis de Mornay and Cecilie Laveau-Perrin, for the kind seneschal of Perrinwolde, and all his family.
In the end, I think I prayed for everyone I'd ever known, and everyone I'd never met, heart and soul of Terre d'Ange. Whether it did any good,
I cannot say, but if my heart was no more at ease, it drove me at least to the sleep of exhaustion.
And in the morning, Drustan gave the answer of his people.
"We will stay and fight. "
He gave it in Caerdicci, that all might understand. Ghislain de Some-rville looked hard, not sure he'd heard him aright. "All of you?"
Drustan gave a short nod. "If you will swear us this," he said, switching to Cruithne; longer speeches were still difficult for him. "If we fall, someone must carry word to Alba. Our families and friends must know how we died. The poets must sing of our deeds. "
I translated his words, and then said to him in Cruithne, "I promise it. " He fixed his deep look on me. "I swear it will be so, my lord Cruarch. " To Ghislain, I said in D'Angeline, "I swear it. In the Queen's name. "
Joscelin made a faint, despairing sound.
"Joscelin, think about it. If we fail. . . if I cannot cross the Straits," I said reasonably to him, "Who can?"
"She has a point, Cassiline," Quintilius Rousse observed.
"It was Caerdicca Unitas last night," Joscelin muttered sourly. "Tomorrow she'll want you to sail to Khebbel-im-Akkad. If you ask me, lord Admiral, we ought to lock her in a dungeon and throw away the key. "
"Then it is decided. I've sent word to Marc de Trevalion, asking to meet," Ghislain said, interrupting us. Hauling out one of his maps, he pointed to a spot along the Rhenus. "We'll make our conference here. If Trevalion agrees, we'll combine our forces under his command. With yesterday's victory, we may even be able to spare a few hundred men. Lord Admiral, by your leave, I'd as lief have you stay with your fleet, and command the defense of the western banks. " He looked up inquiringly.
It was something of a blow, I think; Rousse had been at the heart of our quest for so long. But Ghislain was right, it made more sense for him to remain in command of his fleet. Quintilius Rousse knew little of battle tactics on land; Ghislain de Somerville was the Royal Commander's son. Rousse nodded slowly. "As you bid, my lord. "
"Good. " Ghislain rolled up the map. "Strike camp. We're moving out. "
EIGHTY-THREE
On the morrow, Joscelin and I—and Drustan and the Twins as well—said our farewells to Quintilius Rousse. I had come to be very fond of the bluff Admiral, and realized, in the face of leaving him, how we had all come to depend on his strength.
"Elua keep you, girl," he said roughly, folding me in his massive embrace. "You've enough courage for ten, in your own perverse way, and your lord's bedeviled sense of honor to boot. If you need to cross the Straits again, you know I'm the man to do it. "
"Thank you," I whispered. "Would you carry another, if need be?"
&nbs
p; "Anyone you name," he vowed.
Rousse would honor his word, I knew; he released Phedre's Boys to ride with us, over my protests. Thirty-odd sailors would make no difference on the Rhenus, but it had become a point of honor with them. Catching the adamant look on Joscelin's face, I left off protesting and acceded with grace. They, too, had the right to choose.
We made good time on that day's march, and reached the meeting-place before nightfall.
If Marc de Trevalion was astonished by the sight of three thousand and more Albans, he hid it well, bowing to Drustan with grave courtesy. I knew him only from his trial, where he had shown the same demeanor. Ghislain de Somerville, he greeted as a son; indeed, de Somerville was betrothed now to his daughter Bernadette, recalled from exile along with her father.
Who among them actually held title to the duchy of Trevalion was unclear. Later, I came to understand that it was to be held in trust for Ghislain and Bernadette's firstborn. They were both sensible men, and it was no point of animosity between them, neither seeing cause to quarrel over a parcel of land when the whole of Terre d'Ange stood at stake.
To me, he said kindly, "My cousin Caspar spoke well of your lord Delaunay. He held him always in the highest regard, and indeed, I have never had aught but respect for him. "
I nodded my thanks and swallowed; no matter how distant the grief was, it always brought it on fresh, to hear Delaunay's name spoken familiarly.
Ghislain de Somerville laid out our story, in blunt terms. De Trevalion listened without interrupting as he sketched our plan. When Ghislain was done, he rose to pace slowly, hands clasped behind his back. "You know the odds of your survival?" he asked somberly.
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