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Afterward, as dusk fell, coming swift beneath the canopy of boughs, Joscelin volunteered quietly to take the first watch, and my chevaliers wrapped themselves in their bedrolls and slept. For some time, I lay awake on my fine-combed woolen blankets, watching the stars emerge one by one in patches of black sky visible through the trees. At length, Igathered up my blankets and went to sit beside him near the fire, which had burnt low.
"Phèdre. " He looked sidelong at me, poking a long branch into the core of embers.
"Joscelin. " It was enough, for now, to say his name. I sat gazing at our campfire, watching a thin line of flame lick at the underside of the branch. He fed it carefully, twig by twig, branch by branch, until it blazed merrily and sent sparks into the night air. So we had done in Skaldia, the two of us, with numb fingers and prayers on our half-frozen lips. 'Twas all so different, now. "Do you remember-"
Joscelin cut me off with a mute glance, and I held my tongue until he spoke, fiddling with a bit of tinder. "You know, I didn't want to believe it," he mused, throwing the debris into the fire. "You think it's true. There is a Cassiline Brother involved. "
"I don't know. " I wrapped my arms around my knees. "I found nothing to suspect in the list Thelesis gathered, but I think it is likely, yes, based on what we heard today. " I stole a look at his brooding profile. "Even if there is, Joscelin . . . too many strings have been pulled, by someone with influence. A Cassiline could not have arranged for so many guardsmen to go missing. It cannot be only that. "
"But it's part of it. " He tipped his head back, gazing at the stars; I saw his throat move as he swallowed. "Despite it all, the training and the oaths, one of my own Brethren. We are human, Phèdre. Elua knows, we are that. But to break that faith, that training?" Joscelin drew a shaky breath and let it out slowly. "I never even went home. I promised my father, at Troyes-le-Mont, do you remember? And Luc. We were going to go to Verreuil. "
"I remember. " Sorrow rose, inexorable as the tide, and mingled with it, guilt. It was my fault. I had dragged him with me to the City instead, compelled by the strength of his vow. The Perfect Companion. "We were going to go this spring, you and I. "
"Yes. " He rubbed his eyes absently, his voice rough. "Almost fifteen years, it's been. My mother must be like to kill me. "
I remembered his father, a stern Siovalese lordling, with the same austere beauty as his son, one arm bound in a stump after that terrible battle. I remembered his elder brother Luc, with those same summer-blue eyes, wide and merry. What must his mother and sisters and younger brother be like? I could not even guess. "Joscelin. " I waited until he looked at me. "For Elua's sake, go home! Go see your mother, raise sheep in Siovale or lead the Yeshuites across Skaldia, I don't know. It doesn't matter. You were ten years old, when the Brotherhood claimed you. You don't owe them a debt of service to me! Even if you did, that bond was dissolved, by the Prefect's own words, years ago. It is killing you," I added softly. "And I cannot bear to watch it. If I could change what I am, I would. But I cannot. "
"Neither can I," he whispered. "I swore my vows to Cassiel, not the Prefect, and the one I've kept is the only one that matters in the end. Phèdre, if I could be as other D'Angelines, I would. Mayhap it is killing me to stay, but leave you?" He shook his head. "They laid down their swords. You ordered it, and they did. Not the Unforgiven, I know what they hold true. Kushiel's hand. They have their redemption to think of. But the Yeshuites . . . they despise you, and yet, they obeyed. "
I had forgotten it, until then; forgotten the ringing in my head, the bronze edge of power that shaded my desperate words. I ran my hands blindly over my face. "I know," I murmured. "I remember. "
Until he took me into his arms, I did not realize my body was trembling. I laid my head on his chest, and the worst part of a long-pent fear and tension went out of me with a shudder, grounding itself in his warmth. Joscelin tightened his arms and stared over my head into the fire. "It scares me too, Phèdre," he said. "It scares me, too. "
I fell asleep curled in his arms, and knew no more that night, wrapped for once in Joscelin's protection and the sound of his steady breathing. Would that it were always so, though I think I knew better, even then, than to hope for as much.
In the morning, Fortun shook us carefully awake and Joscelin disengaged himself from me, limbs stiffened by long inaction. I knelt in my blankets and dragged my fingers through my disheveled hair, watching him rise to commence his morning exercises, movements growing increasingly fluid as his muscles loosened and blood flowed, reinvigorating his limbs. His face was calm and expressionless.
Whatever had passed between us, nothing had changed.
We were four more days on the road, riding swiftly for Marsilikos, and I was heartened once we passed beyond the bounds of Camlach and into the province of Eisande. Elua forgive me, but I had too many bad memories that lay close to the Skaldic border, and the fealty of the Unforgiven had unnerved me. My chevaliers watched Joscelin and me as warily as they might the weather, but he was closed once more, cordial and distant. I daresay they held him in a greater degree of respect, having seen him do battle. Once we regained Eisheth's Way, we made our lodging in travellers' quarters, and I had a room to myself and a great empty bed.
A funny thing, that; I have been a courtesan all my life, and yet, I never passed a night entire in another's company, not until I was a slave in Skaldia. My patrons are not the sort to desire their beds warmed after pleasure.
Well, I have endured worse hardships than a cold bed, and I was not going to press the matter. Let Joscelin stand at the crossroads as long as need be, for while he stood, he stood at my side, and when all was said and done, for all the guilt I felt, I was grateful for it. One day, he must choose, and I was not so sure as I had been what path it would be.
Nor where mine would lead without him.
So we rode onward, and this time, when Ti-Philippe sniffed the air, 'twas no jest; we could smell it, all of us, the salt tang of the sea.
We had reached Marsilikos.
Of all the cities in Terre d'Ange, it is one of the oldest-a rich port from time out of mind, since the Hellenes began to conquer the sea. Tiberium held it, too, but since that mighty empire fell, it has belonged to us. It has a deep, protected harbor, and by tradition, the Royal Fleet anchors along the northern coast, warding off the threat of piracy. Ganelon de la Courcel ordered the fleet to the Straits after Lyonette de Trevalion's rebellion, fearing to trust to the loyalty of Azzalle. Ysandre, who restored peace in the province, had returned the Royal Fleet to its proper berth. Small wonder that my chevaliers were excited. For them, it was somewhat akin to returning home.
Indeed, they knew the city well, and pointed out its marvels to me as we rode, skirting the bustling quai, where a fish-market to fair boggle the mind was held. There, the Theatre Grande, where players and musicians flocked every season of the year, and competitions were staged in Eisheth's honor. There, the ancient Hellene agora, where orators and Mendacants still held forth, and people gathered to listen. There, just off the shore, a tiny, barren island, sacred to Eisheth and dedicated to fishermen. And all the length of the harbor, galleys and cogs were at dock, cargos loaded and delivered, the sound of shouting and the groaning wheels of oxcarts and the crack of whips snapping filling the air.
Above it all, on a high hill overlooking the harbor, stood the Dome of the Lady.
Sovereignty of the province of Eisande has passed from hand to hand with the whims of politics, but one thing has never changed: Marsilikos. It is ancient and wealthy, and it is ruled by the Lady of Marsilikos. If the heir to the city was male, no mind; his wife or consort was styled by the people the Lady of Marsilikos, and acknowledged as such, sharing equally in his power. I daresay there have been Lords who have challenged this, but none, to my knowledge, have succeeded in breaking the tradition. Eisheth herself was the first Lady of Marsilikos, and her precedent stands. So long as Terre d'Ange r
emains a sovereign nation, there will be a Lady in Marsilikos.
In this instance, it happened that I knew her.
The Duchese Roxanne de Mereliot was one of the few peers of the realm that Ysandre de la Courcel had trusted in those dark, precarious months before the war, when first she had ascended the throne-and she had proved a faithful ally.
If she was still, she would be expecting me.
I sent Remy and Ti-Philippe in advance, racing unburdened up the hill to announce our arrival, while Fortun bargained with a pair of shrewd dock-urchins to aid us with the packhorses. In truth, I was not certain what welcome we would find; I had been too long with my own suspicions, and too short a time a member of the peerage to expect the best. It is something to inspire awe, the Dome of the Lady, towering walls of white marble rising far above the city, gold leaf gleaming atop the dome. Siovalese architects were hired to build it, and there is a story about a lost ship being saved by seeing it shine on the far horizon like a second sun, a hundred leagues at sea.
At any rate, I was soon to be shamed by my own doubts.
The golden Dome reared up against a blue sky as we made our approach, flanked at its base by white minarets. It is a splendid structure, and highly defensible, walled fortifications encircling the peak of the hill. The standard of the Lady of Marsilikos fluttered from the minarets and the crenellated tops of the gate-tower; two golden fish, head to tail, forming a circle on a sea-blue field. It is ancient, too, by our reckoning-Eisheth's sign.
This day, the gates stood open, and a guardsman sounded a long trumpet blast to herald our arrival. They bowed as we rode through, a double line of guards, clad in light shirts of chain-mail over sea-blue livery.
In the courtyard, smiling, stood Roxanne de Mereliot, accompanied by her retinue of guardsmen and retainers, and another figure I knew well; red-haired, burly as a bear and half again as elegant, a broad, lopsided grin splitting his scarred face.
"My lord Admiral!" My exultant cry rang in the courtyard, and before I thought twice, I dismounted and ran to him, flinging both arms about his neck.
"Easy, child!" For all that he protested, Quintilius Rousse chuckled and enfolded me in a great embrace, crushing me against his brawny chest. "Sweet tits of Naamah, you're a sight for sore eyes, Phèdre nó Delaunay!" Resting his hands on my shoulders, he grinned down at me, eyes a bright blue in his weather-beaten face. "The Lady thought you might be pleased to see me. Glad to note she wasn't wrong. "
"Your grace!" Appalled, I turned to Roxanne de Mereliot, dropping into a deep curtsy and holding it, my head lowered.
"Comtesse de Montrève, be welcome to Marsilikos," her voice said above me, rich with amusement. "And please, do rise. "
I did, reluctantly meeting her gaze. No longer young, the Lady of Marsilikos retained an abundant beauty, deepened with the passage of years. Her coal-black hair was streaked with white, her generous mouth smiled easily, and kindness and wisdom lit her dark eyes. "Your grace," I said. "Pray forgive my rudeness. "
"Rudeness?" She gave her warm smile. " 'Twould have spoiled my surprise if you'd acted otherwise! I miss my own children, who pursue their studies in Tiberium and Siovale. Spontaneity is the province of youth; indulge me my delight in it, young Phèdre. "
Over her shoulder, I saw Remy and Ti-Philippe, grinning like idiots, while behind me, Fortun and Joscelin exchanged hearty greetings with Quintilius Rousse. I could not help but smile, too. "By all means, my lady," I said, and meant it.
That night in the Dome of the Lady, Roxanne de Mereliot held a feast for us. It was a closed affair, for it would not do to have it gossiped about Eisande that the Lady of Marsilikos had received me in state so soon on the heels of my disfavor at the Palace, but splendid nonetheless. I have a fondness for seafood, and Marsilikos is renowned for it. We ate course after course, all plucked fresh from the sea- mussels in their own salt juices, terrines of lobster, sea bream in ginger, filets of sole and salmon, whitefish in flaky pastry. I daresay nearly all of us ate until we were fair groaning; cuisine is reckoned one of the great arts in Terre d'Ange, and we would too soon be at the mercy of Caerdicci cookery.
Afterward, bowls of warmed water scented with orange blossom were brought round, and we dipped our fingers and wiped them on linen towels, and then sweet almond pastries were served, and a dessert wine from Beauviste that lingered on the tongue with a taste of melons and honey, and Roxanne de Mereliot bid her servants leave us until further notice.
"Ysandre has written to tell me what you are about, Phèdre," she said without preamble. "From her courier's haste, I thought to see you in Marsilikos some days past. "
"My apologies, my lady," I replied. "I had other business to attend to. " 'Twas not for lack of trust that I did not share with her and Rousse what had passed among the Unforgiven. In truth, I had learned naught of use to anyone, and I was uncomfortable enough with their regard to remain silent. To their credit, not a one of Phèdre's Boys even blinked.
"No matter. " She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Would that we'd had more time, is all. But I have taken the liberty of confirming your arrangements, and clearing their security through Admiral Rousse. The Darielle sails on the morrow, late afternoon; she'll be loading cargo all morn. Your shipment of lead has safely arrived, and your trunks as well. You've passage booked for five to La Serenissima. " The Lady of Marsilikos frowned. "Would that there was ought else I could do, Phèdre. "
" 'Tis but a sea voyage, my lady. " I shrugged. "A thousand others have done the same, and a thousand shall after me. "
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