Kushiels Avatar

by Jacqueline Carey

Page 138

 

  From there, our procession grew very, very slow.

  I have ridden in a triumph once before, when Ysandre returned to the City after the battle of Troyes-le-Monte, where we defeated the Skaldic army. I remember it well, for it was bittersweet, that occasion; as much as I was gladdened by our victory, I could not help but re member the dead and grieve for our losses.

  This time, it was different. For all the terrors that had beset us on the waters, there had been no cost to human life. Hyacinthe was freed, and no one had died for it. As long and arduous as the journey had been, no one else had born the price of it. If I had entered the cavern of the Temenos and undergone the ritual of thetalos there and then, the chains of blood-guilt I bore would be no heavier.

  I had not realized until then how profoundly grateful I was for it.

  There was Daršanga, of course; there would always be Daršanga. None of us who had been there would ever be free of its shadow. But that. . . that had been somewhat other, and not the triumph we cele brated today.

  Ysandre and Drustan met us at the gates.

  How many times had I stood among the throng welcoming Drus tan's return? As many years as they had been wed. Now I beheld a like spectacle from the other side, riding at a snail's pace down the packed road, while onlookers shouted and threw a hail of flowers and the har ried City Guard sought to keep spectators from spilling onto the road. The white walls of the City of Elua were crowded with watchers. A contingent of Ysandre's ladies-in-waiting tossed sweets and coins to the children, who shouted with glee.

  As befitted their status, Hyacinthe and Sibeal rode first, flanked by Cruithne warriors. Behind Quintilius Rousse, I sat my mare and watched as they dismounted.

  "Master of the Straits," Ysandre greeted him in her clear voice. "Hyacinthe, son of Anasztaizia, be welcome to the City of Elua. " And she made him a deep curtsy and held it, according a Tsingani half- breed, a laundress' son from the gutters of Night's Doorstep, the ac knowledgment due a superior, which no ruling monarch of Terre d'Ange has extended to anyone in living memory.

  The crowd drew its collective breath, then loosed it in a roar of acclaim.

  "On behalf of Alba," Drustan called, "I bid you equal welcome. " He too made a deep bow, then straightened, grinning. "And welcome you to my family as well, brother, with thanks for bringing safely to land my sister the lady Sibeal!"

  Another roar followed his announcement.

  Sibeal merely gave her quiet smile, and went to give the kiss of greeting to Drustan and Ysandre alike, and her young nieces Alais and Sidonie. All eyes remained on Hyacinthe, who stood alone before the joint regents. He bowed deeply, holding it long enough that there could be no doubt he acknowledged their sovereignty. The cloak of indeter minate color fell in immaculate folds as he straightened, his hair tum bling over the collar in black ringlets.

  "Your majesties," he said, and although he did not raise his voice, it carried across the crowds, echoed from the walls, coming from every where and nowhere. "My lady Queen, my lord Cruarch. I am glad to be here. "

  That was as far as he got, for the shouting drowned out even him. I daresay the majority of the crowd would have cheered no matter who he was, Rahab's get or laundress' son, for the sheer drama of the Master of the Straits entering the gates of the City of Elua. But there, atop the walls, perched a delegation surely dispatched from the less reputable parts of Night's Doorstep, a handful of young men in their twenties and thirties, Tsingani, half-breed and D'Angeline, who drummed their heels on the white walls of the City and chanted, "Hy-a-cinthe! Hy-a-cinthe!"

  He looked around at that, and if I had wondered if the Master of the Straits could still weep, I had my answer. Tears shone on his cheeks as he bowed once more in their direction, swirling his cloak as he rose with a touch of the old Prince of Travellers' flair and sweeping both arms in the air and clapping his palms together.

  A ripping peal of thunder split the clear sky.

  Hyacinthe was home, if only for a little while.

  The roaring din of the crowd eclipsed Quintilius Rousse's salute to Queen and Cruarch, and I had no idea what he said, only that Ysandre raised him up with both hands and kissed his cheek, and Drustan clasped his forearms, grinning. And then it was our turn, and I found my legs trembling as we dismounted and approached the royal pair. To be welcomed thusly after our defiance . . . I had no words for the gratitude in my heart.

  It was politics, yes; but somewhat more besides.

  Joscelin gave his Cassiline bow, sweeping and precise, sunlight glinting from the battered steel of his vambraces—and the crowd loved that, too. When all was said and done, the Queen had named no other Champion. And here and there, they shouted for Imriel, who still carried the standard of Kushiel's Dart—my standard, the standard of Phèdre's Boys—prompted by the yells of Rousse's soldiers and the pride with which Imri carried it, executing his bow flawlessly without letting the standard dip. He won a few admirers that day on sheer presence alone.

  I saw his eyes shine, and knew he did it on my behalf.

  And then . . .

  "Don't even think of it," Ysandre muttered through stiff lips as I made my curtsy, struggling against the desire to kneel and beg her forgiveness for the enormity of my transgressions against the throne. "I swear, Phèdre nó Delaunay, if you do . . . "

  "I'm sorry," I whispered, getting the words out even as her hand grasped my elbow, fingers digging in with painful pressure, keeping me upright. "Ysandre, I'm so sorry. "

  "I know. " Her violet eyes softened despite the pressure of her fingertips, and Queen Ysandre de la Courcel shook her head. "You idiot," she said fondly, then gave me the kiss of greeting in front of ten thousand assembled watchers, restoring my status as her favored confidante, and taking her time in doing it.

  This, too, met with considerable approval.

  It was Terre d'Ange, after all.

  I was flushed when I made my curtsy to Drustan mab Necthana, the Cruarch of Alba. His eyes glinted with amusement and gladness. "So you did it after all. "

  "Yes. " I knew what he meant. Drustan had been there, when Hyacinthe paid the price both of us would have taken on ourselves had it been allowed. I drew a deep breath and loosed it in a tremulous laugh, feeling strange with this unmixed, untempered joy. "We did. "

  And Drustan too kissed me, and we passed through the gate that the procession might continue, while the cheers rose around us in end less waves beneath the cloudless sky, free of spite or envy, surging in the bright air of the City of Elua, for once celebrating a victory unalloyed with defeat.

  I was content.

  We were home, all of us.

  ONE HUNDRED ONE

  THE SUMMER passed swiftly. I was visibly and undeniably in favor once more, and the same nobles who had shunned me during the long and bitter winter sent small gifts and jocular invitations to this event and that, most of which I declined, pleading an over-full schedule, which was no lie. At Hyacinthe's word, Ghislain nó Trevalion sent a galley to retrieve the library from the Master of the Straits' tower, and I had my hands full cataloguing some four hundred tomes and scrolls, many of which had been believed lost. Word of this was leaked, and I had to field a half-dozen bids from academies and universities throughout the realm that wished to increase their archives.

  Of course, I intended to see first what was there and have fair- copies made.

  Hyacinthe, for his part, dwelt at the Palace and spent long hours closeted with Queen and Cruarch and his intended, Sibeal. What tran spired in those sessions, I cannot say, save that an agreement was reached and Drustan mab Necthana granted them a coastal territory in Alba, north of Bryn Gorrydum, where the erstwhile Master of the Straits might maintain his vigil. Thence would they travel, come autumn, after plighting their troth before the Cruarch's mother and kin in Alba.

  Of a surety, he met with the baro kumpai of the Tsingani, the four families who were foremost
among their folk, and a successor was cho sen among them. This meeting took place outside the walls of the City of Elua, for full-blooded Tsingani who follow the Long Road have ever been uncomfortable in enclosed spaces, and I am told it was the greatest gathering of their kind ever held in the shadow of the City walls.

  I missed it, for we were in Montrève at the time, returning to my long-neglected estate.

  It was good to visit Montrève. Imriel loved it there; I hadn't reck oned on that. I should have, raised as he was in the mountains of Siovale. The pace of life is slower, there. We found everything much in order, for if I had been two years absent, Purnell Friote and his wife Richeline were capable seneschals, maintaining the manor in impeccable readiness for our return, all the while carrying on effortlessly without us. They had three children between them, Imri's age and younger, and he fell in among them with ease, squabbling and scrapping and jumping out of hay-lofts as a boy his age ought. It did my heart good to see it.

  Between them, Joscelin and Ti-Philippe saw to the security of our estate, riding the borders and ensuring that every outlying crofter and free-holder knew the value of what they warded, setting up a system of watchers and messengers to maintain the borders. They are a shrewd folk, the Siovalese—and we had won their loyalty, as much by benign neglect as aught else. Siovalese prefer not to be troubled by their overlords, and I had surely done that much. If they had been uncertain of me at the beginning, they had accepted my stewardship of Montrève over the years. Now it had become a matter of pride, and not a few families sent sons and daughters to the manor to take positions in my household. The garrison, which had stood empty for years, was staffed with some twenty eager young recruits, and Ti-Philippe and Joscelin undertook to train them. By the time they were done, I had no doubts that there were few places in Terre d'Ange safer for Imriel than my lord Delaunay's childhood home of Montrève.

  Afterward, Joscelin set about building a mews.

  I had promised him that, although I'd forgotten it. Elua knows, he remembered. A bestiary, I'd said, if we returned in one piece. I was fortunate that he sought only a mews; and a kennel, for after the initial word of our return, his brother Luc sent a long, gossip-filled letter and a gift of a hound-bitch from Verreuil ready to whelp, which delighted Imri to no end. As for the mews, Ysandre sent her own Head Falconer to supervise the construction of it, and I must needs be resigned to a portion of my estate being given over to the manly pursuits of hunting and fishing.