Kushiel's Chosen (42 page)

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Authors: Jacqueline Carey

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BOOK: Kushiel's Chosen
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"Of course," I murmured.

Their library was small, but not ill-furnished. I glanced over the tomes available and spoke well of several D'Angeline volumes, recommending the addition of key Hellene philosophers and a handful of Tiberian historians. Allegra sat at the desk and made notations in a graceful hand, then took a fresh sheet of parchment and wrote out a brief letter, folding and sealing it with a blot from a wax taper and the familiar Stregazza signet.

"Here." She handed it to me. "It is a letter of introduction to Madame Felicity d'Arbos, who was a good friend to my mother when she served as lady-in-waiting to the Princess- Consort Maria Stregazza de la Courcel in the Little Court. She will remember me kindly, I think, and be pleased to hear my greetings."

"Thank you, my lady." I didn't know what else to say.

"You are welcome." Allegra smiled ruefully. "My hus band is a good man, Comtesse, and I think you would come to see it in time. I did. If he is suspicious, he has been given reason for it, too often to count. But he struggles very hard to do what is right, and is rewarded with scorn." She sighed. "If the Doge were not ill, it might be different. Once, he would entertain the captains of the Scholae thrice a year, and hear their complaints. If he could talk to them, he would know that Ricciardo labors honestly on their behalf, and they regard him with respect. Tradefolk do not care for the petty intrigues of nobility so much as the bread on their table. But his father..." She shook her head, and gave me a direct look. "Would it be different in Terre d'Ange, do you think?"

"Mayhap," I said gently. "Many things are. But not of a necessity, my lady. My own lord, Anafiel Delaunay, was shunned by his father for choosing to pledge his life to our Prince Rolande rather than marry and beget a family of his own. It ended in tragedy, and the title I inherited, he never lived to bear. The laws of love are different, but the entan glements of family and betrayal are the same."
Allegra nodded. "I see. Thank you." She rose from the desk and went to gaze out the window overlooking the rear of the estate, rich with farmlands. "Ricciardo has done his duty by his family. And we have been happy after our own fashion. Let his brother and sister-in-law mock if they will. For me, it is enough."

I thought of their merriment in the garden, Ricciardo swinging his son astride his shoulders. His affection, her compassion. And I thought of my bitter quarrel with Joscelin, the hurtful words, yet unrecanted. We had been granted imperfect happiness in love, Allegra Stregazza and I, but where I squandered mine, she nurtured hers, cupping her hands about the embers and blowing to life a flame warm enough to sustain them all.

"You have a lovely family, my lady," I said softly. "I envy you."
THIRTY-SEVEN
I wasted no time calling upon Madame Felicity d'Arbos.
For this excursion, I took with me my three chevaliers. I doubted I'd come to harm within the Little Court, well- guarded as it was, and they were more adept than Joscelin at ferreting out the sort of knowledge I sought.

Fortun had smacked his forehead when I put my theory to them, for not having thought of it himself. He dragged out the carefully crafted maps of Troyes-le-Mont and we marked afresh in memory the knowledge we had garnered before, including the positions and reports of the guards I'd interviewed among the Unforgiven.

Thus armed, we went forth.
The guards at the canal gate of the Little Court greeted me with deference, examining the seal of Allegra's letter and granting us admittance, summoning a servant lad to run to Madame d'Arbos' quarters and announce me.

It was strange, after the bustling familiarity of Serenissiman society, to be in D'Angeline territory once more, surrounded by D'Angeline faces, hearing my native tongue spoken. There was a measured elegance to the pace, a hush in the presence of nobility. The very marble seemed whiter, the ceilings higher, the halls wider, and all the little grace notes I had missed were present—musicians playing in the salons we passed, unexpected niches holding vases of blooming flowers, graceful frescoes on the walls and ceil ings.

All of these we passed en route to Madame d'Arbos' quarters, the lad having returned to report that she would be most pleased to receive me. A young guardsman was delegated to escort us, tugging his blue-and-silver House Courcel livery straight and blushing every time he glanced my way. At the doors, I suggested that we need not trouble Madame with the presence of my chevaliers, if he would be so kind as to entertain them, showing them, mayhap, to the guards' common room, where they might while away the time.
To this, he acceded with another blush.

I must say, although it accomplished no end in itself, my visit with Madame Felicity d'Arbos proved delightful. A widow of some fifty-odd years, she was one of the D'Angeline noblewomen sent with Prince Benedicte to attend his Serenissiman wife; Allegra's mother had been one of the native Serenissimans so appointed, many years ago. It explained, I thought, a good deal about her education. Felicity's rooms were small, but well-appointed. She had retired from her position when Maria Stregazza had died, but chose to remain at the Little Court, and Prince Benedicte had seen that she was given a generous pension. We sat sipping tea while she told me of her life and her fond memories of the young Allegra and her family.

"And the Princess-Consort?" I asked politely. "What was she like?"
"The Serenissiman wife." Her grey eyes looked shrewdly at me over the rim of her teacup. "That's what they call her, now. 'Twas not so bad, for a time. Oh, she dabbled in in trigue, on behalf of her family, but Benedicte knew how to handle it. No love lost between them, but we all got on well enough. After... well, he should never have married his daughters into the Stregazza. That family's too close-bound as it is. The King wanted it, to cement ties, but all it did was breed suspicion, if you ask me. And resentment."
"So I've heard," I murmured.
" 'Tis true enough." She set her teacup down carefully. "They hate us a little, you know. You won't have seen it, yet, with your youth and beauty. They'll be fresh-dazzled with it yet. But when it wears on, year after year, the dazzlement grates. Maria Stregazza came to hate her husband, while her beauty faded, and his did not. She came to hate the sight of D'Angeline faces around her. It's a hard thing."
"I can imagine," I said, thinking of the unspoken enmity of many of the young noblewomen I'd met. "But it must be different, now, with..." I smiled. "Do they call her the D'Angeline wife?"

"The Serenissimans do." Felicity d'Arbos smiled back at me. "It was good, at the beginning. She pleased them, taking the Veil of Asherat. 'Twas well-considered. Now, well, there is a bit of a tempest, but it will pass soon, I hope. Do you wish to see her?"

"Is she receiving visitors?" I asked, surprised. "I've not yet received a response to my request for an audience with Prince Benedicte."

"Oh, no." She laughed. "He's busy with affairs of state, and she with the young one. I'll put in a word for you, if I may, to see your request granted. It might do her good to see a fresh young face, the poor thing. But she is like to stroll on the balcony over the Queen's Garden at this hour, with the babe. And I have leave to wander the garden, as I helped plant it many years ago."

Since I wished to give my chevaliers as much time as possible, we adjourned to the Queen's Garden and spent a pleasant time therein. It was wholly enclosed by walls, with a single gate to which Felicity d'Arbos had a key. A tiny fountain burbled at its center, and an abundance of roses bloomed, in profusion of color and scent. She pointed out various hybrids to me, and I'd no doubt of where Allegra's mother had acquired her skill.
"Ah," Felicity murmured presently, and nodded. "There."
Attended by two pages and a single guard, a figure strolled the balcony above the garden, tall and slender, clad in an elegant gown of creamy white, overlaid with silver brocade, complimenting the shining silver net of Asherat's Veil. In her arms, Benedicte's young wife held their infant son; I could make out chubby fists waving, and a riot of dark curls. Madame d'Arbos and I both made deep curtsies and held them until they had passed back inside.

"Poor little lad," Felicity d'Arbos said sympathetically, straightening. " 'Twill be a mercy when he's of an age to foster, and I pray Benedicte has the sense to send him to court in the City of Elua. Maria's kin won't like it, but truth, there's naught for him here in La Serenissima, D'Angeline-bred as he is."

Having seen what I had of Serenissiman politics, I could not help but agree. Indeed, I remembered my momentary consideration of Severio's proposal with somewhat of a shudder. La Serenissima was a beautiful city, to be sure, but it was not home to one of Elua's line.

We said a cordial farewell after our stroll, and I promised to send her greetings on to Allegra Stregazza, and urge her to visit with her two young ones. I daresay I should have sent a page in search of my chevaliers, but it had been a long time since I'd had the liberty to go anywhere unaccompanied, and instead assured Madame d'Arbos that I would meet my attendants by the gate.

So it was that I wandered the halls of the Little Court on my own, guessing rightly that the guards' quarters would be found in the vicinity of the kitchens. Inside the common room, a dozen and more guardsmen laughed and jested, leaping to attention when the sentry on duty announced me.

My three chevaliers were there, and I could tell by the gleam in Ti-Philippe's eyes that they had learned somewhat.

They fell all over themselves offering me a seat, a cup of wine, a bowl of barley stew, all of which I declined.

"My lady," Fortun said soberly, bowing. "We have been reliving times of old, which you will well remember. This is Geoffroy of L'Agnace, who served at Troyes-le-Mont. And Ignace, and Jean-Vincent, and Telfour, all veterans of the same. You missed Kerney and Meillot, I fear, who were called to duty, but I am told there are others here, as well. Meillot promised to send them if he might."
Six or better of the missing guardsmen? I exclaimed in partially unfeigned surprise, and did take a seat, then—and since I'd no idea what had already been said, I kept my mouth closed on the topic of Melisande's escape. For the better part of an hour, they rehashed the fateful battle. My role in it—crossing the Skaldic encampment to alert the for tress—was related with especial glee. I smiled as if flattered, and ignored the phantom pain that flared on my left shoul der, where Waldemar Selig had begun stripping my skin from my flesh. All in all, that escapade was one I did not like to remember.

"Raimond!" The entry of another guardsman was hailed by his fellows, and he was introduced all around as another of the survivors of Troyes-le-Mont.

"Well met, soldier!" Remy rose to clap him on the back, laughing. "Come, we're fighting the battle over, and trying to settle somewhat besides. Tell us, what did you see, the night of Melisande Shahrizai's flight?"

"Ah, well." Glancing at me, the new arrival bobbed a nervous bow. "Begging your pardon, my lady, to speak of such unhappy things."

"Pray, speak freely." I smiled, and took a gamble. "It is a matter of many outstanding wagers at home, in the betting- houses of Mont Nuit. We might all be the richer for your perspective."

Raimond the guard accepted a full mug of wine and quaffed half its contents before sitting. "Naught out of the ordinary, I'm afraid. I was on duty when young Lord Ghislain came 'round at five bells, outside the war room on the first floor. Afore him, I saw naught but Lord Barquiel, the Queen's uncle. Escorting the Lady Persia, he was, her what turned in her cousin."
Others murmured agreement.
My heart beat faster within my breast and I felt dizzy and short of breath. "Duc Barquiel L'Envers. You're sure?"

"Sure, I'm sure." He drank off the second half of his wine and looked straight at me. "I served next to him, didn't I? Him with that scarf wrapped round his head, like the Akkadians do, and eyes like the Queen. Never saw aught else, until the alarm sounded."

I glanced round at my chevaliers. Remy and Ti-Philippe were vibrant with triumph; Fortun wore a different look, somber and watchful. He shook his head a little when I caught his eye. "Well," I said lightly, "you're like to make his grace the odds-on favorite, although it's no help to me. Whatever happened to the poor fellow who found the sentry at the gate? The one who sounded the alarm?" Snapping my fingers, I glanced at Fortun. "What was his name?"
"Phanuel Buonard," he supplied. "From Namarre."

Raimond shrugged; all the veterans of Troyes-le-Mont shrugged. It was one of the others who said thoughtfully, "Wasn't he the one as resigned his commission? Scarpered to marry a Serenissiman lass, I recall."

Another laughed. "He resigned without permission. Captain Circot was like to track him down, I think, only he wed into an Isla Vitrari family, and those glassblowers protect their own. Likely he's still there, tending the oven-fires and watching his bride grow a mustache."

Amid the jesting that followed, Fortun asked Raimond, "What made you choose to take a commission in the Little Court?"

"I'd a mind to see somewhat beyond the bounds of Terre d'Ange," the guardsman answered promptly. "Anyway, it pays well, and the Old Man asked for volunteers."

I heard it with half an ear, my mind reeling. Barquiel L'Envers with Persia Shahrizai! If it was true, and my sus picions and Marmion's confession held good, 'twas not Per sia at all, but Melisande—and the Duc L'Envers himself the traitor. Ysandre's uncle. I kept my countenance serene as I rose, summoning my chevaliers, bidding farewell to all and concealing the dull, terrified thudding of my heart.

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