Kushiel's Chosen (58 page)

So it was that the pirate captain ordered me sent to him, attired in stolen finery after the style of a long-dead epic heroine.

Unlike the weathered pine buildings in the village, Kazan's house was built of stone; blocks of creamy marble quarried on a nearby isle and brought by water to Dobrek. It lay a short walk from the village proper on a rocky escarpment on the bay, gazing out at the sea. A stand of cypresses provided a charming screen, and there were colorful, late-blooming vines I could not name sending tendrils up the marble walls. The house itself was low and meandering, and large enough to be a nobleman's estate. At any given time, it housed not only Kazan, but a small staff and three or four of his men who had quarters of their own. There was a stable, too, with two horses in it; the only ones on the isle. For everything else, they used donkeys.

"I don't, my lor—Kazan." The habit was not easily bro ken. "Only these few words, which I have learned in your tongue, that my pleas may fall more gently on your ears."

He frowned. "You are like a dog with a bone, eh, wor rying at it always! We will speak of this ransom in time, when / say. Now you are my guest, and Glaukos, he say you must rest still. So you will go, and do this." Turning away from me, Kazan raised his voice. "Marjopí!"

A vast figure moved out of the shadow of the house's small arcade into the bright sun of the terrace; a woman, massive arms folded across her solid bosom. She was of middle years or older, though her hair, bound atop her head, was a black untouched by grey. Hard black eyes in a doughy face regarded me without favor.

"Marjopí, she has been with me since I was a sucking babe, I. She will take care of you, eh? Marjopí!
Të lesh gezuan, eh?"
he added, calling to her.

"What is it?" I asked him.

"Mayhap she has the right of it," I answered dourly. Of a surety, the creature I'd seen—or thought I'd seen—had an incarnadine gaze, and I harbored no illusions but that I'd feel the prick of Kushiel's Dart soon enough.

Whatever the cause of the argument, Kazan's will pre vailed, and Marjopí conceded defeat with a sniff, nodding at me and jerking her head sharply toward the interior of the house. Given little choice in the matter, I made my thanks to Glaukos and followed her.

There Marjopí left me, and there I sat, perched on the narrow bed.

It took no longer than it takes to core and eat an apple for me to grow bored. There are those who are able to endure enforced idleness with grace, spending their time in useful contemplation. Joscelin, who could maintain his Cassiline vigils for hours on end, was one such; save for a patron's whim or at need in the arts of covertcy, I was not. In La Dolorosa, I endured it because I had no choice. Here, it was different

As I had no wish to catch her attention or disturb her pleasant mood, I slipped quietly past the door to continue my exploration. Kazan's room I recognized without difficulty. It held an enormous bed with a carved, gilt-trimmed headboard depicting a frieze of hunting dogs. Items of clothing were strewn carelessly across the bed, and a pair of well-worn boots leaned against each other on the floor beside it. By contrast, his arms were hung neatly on a stand in the corner. The short sword in its tooled-leather scabbard, I knew by sight; I did not recognize the corselet and helm with its crisp scarlet plume, the full-length shield painted with a bird of prey clutching a leafy branch in its talons, black on red.

The only other item of note in the room was a rather battered cabinet of dark cypress wood, inlaid with ivory in a pattern of moons and crescents. The ivory was yellow with age, cracked in places, and the wood bore old scratches long since worn dark with handling. I daresay it had been a fine piece, once, but it seemed an odd item for plunder. I opened the doors onto the lower shelves, which held only clothing. At the top were two small drawers.

One held some parchments, written in Illyrian, and a gold signet ring. Tilting it toward the window and peering at the seal, I made out a device of three bees and a faint inscrip tion. I replaced it carefully and opened the other drawer.

What I had expected to find, I cannot say, but surely not a child's toy. Still, so it was; a wooden soldier and horse, neither much larger than my hand. The soldier's limbs were jointed, so he could sit astride or pace forward and back, and raise his sword and shield. Worn traces of red and black paint were visible on the wood.

I was still holding it and frowning when I heard Kazan's footsteps.

There was nowhere to go, and I could do naught but put the best face on it I could as he came through the door. Careless, to let myself be caught thusly, I was thinking; Delaunay would have lectured me.

Kazan Atrabiades took one look at me and grew still with anger. "Put that down."

He drew a deep breath and released it in harsh words. "You should not be here, you! I told Marjopí to take care of you! You listen to her, eh, and heed!"

One knows, with patrons, what path their violence will take, and why. And I knew, once he shouted, that the true source of his anger lay far from me. My actions had but kindled it.

"I will tell you, I, what you need to know, and you will enter this room at my command, eh? You see too much." Gritting his teeth, he caught me by the arm and pulled me after him, out of the room. "If you have a tedium, you speak to Marjopí, and she will give you woman's work to do, eh, to weave or spin, or make the embroidery!" He ushered me to the large inner salon, where Hellene-style couches mixed with rigidly upright Caerdicci chairs. Marjopí had left off her weaving, and hovered in the hall behind us. Kazan still had my arm in his grip and stood close, glaring at me. I could feel my pulse beating beneath the tight grasp of his fingers and feel the heat of his body, mingled with a strange, acrid tang.

"Whore's work," he said contemptuously, but conviction was not in it.

"Naamah's work, yes," I replied. "But the Queen employs me as a translator. It is the study of language and politics in which I have been engaged, and not spinning and weav ing. My lord, if you order me confined to women's quarters, then so be it; yet I thought you welcomed me as your guest, and not your prisoner."

"Yes, my lord. Where, then, am I forbidden to go?"

A look of disgust crossed his face. "Already, you see too much; go where you like, you. I will set you a guide." With that, he stalked from the room muttering; I heard Glaukos' name, and the word for "rest," which I had heard often enough to recognize. I waited under the dourly watchful eye of Marjopí until Kazan returned with a young man in tow. "Lukin, he will show you what you wish," he said shortly, exiting again. Marjopí threw up her hands and returned to her weaving.

Beyond the stables, a group of men were gathered around a stone furnace, bare-chested and sweating in the late- morning sun. I pointed inquiringly, and Lukin led me over to see. There was a great bustle, and Kazan was supervising the operation, ordering the fire fed and the bellows worked while two men in leather aprons tended the crucible. The acrid odor I'd smelled earlier was molten metal.