Kushiel's Chosen (73 page)

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Authors: Jacqueline Carey

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BOOK: Kushiel's Chosen
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SIXTY-FIVE
It was, for once, an uneventful sea journey. Although the nights were cool, the winds and the weather held fair. The repairs made to the ship in the Temenos served admirably, and it was wholly seaworthy. Kazan had made good use of his time in Phaistos and our stores were replenished; more over, he had bartered for charts of the Hellene waters, en abling him to plot a swift course homeward.
We crossed first a vast expanse of open sea, the steep mountains of Kriti dwindling quickly to a speck behind us.

From thence it was a mere day's sail to reach sight of the Hellene mainland. Mindful of our terrifying, storm-born flight southward, Kazan was careful to keep always within sight of the coast, which lay off our starboard bow.

Although our progress was steady, it was a slow business, working our way up the coast. My euphoria at the sending of the Kritian courier had faded, and my thoughts turned once more to La Serenissima, rendering me fretful and overly conscious of the passing of time. I spent fruitless hours guessing at the course of Ysandre's
progressus,
and I daresay strained even Glaukos' patience quizzing him on the length of Caerdicci roadways. He knew them well enough, having been a merchant's clerk during his slave days, but he could guess no better than I how swiftly a
progressus
regalis
would travel, nor how long the D'Angeline monarch would linger in any given city.
Of a surety, though, we were well into autumn, and Ysandre 's entourage would turn for home before ,the season's end. I slept poorly at night and took to wandering the decks, wrapped in my woolen mantle, the Kore's gift. The sailors on watch seemed glad enough of my company, and taught me Illyrian songs and jests, showing me, too, such games as they played to pass the time. I learned to throw dice on Kazan's ship and became a passing fair hand at it, for it requires a certain deftness of wrist, not unlike some of Naamah's arts.

As for those, Kazan Atrabiades never laid a hand upon me; and in truth, I am not sure what I would have done if he had. It was due in part to shipboard discipline, for Kazan was one of those leaders who would do without whatsoever his men did—and too, there was little privacy on a ship of that size. Indeed, I was acutely reminded of this each time it was necessary to relieve myself, which, I may add, is no easy chore on a ship lacking a privy. I had cause then to be grateful for Illyrian modesty.

But in greater part, Kazan's forbearance was due to what he had undergone in the
thetalos,
for he spoke candidly of it to me on the first day aboard the ship.

"What we had between us, you and I; know that I do not look for that again, to have you in that way." He shook his head, tear-shaped pearl eardrops glimmering in the dim light of the cabin. I had learned since first we met that Illyrian sailors believe they enhance vision; even
Kazan
was super stitious enough to believe it. "It is a thing I saw, in the
thetalos,
I. A guest, I named you, for although I lost my birthright, I had pride, I, in what I made of Dobrek, yes." He laughed. 'To shun the title of lord, and to live as one, eh? And a pirate, too, as it pleased me. I made you a bargain, you, that was no bargain. I knew you could not say no. If I had not, maybe things would have been different, eh? If we had trusted to speak truth, we, the Serenissimans would not have tricked us. So." He shrugged. "Now, I do not ask, I."

"Thank you, my lord Kazan." I smiled. "It is a lordly gesture, truly."

"Maybe I will be that again, eh? Lord Atrabiades." Kazan glanced unerringly through the cabin walls toward the north, homeward, undisguised yearning on his face. "Whatever happens, it is all worthwhile, to set foot in Epidauro." Another thought crossed his mind and he looked back at me with narrowed eyes. "Did you go with him, you?"

"Who?" I was genuinely unsure whom he meant.

"That..." He made to spit, then thought better of it. "That Demetrios, that Archon, with his oils and curls and his fancy-boy."

I raised my brows. "It is no concern of yours, my lord, if I did."

"Well." Kazan grinned, unabashed. "I said I would not ask, eh; I did not say I would not think about it, I!"

At that, I rolled my eyes and gave him no answer; he left the cabin laughing, well-pleased with himself. It is a thing I have noted, that men will compete with one another even when there is no prize to be gained. Mayhap women are no better, on the whole, but we are more subtle about it, and quicker to reckon the stakes.

And quicker to play men for fools.

I could not but think of Melisande, then, and in some part of me, shake my head in admiration. She had played us all for fools, men and women alike. The outrageous brilliance of her ploy fair dazzled the mind. To hide in plain sight, in the very place she dared us seek her—Elua, what nerve! Even I, who knew what she was capable of, had never dreamed such a thing.

Tell me, do you believe I would make so poor a sover
eign?
It is a dangerous thing, to admire one's enemy.
I forced down my hand, that had risen to clutch at my bare throat where her diamond used to lie, and thought instead of the terrible, blood-shot darkness within the cavern of the Temenos. There I had faced the trail of death that lay behind me, those who lived no more due to the folly of my choice. But the Kore had spoken true; it was the darkest truth the
thetalos
revealed, and not the whole of it. Betimes I had chosen poorly, yes; but it was Melisande who led me to the crossroads of the worst of those choices, and the blood-guilt of it rested as squarely on her shoulders as on mine.
No wonder the Unforgiven named themselves as they did. It was proud, doomed Isidore d'Aiglemort who led them to that crossroads, yes, but who led him? Melisande.

Ah, my lady, I thought, gazing beyond the cabin walls. You have made your choices, and it is I who count the cost and bear the pain of them. But it is in good part yours, this shadow I carry, and Blessed Elua willing, I will bring it home to you, from whence it came. And then we will see how you like it.

So I looked northward too, with as much yearning and a good deal more fear than Kazan Atrabiades, and league by league, we crawled up the coast of Hellas and into Illyrian waters, the sailors shouting and cheering when we passed the lamphouse off the isle of Kérkira, that marks the begin ning of Illyria proper for all seafaring sojourners. And Elua help me, I cheered with them, as if I were Illyrian myself. We had become comrades-in-arms, Kazan and his men and I, and we had faced common enemies together; the Serenissimans, the
kríavbhog,
the storm, and even the terror of the
thetalos.
On the third day after we entered Illyrian waters, we reached Epidauro.

I had seen it twice before; 'twas very nearly a familiar sight by now, the generous harbor encompassed by solid granite walls, fortified ward-towers looming at either side of the entrance. I do not know who first sighted the city, for this time, no one gave cry, and in time, we all saw it. In the harbor, one could make out a dozen or more ships; members of the Ban's armada with the red sails, fishing vessels and traders. No Serenissiman war-galleys. The day was fine and bright, a lively nip in the wind that drove warm-blooded types like Glaukos and myself to don our woolen outerwear, It ruffled the sea into wavelets, sunlight glinting from a thousand peaks.

And it chuffed loudly in the flapping canvas when Tormos, unbidden, gave the order as second-in-command to loose the sail. He remembered—we all remembered—far too well what had happened the last time we sought to enter Epidauro.

Sailors held their posts, ropes slack, rudder-bar loosely tended, and our vessel drifted harmlessly sideways while we all gazed at Kazan Atrabíades; he looked back at us, seeing the fear writ in our faces.

"Why do you idle?" he asked in Illyrian. "Have I not set a fair course? We sail to Epidauro."

With that, he turned his back on us, crossing the length of the deck to stand in the prow, setting his face toward home.

Tormos gritted his teeth and gave the order. "As he says. To Epidauro!"

Our sails snapped taut in the wind; the ship swung around, nosing back to true. Young Volos threw back his head with a defiant shout as we began to skim over the waves, and a gull circling overhead gave it back, raucous and wild. I made my way to Kazan's side. He stood with legs braced and arms folded, and if his face was calm and purposeful, still I saw how shudders crawled over his skin.
"If it comes for me," he said out of the side of his mouth, "don't stop. Push me over the side and keep going, if the
kríavbhog
comes."
The fortressed harbor walls were rushing nearer, looming in my sight. I could make out men aboard the ships, pointing and shouting, the black bird of prey on the red sails of the Ban's vessels and sunlight glinting from the steel helms of those who manned them.
"It won't," I said, willing it to be true.
Kazan's lips moved soundlessly for a moment, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the shore. "I pray you are right." He drew in a breath as if in pain. "Ah!"
We had entered the waters of the harbor.

The ship erupted in a mad ecstasy, the sailors roaring cheers, laughing and stomping their feet on the wooden deck, shouting out to the Ban's fleet that swiftly surrounded us. "Kazan Atrabiades! It is Kazan Atrabiades of Epidauro! Kazan! Ka-zan! Ka-zan!"

An answering shout arose and spread like wildfire, passed from mouth to mouth and ringing across the harbor, while the Ban's guardsmen beat their shields. "Hëia, Ka-zan! Hëia, hëia, Kazan! Hëia, Ka-zan!"

In the prow, Kazan Atrabiades grinned fit to split his face and raised his arms in acknowledgment.

I watched it all, wide-eyed and gaping. I had forgotten, in ancient, civilized Kriti; forgotten that Illyria was a vassal nation of an oppressive ruler, forgotten that the dubious fame that had brought Kazan's name even to the ears of the Archon of Phaistos—whence mine own, I may add, evoked only the shade of an ancient tale—rendered him renowned in his homeland.

The Illyrians welcomed him as a hero.
An escort of the Ban's armada saw us into the harbor proper, while cheers rang even from the tops of the fortress towers. Our sailors clung precariously to the rigging, hanging out over the sides of the ship to shout to other sailors, trading news and asking after their erstwhile companions; it was Tormos who kept sufficient order to see us into port, scowling and bawling commands. Kazan merely grinned and waved, beatifically, resplendently alive and home. And I... I was well-nigh forgotten in the uproar.
"Do not take it ill," Glaukos said, laying a comforting arm about my shoulders. "Ah, now, he'll not forget you, not him. He knows his debt, see if he doesn't. Only let him have this moment, my lady, and you'll see I've the right of it."

I shivered, unaccountably alone and fearful with my thoughts. "I hope so. A moment is all I have."

By the time we reached the wharf, a small crowd had gathered; 'such lads as haunt every port hoping to catch the eye of their heroes had been sent hither and thither, carrying the news of
Kazan
Atrabiades' return throughout the city of Epidauro. I was glad enough when we disembarked to have Glaukos' sturdy presence at my side, protecting me from the jostling throng of humanity. As a Tiberian-born Hellene, he was at least as much an outsider as I.

Nearly all those gathered were men, and the news they passed swirled above my head in a cacophony of Illyrian, nigh overwhelming my comprehension; I grasped at phrases here and there, and gathered that the other three ships had come safe to land when we fled the Serenissiman galleys, that the Serenissimans had hovered outside the harbor- waters, seeing the darkness that coalesced above Kazan's ship, and turned aside when the storm's mighty hand hurled us southward. From shore and ship, the Epidaurans had watched it all and reckoned us lost. The Ban had given asylum to all of Kazan's men, claiming no proof of transgression; all who had survived—and Pekhlo, thrown from our ship, was one—were here in Epidauro.

And of a surety, they came to greet us, summoned from

cheap lodgings to spill onto the wharf, ebullient and joyous. Not until a squadron of the Ban's Guard arrived was a semblance of order restored, their scarlet-crested helms parting the crowd, clearing a space. Kazan yelled to his men, then, gathering them behind him as the squadron leader approached.
"Well, well," the leader said softly. "So Kazan Atrabiades has returned, eh?" Unexpectedly, he feinted a punch at Ka zan's face; Kazan dodged it easily, grinning, and dragged him into an embrace.

"Czibor, you son of a eunuch!" he exclaimed, thumping the other's back. "I taught you to draw a sword! What is the Zim Sokali thinking, to grant a command to one such as you?"

"That you were long gone from Epidauro, like as not," Czibor laughed, returning his embrace. "By Yarovit, it's good to see you! How does this come about?"

"I have been to Kriti, and the House of Minos," Kazan said soberly.

"Ah." Czibor stepped back and eyed him. "It is true, then, what they say? There is power there to cleanse a man of a blood-curse?"

Kazan spread his arms. "You see me here before you, Czibor. It is a dire thing, but a true one."
The squadron leader nodded. "Then it is well done. The Zim Sokali will wish to hear of it. You pose him a problem, Kazan, indeed you do. Your name and your deeds are known to the Serenissimans, and they will hear of your return if this clamor is any indication." His gaze raked the gathered throng and he took in the sight of me, standing at Glaukos' side; his eyes widened. "Your men came bearing tales of a D'Angeline woman worth thirty thousand gold solidi, Kazan," he said slowly. "And there have been Ser-enissiman traders asking questions in the city, and an ambassador sent to the Zim Sokali, who denied all knowledge. I did not credit such stories, myself, but if such a thing may be, I think I am seeing it now."

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