Kushiel's Chosen (74 page)

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Authors: Jacqueline Carey

Tags: #High Fantasy

BOOK: Kushiel's Chosen
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"You are," said Kazan. "And I am thinking the Ban will wish to see her too."
"I think you are right," Czibor said wryly.
So we began to make our way to the fortress of the Ban of Illyria, whom I learned was addressed by his people as the Zim Sokali, the Falcon's Son. It is a strong city, Epidauro, wrought of stone and surrounded by thick walls. Escorted by Czibor and his men, we had not progressed far along the narrow, paved streets before a frantic clatter of hooves arose and a carriage plunged into the midst of the crowd of men and youths that travelled with us, scattering them. Even as the Ban's guardsmen began to react, the car riage door was flung open and an older woman stumbled out, her face drawn and tear-stained.
"Kazan," she wept, opening her arms to him. "Kazan!"
He took a step toward her, wonder dawning in his eyes. "Mother?"

A lump rose to my throat as I watched their reunion. Of the gifts of the
thetalos,
this, mayhap, was the most pre cious: Forgiveness, given and taken freely on both sides. I knew well the pain Kazan had born, the bitter guilt at his brother's death by his own unwitting hand; I had lain beside it, seen it staring wakeful and dry-eyed in the small hours of the night. Of his mother's pain, I could only begin to guess. Some little I learned in those moments, that she was a widow bereft of her beloved younger son, waking from the first madness of grief to realize her elder son was lost to her too, condemned by her own wrathful curse. When the tale of the Serenissiman war-galleys and Kazan's battle with the
kríavbhog
came to her ears, she thought him dead and wept anew, grieving thrice for the two sons born to her.

Well, I thought, if I have done naught else, this at least is done and done well.

"Lady Njësa," Czibor said gently to Kazan's mother, re moving his helmet and tucking it under his arm as a gesture of respect. "I beg of you, forgive me, but my orders are to conduct your son directly unto the Ban's presence."

"Yes, of course." She smiled through her tears, grasping his arms one last time as if to assure herself of his solidity.
"So tall, my son! I had forgotten how tall. Marjopí has cared well for you. Does she live, yet? Is she well? I would tell her, if I could, that I repent my harsh words."
"You will tell her yourself, Mother, for she is well and hale in Dobrek, and I will send for her myself." Disengaging himself, Kazan bent to kiss her cheek. "Only I must see the Ban first," he added softly, "and there are debts I must honor before I set matters aright in our household."
Czibor set his helm back on his head. "Come. The Zim Sokali is waiting."
SIXTY-SIX
bokal Fortress sits at the heart of the city of Epidauro, steep-walled and massive, a structure built to be defended in a city walled for defense. Once, I daresay, it may have been a gracious haven for the Illyrian folk, with gates standing open and pennants fluttering from every peak. Now it had an air of grim defiance, proud and resolute, its walls stripped of adornment and gates bolted tight, cautiously opened at Czibor's password.
One could see, from atop the lower terrace of the fortress, why Epidauro alone had not fallen to La Serenissima. An enormous gate flanked by towers defended the narrow causeway from the mainland, and all the rest was bordered by water. Even the mighty Serenissiman navy would be hard-pressed to find a weakness assaulting Epidauro from the sea, met all around with those faceless grey walls manned by the Ban's Guard with archers, trebuchets and ballistae.

"Ah," Kazan sighed, gazing over the city. "Home!"

I did not say what was in my mind; that the charming village of Dobrek was more pleasant by far. I saw with a stranger's eyes. To Illyrians bred and born, walled Epidauro housed the soul of the land, the clenched fist raised in defiance at the oppressor. This I saw most of all reflected in Kazan's hungry gaze, but I saw it too in the faces of the others, his island-born companions who had never seen a city before Phaistos.

Well and so, I would not expect them to ache with long ing for the gilded fields of Terre d'Ange, ancient olive groves and vineyards, and the lavender in bloom filling the air with fragrance. Even thinking on it made my heart con tract painfully in my breast. If naught else, I knew what it was to be an exile. We shared that much.
Once inside the fortress, Kazan's men were taken into the good-natured custody of the Ban's Guard, to be fed and housed.

Only
Kazan
and I were conducted into the Ban's presence, and I felt nervous and ill at ease, conscious of my unwashed state and my salt-stained attire. For his part, Kazan was in confident high spirits, secure in his welcome.

The Ban received us not in state, but in his study, a generous room strewn about with official papers and petitions. A small fire burned in the hearth, dispelling the autumn chill, and two elderly hounds dozed in front of it on a threadbare rug. Czibor stood at attention until the Ban looked at him.

"Zim Sokali," he announced. "I bring you Kazan Atrabiades, once of Epidauro, and..." His voice trailed off helplessly; he had not bothered to learn my name.

"Phèdre nó Delaunay de Montrève of Terre d'Ange," the Ban said in a deep voice, his considering gaze resting upon me. He sat without moving in his chair by the fire. "Her name is known to me."

He spoke Caerdicci. I knelt to him, bowing my head. "My lord, I speak Illyrian, if it please you," I said humbly. "I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you."

"Yes." He spoke thoughtfully, the Ban; he was a thickset man of some fifty years, black hair and beard still untouched by grey. His features were fleshy, and yet there was a sug gestion of leanness about him, as if he were pared to the bone by a hunger that had naught to do with sustenance of the body. "Whether or not you have is yet to be known." He looked at Kazan men and gave a slow smile. "So. Pirate."

Kazan bowed and flashed an answering grin. "Zim Sokali. I return to your service.”

"So you do, pirate. So you do." At that the Ban laughed, and bade us both to sit. Presently servants came bearing pots of strong tea, which they served in small silver cups, and a platter of sweets, a confection made of almond paste. When they had left, his lady wife came to give us greeting and see if there was aught else he desired. She was ten years or more younger than he, with fair hair, pale eyes and the broad, slanting cheekbones that marked her as being of Cho wati blood, those invaders who had long since been assim ilated into Illyria. By that alone I guessed him to be a shrewd ruler, who knew well how to unify his people.

Vasilii Kolcei, the Ban was named; his wife was called Zabèla. She kept her eyes downcast until he dismissed her with thanks, exhibiting a modesty proper to Illyrian women. And by this I guessed her a shrewd ruler's wife, for there was naught of the demure in the strong lines of her face.
Over cups of strong tea, Kazan Atrabiades laid out the history of our acquaintance for his lord, offering an expla nation of who I was and the trade he sought to make for me, of how his men came to be pursued by Serenissiman war-galleys into Epidauro's harbor, and what had befallen us when we turned aside to flee the
kríavbhog's
wrath.

"So," the Ban said heavily, looking at me. "And now Kazan Atrabiades is freed of the blood-curse, but not the blood-price the Serenissimans have laid on his head. And you, young D'Angeline, spurned by Kriti, come begging Epidauro's aid."

"For Kriti and Hellas, the gain was not worth the risk, Zim Sokali," I said, keeping my voice steady. "Can Illyria say the same?"

He stirred, causing the hounds to lift their heads and settle back with sighs. "I was a boy when the Serenissimans began taking our coast, piece by piece, and my father wrote to the King of Terre d'Ange to seek his aid in alliance. Shall I tell you how he replied?"

"No." I shook my head. "I have heard, my lord, and I am sorry for it, grievous sorry. But that was then, and this now. Will you spite the present to avenge the past?”

"It is dangerous." Vasilii Kolcei sipped his tea and stared into the fire. "The Archon of Phaistos spoke truly. Epidauro has stood against Serenissima; it cannot stand against Serenissima and Terre d'Ange both, if you fail. And where we are strong, the coast of Illyria lies weak and vulnerable, garrisoned by Serenissiman soldiers. What price will they pay for your failure, if we are named a treasonous vassal?"

"We can fight,"
Kazan
said fiercely. "Zim Sokali, the is lands are stronger than you know, stronger than the Serenissimans reckon. What have I done for eight years, if not that?"
"You have done that, yes, and preyed upon the Serenissimans like a hawk upon a rabbit warren," the Ban said grimly, "until half of Illyria and all of Epidauro, and every merchant and galley-captain on the seas knows your name, Kazan Atrabiades. And now you come seeking... what? Asylum? A return to my service? It is no easy boon you ask. Epidauro crawls with Serenissiman spies; I cannot shut out the traders without violating the terms of our indepen dence. If you had come in stealth, it would be an easier thing. I can only be grateful that the furor you aroused cov ered word of the lady Phèdre's arrival, for it seemed to me that the Doge's emissaries had more interest in her than in you, Atrabiades."
"Not the Doge," I said. "His son, Marco Stregazza."

Vasilii Kolcei shrugged. "It is the same. They have held elections, in Serenissima; the Consiglio Maggiore has voted. Marco Stregazza is elected Doge. He will be invested, in a week's time, and his father will step down." He gave a thin smile. "It is the will of Asherat, so they say. And your Queen will arrive in Serenissima to observe the ceremony and exchange vows of goodwill with the new Doge."

The world reeled around me, and I grasped the arms of my chair with desperate fervor, willing myself to keep focus. Marco elected Doge! And Ysandre but a week away, riding all unwitting toward certain death. All my wondering, all my uncertainty; it came to this.
I had a week's time, and no more.

Kazan, seated opposite me, had blanched, although not on my behalf; he had come home to a hero's welcome, not reckoning the cost to Epidauro. "The Serenissimans ..." His voice was hoarse. "Czibor tried to tell me. They will hear of my return, and they will ask you for my head, Zim Sokali."

"Yes," the Ban said gravely. "They will."
Kazan stood and paced the room, gazing at the treaties and petitions scattered about every surface. The Ban watched him unmoving, and the hounds lifted their heads from their paws, following him with their eyes. "The Hierophant of the Temenos, he told me that the law of the
thetalos
is absolute, eh," Kazan said presently, smiling wryly. "What Mother Dia has forgiven, a man is held blameless of. But I think the Serenissimans will not honor the law of the
thetalos,
with Kriti lying so far from their shores. Not if you are right," he added, shooting a glance at me, "and they profane their own temples."

"They have subverted the will of Asherat-of-the-Sea," I said softly. "That much I know is true. I have sworn to cleanse her temple."

"So." Kazan shrugged, flicking a parchment with one forefinger. "Thus for the will of the gods, measured against the politics of man. Zim Sokali, I have tried to rule well over what was given into my hands, but I am a warrior first, and I cannot reckon power gained and lost on paper, nor the cost of men's lives. How soon will Serenissima come seeking me, do you think?"

One of the hounds clambered to its feet and pushed its nose in the Ban's hand; he scratched its head automatically, his thoughts elsewhere. "Not so soon as they might, with the ceremony of investiture nigh. If the D'Angeline lass speaks true ..." he nodded at me, "... Marco Stregazza will not overextend his reach until he has secured his throne. Two weeks, perhaps more."

"Then it is a simple matter, Zim Sokali." Kazan spread his hands. "I will sail to Serenissima with those of my men who are willing, and with Phèdre nó Delaunay. I am a pirate, yes? Whatever happens, you have leave to tell the Doge I defied your orders." He grinned at me, eyes gleaming. "Tell them she is a
Vila,
and bewitched me. Maybe they will believe it."
"Kazan..." I had seen his mother weep for joy at his return. My heart ached, at odds with the urgency of my need. "I don't know."

The Ban was shaking his head. "No," he said somberly. "Not so simple, pirate." He glanced up as his wife, Lady Zabèla, returned to the room, nodding briefly to her and continuing as she took her place standing beside his chair. "On your own, you will not gain the harbor. The Serenissimans will search your ship, as they will search every ship, and if they do not know you by sight—and maybe they do—they will surely know the woman." He favored me with a humorless smile. "A young D'Angeline woman of surpassing beauty, fair of skin with dark hair and eyes, and a spot of scarlet on the left, like unto a thorn-prick. I fear you are not easily disguised."

"Surely there is a way!" Kazan said in frustration.

"Kazan, no." My voice was shaking, but I continued. "It is not worth your life, nor the life of your men, when so many have died already. If you would aid me, give me enough of the ransom you won to let me book passage with a merchanter, and take my chances with the harbor guard. I cannot render your mother childless again so soon."

"And will the Serenissimans be more gentle when they come for me?" he asked sharply, as quick to quarrel as if on his own estate in Dobrek. "Will it be boldly done of me to place the whole of Epidauro in jeopardy?"

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