Kushiel's Chosen (89 page)

He looked at me; they all looked at me, even the priest esses and attendants, and I could not think for the clamor in my head, the sound of my blood beating in my ears. I pressed my fingers to my temples and shouted, "Sit down!"

"My lady," I whispered. "You know what we seek. Is there any price not named that you will accept?"

I had not planned it, this offer; if I had thought on it, I would have faltered. And yet it was a bargain that had lain on the table between us since those dreadful days and nights when I languished in the prisons of the black isle.

There was that.

I gazed at her one last time before I turned to follow my Queen, and what she was thinking, I could not say. Even in defeat, Melisande was unhumbled. Wrenching my gaze away, I followed the departing retinue, and Joscelin's hand rested on my elbow, guiding me when my feet stumbled, anchoring me, his love the dagger by which I fixed the compass of my heart.

In the Temple proper, Lord Amaury Trente railed against the newly annointed Priestess of the Crown, she who had spoken in defense of Melisande's claim of sanctuary and stood now in the place of her predecessor. "Her life is forfeit by D'Angeline law!" he shouted, venting futile anger. "How can you defend such a one, whose honeyed tongue has shed more blood than a warrior's blade?"

Although she was young enough to tremble, she was old enough to stand her ground, raising her chin. "Only those who transgress against the Goddess may we punish, and that we have done in accordance with Her laws. Asherat's regard favors the cobra as well as the lion, my lord. By what au thority do you claim otherwise?"

"Neither the fruits of the soil nor the flesh are needed to tell your fate," Bianca said complacently, withered fingertips resting on my skin. "Serve true, and remember what others have named you; ten years' respite shall be yours if you do." Her hand fell away and she blinked like a child, sight less and bewildered. "Thus I am vouchsafed to say, and no more."

"Thank you," I whispered; what else was I to say? Stooping—for age had wizened her so that her head reached no higher than my chin—I embraced her, feeling her bones as frail as a grasshopper. "Blessed Elua keep thee, old mother. It is time for me to go home."

So it was that our audience ended and I left the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea for the last time, following my Queen out of the shadow of its domes into the waiting sunlight. I had kept my vow, made in the watery depths. It was finished, and I felt no victory, only loss and confusion. Members of the Queen's party were tired and frustrated, balked by the Temple's protection of Melisande and fearful of what lay before us.

And yet, with undaunted strength, Ysandre de la Courcel raised her head, gazing unerringly in the direction of home.

"You spoke truly," she said. "We ride for Terre d'Ange."

"I cannot exactly thank you for bringing destruction to my family, Phèdre nó Delaunay."

"I know," I murmured. "I would that it had been other wise, Severio. But—"

He cut me off with a gesture. "I know. What my father did was treason. What my mother did was blasphemy. By the grace of Asherat or Elua or Baal-Jupiter, or whosoever watches over me, I am enough unlike them to hate them for it. And yet they are my parents, and I was raised to honor them." He sighed. "You did what was right and necessary. I only wish it had not been."

"What will happen to them?"

"Imprisonment is likely." Severio shrugged. "Perhaps ex ile. It depends on the Judiciary Tribunal's findings, on the mood of the people and the Consiglio Maggiore, my grand father's wrath, and too," he added quietly, "it depends on Terre d'Ange."

At that he smiled, a little bit. "You taught me to be proud of my D'Angeline heritage, Phèdre nó Delaunay, and to gaze at those parts of myself I despised without fear. It would not, I think, have been so ill a marriage." Bowing, Severio released my hand. "Luck to you, my lady," he said softly. "And warn your Queen not to look to the Doge over- long for support. Once she's left Serenissiman soil, Grand father will wait to see how matters play out."

I'd never doubted it; but then, Severio was a slow learner in the family business of intrigue. I prayed he remained thus, for he was a better person for it. "Thank you, my lord, and Blessed Elua keep you in his regard."

This was my final farewell in the city of La Serenissima, for we departed the next day at dawn, escorted on the Doge's mighty ships to the D'Angeline encampment on the mainland. My heart swelled to see the bright silken tents with all their pennants fluttering, glossy-hided horses at pasture, hundreds of D'Angeline faces waiting expectantly!

The Queen's Guard—the Queen's Guard numbered only five hundred men. And one hundred of these would remain in La Serenissima to secure the Vicomte de Cherevin's ste wardship of the Little Court.

If there was a good face one could put on it, it meant that we would be able to move swiftly, retracing a course across the Caerdicci peninsula strung with alliances solidified mere days and weeks before. Elua willing, they would provide us with aid in the matter of supplies and fresh horses.

Ysandre held a brief meeting with her Captain of the Guard and his four remaining lieutenants, her Bursar and the Master of Horse. Whatever transpired, it did not fare well—a tent affords poor insulation for voices raised in heated argument. I know that Ysandre left the meeting in considerable temper, a flush of color on her high cheekbones, and Amaury Trente stormed angrily about the tents, calling for the encampment to be struck.

In truth, I didn't know what to think; I was glad enough, for a change, to have no decisions on my head. We travelled briskly along the well-built Tiberian road, wrapped in cloaks against the autumn chill. Despite everything, I could not help but feel a certain joy. I was young and alive, and I had Joscelin and Ti-Philippe at my side. As much as we had lost—and I grieved anew every time I thought of Remy and Fortun—none of us had thought to set out on this home ward journey. Whatever lay at the end, every step of it was a blessing.

For Ysandre de la Courcel, it was another matter.