Kushiel's Dart (31 page)

They guard their women well in Khebbel-im-Akkad. So I had heard, and so I came to understand, from the despite and desire mingled in him. Lord Clavel had been denied access, and he raged at it. Once I discerned this, we got on well enough. If he had been denied the hareem, he had gold enough and had paid it for this afternoon's pleasure. There was no question of exotic tastes learned abroad. He bore a gilt-handled quirt, and it roused him to a fury to punish me with it, chasing me about the cushions and flailing at my buttocks, breathing hard to see the thin red welts that ensued. I turned to the
languisement
when he groaned, kneeling solicitously, unbuttoning his voluminous pantaloons and taking him into my mouth. I thought that would be the undoing of him, but he surprised me, spilling me onto my back and tossing my legs into the air, performing the act of giving homage to Naamah with two years' pent vigor.

It surprised him, to bring me to climax; and made him solicitous afterward, which also might have made me laugh. "You paid for an
anguissette
, my lord," I murmured instead. "Are you unhappy to have gotten one?"

"No!" he said, caressing my hair, eyes wide with startlement. "No, Elua's Balls, no! I thought it was a myth, that's all."

"I am not a myth," I said, lying against him and gazing up so he might better see the scarlet mote in my eye. "Are there no
angui^settes
in Khebbel-im-Akkad, then? 'Tis a cruel land, I am told."

"Kushiel's Dart does not strike, where Elua and his companions have not laid their hand," Rogier Clavel said, tracing the curve of my breast through the thin gauze of my robes. "It is a harsh land indeed, and I am glad enough for a respite from it." A shadow crossed his face, " 'The bee is in the lavender,' " he quoted
The Exile's Lament
in a lovely, melancholy voice, " 'The honey fills the comb' ... I never understood the sorrow of it until I, too, was far from home."

It was easier than I had reckoned. I smiled and twisted away, sitting back on my heels to put up my hair. "Is it so, then, with all D'Angelines? Does even the Due L'Envers long for home?"

"Oh, my lord the Due," he said, watching me hungrily. "He is of Elua's line, and would prosper anywhere, I think. The Khalif has given him lands and horses and men of his own. Yet even he misses the soil of Terre d'Ange, it is true; and word has reached us of the fall of House Trevalion. The Due would return home, once his daughter is wed, and relinquish his appointment. I have come to petition the King on his behalf."

My hands stilled on my hair, and I made myself resume, twining it into a loose coil and thrusting an Akkadian hairpin in place. "The Due's daughter is to be wed?"

"To the Khalif'sson." Rogier Clavel reached for me, plucking out the hairpin and filling both hands with my hair. "Do ... do that again, what you did before," he ordered, drawing my head down. "Make it last longer this time."

That I did, and well enough; he was no patron I would have chosen, for he had no true spark of Kushiel's fire in him, only a frustration so great he thought he burned with it. If I knew better, I would never say it aloud. Delaunay wanted this connection made; and anyway, it never pays to be rude to a patron. Besides, I didn't mind. Having spent long years under Cecilie Laveau-Perrin's tutelage, betimes it pleased me to be able to put that training to good use. I was born an
anguissette
, and can take no credit for that gift; but skills worthy of the finest adept of the First of the Thirteen Houses, I had acquired on my own merits, and I was justly proud of them.

"Ah, Phedre," Rogier Clavel groaned when it was done. He lay sprawled on the cushions, his plump limbs slack with languor. He looked vulnerable and rather sweet, watching me with doting eyes as I rose to don my own gown. "Phedre no Delaunay . . . you are the most splendid thing ever I have known." I smiled without answering, and knelt gracefully to help him into a robe, covering him modestly. "If. . . Phedre, if the Due L'Envers' request is granted, and I am able to return with him, may I see you again?"

Even after he had gained my consent, Delaunay had delayed some time before accepting Lord Clavel's offer, for just this reason. I sat back and looked grave. "My lord Clavel, it is not for me to say. It is my lord

Delaunay's desire to cull my patrons from among the Great Houses. Was it one such who commended me to you?"

"It was . .." His expression, tinged with worry by my words, changed. I had wondered if he would dare name Childric d'Essoms, but he didn't. "It was someone highly placed at court. Phedre, I have gold aplenty, and will surely be landed if we are allowed to return. The King will be grateful, for the Due has done much to advance D'Angeline relations with the Khalif."

Yes, I thought; and succeeded in wedding his own daughter to the Khalifs heir, which does much to advance L'Envers relations with Khebbel-im-Akkad. I did not say that, but murmured instead, "Indeed, and there is somewhat for which my lord Delaunay would be grateful."

"What?" Rogier Clavel clutched eagerly at my hands. "If it is in my power, I will do it gladly."

"There is an ... old quarrel. . . between my lord and the Due," I said, raising my eyes solemnly to meet his gaze. "I do not say it may be easily set aside, but my lord would take it kindly if it were made known to the Due that he is not averse to the idea of peace between their Houses."

"Delaunay is not a noble House," Rogier Clavel said thoughtfully; I saw a sharpness in him, and took note of the fact that, doting or no, he was not a fool. "Anafiel Delaunay . . . never mind." I bowed my head silently, and he reached out to raise my chin. "Is your lord prepared to give his earnest word in this?"

"My lord Delaunay guards his honor well," I answered truthfully. "He would not speak of peace if he intended ill."

He debated with himself, gaze wandering over me, then nodded. "I will make mention of it, if I am given occasion. You will see me again, then?"

"Yes, my lord." It cost me nothing to agree, and his answering grin was like dawn breaking. I watched him rise and go to a coffer atop a high table, belting his robe as he went. He opened the coffer and plunged his hands into it, filling them both with gold coins bearing an unfamiliar Akkadian stamp. While I remained kneeling, he returned, spilling a nobleman's ransom in gold over my lap.

"There!" he exclaimed breathlessly. "If you should forget your promise, that should give you something to remember me by! I will light candles to Naamah in your honor, Phedre."

Gathering my skirts into a pouch to hold the gold, I rose and kissed his cheek. "You have done her a mighty homage three times already this day, my lord," I told him, laughing. "Surely your name rings in her ears."

He blushed at it, and called for the servants.

It was but early in the night when I returned home. Delaunay thanked Miqueth for a job well done—little enough he had to do, although his scowl had kept everyone at bay—and dismissed him with pay. I was glad he was not to be taken on as a member of the household, though no doubt I'd be seeing him or his like soon enough again, if I was ever to have another contract. Perhaps Hyacinthe would be able to find someone I would like better, I thought.

"Come out to the courtyard," Delaunay said. "It's warm enough, with a brazier lit."

The courtyard was tolerably comfortable, and lovely as always by torchlight, the autumn foliage in bloom. To my surprise, Alcuin was there, carefully ensconced on a couch with a blanket tossed over his lower body to keep any touch of chill from his wound. He looked a shade less haggard, and smiled briefly at meeting my eyes.

"Sit down." Delaunay waved his hand at a couch, and took another for himself, leaning forward to pour me a glass of cordial. "Tell me," he said, handing me the glass. "How fares Barquiel L'Envers?"

I sipped the cordial. "The Due L'Envers is minded to relinquish his appointment and return to Terre d'Ange, my lord. He would leave in his stead one daughter, wed to the Khalif'sson."

Delaunay's eyebrows rose. "Khebbel-im-Akkad allied with House L'Envers? The Lioness of Azzalle must be spinning in her grave. Well, no wonder Barquiel is ready to come home. He's gotten what he went for."

"And the Khalif'sheir will be kin-by-marriage to the D'Angeline heir," Alcuin mused. "Not a bad alliance for him."

"My lord." I set down my glass and looked quizzically at Delaunay. "Is that why you wish to make peace with House L'Envers?"

"I knew naught of it until tonight," Delaunay said, shaking his head. "No, it's not that." He gazed at a torch, wearing the look he bore when he contemplated something neither of us could see. I glanced at Alcuin, who moved his head slightly in denial; he knew no more than I. "We have never been friends, Barquiel and I, but he stands to gain by the goals I seek. Time enough to put an end—or at least a truce—to the bad blood between us. Did it fall out as we planned? Was Lord Clavel agreeable to your suggestion?"

"He will speak to L'Envers of it if he may, though he gave no promise." I picked up my cordial and took another sip, smiling. "Still, I think memory of this day's pleasure will goad him to it. I made it clear enough where your interests lay, my lord; though for my part, I am not averse to his gold."

"And his company?"

I shrugged. "He is easy to please. I have passed duller afternoons, and had naught to show for it in the end. My marque will gain two inches, from his patron-gift alone."

"Well, then, you may keep your word to him, if he should return; but once only, I think, unless he rises in the King's regard by this venture, to a title worthy of patronage. Still, I would that all your patrons were so harmless," Delaunay said ruefully, his gaze falling on Alcuin.

"Any man may be dangerous when cornered," Alcuin murmured, "or any woman. That is a lesson I have learned well, if late. My lord, what will you do now?"

"Now?" Delaunay asked, surprised. "Naught, but to wait on word of the King's response to L'Envers' petition, and . . . somewhat else. Then we will see."

TWENTY-SEVEN

It was some days before we heard official word of the wedding of Valere L'Envers to Sinaddan-Shamabarsin, heir to the Khalifate of Khebbel-im-Akkad. The King had chosen to give his blessing to the union, and the request of the Due L'Envers was granted, although with one unspoken caution. If House L'Envers had hoped to maintain a monopoly in Khebbel-im-Akkad, it was not to be. Barquiel L'Envers' replacement as ambassador was one Comte Richard de Quille, who bore no love for the L'Envers clan.

Interesting as these matters were, they took place very far away in a country to which D'Angeline ties were at best tenuous, and I failed to see what Delaunay's stake in the matter was. When word of L'Envers' impending return came, I thought he would reveal it, but he kept his silence.

Whatever Delaunay waited on, he made it clear that I would have no assignations until it arrived, and worse, I was forbidden Night's Doorstep and Hyacinthe's company. When I proposed that Hyacinthe could find a suitable guard, Delaunay merely laughed. Condemned to idleness, I made do as best I could, tending to my studies. My old tumbling-master would have been pleased to see I had not forgotten everything I had ever learned, and I practiced diligently on the harp and lute and kithara, but being forced to it, these pleasures paled quickly.

Alcuin mended more quickly these days, and the atmosphere in Delaunay's house had eased, for which I was grateful. I do not think they had fully resolved matters between them, for Guy's death was an open wound still, which we did not discuss, but the dreadful tension had broken. When Alcuin was well enough to travel, Delaunay brought him to the sanctuary of Naamah, where I had gone betimes with Cecilie Laveau-Perrin.

What passed between Alcuin and the priests and priestesses of Naa mah, I do not know. He did not offer to tell me, and I did not ask. But he was three days in that place, and when he returned, I knew they had absolved him of any sin against Naamah. A portion of the guilt that had clouded him was gone, and it shone freely in his every word and gesture. The healing waters of the springs had done him good, too. Though he wouldn't allow Alcuin to venture into the City unattended any more than he did me, with the Yeshuite doctor's approval, Delaunay made Alcuin a gift of an elegant grey saddle horse. I was glad enough of Alcuin's recovery that I wasn't even jealous; anyway, it is customary to present an adept with a gift when they have made their marque, and I am sure Delaunay was aware enough of the traditions of the Night Court to know it.

To be precise, Alcuin's marque was not actually made. His still-healing wound prevented it, as it would be a lengthy business lying on his belly. But the necessary sum was in his coffer, and there was no question that his tenure was done. I made mention of it to Master Tielhard when I put Rogier Clavel's patron-gift to good use. Delaunay at least allowed me that much, though he ordered Hovel and another manservant to accompany me. They spent the time dicing in the wineshop, a freedom I envied. By this time, I was suffering a tedium so deadly I would have gladly scrubbed the Marquise Belfours' chamber pot, for the distraction of a scathing punishment at the end of it.

In this state of mind, I luxuriated under the marquist's ministrations, lulled by the exquisite pleasure of the tight-needled tapper. Master Tielhard shook his head and muttered under his breath, but I kept from twitching and gave him no cause for real complaint. Instead I concentrated on the isolated pain, letting my mind still so that it became the center of my being. The session passed all too quickly, and I was surprised when Master Tielhard gave my buttocks a light slap. "You're done, child," he growled, and I had the sense he'd already told me once. "Don your clothes, and be on your way."