Kushiel's Dart (32 page)

I sat up, blinking; the interior of the marquist's shop was hazy beneath a veil of red. It cleared quickly and I made out Master Tielhard's apprentice coming toward me with averted eyes, blushing as he proffered my gown. He was nearly a man grown now, but no less shy than the first time I'd come. The new ink of my extended marque burned like fire, and I wondered what Master Tielhard would say if I took his apprentice into the back room and relieved him of a measure of his shyness.
I'm sure you wouldn't betray Lord Delaunay's trust in such a way, would you, Phedre
? With a sigh, I dressed, and hoped that Delaunay would allow me to return to the service of Naamah in short order.

When I arrived at the house, my wine-cheered escorts in tow, I was met by one of the maidservants. "Lord Delaunay would see you in the library, Phedre," she murmured, not quite meeting my eyes. Sometimes I missed my days at Cereus House, when I knew all the servants by name and called them friend; I'd felt it more than ever during this confinement. But I was heartened by the summons, thinking perhaps my hopes had been answered.

Delaunay was waiting for me. He glanced up as I entered, shielding my eyes from the late-afternoon sun that slanted through a window, bathing the many volumes on his shelves with a mellow glow.

"You sent for me, my lord?" I said politely.

"Yes." He smiled briefly, but his eyes were serious. "Phedre . . . before I speak further, I would ask you somewhat. You have some idea that there is a purpose in what I do, and if I have not revealed it to you, you know well enough that it is because I would afford you as much protection as ignorance allows. But I am reminded, of late, of how very slight that protection is. What you do is dangerous, my dear. You have said it once, but I ask again. Is it still your will to pursue this service?"

My heart leapt; he was offering another assignation. "My lord, you know it is," I said, making no effort to disguise my eagerness.

"Very well." His gaze drifted past me, seeing again whatever it was Delaunay saw, then returned to my face. "Know then that I am not minded to take the same risk twice. Henceforth, your safety will be assured by a new companion. I have arranged that you will be warded by a member of the Cassiline Brotherhood."

My mouth fell open. "My lord will have his jest," I said faintly.

"No." A glimmer of amusement flickered in Delaunay's eye. "It is no jest."

"My lord . .. you would set some, some dried-up old stick of a Cassiline Brother to trail after me?" Between outrage and astonishment, I nearly stammered it. "On an
assignation
? You would set a crochety, sixty-year-old celibate to ward a Servant of Naamah ... an
anguissette
, no less? Name of Elua, I'd rather you brought back Miqueth!"

For those who are unfamiliar with D'Angeline culture, I will explain that the Cassiline Brotherhood, like Elua's Companion Cassiel, are alone and united in their disapproval of the ways of Blessed Elua. Like Cassiel, they serve with steadfast devotion, but I cannot imagine anything more off-putting to a patron of Naamah than their cold-eyed disdain.

Aside from that, they are dreadfully unfashionable.

Delaunay merely raised his eyebrows at my tirade. "Our lord and

King, Ganelon de la Courcel, is attended at all times by two members of the Cassiline Brotherhood. I would have thought you'd be honored by it."

It is true that I had never, in the wildest of tales, heard tell of a Cassiline Brother serving as companion to anyone not born to one of the Great Houses, let alone a courtesan. It would have given me pause, had I not been so shocked; but I could not think beyond the grim effect the ascetic grey presence of a Cassiline Brother would have on a hot-blooded patron. "Guy was trained by the Cassiline Brothers," I shot back at De-launay, "and look what happened to him! What makes you think I would be any safer?"

Delaunay's gaze strayed past me again.

"If this man Guy was expelled at fourteen," an even voice said from behind me, "he had only begun the merest part of the training to become a Cassiline Brother."

Sparing a glare for Delaunay, I whirled about.

The young man standing in the shadows behind me bowed in the traditional manner of the Cassiline Brotherhood, hands crossed before him at chest level. Warm sunlight gleamed on the steel of his vambraces and the chain-mail that gauntleted the backs of his hands. His twin daggers hung low on his belt and the cruciform hilt of his sword, always worn at the back, rose above his shoulders. He straightened and met my eyes.

"Phedre no Delaunay," he said formally, "I am Joscelin Verreuil of the Cassiline Brotherhood. It is my privilege to attend."

He neither looked nor sounded as though he meant it; I saw the line of his jaw harden as he closed his mouth on the words.

It was a beautiful mouth.

Indeed, there was very little about Joscelin Verreuil that was not beautiful. He had the old-fashioned, noble features of a provincial lord and the somber, ash-grey garb of a Cassiline Brother adorned a tall, well-proportioned form, like the statues of the old Hellene athletes. His eyes were a clear blue, the color of a summer sky, and his hair, caught back in a club at the nape of his neck, was the color of a wheatfield at har-vesttime.

At this moment, his blue eyes considered me with scarce-concealed dislike.

"Joscelin assures me that what happened to Alcuin, and Guy, would never occur to someone under his warding," Delaunay said in a calm tone. "I have measured my blade against his daggers, and I am satisfied that it is true."

A Cassiline Brother never draws his sword, unless it is to kill. T had heard of it once, when an assassin attacked the King. I turned my head toward Delaunay, considering. "He bested you with daggers alone?"

Delaunay made no answer, nodding toward Joscelin, who gave his formal bow, arms crossed. He was not, I gauged, much older than I was.

"In the name of Cassiel, I protect and serve," he said stiffly.

Wholly unbidden, I took a seat, choosing one where I could see both of them. The back of the chair stung the new lines of my marque. If I agreed to this, Delaunay would allow me to return to the service of Naa-mah. If I did not. . . well, Delaunay had not offered a choice in the matter. I shrugged. "My lord, at least he is pretty enough to be an adept of Cereus House wearing fancy dress. If you will, then so be it. Is there an offer to entertain?"

From the corner of my eye, I could see Joscelin Verreuil glare at being compared to an adept of the Night Court. Delaunay's mouth twitched, and I was sure he'd seen it too, but he answered seriously. "Offers aplenty, if you wish them, Phedre. But there is a matter I would have you attend first, if you would hear it."

I inclined my head. "In the name of Kushiel, I—"

"Enough." Delaunay raised his hand, silencing me, but his glance took in Joscelin Verreuil as well. "Phedre, you of all people should know better than to mock the service of Elua's Companions. Joscelin, your Prefect has gauged this matter worthy of your order's attendance, and you stand in danger of heresy if you question his judgment."

"As my lord bids," Joscelin said with restraint, bowing. It would have grated on my nerves, this constant bowing, were his every motion not such a damnable pleasure to behold.

"What is it?" I asked Delaunay. He gazed steadily at me.

"The Due L'Envers is due to return in a fortnight's time. I would have you request of Lord Childric d'Essoms that he send word to Barquiel L'Envers that I desire a meeting with him."

"My lord." I raised my eyebrows. "Why d'Essoms? We have laid the groundwork with Rogier Clavel."

"Because Barquiel will listen to him." Delaunay shook his head. "Clavel is a minor functionary; Barquiel would dismiss him out of hand. He has served his use. Barquiel L'Envers has grown large with this new alliance, and I cannot afford to to have him dismiss my request. D'Essoms got him the appointment in the first place; Barquiel will heed his words. And I need you to convince Childric d'Essoms."

"Then he will know," I said simply.

"Yes." Delaunay rested his chin on a fist. "That's why I waited for the Prefect's answer. Do you think he will act against you?"

I glanced sidelong at Joscelin Verreuil, finding a sudden comfort in the quiet menace of his ashen Cassiline attire, the daggers that hung at his waist. He looked straight ahead, refusing to meet my gaze. "Perhaps . . . not. D'Essoms has known from the beginning that I was part of your game. It is which part that he has not known." And that had comprised the greatest part of his pleasure, the endeavor to extract that knowledge. I felt a pang of sorrow at the idea of losing him as a patron. He had been my first.

"Then you will go to him," Delaunay said. "Ganelon de la Courcel ails, and time grows short. Let it be done."

"There is no assignation?"

He shook his head. "I would sooner surprise him with it. Do you think he will see you uninvited?"

I thought of Childric d'Essoms, the gifts he had sent after the time he had burned me. "Oh yes, my lord, he will see me. And what bait is it I am to dangle?"

The lines of Delaunay's face grew stern, sterner than Joscelin Ver-reuil's in all his disapproval. "Bid him to tell Due Barquiel L'Envers that I know who killed his sister."

TWENTY-EIGHT

Delaunay wasted no time, dispatching me on the errand that very day. D'Essoms had quarters in the Palace in addition to his house in the City, and I had met him there before—it pleased him, at times, to flaunt me under the noses of his peers—but I had never sought him out. I had never sought out any of my patrons, and it was strange to be doing so.

In the coach, Joscelin was as silent as Guy had ever been, but a good deal more noticeable despite his subdued Cassiline attire. That he despised me, I had no doubt. Resentment at the role into which he had been forced shouted from every line of his body, glared from his summer-blue eyes. I did my best to ignore him, having considerably more important matters on my mind than his impaired dignity, but it wasn't easy.

We made a strange couple, entering the west wing of the Palace. I wore the
sangoire
cloak over my gown—a modest one of brown velvet—and had my hair caught up in a black mesh caul, but I might as well have come tumbled straight from the bedchamber. Next to Joscelin's solemn height, ashen garb and plain steel vambraces, everything about me cried Servant of Naamah. I tried to determine if he had ever been in the royal Palace before, and failed. If he was overwhelmed by its majesty and its bustle, he didn't let it show.

At d'Essoms' quarters, the servant who answered the door recognized me and took a step back, startled. I saw his gaze slide sideways to take in the presence of a Cassiline Brother beside me.

"My lady Phedre no Delaunay," he said, collecting himself and bowing. I held no title, but I was of Delaunay's household, and servants found it best to err on the side of caution. I owed that respect to Guy, I thought, and grieved for him. "My lord d'Essoms is not expecting you," d'Essom's man said cautiously.

"Yes, I know." Joscelin Verreuil would be no help in a matter of protocol; I wrapped the
sangoire
cloak around me and summoned what dignity I could, raising my chin. "Will you send to Lord d'Essoms, and ask if he might spare a moment of his time for me?"

"Yes, of course, my lady." He hastened to usher us into the antechamber. "If you will be seated . . .?"

I took a seat gracefully, as if I did this sort of thing every day. Joscelin followed without a word and remained standing, at ease in the Cassiline manner, which consisted of a relaxed stance, arms crossed low, hands resting on the hilts of his daggers. I tried to catch his eye, but he gazed straight ahead, scanning the antechamber imperceptibly for danger.

In a short while, Childric d'Essoms entered with two men-at-arms in attendance, a curious look on his face. Seeing me, he halted. "Phedre. What is it?"

I rose only to sink into a low curtsy, holding it until he gestured impatiently at me.

"I've no time for games," he said. "What brings you here? Is it De-launay?"

"Yes, my lord." I straightened. "May I speak to you in private?"

D'Essoms glanced at Joscelin, who stood impassively and looked at nothing. D'Essoms' brows rose a fraction. "Yes, I suppose you may. Come with me."

I followed as he beckoned, and his men stood back and fell in behind me, cutting off Joscelin's route.

"My lord." The Cassiline Brother's voice was quiet and even, but it held a tone that stopped even d'Essoms in his tracks. He turned around and looked back. Joscelin gave his formal bow. "I have sworn an oath."

"Oaths." Childric d'Essoms' face twisted at the word. "I suppose you have. Accompany her if you must, Cassiline."

Another bow—how someone so rigid could make obeisance look as fluid as a river-bend, I will never know—and Joscelin stepped to my side. We retired, the five of us, to d'Essoms' receiving room. He took his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests, waiting, watching me with his hawklike gaze. Knowing better than to presume, I remained standing. His men-at-arms flanked him, hands hovering conspicuously over their sword-hilts.

"My lord d'Essoms." Uttering the words, I sank down to kneel,
abey-ante
. It was engrained in me as deeply as Joscelin Verreuil's Cassiline watchfulness. "My lord Delaunay sends me to beg a boon."