Kushiel's Scion (118 page)
"Prince Eamonn." She handed it to him. "This is yours."
He tore it open, scanning the page, his lips moving soundlessly.
"Well?" I asked.
Eamonn showed it to me. I thought he'd been reading a lengthy missive, but I was wrong. He must have been uttering a silent prayer, or whispering place-names to himself. There was a crude map of Skaldia drawn on the parchment, with one spot circled over and over again. At the top, it simply read, Come.
"What happened?" There was a note I'd never heard before in his voice. "And when?"
"Ten days ago?" Claudia glanced at her husband for confirmation. "Her brother came for her," she said gently. "I'm afraid that's all we know. One of Master Piero's students brought this, along with the tale that Brigitta was returning to her family in Skaldia. You might question him."
He nodded. "I will."
Out of the dictates of politeness, we stayed for a while longer, sipping wine and telling them all that had transpired since they had left Lucca. This time, the telling fell to me. Eamonn was distracted and restless. I recited the tale of the battle, all the while wracking my wits to find a way to have a private word with Claudia Fulvia. When one of Deccus' colleagues called upon him in a business matter, he excused himself and Eamonn sprang to his feet.
"We should go," he said.
Claudia rose. "I'll show you out."
I let Eamonn hurry ahead and caught her by the arm. "I need to see you."
She turned her head. I could feel her quivering under my grip, but no trace of distress showed in her calm profile. "Afternoon. Erytheia's atelier."
I exhaled hard. "My thanks."
It left me with time to spare. Since I had naught better to do with it, I accompanied Eamonn; and in truth, I wanted to see Master Piero.
Like fools, we searched in the least likely places first, remembering all the tricks he'd played upon us to get us to think and to see. The sun was standing high overhead by the time we thought to look in the Great Forum. People scattered before us, some cursing in irritation, some shouting in recognition. A flock of pigeons rose, wings clattering.
By all rights, we shouldn't be riding roughshod through the city, but Eamonn reckoned the honor Titus Maximius had accorded us was good for the span of a day, and I was in no mind to argue with him.
"Master Piero!" Eamonn shouted.
He was seated on the ledge of the Fountain of the Chariot, clad in his scholar's black robes. There were a handful of students with him, most of them strangers. At Eamonn's call, he lifted his head and smiled.
"Dismount!" I hissed at Eamonn. "Show a measure of respect."
"Sorry," he muttered.
We both dismounted and led our horses across the Forum's plaza. The Bastard behaved himself admirably, although once we reached the fountain, he shoved his muzzle unceremoniously into it and drank in noisy gulps. The new students gaped at us in what was either awe or appalled shock.
Master Piero laughed, and stood.
"Master." Eamonn dropped to his knees, still holding his reins, and gazed humbly at him. "What can you tell me of Brigitta?"
"Ah." He laid his hand on Eamonn's shoulder. "We were speaking of the virtues and pitfalls of love, were we not?" he asked his students. "And here we behold them both, wrapped up in one mortal package." He looked at Eamonn with fond sympathy. "I fear your Brigitta's brother Leidolf came to fetch her home, accompanied by several strapping companions. He threatened violence if she did not consent immediately."
Eamonn gritted his teeth. "He threatened her?"
"No," Master Piero said mildly. "Me."
"Oh." Eamonn was quiet. "I'm sorry."
Master Piero shook his head. "Why should you be? You are not responsible for his actions, Eamonn; only yours. And as Brigitta is responsible for hers, she chose to avert his anger by acceding to his demand. So, all is well." He took one look at Eamonn's expression and laughed again. "Ah, lad! You'll find her. I trust you received her map?" Eamonn nodded, and Master Piero patted his shoulder. "Try the University archives," he said kindly. "I daresay you'll find more detailed maps in their keeping. Brigitta sketched in haste."
Eamonn bounded upright and embraced him. "Thank you, Master!"
Since Eamonn was in a fever of impatience, I bade him go on to the University without me, promising to meet him later at the embassy. He swung himself into the saddle and raced away in a clatter of hooves, scattering pigeons and pedestrians.
With Master Piero's permission, I stayed and listened the end of his lecture. Having drunk his fill, the Bastard was in a placid mood, dozing in the autumn sunlight with one rear leg cocked. Despite the day's chill, the sun was warm. I listened with half an ear, mostly thinking how young all the students looked, their faces keen and attentive. I thought about the harsh lines engraved on Lucius' face. I couldn't imagine any of us had looked that young.
When he had finished, Master Piero dismissed them. They wandered off in groups of three and four, talking animatedly. Heading for their favorite wineshops, no doubt. I smiled, remembering the excitement, the profound engagement in a heady world of ideas.
"Thank you for allowing me to stay, Master," I said to him. "It's good to see you have new students."
"There are always students." Master Piero sat beside me on the ledge and patted my hand. "And you will always be welcome among them, Imriel nó Montrève. Tell me, how is Lucius Tadius?"
"He's well," I said. "And grateful for your teaching."
"And you?" he asked.
I glanced at the charioteer in his fountain, his face filled with stern resolve. Sunlight reflected on the glittering water, dappling the Bastard's spotted hide with bright, moving patterns. I listened to the music of the falling water, the cluck and coo of pigeons, the ordinary sounds of the marketplace. All sounds of life, with all its myriad pitfalls and virtues. There was so much I yearned to discuss with Master Piero, but it would take a lifetime. I didn't even have a day.
"I'm well," I said. "And grateful for your teaching."
"Then I am pleased," he said.
I stood, and Master Piero rose with me, clasping the hand I proffered. He smiled at me one last time, that smile of unexpected sweetness that transformed his plain features. He was a good man and a wise one. I was lucky to have met him.
I bowed, according him the respect due to a sovereign. "Good-bye, Master."
Taking my leave of Master Piero and the scholar's life, I led the Bastard across the crowded Forum and into the narrow streets. The stable-lad at Lollia's inn, where Gilot and I had stayed on our first night, agreed to sell me a half-day's lodging.
I still had things to do.
I went to the banking house where I'd drawn on the letter of credit Jacques Brenin, Phèdre's factor, had given me. It had been a considerable sum and I'd been living frugally. Even with the payment I'd made to Ruggero Caccini, the balance would suffice for my purposes. At the banking house, they issued me the monies I requested and a new letter of credit for the remainder under the name I specified.
Lady Denise had been generous and thoughtful. She'd had our things collected from the insula weeks ago, after the first news from Lucca, and settled our debt.
But I had other debts.
By the time I was done, it was nearly time. The sun moved more swiftly across the sky than it had during the summer weeks. I hurried to Erytheia's atelier. Her door was closed, but she opened it to my knock, inclining her head in greeting.
"Prince Imriel," she said. "You are expected."
"Yes, my lady," I said wryly. It was the first time she'd acknowledged knowing who I was. "I know." I jangled the purse at my belt, newly bulging with coin. "I come as a patron, too. Have you sold it?"
Her brows arched. "The Bacchus? You know that was—"
I shook my head. "The Endymion."
"Oh." Erytheia of Thrasos touched her lips with paint-stained fingers, studying my face. "The model… ?"
"Dead, my lady," I said.
"I am sorry," she said simply.
"So am I," I said. "Is it available?"
"Well, there is a—" A flicker of calculation crossed her strong Hellene features, then vanished. "Yes. For you, yes."
The artist named a price and I agreed to it without bartering. It would have felt unseemly. As it was, it was strange to be in the atelier once more, filled with slanting afternoon sunlight and the strong scent of linseed oil. Wishing to retain my composure, I didn't dare glance at the painting. I paid her in hard coins. Her assistant Silvio was wrapping it in burlap when Claudia Fulvia arrived, enfolded in a thick woolen cloak.
Entering the atelier, Claudia drew back her hood. By accident or design, a shaft of light turned her glorious hair to a blazing crown. She didn't speak, merely tilted her head toward the door. The sunlight caught her eyes, turning them amber. Erytheia nodded, beckoning to Silvio. They departed with alacrity. I supposed we were past the point of dissembling.
"So." Claudia smiled. "You wished to see me?"
All the old yearning returned. Ah, Elua! It would have been good, so good, to lose myself in her. To purge myself of all the horror of battle, the shrouds and remnants still clinging to me, in the glory of her naked body. We were well matched, Claudia and I, at least in the bedchamber.
"Yes." I took a deep breath. "Tell me about my mother."
"Your mother!"
It caught her by surprise. I watched her carefully. Her voice was untuned, and a brief flare of outrage surfaced in her fox-brown eyes. Claudia was older than me. She thought it was some cruel game I played.
"My mother sent Canis," I said.
The outrage vanished and comprehension dawned. "Canis," Claudia murmured. "Your philosopher-beggar."
"Yes." I drew up Erytheia's paint-encrusted stool and sat, still watching her. "You lied to me in Lucca, Claudia. You may not have known who he was, but you knew he was Guild. You knew from the beginning."
She gazed at me unflinching. "And you knew there were things I was forbidden to tell you. I'd already erred once. I couldn't afford the risk. I'm sorry."
" 'Do no harm,'" I quoted. "It was the medallion, wasn't it?" The color drained from Claudia's face. "How did you know?" "Canis told me before he died." I'd rather risk lying to Claudia than putting Asclepius' priest in danger. " 'Do no harm.' And he told me my mother sent her love, and then he died with a javelin stuck through him that was meant for me. So I'm asking you, Claudia. It means my mother's in the Guild, doesn't it?"
Claudia sighed. "Imriel, I don't know. I'm just—" "A journeyman," I finished. "I know. Is my mother, Melisande Shahrizai, a member of the Unseen Guild?"
She looked away. "If she sent Canis, yes. Or she's learned our secrets and is using them to get us to do her bidding. From what I know of her, either could be true." Claudia looked back at me. "I truly don't know, Imriel."
"What did the message mean? 'Do no harm'?" I watched Claudia begin to pace back and forth in the atelier, passing easels with rude charcoal sketches, half-finished paintings. "Name of Elua, Claudia! Canis died before he could explain it to me. A man died for my sake, and I'm owed answers. Do you want me to raise a fuss and start asking questions? Because I will."
"No, don't. Please." Claudia flung herself into the chair in which I'd posed as Bacchus, sighing. "Imriel… the message on the medallion simply meant that a powerful Guild member had placed you under the seal of his or her protection. That you weren't to be harmed by other members. I heeded it and passed it on. Does that satisfy you?" She regarded me. "When you told me about Canis, I assumed someone had appointed him to guard you."
"Someone did," I said. "My mother. He did a good job of it, too, although I don't think he reckoned on having to deal with a riot." I stared at her, thinking. "That's why you didn't think I was in mortal danger from Caccini's thugs? Because of Canis?" Claudia nodded. "How did you know the medallion held a message?"
She made an impatient gesture. "It's one of the signs they use. The Cynics' lamp, only reversed. It pointed left. Most people never notice. You didn't."
"So all this business about the Unseen Guild's threats…" I shook my head. "It was a lie, all a lie. I was never in any danger from the Guild."
"Ah, well." Claudia smiled wryly. "It depends on how powerful is the Guild member who placed their seal on you."
I thought about that, and I thought about Canis. "Powerful enough to send a man willing to die to protect me."
Claudia shrugged. "I'm told men have died for Melisande Shahrizai's sake before."
"Not wittingly," I said. "And not smiling." The more I thought about it, the angrier I became. In the midst of all the Guilds intrigues, there was my mother, cursed and inevitable, squatting like a spider in a web. No wonder they had wanted so badly to recruit me. There was a cold fury singing in my blood. I rose from the stool and paced over to her, putting my hands on the arms of the chair and leaning forward until our faces were mere inches apart. Claudia shrank back in the chair, trapped. I could see her pulse beating under her jaw and smell fear in her sweat. "Where is she?"
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