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"If you will do me the kindness of nursing your suspicions in silence," I murmured.
Nicola laughed at that and kissed me again, this time as a patron rather than a peer. "If you hold to that bargain as well as this one, I will promise it. " Releasing me, she cocked her head as I regained my composure. "I like you, Phèdre," she said with regret. "For whatever reason you're going, I'm sorry for it. I'll miss you. "
"So will I," I said, and meant it.
I made the rest of my farewells that day, which were few; 'tis an astonishing thing, how quickly one's friends diminish with a Queen's disfavor. That it meant we had succeeded made it no less painful to find doors closed which had once opened eagerly to my name. Even Diànne and Apollonaire de Fhirze would not see me. It served to make me mindful that Nicola had meant what she said. Either she was foolish enough to risk Ysandre's displeasure-and I did not think she was-or she was sure our roles were but a deception. It gave me no ease, when I thought of Barquiel L'Envers, and the fresh welts on my skin, painful beneath my gown, reminded me of how rash my actions had been. I would pay for it, riding tomorrow.
Nonetheless, I locked the words in my memory: Burning river. If I dared, I would have asked Ysandre to verify it, but there was no way I dared risk contacting her without giving the lie to our falling-out, and I was dependent on that perception to gain access to anyone who might be her enemy. At any rate, I thought, there was no way I would entrust my fate to the password of House L'Envers; not even if I trusted Nicola wholly, which I did not.
My last visit was as my first had been: Cecilie Laveau-Perrin, whose door opened with alacrity. Indeed, she embraced me on the doorstep, heedless of whatever gossips might be watching. "Oh, Phèdre," she whispered in my ear. "I'm so sorry!”
Her unquestioning loyalty touched me to the core, and I struggled to hold back tears; as luck would have it, she thought I grieved at my disgrace. It is the most dire thing of all, among Naamah's Servants, to incur the displeasure of a sovereign. I spent an hour or better in her home, enduring her kindness with all the squirming unease of a guilty conscience, and at last fled, before I gave voice to the entire deception, which lay the whole time on the very tip of my tongue.
So it was done, and my farewells all said. When I returned home, all was in readiness for our departure. I spoke with Eugenie, and confirmed that she would maintain the house in my absence, giving her a purse of money and a note for my factor, should further funds be needful. I promised to write her with an address, to forward any urgent communication, as soon as we were established in La Ser-enissima. To my surprise, she burst into tears in the middle of our discussion, clutching me to her bosom. I had not known, until then, that she regarded me with such fondness; indeed, mothers have wept less, bidding farewell to their children.
At least, mine certainly did.
Whether it be through exhaustion, pain, pleasure or fear, I laid my head on the pillow and slept that night like the dead, a deep and dreamless sleep, and woke alert and ready at dawn. After strong tea and a light breakfast, our party assembled in the courtyard, Remy still yawning and knuckling his eyes. Five mounts, and three packhorses; enough, for my purposes. My chevaliers wore the livery of Montrève, black and green with my personal insignia at the breast bearing the moon and crag of Montrève, to which Delaunay's sheaf of grain and Kushiel's Dart had been added. Joscelin wore his own attire, dove-grey shirt and trousers with a long, sleeveless mandilion coat of the same drab color over it. It was close, very close, to the ashen garb of the Cassiline Brotherhood, save that his hair was braided, and not clubbed at his nape. I looked at him, his vambraces glinting in the early morning sun, daggers at his belt, sword strapped to his back, and made no comment. He looked back at me, equally expressionless. "Let us go," I said.
TWENTY-SEVEN
As the white walls of the City of Elua fell behind us, I felt my spirits begin to rise with the freedom that comes of action after long confinement. It was a glorious D' Angeline spring day, a blue vault of sky and the sun bright and young overhead, the earth surging eagerly into bloom. Our horses were plump and glossy from winter's long stabling, restless with energy too long unspent. Remy sang aloud as he rode, until I had to regretfully bid him to silence; there were other travellers on the road, headed toward the City, and my household was supposed to be in disgrace.
Still, we were travelling light and making good time, and it was hard to suppress our excitement. After several hours, even Joscelin's expression grew less severe, although he took care to remain stoic when I glanced at him. No child of the City, he, but Siovalese born and bred; he thrived in the open air. I daresay if there had been mountains, he might even have smiled.
At least, until we reached the crossroads of Eisheth's Way, where it curves to within a half-day's ride of the City of Elua.
"Smell that?" Ti-Philippe stood in his stirrups, sniffing conspicuously. "Salt air," he declared, grinning at me; I knew full well he couldn't smell the sea at this distance. "A sailor's nose never lies! Two days' ride to the south, and we're in Marsilikos, my lady, with ten days' leisure in harbor. "
"So we would be," I said, drawing up my mount and shifting my shoulders so that the fabric of my gown rubbed my skin. Kushiel's chosen may heal swiftly, but 'tis betimes an itchy process. "If we were going straight to Marsilikos. "
They stared at me, all of them; I hadn't told them this part. I'd not told anyone. It was Joscelin who sighed. "Phèdre," he said in a tone of weary resignation. "What have you planned?"
I rested my reins on my pommel. "If we move quickly," I said, "we've time enough to reach the southernmost garrison of the Allies of Camlach and ask after the missing guardsmen. "
Joscelin looked at me without replying, a strange expression on his face. "You want to query the Unforgiven. "
I nodded.
"Bloody hell and damnation!" Ti-Philippe grumbled, fiddling with a purse at his belt. "I bought a set of new dice for this journey. Azzallese staghorn, guaranteed lucky. You mean to tell me we're riding all the way to Camlach, just to turn around and race for Marsilikos?"
"You can gamble from Marsilikos to La Serenissima," I told him, "and if your stakes hold out longer, it will be lucky indeed. Unless you'd rather not go?"
"No, my lady!" Eyes widening, he took up the reins and turned his horse's head to the north. "Whatever the seven hells you're about, I'll not be left behind. Camlach it is. "
Fortun and Remy laughed. I glanced at Joscelin, who was looking away, and identified at last his odd expression. I had seen it before; he was trying not to smile.
Unaccountably, my heart lightened, and I laughed too. "To Camlach!"
The truth of Ysandre's parting words to me-her real words, in our audience-was more than evident in this journey. Terre d'Ange was at peace, and prosperous. Eisheth's Way, built by Tiberian soldiers over a millennium ago, was solid and well tended. More than once, we saw teams of masons and bricklayers at work, repairing winter's damage. There are no major cities in Camlach, but the road wends through myriad villages, and in each one, we saw the signs of contentment and prosperity-open markets, with the first fruits of spring for sale, and the last of winter's dried stores; poultry, mutton and wild game; fabrics, threads and necessities. Once we saw a Tsingani kumpania, outfitted with a travelling smithy. There was a line of villagers waiting, with horses to be shod, pots to be mended. I thought of Hyacinthe and all that he had sacrificed, and swallowed hard.
And flowers; there were flowers. "You see that, my lady?" Fortun asked, nodding toward a stand where a young woman buried her face in a nosegay, eyes closed with pleasure. "When common folk have coin to spare for flowers, it bodes well for the land. " He laughed. "Though they say in Caerdicca Unitas that D'Angelines will buy flowers before food. "
That first evening we reached the village of Aufoil, which had an inn large enough to lodge our party. If my purposes had been different, I would have been carrying lette
rs of invitation to half a dozen noble holdings, and we would have been welcomed and feasted in style, but 'twas better this way. No one would be looking for the Comtesse de Montrève on the road to Camlach, and if they were, they'd not look in common travellers' inns.
For their part, the villagers made us welcome. The inn-keep rushed about to procure fresh bed-linens, ordering a cask of their finest wine breached. We sought to repay their hospitality with courtesy as well as coin, and Phèdre's Boys surely excelled at that, remaining in the common room to take part in revelry and drink into the small hours of the night.
It was not wasted time, either. In the morning, a bleary-eyed Fortun sketched for me a map to the closest garrison of the Unforgiven, some few days' ride away. One more day on Eisheth's Way, and then we needs must turn aside, on less travelled paths.
"I wondered why you wanted camping gear," Remy muttered. "Thought you'd never sleep on aught but silk sheets, after campaigning with the Cruithne. "
I smiled. "Now you know better. " In truth, I'd sooner have slept under a silk coverlet on a down-stuffed pallet, but the pursuit of knowledge makes all manner of hardship worthwhile.
And Ihad known worse. I could not help but remember, as we travelled deeper into the forests of Camlach, how Joscelin and I had staggered, half-frozen, wind-burned and exhausted, out of the Camaelme Mountains and into shelter in this land. How the men of the Marquis de Bois-le-Garde had found our meager campsite, and that awful, terrifying flight through the benighted woods. Travelling by day, golden sunlight slanting through the pines, it seemed harmless, but we had come near to death in this place.
Different times, those; Isidore d'Aiglemort's treacherous Allies of Camlach held the province, and there was no telling who was friend or foe. Now those same men guarded the borders and the Duc d'Aiglemort was dead, slain on the battlefield of Troyes-le-Mont, spending his life to thwart the very enemy he'd invited onto D'Angeline soil. Kilberhaar, the Skaldi had called him; Silver Hair. I had watched it all, from the parapets of the fortress. Seventeen wounds d'Aiglemort had taken, battling his way across the field to challenge Waldemar Selig. They counted, when they laid him out and gave him a hero's funeral.
I had been there, at the end, when he died, carrying water to the wounded and dying. I am afraid of your lord's revenge, he said to me, lying in a welter of his own gore. At first, I thought he meant Delaunay-and then I knew better. It was Kushiel he feared; Kushiel, who metes out punishment.
For that, I could not blame him. I fear Kushiel myself, for all that I am his chosen. On the whole, Naamah's Service is a great deal more pleasant, but I do not think it is Naamah whose hand placed me on the battlefield that day.
So I mused and remembered as we travelled, and the time passed swiftly.
On the fourth day, we came upon the Stream that Fortun had recorded on his map, and a broad, well-trodden trail that led out of the woods and toward the foothills of the Camaelines. The first garrison lay to the south of the southernmost of the Great Passes. It was but early afternoon, and the woods were cheerful with birdsong.
"I don't like this," Joscelin said, frowning at the serenity of our surroundings. "Why isn't there a guard posted? If Fortun's directions are right, we're inside the perimeter of the garrison. "
"Mayhap they thought it wiser to guard against the Skaldi," Remy offered sardonically.
"No," I said absently. "Joscelin's right; any Camaeline corps this close to the border would mount a guard on all sides. They're not likely to let themselves be flanked. "
"There's been a large party riding through here," Fortun observed, pointing to the myriad hoofmarks churning the soft loam. "Not long past; these are fresh since it rained this morning. A scouting party, mayhap?"
In the distance, we heard a sudden shout, and then the distinctive metal-on-metal sound of swordplay.
"Mayhap not," Joscelin said grimly, and wheeled his horse. "Whatever trouble it is, we're best away from it. " He nearly clapped heels to his mount's sides, before he saw me motionless in the saddle, head cocked to listen. "Phèdre, you brought me to keep you safe!" he snapped, jostling his mount next to mine and grabbing at my reins. "At least do me the kindness of heeding my advice!"
The chevaliers were milling, uncertain. I met Joscelin's eyes. "Listen. "
Biting back a retort, he did; and he heard it too. Rising above the clash of arms and shouted orders, a faint cry, ragged and defiant. "Ye-shu-a! Ye-shu-a!"
Joscelin quivered like a bowstring, his face a study in anguish. With a sound that might have been a curse or a sob, he let go my reins and jerked his horse's head around and set heels to it, riding at a dead gallop toward the garrison.
"What are you waiting for?" I asked my staring chevaliers, turning my own mount after Joscelin. "Go!"
I daresay we made for a strange sight, bursting from the forest trail to fan out across the narrow plain; a D'Angeline noblewoman, three men-at-arms and trailing packhorses chasing someone who looked very much like a Cassiline Brother riding hell-for-leather toward an entire garrison. If the Unforgiven corps had not been occupied, they might have laughed-but occupied they were. Thirty or more encircled a party of Yeshuites, who numbered in the dozens. There were two wagons at the center, and I could discern the figures of women and children on them, while the men grappled with the Unforgiven guardsmen, calling on Yeshua with fierce, exultant cries.
For all of that, they were outfought and losing.
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