Kushiel’s Dart

Chapter 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 Duc 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 Naamah, 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."

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, Phèdre? 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, Phèdre," 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. "Phèdre…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 crotchety, 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 Delaunay, "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.

"Phèdre nó 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 harvesttime.

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 Naamah. 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, Phèdre. 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. "Phèdre, 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 Duc 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 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 Verreuil’s in all his disapproval. "Bid him to tell Duc Barquiel L’Envers that I know who killed his sister."