Kushiel's Avatar (Phedre's Trilogy #3)

Kushiel's Avatar (Phedre's Trilogy #3) Page 54

My blood ran cold at his revelation; it was not, I supposed, the most dreadful thing that could be done. I have heard of worse atrocities, including those committed by Akkadians. But I am D'Angeline, and a scion of Blessed Elua, and I could conceive of no greater blasphemy. And too, I remembered the children left behind in Amílcar.

Fadil Chouma had sought one child; only one. Peerless; a gadjo pearl, the Tsingani had called Imriel de la Courcel.

And his mother had seen to it he was raised in perfect innocence.

"What does he say?" Lord Amaury placed a peremptory hand on my wrist. "Will he send men into Drujan on our behalf?"

Unable to speak, I shook my head.

"So be it." Amaury's tone rang with relief. "My lords, my lady de Rives, listen well! We have exerted ourselves at the Queen's behest, above and beyond the call of duty. Though I am sore grieved at our failure, we have come to the place where we can go no further. As I am entrusted with the Queen's command, I so decree it: Our quest ends here."

There was unabashed cheering. I do not think they lacked pity for Imriel's fate, but the fear of Drujan had grown strong. I looked at their happy, relieved faces. The Akkadians, thinking it a tribute, smiled with pleasure. Valère was whispering to Prince Sinaddan, explaining what had transpired. Renée de Rives was flushed and joyous, her youthful beauty like a candle in the feasting-hall. It was, I thought, passing strange that her offer had so failed to move me. I had never found surcease from my own nature before.

This is how it ends.

I looked at Joscelin, his quiet, capable hands curled around a cup of honey-beer, no rejoicing in his expression, only quiet compassion awaiting my reaction. I thought of my dream, my vow, the diamond held forth on Kushiel's hand. I wondered at the absence of desire within me, that terrible, waiting emptiness. And I felt the looming pattern that had hovered over us since that first awful moment in Siovale, when I realized that there was no intrigue, no plot, behind Imriel's abduction, come to a terrible fruition.

Branching paths, and each one lying in darkness.

It is said the Mahrkagir searches for the perfect victim . . .

What was Kushiel's Chosen if not that?

Ah, no, I thought; Blessed Elua, no! It is too much to ask; too much!

And even as I thought it, the emptiness was filled, a vast inrushing presence of joy and love and light, more light than I could bear. It swelled within me, lovely and unbearable. Filled with presence, I was vastened, conscious of an overarching pattern that encompassed all of life within it; all of love. Love, and all that it entailed; the complicated ties that bound us to one another, that begat life, loyalty, compassion, and sacrifice in its truest sense. I had not believed it possible, until then. I did not think it possible for a mortal being to contain such glory. What was it that filled me? Not Kushiel, no, nor Naamah, but Elua, Blessed Elua, the bright shadow whom they all followed, all of them, revealing at last the immensity of his plan, filling and surrounding me, golden and irresistible, filling my soul with radiant light, filling my mouth with the taste of honey, setting my heart to beating like a hummingbird's wings, yes, yes, yes.

No, I thought. Tears stung my eyes. No.

It is too much.

I drew in a breath and heard the air rasp in my lungs, and the presence eased, loosening its grip, beginning to fade like the dying strains of a beautiful song. Forgive me, I thought, desperately grateful, forgive me, Elua my lord, thank you for your compassion, for under standing, I swear to you, I will heed you in every action, I will pour incense upon your altar every day, I will say a thousand prayers in blessing. . .

The presence continued to fade, withdrawing in regret, all of it. Farewell, I heard, final and unarguable, farewell. And it was not only Elua, Blessed Elua, but the others, too—Kushiel, the bronze wings beating their last in my bloodstream; Naamah, her enigmatic smile fading.

All of them, leaving me forever.

And the dull grey emptiness waiting to take their place.

"All right!" I clenched my hands, nails digging into my palms, not realizing I'd spoken aloud. "I will do it."

"Phèdre?"

It was Joscelin's voice, low and concerned. I blinked at him through my tears, unsteady in my chair at the massive inrushing presence that filled me, vastening and painful, but there. I was not abandoned, no, and I was myself. "Yes?" I whispered.

"I thought ..." His beloved face was perplexed. "You were just staring, at nothing, and for a moment I thought ..." He shook his head. "I thought I saw the mark, Kushiel's Dart, the scarlet mote in your eye ... it was disappearing, I swear it, shrinking before my eyes. I saw it dwindle to a pin-prick, and then ..." Joscelin touched my cheek, wondering. "Then it returned."

"Yes." Giddiness and despair made my voice strange. "I suppose it did. Oh, Joscelin . . . you're not going to like this." Before he could ask what, I turned to the Lugal. "My lord Sinaddan," I asked him in Ak kadian. "Would you perchance know anyone willing to guide us to Daršanga? Not as an embassy, but as merchants with human goods to sell?"

Valère L'Envers had already begun to smile, anticipating her husband's denial, when the Lugal of Khebbel-im-Akkad gave a thoughtful nod. "Yes, my lovely lady translator," said Prince Sinaddan. "As it happens, I might, for the right amount of gold."

Somehow, I was not surprised.

Thus ended our fête in Nineveh, with our entire company thrown into disarray.

It was Lord Amaury Trente who spoke most bluntly to me, once he grasped my plan. "You understand that I cannot countenance it?" he said, pacing and frowning. "It is little short of madness, Phèdre. If I had an ounce more sense, I'd have you clapped in chains."

"I understand, my lord," I said calmly to him.

He shook his head. "You know that the Queen would never permit such a thing? Name of Elua, I'm not even sure that Shahrizai she-devil would ask it of you!"

"I know, my lord," I said. "It is not Melisande Shahrizai who asks it."

Lord Amaury sighed. "All right, then; listen to me, Phèdre nó Delaunay. I have agreed to pay the asking-price of Prince Sinaddan's guide, who may I add, is a misbegotten Persian-born brigand who would sell his own mother for gold. He was one of the mountain-guides on the last expedition, and fled before the slaughter. And I have gotten Sinaddan to agree to send an armed escort with you as far as the Drujani border, which," he added, "I will accompany. From thence, you are on your own, provided — " He held up a cautionary finger. "Provided Joscelin Verreuil goes with you. Understand me, Phèdre. If the Cassiline does not agree to it, I will not let you go."

I nodded. "I understand, my lord. I am grateful that you are willing to take such a risk."

Amaury Trente looked sourly at me. "Make no mistake, I'm not happy about it."

Thus, Lord Amaury.

It left only Joscelin, who had not spoken to me for two days, not since he had divined the nature of my plan. What he did in that time, I cannot say, save that he spent a good deal of it walking the city of Nineveh. No one bothered him. Small surprise, with his grim expression and the sword strapped across his back, the daggers riding low at his hips. I waited until he came to me. There was a time he might not have done so. Ten years ago, in La Serenissima, he had walked out on me, and I'd not been sure he would return.

This time, I was.

I heard the shrieks in the women's quarter of our inn, and knew. No more, and no less. When he made up his mind, proprieties would not deter him. I looked at Renée, gazing wide-eyed at the door. "It is Joscelin," I said. "My dear, you don't want to be here for this."

She didn't argue, donning her veil hastily and slipping out the door past him even as he entered, oblivious to her fleeting presence.

"Phèdre," he said, a world of agony in the word; a single word, my name. It is an ill-luck name, I have always said so. "Do you know what you are asking?"

"Yes," I said steadily. "I am asking you to take me to Daršanga and sell me into the seraglio of the Mahrkagir of Drujan."

He turned away, hands clenched into fists; I heard the leather straps of his vambraces creak in protest. "A man who breeds death as another breeds life."

"Yes." My voice betrayed me by trembling. "Elua! Do you think I'm not terrified?"

"Then why?" Joscelin turned around, blue eyes blazing, innocent as a summer sky, filled with all the love and outrage in his being. "Blessed Elua, Phèdre, why? Do you care so little for me? Does Melisande's son mean so much to you? Is the desire that pricks you so unbearable? Why?"

"No," I answered, shaking. "No." I gazed at him, though it hurt to look at him. "Do you remember, on the ship, what we spoke of? Joscelin, it is Elua himself who asks it of me. I swear to you, I would not ask this for anything less."

With a low sound, like an animal brought to bay, he dropped to his knees, hiding his face in his hands. "It is too hard," he said, his voice muffled.

"I know," I said softly, crossing the room and laying my hands on his head. "Believe me, my love, I know."

Joscelin's arms rose unbidden, holding me hard about the waist. "To damnation and beyond," he whispered, hot against my belly. "I have sworn it." The sound that caught in his throat might have been a laugh, or not. "As if I'd had the slightest idea what that meant."

"'Joscelin," I breathed. "It is taking my last ounce of courage just to contemplate this. Tell me now whether you will aid me or no."

On his knees, he looked up at me, blue eyes framed with tear- spiked lashes, an eerie echo of the face in my dream, though no shadow fell across it but my own. "I would sooner serve you my heart on a platter, love, but it is not what you ask. So be it. I will sell you to this man who calls himself the Conqueror of Death, and Elua help him afterward."

I could ask no more.