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

Kushiel's Avatar (Phedre's Trilogy #3) Page 84

"Where's Imri?" I asked Joscelin as we traversed the halls.

"In the zenana." He said it unthinking; the word was the same, in Akkadian. "The women's quarters. Uru-Azag will keep an eye on him."

"Good." I stole a sideways glance at him. His fair hair, clean and braided, hung in a neat cable down his back and the sumptuous attire set off his austere beauty. "It suits you, you know."

The corner of his mouth rose, ever so slightly. "No. It suits you."

And then we arrived at Prince Sinaddan-Shamabarsin's private au dience room, and there was no time for talk. It was only us and his bride, but nonetheless intense for it. The Lugal paced the room as we entered, black brows scowling beneath his turban of cloth-of-gold.

"Rumors," he said abruptly, fetching up before us. "I hear rumors, Comtesse, rumors of Drujan. From Demseen Fort, they come; from all along the border, from my own lady wife. Rumors that the Mahrkagir's power lies in shards, that his armies have lost their will, that Sacred Fires are alight and the bone-priests of Angra Mainyu run shrieking before the blaze. And in the midst of it you come, alive and unlooked- for, bearing a wagon-train of women and eunuchs, sending word that bids me hold my hand. Well and so, I have done it. Now tell me why."

I told him.

For all that it had taken an eternity to live it, the tale was short in the telling. I had slain the Mahrkagir, and the zenana had overthrown Daršanga. Afterward, the Sacred Fires had kindled, and we had made a bargain with the Chief Magus Arshaka. Such a brief tale, to encompass such suffering.

Valère L'Envers went pale during it. Whether she liked me or no, she was D'Angeline, and guessed better than her royal husband what had ensued, and the cost of it.

"It is for this," I said, "my lord, that I ask your aid in seeing these women restored to their homes. They have suffered gravely and sacrificed much, each one."

Prince Sinaddan glanced briefly at his wife, who nodded. It seemed they were in accord. "It shall be done," he said. "Each one of them. Upon the heads of my sons, I swear it; Khebbel-im-Akkad shall dower each one, fit unto a daughter of the House of Ur. But what, my lady, do you say of Drujan? Your bargain is concluded; you have come safe to Nineveh. You are among friends, and may speak freely. I have a small measure of time before this matter comes to the attention of my father, and pressing decisions to make within it. Do you sue for peace, even after what you have endured?"

Taking a deep breath, I clasped my hands together. "My lord," I said, "I do. It was never the will of the people of Drujan—the farmers, the fisherfolk, the weavers and servants—to follow the worship of Angra Mainyu. 'Twas a few, an embittered few, who grasped power where they found it. And that power, my lord, has its roots in the cruelty of Khebbel-im-Akkad. It is the atrocities committed against the family of Hoshdar Ahzad that gave birth to the Mahrkagir. My lord, I sue for peace on behalf of Drujan that his like may never come again."

"Men have died," he said in a deep voice, "Akkadian men, two mighty armies destroyed. Shall we allow Drujan to surrender peaceably and let this go unpunished? Surely, our weakness will be despised, and Persians everywhere will laugh up their sleeves, encouraged to new insurrection."

"No." I shook my head. "My lord, for eight years Drujani rule has followed the path of Angra Mainyu: ill thoughts, ill words, ill deeds. The land is ravaged, salted and laid barren in many places, the livestock neglected and beaten. The people are starving and weary of living in fear. Ask your scouts, if you do not believe me; ask Tizrav, who ac companied us to Daršanga." I thought of the Persian mercenary, his loyalty sworn to the radiant light of gold. "My lord, if you enter Drujan with vengeance and bloodshed, it will foment hatred. If you enter with order and aid, distributing foodstuffs, restoring trade, they will hail you as a liberator."

"Hmm." Prince Sinaddan studied Joscelin. "What do you say, my silent warrior? You've seen more than the Comtesse of the inner work ings of Drujani governance. Are you agreed?"

"My lord." Joscelin inclined his head. He had learned enough of the Akkadian tongue to reply in kind. "The Mahrkagir's army is in disarray, having ever depended on the fearsome gifts of his ka-Magi. Their power is broken, their allies have fled, and the people look to the ancient Magi to lead them. I concur with my lady Phèdre. The moment is opportune. You will conquer Drujan more thoroughly with compas sion than armies."

And the Lugal, the new breed of Akkadian despot, mindful of the responsibilities of power, nodded to himself, his neatly tended black beard bobbing. "It is so," he said, half to himself. "Although my father may not see it. Well, and as he has entrusted me to guard the northern borders, so I may choose. I will dictate terms of a peaceful surrender and send a delegation to this Magus Arshaka. Let us see how he re sponds."

A profound wave of relief swept through me. "My lord is wise."

"We shall see." Sinaddan allowed himself a smile. "Comtesse, I am mindful of the debt I owe you. You and your consort alone have done what two Akkadian armies could not. Will you not name a reward?"

"Your gratitude is reward enough, my lord," I said automatically. "For the rest, I ask only reparations for the women of the zenana, and mayhap a place of honor among your guard for Uru-Azag and his comrades, to whose bravery we owe our lives."

"They shall form the core of my personal guard," Valère L'Envers announced. "Being eunuchs, they may not serve among whole men, yet I think it shall be honor enough. Phèdre nó Delaunay, is there no reward you will claim for yourself?"

There was a touch of impatience in her voice. I daresay the Lugalin of Khebbel-im-Akkad did not care to be indebted to a D'Angeline cour tesan, no matter what the circumstance. "An escort to Tyre would not be amiss, my lady."

"Escort!" Prince Sinaddan laughed. "You'll have that, and more."

And with that we were dismissed, our audience concluded.

When it was done, I felt as exhausted as if I'd fought a second war. Truly, politics is a wearying business, fraught with tension and pitfalls, and so many lives at stake on one man's decision. In our quarters, I went to the dividing door to see if Imriel had been returned to his rooms, but they were still empty. Too tired to move, I simply stood there. Joscelin came up behind me, his good arm resting lightly about my waist. It was enough. As much as I loved him, I couldn't have borne anything more.

"It's going to take me a while," I said quietly.

"I know.”

"I'm sorry." I wished I didn't feel broken inside.

"Phèdre." He turned me gently to face him. "I know. You did what you had to do. I would that it had been otherwise, but I don't blame you for it. What you did ... it was a brave and noble thing, truly."

"Then why do I feel so awful?" I whispered.

Joscelin touched my hair, looking sick. "Do you ... do you want to speak of it?"

"Of what happened in Daršanga?" I laid one hand on his chest, keeping him at bay, feeling his heart beating steady and strong beneath it. Tears came to my eyes unbidden. "Oh, Joscelin! Even if I did . . . could you bear to hear it?"

His answer, when it came, was rough and honest. "I don't know."

"So." I swallowed hard, nodding. "We'll wait and see."

SIXTY-ONE

IT WAS Imriel's scream that awoke us both, shattering slumber— short, sharp and urgent, a cry of imminent danger."That's no nightmare." Instantaneously alert, Joscelin rolled out of bed and onto his feet, mother-naked, fumbling for a weapon. Struggling into a silk dressing-robe, I followed as he raced into Imriel's room, illuminated by a faint light from the torch-lit hallway.

On his bed, Imriel knelt, white-faced with stark terror, his hands fixed in rigid claws. A figure clad in loose-fitting black clothes, a dark burnoose concealing its face, retreated toward the outer door, which stood ajar.

With a curse, Joscelin hurled his dagger.

It missed, clattering against the door-frame. The figure spun and dashed into the hall, Joscelin hard on its heels. I kindled a lamp with trembling fingers, only then daring to look at Imriel. "Are you all right?"

He nodded, hands unclenching slowly, his narrow chest heaving.

"What happened?" I asked him.

"I woke up and someone was there. I screamed, and— " He mimed striking out with one clawed hand. "Then Joscelin came. Do you think he was trying to kill me?"

I sat down on the edge of Imriel's bed. "What do you think?"

"Yes." His face was still white, but he was calmer. "I think so."

So did I, but I waited until Joscelin returned, grim and empty- handed.

"I lost him," he said shortly. "Or her. I couldn't tell. What do you think, Imri? Was it a man or a woman?"

"I don't know." The boy sounded miserable. "It was dark.”

"You did well. You did very well." Joscelin retrieved his dagger and scowled at his left arm in its sling. "I'd have had him, if not for this. It puts off my aim. I can't move as quickly, either. A three-step lead? I should have had him."

Imriel shivered, huddling on the bed and hugging his knees. I stroked his hair. "You must have gotten some odd looks," I said, eyeing Joscelin. Aside from his sling, he was still rather splendidly naked. Imriel peered over his knees and giggled.

"A few." Joscelin raised his eyebrows. "Come on, you. From now on, you'll stay in our quarters."

It took the better part of an hour, but eventually Imriel fell asleep in our bed. Joscelin and I sat up, wrapped in robes and discussing it in low voices.

"It could have been anyone," he said in disgust. "Man, woman, eunuch; Akkadian, D'Angeline—Jebean, even ... I didn't get a good enough look. He ducked into a side hall, and by the time I'd backtracked, I'd lost him."