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

Kushiel's Avatar (Phedre's Trilogy #3) Page 9

"Elua!" My voice was bitter. "Adonai cared so little for his ill- begotten scion Elua that he wandered forgotten for a hundred years while Adonai grieved for your Yeshua! I do not think He will share His name with one such as me."

"Then perhaps the Tribe of Dân holds it in keeping." Eleazar ig nored my sharp tone and scrubbed at his face, weary with long prayer. "If you can find them."

To that, I said nothing; every Yeshuite knows the myth of the Lost Tribes. Most believe, if they venture an opinion, that they went north, beyond the barren steppes, where Yeshua's nation is to be founded in preparation for his return. Whether or not it is true, I do not know. Only that in the writings of Habiru sages before the coming of Yeshua, the Tribe of Dân is never mentioned among the exiles.

"And mayhap Shalomon's Ring lies forgotten at the bottom of my jewelry-box," I said, "but I don't think so." Rising, I repented of my ill grace and stooped to kiss his cheek. "Keep searching, Eleazar. Your God is fortunate to be served with such devotion."

He nodded, tearing off another piece of bread and placing it in his mouth. I left him there, chewing meditatively, the remembrance of glory illuminating his narrow features. Adara showed me to the door, where I pressed a small purse of coin into her hands. "A token," I said, "in gratitude for your hospitality." So I said at every visit. Eleazar would never have taken it—or if he had, he would have given it away within the hour—but Adara knew the cost of bread and what was needful to allow her beloved husband to continue his contemplations untroubled.

"You are always welcome in our house, my lady." There was such gentle sweetness to her smile. "It tears at his heart to think how your friend suffers for Rahab's cruelty."

Such is the carelessness of gods, I thought as I made my way home. And we are powerless against it. Even here, in the blessed realm, where Elua and his Companions gave us surpassing gifts of grace and beauty and knowledge, begetting musicians and chirurgeons, architects and shipwrights, painters, poets and dancers, farmers and vintners, warriors and courtiers, there is no power to be found to thwart a forgotten curse by the One God's mighty servant. All the love in my heart was but a weak and foolish noise before the enduring force of Rahab's hatred. And why? Because the Lord of the Deep had loved a woman, and she had loved another than him.

Blessed Elua, I prayed, such things should not be. If there is a way, let me find it, for I do not think I can bear to live out my days with this knowledge. I do not think I can bear to laugh and make merry, living and loving while Hyacinthe raises wind and wave, gazes into a mirror and waits for time to make a monstrosity of him. Wherever the path lies, I will tread it. Whatever the price, I will pay it.

In a mood thus dark and foreboding, I arrived at my home to find Joscelin and Ti-Philippe awaiting me in the salon, their faces grave. Young Hugues was nowhere in sight, nor any of the house-servants. I paused, wondering at the way they stood shoulder-to-shoulder before the low table.

"What is it?"

Joscelin stepped to one side, indicating a sealed missive that lay upon the table. Hardly an unusual thing, for I received correspondence almost daily—letters, offers of assignation, invitation, love poems. "This came by courier from La Serenissima."

Allegra Stregazza, I wondered; or mayhap Severio? Both of them wrote to me from time to time, and Joscelin was not overfond of my friendship with Severio, having never quite forgotten that I had once, briefly, entertained his offer of marriage. For all that he had forsworn jealousy, even Joscelin was human. But that would not account for Ti-Philippe's countenance.

The pale vellum glowed against the dark, polished wood of the table, fine-grained and smooth, sealed with a generous blot of gilt wax. Kneeling, I picked up the letter to examine the insignia stamped into the seal.

My hands began to shake and I set it down, staring.

A crown of stars; Asherat's Crown, that adorns the Dogal Seal and the doors of the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea. And beneath it, etched in miniature, a device of three keys intertwined—the arms of House Shahrizai.

The letter had been sent by Melisande Shahrizai.

SEVEN

TAKING A deep breath, I cracked the seal and opened the letter.The room was deadly silent as I read. Joscelin and Ti-Philippe stared at each other over my head, neither daring to ask. It was short, only a few lines, penned in Melisande's elegant hand. I would have known her writing anywhere. I had seen it since I was a child in Delaunay's household, when the correspondence was lively between them, friends and rivals as they were. And I had seen it in the steading of the Skaldi warlord Waldemar Selig, when I realized with sinking horror the infinite depth of her treachery.

Now I read it in my own home, and when I finished, set down the letter and pressed steepled fingers against my lips.

"Name of Elua!" Ti-Philippe exploded. "What does the she-bitch want? "

I looked up at him, lifting my head, and answered simply. "My help."

"What?" It was Joscelin, incredulous, who snatched up the letter and read it for himself, passing it to Ti-Philippe and taking an abrupt seat in a nearby chair. He stared at me open-mouthed, shaking his head in unconscious denial. "Phèdre. No. She's mad. She has to be!"

Dear Phèdre, the letter read, I am writing to ask your aid in a matter of vital importance. There is no one else I may trust. I swear to you, in Kushiel's name, that this is no ploy and poses no threat of harm to your loyalties. Make haste to La Serenissima, and I will explain.

That, and no more. I heard a stifled expletive from Ti-Philippe as he finished reading.

"No," Joscelin said again, although I had not spoken. The color was returning to his face. "Phèdre, you can't possibly consider it. What ever it is, it's bound to be a trick.”

"No." I looked past him at the bust of Anafiel Delaunay which sat on a black marble plinth in my salon. My lord Delaunay gazed back at me, silent as ever, a wry tenderness to his austere features. I remembered how I had first met Melisande in Delaunay's gymnasium, how she had touched my face, and my knees had turned to water. She was the only one he had ever allowed to see me before I entered Naamah's Service. They had been friends, once; and lovers, too. He might be alive today, but for her treachery. So might countless others. I have never dared number those dead by Melisande's deeds. "She swore it in Kushiel's name. Even Melisande has rules."

"You can't think it."

There was a ragged edge to Joscelin's voice I had not heard in more than ten years. My eyes stung with tears as I turned my gaze to him, swallowing hard. "It's Sibeal's dream, don't you see, and Hyacinthe's vision. Joscelin, I don't pretend to understand. But I have to go."

He was silent for a moment. "You would let her put her leash on you again."

"No." I took back the letter that Ti-Philippe had thrown onto the table, running the ball of my thumb over the waxen seal. "Melisande remains under the purview of the Temple of Asherat. She's not free to make claims on me. And I will not offer what I did once before."

"Melisande Shahrizai doesn't need her freedom to make claims on you," Joscelin whispered. "And you don't need to offer. Do you think I don't know that?"

"Joscelin." I dropped the letter and rubbed my temples. My head ached fiercely. "What do you want me to do? Stay here and slowly go mad, thinking about Hyacinthe and spending my days praying some poor, God-ridden Habiru mystic will stumble across the Sacred Name? I don't want to see Melisande; Blessed Elua knows I don't want to help her! But there have been dreams and visions pointing the way, and I prayed to Elua to show it to me. Now my prayer is answered; a letter, like a portent. What am I to do? Ignore it?" I let my hands fall to my lap and shook my aching head. "I can't."

"I'll go." Ti-Philippe's words sounded abrupt. "The Tsingano said the path would be dark. Well, I'm not afraid of darkness." He cleared his throat. "I can't imagine we'll see aught worse than we've seen before, my lady. And I'm not afraid of your facing Melisande Shahrizai. Whatever it is between you, you've outfaced her twice before, and won." He glanced at Joscelin. "People forget that."

"I don't forget!" Joscelin raised his voice sharply. In the old days, they had quarrelled often; this was the first time since La Serenissima. "But I don't trust anyone's luck to continue forever, even Phèdre's. And if you think you have seen all the world holds of darkness, chevalier, you are sore mistaken."

"Enough!" I cut them off before the quarrel could escalate. "Joscelin," I said, fixing him with my gaze. "I am going to do this thing. Is it your will to accompany me?"

His smile was tight as a grimace. "I have sworn it. To damnation and beyond," he added, casting a pointed glance in Ti-Philippe's direc tion. "Though I would sooner that than Melisande's doorstep."

"My lady, you would be better served— ' Ti-Philippe began.

"No." I shook my head at him. "Philippe, I value your courage and your loyalty more than I can say. But if there is anyone I need at my side, it is Joscelin. You, I need here. I need someone I can trust to keep watch over my household and my estates. And I need to know," I said gently, "someone is here, safe and well, keeping the lamps lit for our safe return."

Now it was Ti-Philippe who had tears in his eyes. "My lady," he said, "you know I would face any danger on your behalf."

"I know. I am asking you not to, and mayhap it is a harder thing." I laughed. "Anyway, of what are we speaking? A spring journey to La Serenissima? We'll be there and back inside a month. A paltry thing, as dangers go."

"There are no paltry dangers where Melisande Shahrizai is con cerned," Joscelin muttered. "Captive, or no."

Ysandre, predictably, was displeased. I had to tell her, reckoning I owed my Queen as much. She scowled at me and paced the pleasant bounds of the drawing-room in which we met, her mood and actions more suitable to official chambers. I stood patiently and waited out her anger, glad of Joscelin's solid presence at my shoulder. For some reason, she had far greater faith in him not to undertake anything foolish—a misplaced sentiment, in my opinion. Ysandre had not been there when Joscelin crawled the underside of a hanging bridge to the prison-fortress of La Dolorosa and assailed it single-handed with naught but his dag gers. Well and so, if Ysandre de la Courcel thought a Cassiline less rash than a courtesan, let her. I knew better.