Kushiel's Chosen

I felt tears stand in my eyes, and the blood beat hard in my head, a rush of bronze-winged sound, a tinge of crimson washing over my blurred vision. Percy de Somerville bowed his head in grief, his broad shoulders hunched, and I knew something had broken in him.

My lord Kushiel is cruel and just.

"It is heard and acknowledged," Ysandre said quietly, and there was compassion in her gaze. "My lords and ladies of Terre d'Ange, let us go home."

Barquiel L'Envers met us at the gates of the City, where something of a sombre mood had begun to settle after the initial rejoicing; there would be no triumph to celebrate this victory, only a low murmur as they exchanged the kiss of greeting. I do not know what words they spoke. When they parted, L'Envers glanced at me, a trace of the old, familiar irony glinting in his eye.

"Delaunay's anguissette" he acknowledged me. "You send a timely message."

"I am glad you heeded it, my lord," I said politely.

"Your wording was rather persuasive." He raised his brows. "Ysandre, will you reclaim your throne? I find the stewardship of it an onerous task."

Thus did the Queen of Terre d'Ange return to the City of Elua. The streets were thronged with people, and many of them wept openly as she passed. They had believed her dead these many days, for de Somerville had kept the rumor of her return from reaching the beleaguered City. It is a profound testament to the will and leadership of Barquiel L'Envers that he managed to maintain order in the City and hold the loyalty of the Palace and City Guards throughout the siege. My Kritian message had arrived scant days before Melisande's couriers, but it had come accompanied by a contingent of Eisandine troops sent by Roxanne de Mereliot, who urged him in strongest terms to act swiftly to secure the City. This he had done, sending to Namarre for a company of his own Akkadian-trained men and setting a watch on Champs-de-Guerre. When the Royal Army began to mobilize, L'Envers' spies fled to the City at breakneck pace and the gates were closed and sealed.

All these things I learned over time; then, there was simply too much to be done for the stories to unfold. Percy de Somerville was taken into custody, along with his chief lieutenants and subcommanders, for of a surety, some few of them must have known. Ysandre appointed Barquiel L'Envers to serve as Royal Commander pro tem, and supervise the military trials of the officers; being a peer of the realm, de Somerville would be tried before the assembled Parliament, like the family of House Trevalion long ago.

It was Marc de Trevalion, I learned, who had suspected Lord Percy's complicity when word of the Queen's death and the siege mounted against the City had reached Azzalle, and it was he who told his son-in-law Ghislain as much. He had known what Melisande had known, though he'd had no proof of it; that Percy de Somerville had vowed to support Lyonette de Trevalion's bid to place Prince Baudoin on the throne. Would that he had spoken of it sooner, for it would have saved a great deal of grief. I suppose at the time he thought it was ancient history and would have caused only pain, with his daughter wed to de Somerville's son. He would have been right, too, if not for Melisande.

Whether or not it ever occurred to Marc de Trevalion to suspect de Somerville in her escape, I cannot say. He was not there, at Troyes-le-Mont. He says it did not, and Ghislain believes him. After all, he would have had no reason to suspect Melisande even knew of de Somerville's complicity-save the fact that she is Melisande. It would have been enough for me ... but then, I know her too well. Ysandre accepted his word; I do not know if she believed it. Enough to let it rest, I daresay.

Ysandre held an audience for those L'Agnacite villagers who had followed our company, learning their names, thanking each in person; to each one, she gave a gift, a gold ducat stamped with her image, sewn in a velvet purse with the Courcel insignia. There are cynics who claim she did it out of political expedience, for there was bound to be unrest in L'Agnace with the arrest of its much-loved Duc de Somerville, but I, who had seen the tears in her eyes when they came to join us, knew otherwise.

There was a private ceremony commending the service of the Unforgiven. Ysandre would have done more, for they were deserving-and too, it would aid in restoring the good name of the former Allies of Camlach-but they refused it to a man. I was there, when she gave them her thanks and blessing, and offered prayers for the dead. Ten had died, one in twenty. It had not been an entirely bloodless victory.

"Was it well done, Kushiel's chosen?" Tarren d'Eltoine asked me.

"It was well done, my lord," I replied.

And I thought on old Bianca's foretelling in the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea, and prayed her words held true. I had done as she bid, remembering what they had named me among the Unforgiven. Ten years' peace, she had promised; one, I thought, for every man I sent to his death outside the City of Elua.

Messengers rode out day and night, royal couriers proclaiming the news throughout the realm, laying to rest false rumors and potential uprisings. Ghislain no Trevalion-for so he was called, now, formally adopted into his father-in-law's household-rode to Azzalle, vowing to see a ship across the Straits to carry a letter and full report to Drustan mab Necthana at Bryn Gorrydum. 'Twould be no mean feat, for the winter crossing was dangerous, but no one knew if the rumor had reached Alba's shores and Ysandre feared Drustan might believe her dead. It was a hardship on her to be parted from him at this time.

I felt it keenly, for I had never been more glad to have Joscelin at my side. It had been a bittersweet pain, returning to my charming little house. My kitchen-mistress Eugenie embraced me like a mother and wept over our return; for joy at our safety, and again for sorrow at the loss of Remy and Fortun. We felt their absence deeply there, all of us. I missed hearing Remy's voice lifted in song from unexpected quarters of the house, missed seeing Fortun in the sitting room, dark, steady eyes glancing up from the map of Troyes-le-Mont on which he'd worked so hard. They had been my solace and my comrades, my chevaliers, during those days.

It was hardest of all on Ti-Philippe, who had lost his dearest friends. I offered to release him from my service, after paying him many months' wages in arrears, but he refused.

"Who could I possibly serve after you, my lady?" he asked with a ghost of a smile. "I've enough stories to tell, I won't need spend coin in the wineshops for years to come. Anyway, they wouldn't like it if I did. Phèdre's Boys are loyal, after all."

So I sent him to Montrève to see how my lamentably neglected estate was faring; of course, it was thriving in my absence, under the able care of my seneschal and his wife. But they feted him and made much of him, begging him for news, and it did him a great deal of good to play at being lord of the manor for a time.

There were other, more joyous reunions, of course; Thelesis de Mornay, whom I accounted a dear friend, and my old mentor, Cecilie Laveau-Perrin, whom I loved equally well. It took Cecilie all of a heartbeat's time to assess the change in Joscelin's and my relationship and grasp our hands in hers, glowing with heartfelt approval.

"Oh my dears, you have set aside your differences! Nothing could make me happier."

Joscelin raised his eyebrows, smiling at her with genuine fondness. "Are you a sorceress, my lady Cecilie, to see as much?"

"No, beautiful man." Cecilie patted his cheek affectionately. "I am a Servant of Naamah, who rewards those who serve her true with vision to see what others would hold concealed in their hearts. Remember it well, if ever you are tempted to leave Phèdre again."

"It will not be soon," Joscelin said softly. "That much, I may promise."

We went too to see the Rebbe, Nahum ben Isaac. The number of Yeshuites in the City of Elua had grown thinner; several hundred had departed during the summer months, seeking their destiny in a far northern land. There had been some trouble in the City; not much, for Ysandre had heeded my plea and ordered the young Yeshuite hotbloods to be dealt with gently so long as they were not in clear violation of the law. We were not Serenissimans. No, they had gone voluntarily, and it left the Yeshuite community older and sadder. What the Rebbe feared had come to pass; the Children of Yisra-el were divided.

"I am sorry, Master," I said to the Rebbe, sitting on a stool at his feet.

"So am I, young Phèdre nóDelaunay," he said sadly. "So am I. Adonai alone knows which of us is right, and betimes I pray it is not I." He looked unsmiling at Joscelin. "It is said that in La Serenissima, you put weapons in their hands, apostate, and taught them to fight."

"True words, Father." Joscelin met his gaze, unflinching.

"And yet you have forsaken the path of Yeshua."

Joscelin shook his head. "I do not disdain the teachings of Yeshua, Father. What I have learned, I value greatly. But î am D'Angeline, and Cassiel's chosen. Though it lead to perdition and beyond, I must follow my heart, and not the Mashiach." Reaching into a purse at his belt, he withdrew the khai pendant and held it forth. "Take it, if you will, and return it to she who gave it me. I am not worthy of bearing it."

"Hanna is gone, apostate." The Rebbe's tone was remorseless. "She has gone north, with the others. She would have given her heart to you, would you have accepted it, but you chose your own course instead."

"I didn't know," Joscelin whispered, paling slightly. For all that I loved him, he could be a bit of an idiot about some things. The Rebbe sighed, jerking his bearded chin at the pendant in Joscelin's hand.

"Keep it, then, and remember, how we do injury unwitting to those around us," he said sternly. "You Children of Elua are too quick to forget how the love you invoke may cut like a blade; even you, apostate. Still," he added, smiling faintly, deepset wrinkles about his eyes, "it gladdens my heart to see the both of you alive."

It made Joscelin thoughtful, and I was not sorry for it; I remembered the pain we had dealt each other in those days. How much of it was my doing, I knew full well; I had not forgotten aught that I had undergone in the thetalos. But I had spoken with the Kore, too, and I knew we each of us bear our own careless guilts, too seldom acknowledged.

I saw also Quintilius Rousse in the days after Ysandre's return, for he had been in Marsilikos when my letter arrived, making ready to winter his fleet; instead, he had brought them up the Aviline River to lie some few leagues south of the City, prepared to assail de Somerville's troops by water if necessary, while Roxanne de Mereliot raised an army in Eisande and Siovale. The Royal Admiral was blessedly unchanged, haranguing me mercilessly for the risks I'd taken, and hugging me in a bone-cracking embrace.

"La Serenissima will pay," he said ominously. "See if they don't!"

"My lord Admiral," I wheezed, still trying to catch my breath. "Despite what has happened, La Serenissima continues under the rule of Cesare Stregazza, who has pledged his alliance to Ysandre de la Courcel. It is a delicate situation, and I suspect the Queen might take it amiss if you were to exact vengeance against her orders."

Rousse scowled at me under his brows. "I'd have razed their mother-sodding Arsenal if they'd harmed you, child, make no mistake. Besides, La Serenissima is no friend to us while they hold Melisande Shahrizai in health and comfort-there's that, eh!"

"Yes," I said softly. "There is that."

For it was true, and would remain so; Melisande Shahrizai-Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel-remained alive and well in the custody of the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea. Letters were carried back and forth from the City of Elua and La Serenissima that winter. The wily old Doge professed his great joy at learning that Ysandre had retained sovereignty of the realm, but he pled impotence in light of her repeated requests for Melisande's extradition.

I know, because Ysandre spoke candidly of these matters with me, and I received letters also from Severio Stregazza, and betimes his aunt, Allegra. Always, the news was the same: Melisande remained at the Temple, attended like a queen and seemingly content to continue thusly.

Of her son Imriel, there was no trace.

"How should I proceed, Phèdre?" Ysandre asked me once in a rare moment of frustration. "You tried to warn me against her, and I failed to give credence to your fears. You, who know her best-tell me now what I may expect from Melisande Shahrizai!"

"My lady, I cannot say," I said helplessly, spreading my hands. "Melisande's plans failed, save this last avenue of retreat. If she is content to remain in the Temple-for I think it could hold her no more than Troyes-le-Mont; indeed, a good deal less-it is because whatever further plans she might spin have not yet come to fruition. It is beyond my guessing to know what those might be,"

Ysandre gave me a wry look. "The boy stands in line for my throne. You cannot guess?"

"To guess what is simple," I said, meeting her eyes. "The problem lies in discerning how. I swear to you, my lady, I will maintain every vigilance and report to you aught that I learn. But I make no promise."

"It would be nice," Ysandre said mildly, "if you found the child."

One day I would remember those words with a deep and bitter irony; then, I merely bowed my head, acknowledging my Queen's wishes. I did not offer to return to the Service of Naamah to pursue the search. I had made no decision on that score, and any mind, I didn't think Melisande would involve any current or likely patrons of mine where her son's safety was concerned. I had seen the passion that flashed in her eyes when Ysandre had challenged her care for the babe. No, Melisande would not risk the boy, not even for the sake of our deep-laid game; and if Naamah desired her Servant's return, let her summon me herself.

Thus did the winter pass, and the realm slowly healed from the second shock of betrayal in as many years. Parliament was convened out of season, and a trial held for Percy de Somerville. I had to testify, as did Ti-Philippe, who had heard the words of Phanuel Buonard's widow; the conclusion was foregone, as one of de Somerville's lieutenants had already made a full confession in the military hearings presided over by Barquiel L'Envers. I have heard some dubious comments about the Due L'Envers' method of questioning, but no complaints were filed, and the majority of the army command was exonerated. I held my tongue; Barquiel L'Envers had earned my forbearance. Like his chief lieutenant, Percy de Somerville was convicted of high treason and sentenced to death, given his choice of means. A good soldier to the end, the onetime Royal Commander fell on his sword. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">