Kushiel’s Dart

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Delaunay wasted no time, dispatching me on the errand that very day. D’Essoms had quarters in the Palace in addition to his house in the City, and I had met him there before-it pleased him, at times, to flaunt me under the noses of his peers-but I had never sought him out. I had never sought out any of my patrons, and it was strange to be doing so.

In the coach, Joscelin was as silent as Guy had ever been, but a good deal more noticeable despite his subdued Cassiline attire. That he despised me, I had no doubt. Resentment at the role into which he had been forced shouted from every line of his body, glared from his summer-blue eyes. I did my best to ignore him, having considerably more important matters on my mind than his impaired dignity, but it wasn’t easy.

We made a strange couple, entering the west wing of the Palace. I wore the sangoire cloak over my gown-a modest one of brown velvet-and had my hair caught up in a black mesh caul, but I might as well have come tumbled straight from the bedchamber. Next to Joscelin’s solemn height, ashen garb and plain steel vambraces, everything about me cried Servant of Naamah. I tried to determine if he had ever been in the royal Palace before, and failed. If he was overwhelmed by its majesty and its bustle, he didn’t let it show.

At d’Essoms' quarters, the servant who answered the door recognized me and took a step back, startled. I saw his gaze slide sideways to take in the presence of a Cassiline Brother beside me.

"My lady Phèdre nó Delaunay," he said, collecting himself and bowing. I held no title, but I was of Delaunay’s household, and servants found it best to err on the side of caution. I owed that respect to Guy, I thought, and grieved for him. "My lord d’Essoms is not expecting you," d’Essom’s man said cautiously.

"Yes, I know." Joscelin Verreuil would be no help in a matter of protocol; I wrapped the sangoire cloak around me and summoned what dignity I could, raising my chin. "Will you send to Lord d’Essoms, and ask if he might spare a moment of his time for me?"

"Yes, of course, my lady." He hastened to usher us into the antechamber. "If you will be seated…?"

I took a seat gracefully, as if I did this sort of thing every day. Joscelin followed without a word and remained standing, at ease in the Cassiline manner, which consisted of a relaxed stance, arms crossed low, hands resting on the hilts of his daggers. I tried to catch his eye, but he gazed straight ahead, scanning the antechamber imperceptibly for danger.

In a short while, Childric d’Essoms entered with two men-at-arms in attendance, a curious look on his face. Seeing me, he halted. "Phèdre. What is it?"

I rose only to sink into a low curtsy, holding it until he gestured impatiently at me.

"I’ve no time for games," he said. "What brings you here? Is it Delaunay?"

"Yes, my lord." I straightened. "May I speak to you in private?"

D’Essoms glanced at Joscelin, who stood impassively and looked at nothing. D’Essoms' brows rose a fraction. "Yes, I suppose you may. Come with me."

I followed as he beckoned, and his men stood back and fell in behind me, cutting off Joscelin’s route.

"My lord." The Cassiline Brother’s voice was quiet and even, but it held a tone that stopped even d’Essoms in his tracks. He turned around and looked back. Joscelin gave his formal bow. "I have sworn an oath."

"Oaths." Childric d’Essoms' face twisted at the word. "I suppose you have. Accompany her if you must, Cassiline."

Another bow-how someone so rigid could make obeisance look as fluid as a river-bend, I will never know-and Joscelin stepped to my side. We retired, the five of us, to d’Essoms' receiving room. He took his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests, waiting, watching me with his hawklike gaze. Knowing better than to presume, I remained standing. His men-at-arms flanked him, hands hovering conspicuously over their sword-hilts.

"My lord d’Essoms." Uttering the words, I sank down to kneel, abeyante. It was engrained in me as deeply as Joscelin Verreuil’s Cassiline watchfulness. "My lord Delaunay sends me to beg a boon."

"A boon? Delaunay?" D’Essoms eyebrows rose to full arch, all the more marked by the way his taut braid drew back the dark hair from his face. "What does he want of me?"

One sentence, and he would know. I clasped my hands together and fought back another shiver, thankful of Joscelin’s grey-clad legs behind my back. "He desires a meeting with Duc Barquiel L’Envers. He asks that you act as go-between in this matter."

I looked up, as I said it; I saw d’Essoms' face change. "How does…?" he began, puzzled. It changed. "You."

Childric d’Essoms was trained to arms, and a skilled hunter besides; still, it took me by surprise, how swiftly he moved. It shouldn’t have, I’d seen from the first the unerring aim with which he toppled the plastinx in Cecilie Laveau-Perrin’s game of kottabos. But I failed to gauge it, and he had me in an instant, back straining beneath his knee, his blade at my throat. I felt it score a fiery line against my skin, and gasped.

"All this time," d’Essoms hissed, "you have played me false. Well, the King maintains his own justice against treachery, and so do I, Phèdre nó Delaunay. There is no contract between us now, and no word you may speak to bind me from acting."

"There is one." From my strained position, I could see Joscelin give his damnable bow; only this time, his daggers flashed free of their sheaths as he gave it. "Cassiel."

Would that I could have seen it clearer. From the far edges of my vision, I saw d’Essom’s men-at-arms step up to the attack. Joscelin moved calmly, and steel glinted in an intricate pattern; he whirled as smoothly as silk, no haste in his motions, and yet the men-at-arms spun away from him like a child’s toys. D’Essoms' gold-hilted dagger came away from my throat as he rose, then Joscelin moved again and it was flying through the air with a ringing sound. D’Essoms shook his hand and cursed. A line of red scored his palm. Joscelin bowed and sheathed his daggers.

"I protect and serve," he said without inflection. "Phèdre nó Delaunay was speaking."

"All right." D’Essoms sank back into his chair, waving his scored hand at his men, who staggered to their feet and fumbled for their blades. The predatory curiosity doubled in d’Essoms' gaze as he watched me collect myself to kneel with some semblance of dignity. "First an anguissette, now this. He’s as real as you are, isn’t he? Anafiel Delaunay is serious indeed, if he’s contracted a Cassiline Brother as your companion. What makes you suppose I serve Barquiel L’Envers?"

"My lord, you spoke of it." I touched my throat unthinking, feeling a trickle of blood. "The night you…the night you took up the poker."

Behind me, I heard Joscelin’s sharp intake of breath. Whatever his training had prepared him for, it was not this. D’Essoms' brows shot up toward his hairline. "You heard that?" he asked, astonishment unfeigned.

From my kneeling position, I stared at him, and the red haze clouded my vision. "My lord d’Essoms, you have known from the first that Anafiel Delaunay fished with interesting bait," I said, citing his own words. "Did you suppose Kushiel’s Dart had no barbs?"

One of the men-at-arms made a sound; I don’t know which. I held d’Essom’s gaze as if my life depended upon it, which perhaps it did. After a moment, he gave a short laugh. "Barbs, yes." His mouth twisted wryly. "I’ve known since that night yours were sunk in me. But these you speak of are Delaunay’s crafting, and not Kushiel’s."

I shook my head. "Delaunay taught me to listen, and cast me on the waters. But what I am, I was born."

D’Essoms sighed and gestured at a chair. "For Elua’s sake, Phèdre, if you would petition me on behalf of a peer, do it seated." I obeyed, and d’Essoms gave his wry smile as he watched Joscelin move to take up his post at my elbow. "Now what does Anafiel Delaunay want with Barquiel L’Envers, and why on earth should the Duc listen to what he has to say?"

"What my lord Delaunay wants, I could not say," I said carefully. "He holds my marque, and I do as he bids; he does not explain himself to me. I know only what he offers."

"Which is?"

It was the only card I held, and I hoped I was playing it wisely. "Delaunay knows who killed the Duc’s sister."

Childric d’Essoms sat unmoving. I could trace the play of his thoughts behind his still gaze. "Why does he not take it to the King?"

"There is no proof."

"Then why should the Duc L’Envers believe him?"

"Because it is true, my lord." I saw as I said it the pattern of Delaunay’s ploy unfolding before me, and gazed at d’Essoms. "By the same token by which I know you serve Barquiel L’Envers, I swear it is true."

"You?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Not I, but by the same token."

"The white-haired boy. It must be." D’Essoms moved restlessly; I sensed rather than saw Joscelin tense, then relax. "Still, they have been enemies a long time, my Duc and your lord. Why would Delaunay…?" I saw the answer come to him, but he bit it off unspoken, gaze moving from me to Joscelin. "Delaunay." He uttered it like a curse, and sighed. "Very well.

My lord the Duc would have my head if I didn’t bring him word of this. I make no promises, but tell Delaunay I will accede to his request. And unless I am mistaken, the Duc will wish to hear what he has to say."

"Yes, my lord," I said, bowing my head. "Thank you."

"Don’t thank me." D’Essoms rose smoothly; Joscelin shifted, but I motioned him to stillness as d’Essoms approached. He traced the line of my cheek with his knuckles, ignoring the Cassiline. "You will have a great deal to answer for, should I choose to see you again, Phèdre nó Delaunay," d’Essoms said, making a menacing caress of his voice. I shuddered at his touch, half-overcome with desire.

"Yes, my lord," I whispered, turning my head to kiss his knuckles. His hand shifted, closing hard on the back of my neck. Joscelin quivered like an overtight bowstring, unsheathing several inches of steel from his daggers. D’Essoms gave him an amused look.

"Know what it is you serve, Cassiline," he said contemptuously, giving my neck a brief, hard shake. I drew in a sharp breath, not exactly in pain. "You’ll need a strong stomach, if you’re to be companion to an anguissette." Releasing me, d’Essoms stepped back. His men eyed Joscelin warily, but the Cassiline merely bowed, his face like stone. "Tell Delaunay he will hear word," d’Essoms said to the both of us, bored by his own game. "Now get out of my sight."

Escorted by his men-at-arms, we obeyed quickly; indeed, Joscelin couldn’t oblige him quickly enough. The moment the door to d’Essoms' quarters closed behind us, he turned on me, livid with revulsion.

"You call…that," he said savagely, "You call that service to Elua and his Companions? It’s bad enough, what most of your kind do in Naamah’s name, but that…"

"No," I hissed, cutting him off and grabbing his arm. A pair of passing courtiers turned to look. "I call that service to Anafiel Delaunay, who owns my marque," I said in a low tone, "and if it is offensive to you, then I suggest you take it up with your Prefect, who ordered you into the same service. But whatever you do, do not blather it about the halls of the Palace!"

Joscelin’s blue eyes widened and white lines formed at the sides of his nobly-shaped nose. Effortlessly, he pulled his arm free of my grip. "Come on," he said in a tight voice, turning to stride down the hall. I had to hurry to catch him, cursing under my breath.

At least he was easy enough to keep in sight, the dim grey robe of his mandilion coat swinging with the speed of his pace, the hilt of his broadsword rising over his shoulder and the blond hair clubbed at his neck. If we had looked a sight entering together, side by side, I couldn’t imagine how much stranger it looked to have me chasing after him as we left.

"Phèdre!"

A woman’s voice, low and rich, with a hint of laughter in it like music; it was the only one I knew that could stop me in my tracks, my head turning like it was on a string. Melisande Shahrizai stood with two peers just inside an arched doorway. I approached at her beckon, while she bid farewell to the two lords with whom she had been conversing.

"What brings you to the Palace, Phèdre nó Delaunay?" With a smile, she reached out to stroke the scratch d’Essoms' dagger had scored on my throat. "Anafiel’s business, or Naamah’s?"

"My lady," I said, struggling for reserve, "you must ask it of my lord, and not me."

"I shall, when I see him." Melisande ran a fold of my sangoire cloak through her ringers. "Such a beautiful color. I’m glad he found someone who could recreate the old dye. It suits you." She watched me with amusement, as if she could see the pulse quicken in my veins. "I mean to visit, soon. I’ve been in Kusheth, but I heard of your household’s misfortune. Convey my regards to that sweet boy, will you? Alcuin, isn’t it?"

I would bet my marque she had no doubt of his name; the number of people outside Delaunay’s household who even knew of the attack could be numbered on one hand. "I will, my lady, gladly."

Footsteps sounded behind us, quick and sure. I saw Melisande’s graceful brows arch and turned to see Joscelin, frowning. He made a swift bow, and rose with hands resting on his dagger hilts, standing at ease by my right elbow.

Melisande glanced from my face to his, then back again, framing a question. "You?" she asked me, astonished. "The Cassiline Brother serves you?"

I opened my mouth to reply, but Joscelin’s bow and answer came quicker. "I protect and serve," he said flatly.

It was the only time I ever saw Melisande Shahrizai startled into true laughter. It rang from the vaulted roof of the salon, free and spontaneous. "Oh, Anafiel Delaunay," she gasped, gaining composure and wiping her eyes with a lace-edged kerchief. "You priceless man. No wonder…ah, well."

The white lines were back at the sides of Joscelin’s nose and I could nearly hear his teeth grind. As if oblivious to his discomfort, Melisande patted his cheek, then traced a line on his chest with one finger. "It seems the Cassiline Brotherhood has been robbing the Night Court’s cradles," she murmured, regarding him. He stared over her shoulder, the blood rising in a tide to heat his face. "Lucky brethren."

I thought Joscelin might well explode, but he held his stance fixedly and stared into the distance. It is a long discipline, the Cassiline training. Even Melisande Shahrizai couldn’t breach it with a touch. No, it would take somewhat more, I wagered; five minutes, perhaps even ten.

"Well, then." Her eyes sparkled with the aftermath of laughter; a darker blue than Joscelin’s, the starry hue of sapphires. "You will carry my regards to Alcuin, and my everlasting admiration to Delaunay?" I nodded. She had not given me the kiss of greeting, but she kissed me now in farewell, knowing it would set me off-balance with Joscelin watching.

It did.

"Who," he said when she had left us, "is that?"

I cleared my throat. "The Lady Melisande Shahrizai."

"The one who testified against House Trevalion." He continued to gaze after her. I was surprised he knew that much about the affairs of the realm. He shuddered, as if shaking off a spell; I actually sympathized with him, for a moment. "Will you be leaving now?" he asked then, polite and toneless. He had defaulted on his duty once through haste, I thought; it would not happen again.

My feeling of sympathy evaporated.