Kushiel's Chosen (68 page)

And if I thought I'd known pain then, it was naught to this.

I saw my flaws and follies revealed in all their hideous vanity, and the awful cost in mortal lives and pain that had resulted. I knew my soul laid bare and scourged on a rack built of my own deeds. Names and faces, too many to count, for it was not only in this venture, but nigh everything I'd done since I had no title to my name but that of Delaunay's
anguissette.
His man-at-arms Guy, foully mur dered, a murder that might have been prevented had I not kept silent about Alcuin's plans. Alcuin, Alcuin and my lord Delaunay... I choked on the memory, remembering them in a welter of gore, and how I had concealed my slip of the tongue that revealed the depth of Melisande's knowl edge; it might have saved them, had I not been too cowardly to speak, it might have given Delaunay the key to evade a deep-laid plot.

He was there, lying on the cavern floor, his skin cool to the touch, but alive. "Kazan," I whispered, shaking his shoulder. "Kazan, it is not worth the price of madness. Kazan, come with me!"

He moved, one hand groping, feeling along my arm to take my hand and grip it hard, and then the pain Of remembered guilt struck again and his grip bore down on mine, until I could feel the bones in my hand grinding, and I was remembering, remembering ...

This was worse.

After a time, I was no longer aware of specific inci dences of blood-guilt, but only the vast, featureless agony of it. It bore me up and carried me down all at once, and I felt the surge of it in my very bones. A scream gathered at the back of my throat and I locked my jaws on it, thinking, I will not scream, I will not scream, until I was not sure whether I thought it or said it, whether I screamed or not. I saw red in the blackness of the cavern, and Kushiel's face before me, stern and bronze, lips shaping words I could not understand; I thought, if only I could, all would be redeemed, but I could not concentrate for the vastness of my sins. And then it came to me that if only I gave my
signale,
all of this will end, and I heard Melisande's voice telling me as 'much, rich as honey, coming from somewhere beyond the pain ...

... and thought with my last gasp of consciousness,
no!

Yes, I thought, I know that voice; that is the Hierophant of the Temenos. I am on the island of Kriti in the place called Temenos, and I have profaned their mystery.

"Hush. She is waking."

I knew that voice, too. It belonged to Pasiphae Asterius, daughter of the House of Minos, who is called the Kore.

"Here." There was a sound of someone moving, the faint slosh of water, and then I felt my eyes gently bathed with a damp cloth. I opened them, and saw the Kore kneeling beside me, frowning gravely, still clad in her ritual regalia. "Can you speak, Phèdre?"

I wasn't sure. I opened my mouth and tried it. "Yes, my lady."

A war whoop sounded somewhere behind her; loud enough to split the cavern roof, I thought, and surely loud enough to split my skull. And then I was scooped up from the floor where I lay into a vertiginous, bone-rattling em brace by a grinning Kazan Atrabiades.

He did; if he did not know Hellene, he knew what the Kore meant. I wavered unsteadily on my feet, clinging to his sleeve. He was still grinning, and his face was as joyous as a lad's. I moved my head slightly, tested my limbs to see if they yet worked. It seemed they did. The Kore and the Hierophant and a handful of initiates all stood within the sunlit cavern, staring at me with incomprehension in their dark Kritian eyes.

"I understand."

I made the return journey unaided, although the proces sion had to stop many times so I could rest. By light of day, the Kritians—even Pasiphae—looked worn from the ordeal of the ritual; among the initiates, flutes and drums dangled loosely from their hands. They looked at me often, uncertainty in their dark eyes. Only Kazan was exultant with en ergy and high spirits. Whatever had transpired in the cavern, he had come out of it changed.

In the Palace, I was shown to my former chamber and given fish broth and mulled wine to drink. One of the elder initiates remained at my side, and Kazan hovered in the room until she made to chase him away.

"She wants you to leave, Kazan," I informed him; through layers of exhaustion, I was aware of being amused. "I'm supposed to rest. Go speak to Tormos and the others; they're waiting to hear news of you."

"You did." Unexpectedly, he grinned again, showing the gap in his teeth. "And I followed the thread of your voice like Theseú in the labyrinth! Only ...," he sobered, "... only the Kore opened the door for me at the end, and you were left in darkness. Why, I do not know."

"Maybe." He thought about it and shuddered. "Still, I would have died."

"You didn't. And I didn't. Now go and talk to your men." I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the pillows. Through the veils of approaching sleep, I could hear Kazan threatening the initiate with vile consequences if any harm came to me, and her indignant insistence that he leave. Nei ther one understood a word the other was saying, which would have made me smile, if I could, but I was too far away, and presently I heard no more.

All that day and through the night I slept, waking to the light of a new day. The world seemed bright in my eyes, new-washed and clean, all the colors more vivid than I re membered them. Though I was as weak still as a day-old kitten, I felt peaceful and calm. Not long after I had broken my fast, a second initiate came—for I had been watched and tended in shifts while I slept—bearing a summons to see the Kore.

New clothing had been laid out for me, rather finer than before; a gown of saffron with a crimson mantle. I took my care with dressing, settling the mantle about my shoulders, and went to answer Pasiphae's summons.

"Tell me what transpired."

I told her willingly enough, speaking from the small, still core at my center. When I had done, she nodded gravely. "Yes. That is the nature of it, to confront the worst of one's inner self unveiled. It grieves me that I cannot absolve you of these things, and yet..." She shook her head. "The gods keep their silence. It may not be. What you have seen, you carry with you."

"I know," I said softly. "I understand, my lady; truly, I do."

Pasiphae looked at me with compassion. "Understand this, then. It is the darkest truth that is revealed in the cavern of the
thetalos;
the truths we seek to hide from ourselves. That does not mean it is the whole truth, Phèdre."

"No." I considered my answer. "I know that, too. My lady, I saw things in that cavern I would undo, if I could; acts of pride and selfishness I shudder to think on. But others ... who can say? Many have died for my choices; many have not. The Goddess looks out from the past and counts the dead, but she does not number our living."

"Oh ..." Pasiphae's lips curved in a faint smile, "... she does, you may be sure of it. But that tally is never given to us to know. Still and all, it is clear to me that some god's hand is on you in this matter, and I will not intervene, nor gainsay what is done. When you are able to travel, I will give you the aid I promised—a letter of conduct to the Archon of Phaistos, and conveyance to the city. It is only an hour's ride."

"Time is a luxury I do not have." I rolled my shoulders; my body was stiff and sore, but it would serve. "For good or for ill, I am Kushiel's Chosen, my lady."

"A harsh god," she murmured, "and a strange one. Well and so, it shall be as you wish. I will speak to Oeneus, and he shall make the arrangements. Demetrios Asterius is Archon of the city; he is of the Kindred, with a keen eye for trade. You will like him, I think," she added, smiling. "He is high-spirited, but do not be fooled; he is shrewd for all his play. I will commend you to him."

"It would please me, my lady," I answered truthfully. So I knelt to her after all, and she laid her hand upon my head and gave the invocation in her clear voice. I felt the power of it echo in my bones, and knew I had brushed the very heart of a mystery in this place.