Kushiel's Chosen (83 page)

It was true—and yet. I knew beyond doubt that if I lay coiled once more enduring the agonies of the
thetalos,
I would endure the blood-guilt of their deaths. So be it. I had made my choices, knowing full well I must live with the consequences. 'Twas only pain, after all; and who better equipped to bear it than I? Surely, I thought, though it never be given us to know, the tally of the living must outweigh the dead.

Down and down and down went the stairs, growing ever more slippery. Once my heel skidded and I put out a hand to catch myself, finding the walls green with slime, moisture seeping between the solid blocks of stone. We were beneath a city built on water. By the time we reached the floor of the tunnel, the air had grown increasingly dank. The flame of Joscelin's oil lamp guttered, and I felt my lungs working for sustenance. The passage is open at our end, I reminded myself; surely air must be moving in it. Joscelin held up his hand and waited patiently for the flame to steady, growing brighter. Massed behind us, the Illyrians muttered superstitiously, falling silent at Kazan's harsh order.

We proceeded.

I gazed up the stairs, straining eyes and ears, but I could not penetrate the darkness and no sound filtered down to us in the tunnel. "Let me go first and see," I whispered back. "If the priestesses of Asherat are the only danger, I'm best equipped to avoid it."

His face tightened. "And if they're not, you're the worst. I'm coming with you."

Joscelin paused, then gave a curt nod.

"Good." I turned to the others. "Wait here. We'll inves tigate, and send word."

Ti-Philippe let out a sigh of resignation; he knew better than to try talking me out of anything. Kazan frowned. "I do not like it any better than
he
does, I," he said in a low voice, jerking his chin at Joscelin. "That you should walk first into danger, no. Better one of us."

I smiled in the dim, lamplit tunnel. "You named me rightly when you named me a spy, my lord, long ago on Dobrek. This is what I am trained to do. I would no more allow you to go in my place than you would allow me to lead your men in battle."

Someone at the rear—Volos, I thought—offered an Illyrian jest under his breath regarding the nature and extent of my training. I was glad of the dim light hiding my blush, and doubly glad that Joscelin spoke not a word of Illyrian.

As it happens, our stealth on the stair was unnecessary; 'twas sealed at the top with another door. I felt at the slick, mossy wood with both hands and pressed my ear to it, grim acing with distaste. Faintly, very faintly, I could make out the sound of voices beyond, a low, rhythmic chanting.

In the Temple, I thought; not near enough to be immediately on the other side of the door. I tried the handle cau tiously. It was locked, of course.

"The eunuch may have a key." Joscelin spoke at my ear, so quietly his breath scarce stirred my hair.

"And he may not," I murmured in reply, reaching for my brooch. " 'Twill be quicker, this way." I found the lock by touch, working the pin in blindly; it does not matter, for such a task. The faint scratching sound rattled loud in my ears.

"I am sorry," Joscelin said almost inaudibly, "we never found a way to free him."

So he thought of Hyacinthe too.

"Don't say never. We're not dead yet." The lock gave and I held my breath at the thundering clatter, going still and listening.

Below, the Temple was filled with candlelight and the sweet blue smoke of incense. I wormed my way forward to peer down at the sight. Seven women stood before the stone altar and the mighty image of the goddess; seven women clad in robes of flowing blue silk, with silver netting over laying it and shimmering, crystal-strung veils. The one in the center wore a tiara on her unbound hair, with seven diamonds set in starry silver rays. The Priestess of the Crown, I thought, and her six Elect. One had hair as white as milkweed, upraised hands gnarled with age; old Bianca, who had told my fortune true. This would be her balcony from which I espied, then, for surely she was the rightful Oracle.

And which had betrayed their goddess for gold or mortal power? Vespasia, I knew; that was the name of Bianca's successor, who had given the Doge false foretelling. Was she one of the Elect? I had no way of guessing. The Priest ess of the Crown? Mayhap. If not her, it had to be one or more of the Elect. Such risk, such blasphemy, was not un dertaken lightly, without surety of gain. Face-to-face, I might have gauged it; hidden above, I could discern little.

Echo chambers, both of them; Sarae's great-great-aunt Onit had spoken true, too. I had some little knowledge of such things, by virtue of my friendship with Thelesis de Mornay. Each had sounding boards, cunningly set, to conduct the Oracle's voice into the chamber, and thence into the vaulted ceiling of the central dome, magnifying it vastly. A trick, I thought, to pitch one's voice just so; but it could be done in either direction, to the right or left. One held a flexible sheet of bronze, rigged to a mechanism with lever and cogs. This I guessed to be the thunder machine. The Hellenes had such devices of old.

Save for the bronze sheet and some ceremonial items— incensors and the like—the chambers were empty. Satisfied with my inquiry, I withdrew discreetly and slipped through the door to rejoin Joscelin.

" 'Twill suit, for our needs," I said in lowered tones. "It is as Cervianus said; they maintain a vigil below. Let Ti- Philippe join us, and Kazan's Illyrians wait behind this door, on the stair. I'd sooner they were out of the way, and quiet."

"Madder than singing Skaldi hearth-songs to the Master of the Straits?" I whispered back.

"And you," Joscelin whispered against my lips. "And you, my love."

He did, and in short order we were all positioned. With every sense and every nerve on edge, I thought the rustling and creaking and whispering would drive me to distraction, but in truth, they handled it with subtlety. Kazan and his men would wait on the stair, ready to spring into action should need be; Joscelin and Ti-Philippe lurked in the echo chambers, hidden from view to all but me, where I could summon them at a glance.

For my part, I resumed the position I had taken before, lying on my stomach and gazing through the legs of the stool into the Temple below. 'Twas a waiting game, from this point hence.

And wait I did, for yet another seeming eternity, half- lulled by the melodious chanting below. It matters naught, I thought. I have waited, and waited and waited and waited, throughout this long sojourn; waited for information in the City of Elua, waited for events to turn in La Serenissima, waited on my ransom, waited on the
thetalos,
waited on the Archon's answer... for months on end, I had done naught but wait.

I could wait this while longer.

Somewhere, outside, dawn was breaking. I lay hidden, watching as the Temple of Asherat-of-the-Sea scurried to life. Candles were replenished, the incensors refilled, and a great dais of wood brought before the altar in three parts, borne by harried eunuchs. Untouched by it all, the mighty image of Asherat stared forth, hands reaching down to touch the stone-wrought waves.

Somewhere, a ray of light struck Asherat's crown along side the harbor.

I saw sunlight flood into the Temple as the great entrance doors opened in the antechamber; I heard the muted roar of the gathered crowd in the Campo Grande outside. I heard it rise as the procession drew near and the Dogal Guard formed a double line, protest breaking against the wall of shields and spears. I saw the Priestess of the Crown take up her place before the altar, flanked by her chosen, while ac olytes and attendants made ready to receive the royal reti nue.

I saw them enter the Temple.

And there were D'Angelines. Oh yes, there were D'Angelines.