Kushiel's Mercy (47 page)

“Call me Imriel,” I said wryly. “We’ve been lovers.”

Sunjata’s dark skin flushed darker. “I have something for you,” he said, rising and going to his own bedchamber. He returned with the trunk I’d brought from Cythera, the one inscribed with his name. “These are yours.”

I was just opening the trunk as Kratos stumbled from the servant’s chamber, yawning and scratching himself. “What’s all this?” he asked as I withdrew a pair of fawn-colored woolen breeches.

“My things,” I said. Beneath the few items of clothing I’d brought on my flight lay the rest. My sword and dagger, my rhinoceros-hide sword-belt, shiny with wear. A purse with nothing in it but a polished stone with a hole in the middle that I carried for luck and remembrance. My eyes stung. “Kratos, my friend, it seems I’m not who I thought I was.”

“Oh?” Kratos rubbed his stubbled chin. “Who are you, then?”

“Imriel,” I said, withdrawing the vambraces Dorelei had given me, engraved with the image of the Black Boar of the Cullach Gorrym. A golden torc. “Imriel nó Montrève de la Courcel.”

Kratos stared. “Has he lost his wits?” he asked Sunjata.

“No,” Sunjata said. “Found them.”

I stood and drew my sword. It rang faintly. It was a well-tempered blade, longer and heavier than anything Leander Maignard had owned. I moved softly through the first few forms of the hours. “Sunjata, how much of Leander’s attire must I wear to preserve the semblance?”

“At a guess?” He shrugged. “The more you can manage, the better. Once someone’s seen you as Leander, they won’t
unsee
you, not unless you remove everything of his. But I wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks.”

“All right.” I sheathed the blade. Kratos was still gaping at me. “Is that why you came back?” I asked Sunjata. “For this moment?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I owed you that much.”

I nodded. “You should go now, Sunjata. I’m going to have to act quickly. And I’ll need Captain Deimos’ ship. Can you arrange passage back to Carthage elsewhere?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, there are ships carrying information and supplies between old Carthage and new. It should be no trouble.”

“Good.” I turned to Kratos. “My friend, you ought to go with him. I’ll give you money to book passage to Cythera from thence.” I smiled. “I suspect my lady mother will find you a joy and a delight the likes of which she hasn’t known since a clever and fearless fellow named Canis was in her service.”

Kratos closed his mouth with an audible click, then blinked a few times. “Why are you dismissing me, my lord?” he asked in bewilderment.

I laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve been a better ally than I could ever have dreamed. I ask for no more. The risks I’ve taken thus far are nothing compared to the ones I mean to take.”

“Huh.” Kratos scratched his chin again. “That’s some well-sounding noble folly, my lord. You prepared to risk yon golden-haired princess’ life for it?”

I hesitated.

“Didn’t think so.” A complacent smile spread over his homely features. “By all the gods, why shouldn’t I stay? Whoever you are, you’re an interesting fellow. What do you need me to do?”

“You’re sure of this?” I asked in a hard voice.

Kratos’ heavy shoulders moved in a shrug. “I said it, didn’t I?”

I paced the room, thinking. “More than anything, I need a way out of the palace that’s lightly guarded. Do you reckon you might find one?”

He laughed. “Oh, aye! I reckon.”

I closed my eyes briefly, thinking back on that day in the slave-market. The Aragonian boy with the curly hair and the stricken face. So much depended on this: his life, the lives of so many others. Not just mine, not just Sidonie’s. More than the fate of even Terre d’Ange hung in the balance. Blessed Elua had guided my hand—or Leander’s—the day I’d chosen Kratos. And he was right. If I didn’t want to bring this all crashing down on our heads, I couldn’t afford to be soft-hearted.

“My thanks, Kratos,” I said. An unexpected yawn overtook me. “I need to take a few hours of sleep. Will you wake me around midday?”

“Will you explain all this when I do?” he retorted.

“I will,” I promised.

With that, I took to my own chamber and fell onto the bed, exhausted in mind and body alike. I fell asleep almost instantly and slept like the dead until Kratos shook me awake. It felt like no time at all had passed, but the room was filled with afternoon sunlight.

“It’s later than I asked,” I commented, shaking myself awake.

“Aye.” Kratos’ face was grave. “I reckoned you needed it. And the eunuch saved you some time. He explained it all to me.” He gave a short, wondering laugh. “Never thought to find myself living something out of a bard’s tale.”

“No?” I rubbed my eyes. “Well, let’s just hope we live to hear the end of it, my friend.”

Accompanied by Kratos, I made my way to the inn near the harbor where Captain Deimos and his men were lodging. Since the army had left, the inn was empty save for their presence. I bought a jug of wine and met with Deimos at an isolated table while Kratos stood watch. There, I told the captain that I needed him to ready the ship to sail on a moment’s notice.

“To Carthage?” Deimos asked.

I shook my head. “Marsilikos.”

The captain was no fool. “That’s a damned dangerous passage this time of year, my lord, even if we hug the coast all the way. Is it necessary?”

“It will be,” I said.

Deimos eyed me. “What are you asking me to do?”

“Right now, better you don’t know the details. If you’re asking if it’s dangerous, yes. And if you’re not willing to do it, tell me now, Deimos. I’ll not hold it against you.” I touched the hilt of my sword. “But I swear to Blessed Elua, if you turn against me at the last minute, I’ll make sure killing you is the last thing I do.”

His mouth twisted. “Do you know, Ptolemy Solon made me swear a binding oath that I’d render you any assistance you asked. I wondered why the old ape was being so adamant.”

“Will you do it?” I asked. “I promise you, if you do, Terre d’Ange will reward you beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I’m not an oath-breaker,” Deimos said curtly. “You don’t need to bribe me. The ship will be ready by tomorrow.”

“Good man,” I said, sighing inwardly with relief. What I would have done if Deimos had refused, I couldn’t say. Sunjata had been right about one thing. I was indeed lucky that my mother loved me.

After the harbor, Kratos and I stopped at the bath-house. It felt strange and empty without the presence of scores of soldiers, and I felt acutely self-conscious as I stripped. I’d done it a dozen times without even thinking. Today, it was different. I could hear the faint echo of Ptolemy Solon’s voice in my memory, a pinch at my earlobes.
Surely they will serve as a last line of defense against the perils of nudity
.

Elua have mercy, what an insane risk.

I washed and dressed quickly, feeling safer once I was clad. Back in my chambers at the palace, I sorted through my things, trying to decide how much risk I
was
willing to take. I needed to prove myself to Sidonie, but I had a feeling that if the first thing I did was strip mother-naked in front of her, it would strain her fragile trust. In the end, I donned a pair of my own breeches and underclothes, but everything else I wore was Leander’s.

Sunjata had been gone, but he returned before nightfall. I admitted him when he knocked on the door of my chamber.

“I’m sailing for Carthage on the morrow,” he said directly. “I’ve come to bid you farewell.”

“My thanks.” I put out my hand. “Be safe, Sunjata.”

He paused, then clasped it. “And you. Be careful, my lord. Don’t forget that you still need to wear Leander’s mask for a time, at least in public.” He gave me his wry smile. “A little less . . . intensity . . . mayhap.”

I nodded. “Duly noted.”

Sunjata’s smile turned wistful. “I wish you luck.”

At that moment, Kratos’ voice came from the far chamber, informing me that the physician had sent for me to attend the princess.

“My thanks,” I said to Sunjata a second time. I rummaged in my trunk and found my gold-knotted ring, sliding it on my finger and turning it inward to hide it. My heart began beating faster with a mix of hope and fear. I sensed it would be a long time before it slowed. “I fear I’m going to need it.”

With that, I went to Sidonie.

Fourty-Six

I
n Sidonie’s bedchamber, we reenacted the same ritual as the previous evening, only with considerably less drama. She drank the sleeping draught without protest, seeming weary and defeated. It wasn’t until the physician Girom withdrew and closed the door that her demeanor changed.

“You can’t stay long,” she warned me.

“I know.” I took a deep breath. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can. Forgive me if it sounds—”

“No.” Her lips curved in a faint, tired smile. “I made the guards drink a toast to Astegal’s health when Girom went to fetch you. If his infernal draughts are half as effective as he claims, they’ll be sleeping in minutes. You’ve got to dispatch Girom before it happens.”

I stared at her. “You are a wonderment.”

Her slender shoulders moved in a shrug. “Desperation provides all manner of inspiration.”

So it was that I waited quietly for only a few moments before going to inform the physician that she slept.

“So soon?” Girom remarked in surprise.

I spread my hands. “Gods, man, can you blame the lass? She’s worn to the bone with fear and loneliness. My lord Astegal would have been kinder to leave her in Carthage until Aragonia was truly settled.”

He sighed. “Yes, well, Astegal wants his heir. I pray that’s the cause of her highness’ uncertain moods.”

One of the Amazigh was already blinking conspicuously. “Well, whatever it is, I pray her highness calms soon,” I said, sinking cross-legged to take up my post before her door. I forced a yawn. “I’ll sleep better in my own bed. Go on. I’ll send word if there’s any difficulty.”

Girom took his leave.

I waited.

After a muttered exchange, the blinking Amazigh stretched out on the couch. He was snoring within minutes. The other fellow was bigger. It took longer for the draught to affect him. I watched out of the corner of my eye, praying the draught Sidonie had poured into their wine had been large enough for both of them.

It had been. He paced for a while, shaking his head. Then he sat in a chair, as though thinking a few minutes’ rest would refresh him. It wasn’t long before his body grew slack and relaxed, head tilted back.

I got to my feet and crossed the room quietly. I shook first one, then the other of the Amazigh. Neither man woke.

I opened the door to Sidonie’s chamber. She was sitting on her bed, watching the door fixedly. I entered and closed it behind me.

“So,” she said. “Tell me about this spell.”

There was a mirror above a dressing table on the opposite wall. I glanced involuntarily at it and saw Leander Maignard’s face return my gaze. It gave me a shiver. I hadn’t known until that moment what I’d see; but of course, the semblance hadn’t been broken for me.

“There were three spells,” I began slowly. “The first one bound everyone in the City of Elua the night the Carthaginian horologists displayed their marvel, convincing them that Terre d’Ange and Carthage were allies, and that you had consented to wed Astegal. It binds them still, but only those who were in the city. The last I heard, Terre d’Ange was on the verge of civil war.”

Sidonie’s face paled. “And the second?”

“The first spell holds only on D’Angeline soil. The second one bound you to Astegal and convinced you that you were in love with him.” I twisted the ring on my finger and showed it to her. “This was half of it. It . . . you gave it to me, Sidonie. It was a love-token.” I saw doubt in her eyes and hurried onward. “It doesn’t matter. You do know the ring, yes?”

She nodded. “Astegal always wore it.”

“He still thinks he does,” I said. “But a few days ago, the day you took it into your head to call on Roderico de Aragon, I arranged to have it exchanged for a copy. And something changed in you that day, didn’t it?”

“Yes.” Sidonie looked away, frowning. “It was strange. It was as though I’d been startled out of a daydream. And I thought, why have I been waiting so obediently when I know I could be of use here? So I went to see Roderico . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“And he accused you of betraying Terre d’Ange’s alliance with Aragonia,” I said gently. “That’s when you knew somewhat was truly amiss.”

“Yes.” She looked back at me, her dark eyes wary. “And I was willing to trust you wholly until yesterday.”

“It was the third spell. One wrought by Ptolemy Solon to disguise me so well I didn’t know myself. It was the only way I could safely enter Carthage and find you. Bodeshmun would have seen through a mere semblance.” I licked my lips, which had gone dry. “Sidonie, this one I can prove to you.”

“Then do,” she said.

“I have to take off most of my clothes.” Gods, it sounded mad.

She raised her brows. “Find another method.”

“I can’t.” I shook my head. “The charm’s bound into Leander Maignard’s entire wardrobe. Everything, every stitch of clothing, every gem and bauble. And I think that’s what was done to you. I thought it was just one thing, like Astegal’s ring, but it’s everything. Just like it was with me. Let me show you.”

It seemed to take her forever to weigh the decision. “If you lay a hand on me, I swear to Elua, I’ll scream loud enough to wake the guards.”

“I promise,” I said fervently. “I’ll not move from this spot.”

Sidonie didn’t comment, only watched. I pulled off my boots and stockings, then removed the ruby eardrops and several gaudy rings. I unbraided my hair, dropping the ties atop the pile.

“The breeches are my own.” I undid Leander’s sword-belt and dropped it. “Sunjata had them, along with the rest of my things.”

“The gem-merchant’s assistant?” she inquired.

“Yes.” I untucked my shirt and smiled wryly. “That’s another story. There’s a part of it like to amuse you one day. At any rate, the shirt’s the last of it.”

“And when you remove it—” Sidonie began.