Kushiel's Mercy (49 page)

“So are you,” Sidonie noted.

“I’m free to come and go.” I twined my fingers with hers, thinking. “Is it always at least four Amazigh who escort you?”

“Inside the palace, betimes it’s only one. But outside, yes.” She tilted her head. “Why?” I told her about the Amazigh garb that Ghanim had obtained for me. “It won’t work. Not outside the palace, not after the attack. We’d be stopped.” Sidonie got up and paced the room restlessly, grimacing at the pain of her wounded back. I glanced out the darkened window. Once again, time was dwindling. Soon I’d have to take up my post outside her door. I rose and began cleaning up the mess at the dressing table, gathering the bloodstained rags and ringing them out in the basin. I’d have to take them with me, hidden under my shirt.

“What do you suppose we should do with this?” I asked, reluctantly picking up the ragged disk of skin and flesh marked with the Sarkal insignia.

“Burn it,” Sidonie said briefly.

The brazier was burning low, but the coals flared when I blew on them. I laid the piece of flesh carefully atop them. It seared and sizzled, smelling disconcertingly edible. Sidonie shuddered with disgust, watching it blacken and shrink, her fingers unconsciously rolling and unrolling the sash of her robe.

It gave me an idea.

“Sidonie, did you ever hear the tale of the deposed Menekhetan queen who had herself smuggled before a Tiberian general rolled in a carpet?” I asked.

She stopped and stared at me. “You’re brilliant.”

“No.” I grinned at her. “But between the two of us, we manage to shine fairly brightly, love. If Kratos can find a discreet way out of the palace, I’m willing to sling you over my shoulder and carry you to the harbor.”

“When?” she asked simply.

“Give me a day,” I repeated. “Send for me tomorrow like you did tonight. Don’t risk drugging the guards. A few moments will be long enough to confer.” I glanced at the window. “And I don’t think I ought to stay any longer. The second team of guards will be arriving soon.”

“Tomorrow, then.” Sidonie took a deep breath. “Will you hold me first?” I gathered her into my arms, wishing I never had to let her go. She clung to me, pressing herself hard against me. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” she whispered against my chest. “Imriel, once this is over, I never, ever want us to be parted again.”

“I know,” I murmured against her hair. “Believe me, love, I know.”

Leaving her that night was one of the hardest things I’d done. It felt like I was tearing my heart out of my chest. I had mad fantasies of staying and barricading the door, holding the world at bay; or seizing Sidonie and trying to fight our way clear of New Carthage.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I forced myself to let her go. She clung to me for a few heartbeats longer, then released me. I turned away reluctantly and left.

Outside her bedchamber, the Amazigh were snoring and the fire was burning low in the hearth. I stirred the fire back to life and laid another log on it, then took up my post outside Sidonie’s door. There I sat, trying to contain the storms of emotion churning in my heart, trying to remember how to be Leander Maignard.

It wasn’t long before fresh guards came to relieve the others. They startled at the sight of their sleeping fellows, then shook them awake after a hushed exchange and several darting glances my way. The Amazigh woke groggily, but they awoke. There was another hushed conference, this one with a furious undertone, and more anxious looks in my direction.

“You’ve naught to fear on my account, lads.” I shifted and stretched as though my limbs were stiff from a long night’s inaction. “Believe me, I’ve been on the receiving end of Lord Bodeshmun’s threats.” I yawned, covering my mouth. “And I do believe I caught a few winks myself. My silence for yours, good fellows?”

“It will not happen again,” one of the new guards said curtly, his Hellene heavily accented.

“I’m sure it won’t,” I agreed.

Well and good, Sidonie was right. The Amazigh might be fiercely loyal, but their personal loyalty was to Astegal. They obeyed Bodeshmun for his sake, but they didn’t do it gladly.

As before, I waited until the chambermaid arrived a little after dawn with her breakfast tray. This time, I knocked on the door for her. Sidonie opened it. Our eyes met, a silent spark passing between us. But if nothing else, we’d had a good deal of practice dissembling together in public.

“Good morning, my lady,” I said. “Did you rest well?”

“Well enough,” she said. “Once again, I thank you for your kindness, Messire Maignard.”

I bowed. “It is an honor, your highness.”

I lingered long enough to watch her turn and walk back into her chamber. I’d carved a divot of flesh out of her back, and I knew she was hurting badly. It didn’t show, not in the slightest.

That was my girl.

After what was surely the longest night of my life, I made my way to my own chambers. I was so exhausted as I was descending the tower stairs, I barely heard the deep rumble of Bodeshmun’s voice in time. My pulse leapt like a startled hare, and I plastered myself against the inner wall of the stairwell. There I froze, praying like hell that Bodeshmun wasn’t headed for the stairs.

He wasn’t.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pass below me, his black robes swirling as he addressed Lord Gillimas. And for the first time, the thought occurred to me that it would be infinitely easier to get Sidonie out of New Carthage if we ignored the business of Bodeshmun and the talisman altogether.

Of course, that would leave a dangerous enemy at our backs.

And Terre d’Ange in chaos.

I made it the rest of the way without event. In my chambers, I found Sunjata had already departed, and Kratos was all smiles.

“Good news, my lord,” he said in greeting. “I think I’ve found your passage. Will you see it?”

“Later.” I sat heavily on the couch and shrugged out of my shirt. A damp wad of bloodstained rags fell out.

Kratos’ eyes bulged. “What in the name of all the gods have you been up to?”

I yawned. “’Tis a long story. My thanks for your good work, though.” I pried off my boots. “Let me sleep a few hours and I’ll tell you everything,” I promised, peeling off my stockings. “My head hurts, and I’m perishing tired.”

Kratos didn’t answer.

I glanced up at him and cursed myself. Kratos simply stared at me, his lips working soundlessly. I’d taken off Leander’s shirt, boots, and stockings. His rings, ruby eardrops, and the ties that bound his braids were in the pocket of my breeches.
My
breeches. I’d pocketed the items without thinking, more worried about cleaning the bloody mess in Sidonie’s chamber.

“You’re . . .” Kratos stammered at last. “You’re . . .”

“Imriel de la Courcel,” I said quietly, rising. “Well met. Forgive me, Kratos. That was careless of me, very careless.”

He stared blankly past the hand I extended. “I know what the eunuch said, but . . .”

I nodded. “It’s a shock. I know. I apologize.”

Kratos shook himself all over like a wet dog. “You understate the case considerably, my lord.” He did clasp my hand then, peering at my face in wonder. “You do have a bit of the look of him. Leander. Only . . . different. A lot different, somehow.” He gave a short laugh. “I’ll wager you’re a fellow knows how to wrestle. Bears, by the look of it.”

“That, my friend, is truer than you know.” I released his hand. “Give me a few hours, and we’ll talk.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Kratos said with uncommon deference in his voice.

I took to my bed and dreamed of Sidonie.

Fourty-Eight

K
ratos gave a subtle nod as we strolled past the heavy wooden door to the cellar where kegs of wine and ale were stored. The guard posted at the corner of the corridor stared straight ahead, incurious. I glanced to my left and saw the narrow servants’ stair that led to the second floor. We kept walking, circling around and returning to our chambers.

“So,” I said. “One guard.”

“Not bad, eh?” Kratos grinned.

“Not bad at all, my friend,” I said. “Are you sure the outer door to the wine cellar isn’t guarded?”

“Oh, aye.” He nodded. “Except when they’re taking deliveries, it’s kept locked tight from the inside.”

There was no outer defense wall around the palace in New Carthage, only roving patrols of Astegal’s men tasked with keeping order in the streets of the city. The guards at the palace doors might question a lone Amazigh leaving in the small hours of the night with a rolled carpet slung over his shoulder. But out on the street, it would be a different matter. Elua knows what manner of errand Bodeshmun might have devised.

“Well done.” I clapped Kratos on the shoulder. “Does anyone suspect you?”

He grinned again. “Only of being a wine-sot looking to steal a way into the cellar.”

It could be done, I thought. And it would be a hell of a lot easier if Sidonie simply coaxed her guards into drinking another drugged toast. Then all I’d have to do was wait for them to fall asleep and spirit her out of her chambers. There was still the guard in the hallway to dispatch, but I’d be able to take him by surprise. Once I got Sidonie safely away, we could flee to Terre d’Ange to seek aid from whatever army Barquiel L’Envers had mustered. And there was Alba, too. Surely our combined forces would suffice to join Serafin’s Aragonian rebels and defeat Carthage. Then we could deal with the spell.

That night, I proposed the idea to Sidonie.

She looked at me like I was mad. “No.”

“Love, consider it!” I pleaded. “It’s a lot less dangerous.”

“For who?” Her brows shot up. “Us, yes. But how many hundreds or thousands of men would have to die before we got this close to Bodeshmun again? And who knows what manner of dire spell he might devise in the meantime? No.” Sidonie shook her head. “Believe me, I don’t harbor any romantic ideas about sacrificing myself for the good of the realm. But I couldn’t live with myself if we didn’t try, Imriel.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” I murmured. “All right. Tomorrow, then. It’s only going to get more dangerous the longer we wait. Go to Bodeshmun as late as possible. I’ll have Kratos keep watch after the dinner hour. It would help if you can convince the guards only one needs escort you.”

“The other will grow suspicious when we don’t return,” Sidonie observed.

“I know.” I nodded. “I’ll take care of him, too. But it will be easier to take them one at a time.”

“Can you?” she asked.

I understood the question. I’d killed men before in self-defense. This would be different. If I were quick and lucky, it would be outright murder. “Yes.”

“Good.” She was pale, but her face was resolute. “You’d best go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nodded again. “If things go awry—”

“Just know I love you,” Sidonie finished the thought for me. “Always.”

There wasn’t anything else to say. I kissed her quickly and left to take up my post outside her door, fearful that if I lingered, it would be too agonizing to part. I didn’t have to explain it to Sidonie. She understood.

That night, it was I who dozed under the watchful eyes of her Amazigh guards, my head propped against Sidonie’s door. I’d kept their secret, so I reckoned they’d keep mine. And I would need every ounce of energy I could hoard to make it through the following night.

In the morning, Sidonie and I went through our cordial routine, both of us achingly aware that it could be the last time we saw one another alive. And then I took my leave of her once more, feeling lightheaded and hollow, as though I’d left the better part of myself in her keeping.

I went to the harbor to inform Captain Deimos that we would be sailing on the morrow, as early as was humanly possible. He heard me out in laconic silence until I finished. “Care to tell me what this is about?”

I glanced over at Kratos, who was keeping watch. No one else was in earshot. Even so, I lowered my voice further. “Rescuing the heir to Terre d’Ange.”

Deimos stared at me, a muscle in his cheek twitching. “From what I hear, the lady in question has no wish to be rescued.”

“Your information is wrong,” I said. “Ptolemy Solon sent me to break the spell that bound her to Astegal. It’s done. Now we’re both in danger. So I will ask you one last time, will you do this or not?”

His look turned hard. “I told you, I’m no oath-breaker. But I won’t sail until I hear it from her own lips.”

I nodded. “Done.”

After that, there wasn’t much to be done except wait. I sent Kratos to procure clean bandages and a healing salve at an out-of-the-way chirurgeon’s shop, worried about Sidonie’s injury. I mixed grease and ashes from the hearth, testing it on the skin of my hands, until I had obtained a mixture that darkened my skin enough to permit me to pass as Amazigh, at least on brief, dimly lit inspection. I practiced tying the head-scarf and swathing my features. I practiced telling the hours. I packed the few items that mattered to me into a single trunk. I tried to sleep, and failed.

Waiting was always maddening, and this time it was compounded by a sense of helplessness. That day dragged onward like no other I could remember. But at last the daylight began to fade. Kratos and I dined in our quarters. I hadn’t dared risk a meal in the great hall since I’d known myself. Astegal, with his eternal revels, would have noticed my absence; luckily, Bodeshmun hadn’t cared to continue the tradition.

Once we’d finished, I dispatched Kratos to keep an eye on Sidonie’s door. This was the first step in our end of the plan, and the most dangerous one for him. Her quarters and Bodeshmun’s were both on the second story of the palace; ours were on the ground floor. There was no reason for Kratos to be lingering upstairs, but he had assured me he could manage it, and I had to trust him. I simply couldn’t do everything myself.

I darkened my face and hands, donned my Amazigh garb over enough of Leander Maignard’s clothing to maintain both guises.

An hour passed, and then another.

I was beginning to feel a quiet sense of panic rising when Kratos finally returned, red-faced and panting so hard he could barely speak.

“What’s wrong?” I asked sharply.