Kushiel's Scion

Page 73

"Someone else," I said. "Someone broke up the throng, enough for Lucius to reach me."
Gilot frowned. "Who?"
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I wish I did. Lucius thought that whoever it was, they killed to do it. I remember hearing cries, and tripping over bodies, too. Gilot." I touched his pale, crabbed sword-hand. "You warded our backs. If you hadn't, we might not have gotten out of the wineshop in one piece. And if you'd begun laying about with your sword"—I shivered—"things would have gotten worse. You were right, the quarter was a tinderbox. There were a great many angry students with torches that night, remember?"
"Joscelin—" he began.
"Joscelin wasn't there!" I took a deep breath, calming myself. "Ah, Gilot! I do it, too. It's hard to measure one's actions against his. But the truth is, we can only do our best. You did, and I'm grateful for it. And I'm sorry you were hurt. But I still need you."
He lifted his broken hand. "For what?"
"I need your loyalty." I held his gaze. "Gilot, I know you. I trust you. Please."
After a moment, he nodded. "For whatever it's worth, I'll stay by your side, Imriel." His mouth twisted. "Not much, I fear. But I'll stay, until you're ready to go home."
"My thanks," I said.
Gilot shrugged.
On the near side of the Tiber, our barge nosed the wharf. I helped Gilot disembark. I would have hired a litter, but I gauged his mood and decided against it. We walked slowly through the streets of Tiberium to the insula.
"So," he said. "There was someone else that night. Who?"
I touched my breast, feeling for the clay medallion that no longer hung there. It was gone, crushed to shards and dust on the floor of Erytheia's atelier. Its secret message was gone. Do no harm, it had read. I thought about Canis who had given it to me. Canis, who had vanished. Canis after the rioting, with a tooth missing and scabs on the knuckles of his left hand. "I don't know," I said. "But my wager's on Canis."
"Canis!" Gilot's head jerked. "Why?"
I shook my head. "I wish I knew."
Chapter Forty-Eight
Two days later, we departed for Lucca.
It was a gay party, or at least to all appearances it was. We were all going—it made little sense for Lucius' friends to travel separately from his family—and so we travelled together.
All of us, including Claudia Fulvia.
Our party united outside the walls of Tiberium a little way along the Via Cassia, the wide road that led to the north. Truth be told, I was in good spirits. The day was bright and the air was crisp. I was attired in my new finery. And I'd had a joyous reunion with the Bastard earlier that morning at the lodging-stable. I'd checked on him from time to time during my studies to ensure that he was well cared for, but I'd had few chances to ride and I suspected the stable-lads hadn't exercised him properly. He was huffing and prancing, nearly bursting out of his spotted hide. I'd been hard put to get him out of the city without injuring anyone. No wonder everyone walked in Tiberium.
At the sight of the road stretching before us, Gilot, atop his rangy bay, actually grinned. "It feels good to ride astride," he called.
I grinned back. "That it does!"
Eamonn and Brigitta were awaiting us at the gate, and the four of us struck out together. We felt young and carefree, travelling lightly, with only two pack-horses between the four of us. The same was not true of Lucius' wedding party, which we overtook easily. It contained a very fine carriage drawn by a pair of matched white horses, several wagons loaded with goods, and a number of mounted outriders.
"Montrève!" Lucius caught sight of us and wheeled his mount. He rode back to meet us. In the brisk air, his satyr's face was aglow. "Prince Barbarus, Lady Brigitta, I'm glad you came. Gilot, how is your hand?"
"All right." Gilot eyed him grudgingly.
"Good." Lucius beckoned. "Come, join us." He led us to meet with his party. We jogged alongside the carriage. "You remember Deccus Fulvius, I trust," he said. "And my sister, Claudia Fulvia."
We all inclined our heads and murmured polite greetings.
It was the first time I'd seen Claudia since I'd ended our affair. She tilted her head, glancing out the carriage window and shading her eyes with one hand as she greeted us. Even in the shadowy depths of the carriage, I could see she was wearing a dress of bronze silk with ribbons laced beneath her breasts. I swallowed at the sight of the deep cleft of her cleavage.
"You remember my friends, Claudia?" Lucius asked.
"Oh, yes," she said.
Our eyes met. I felt a flush of heat that began in my groin and travelled upward. Beads of sweat sprang forth at my hairline, trickling down my temples. Sweat. I remembered the taste of hers all too well. And I hadn't been with a woman, any woman, for weeks. Not since the day after the riots. Not since Claudia.
"Imri." Eamonn touched my arm. "The Bastard looks restless. Shall we have a race to take the edge off?"
"I want to race!" Brigitta said promptly.
"Why not?" Lucius laughed. "Let's all race, shall we? All of Master Piero's loyal disciples." He pointed down the road. "To the tall cypress and back!"
Without waiting, he set heels to his mount; a sturdy black with a pronounced arch to its neck and a tidy gait. It surged forward and the rest of us gave chase, yelling and shouting.
It wasn't much of a race, not really; but then, Eamonn hadn't meant it to be. He'd only proposed it to distract me. His mount fell behind, and then Brigitta's, although she rode well. I held the Bastard back until I passed them. Ahead of us, Lucius reached the cypress and executed a neat turn, grinning as he passed me on the return leg. I had to fight with the Bastard, who wanted to keep going. At the cypress, I fought for control of the reins, guiding him hard with my knees. I was out of the habit, and he managed to spin around twice in a circle. Once I had him pointed in the right direction, I gave him his head and let him go.
He fairly exploded beneath me.
When it comes to breeding horses, the Tsingani know what they are about. The Bastard stretched out his neck and ran like a house afire. His nostrils flared, his striped hooves pounding the old Tiberian road as his forelegs reached and his hindquarters churned. I crouched low over his neck, laughing at Lucius' dismayed expression when we floated past him.
We overshot the party, and I had to wrestle the Bastard into another turn. He acceded at last, prancing and preening all the way back.
"Nice horse, lad!" Deccus Fulvius poked his head out of the carriage. "Would you consider parting with him?"
I shook my head. "No, my lord."
He grunted. "Smart lad."
So our party was established, and we rode to Lucca. We were four days on the road, and the days I learned to endure. It wasn't hard. The days were easy, bright and clear. I was among friends, and I had Gilot at my side, trusted and faithful. Claudia was there, yes, but it was easy to pretend she wasn't, so long as she remained sequestered in the carriage.
It was harder at night.
We stayed at inns along the road to Lucca, and at night we were all there together in the common room, eating and drinking and enjoying Deccus Fulvius' largesse. He was no fool; was investing goodwill in Lucius' future. The prospective Prince of Lucca was a formidable ally for Senator Deccus Fulvius. But ah, Elua! I had to see her, then; be near her. And the truth came home to me: I still wanted her, badly.
It was a mercy that Deccus was there. His presence rendered Claudia's behavior circumspect. She bent most of her attention toward Brigitta, taking the young Skaldi woman beneath her wing, speaking to her of women's affairs. She was kind, which surprised me a little. It shouldn't have. Claudia Fulvia was trained in the arts of covertcy, and she used them.
Kindness could be a means to an end.
Deccus was pleased and magnanimous with it; Lucius was pleased, too. It made him happy to behold his sister's kindness. Eamonn, who knew the truth of my relationship with Claudia, was warier, though I daresay no one but I knew it. And who could say? Mayhap there was something genuine in it.
As for me…
I felt the heat between us.
Always, at night. It was dangerous to share such close quarters. The first three nights, I lay awake long into the night, tossing on my pallet while Gilot slumbered, aware that only a thin wall divided us. I gritted my teeth and thought about Deccus Fulvius, snoring beside his wife, his beard pointed toward heaven, and hoped it would cool my blood.
It didn't.
On the last night ere we reached Lucca, I gave in to my restlessness, rising from my pallet and letting myself out of the room Gilot and I shared. I made my way down to the stable. All the world was sleeping; even the Bastard was dozing in his stall, his head hanging low, one rear leg cocked. I leaned on the stall door, watching his ribcage rise and fall, steady and comforting.
"Imriel."
I turned.
Claudia stood behind me, clad in a dress of russet velvet. She wore a shawl clutched round her shoulders and her hair spilled over it, dark red and abundant. She was shivering a little against the night's chill, and her face looked vulnerable.
"It wasn't just the Guild," she said. "It was never just the Guild."
"I don't believe you," I said.
"It's true." Her gaze was clear and candid. "And seeing you like this is driving me mad. I know, I was angry. I said hurtful things, but I didn't mean them, not really. It seems the Guild accepts your decision. Why does it mean everything has to end between us? There's so little time left."
"We can't do this." I shook my head. "Not under Deccus' nose."
"Why not?" Claudia asked.
I didn't answer and she drew near. Her heat and the scent of her skin surrounded me. I could feel my blood beating in my ears.
"I miss you," she whispered.
I kissed her, then. A part of me cursed myself for a fool, but ah, Elua! It felt glorious. I slid my hands into the dense, silken mass of her hair. Her lips parted under mine, and I kissed her hard and deep. Her full breasts pressed against my chest. I wanted her. I wanted to take her there in the stable with straw in her hair. I wanted to build a seraglio and tie her to the bedposts with silken cords, to make love to her until she begged me to stop.
Instead, I let her go.
"No," I said simply.
She stood, breathing hard, her lips swollen and her eyes dark with desire. "You're sure."
I nodded. "It's not just Deccus. It's Lucius, too. I can't do this on the eve of his wedding." I closed my eyes. "Claudia, if you have any fondness for me, please go. Before I change my mind."
After a moment, the straw rustled. "You men and your silly codes of honor. What does honor have to do with desire?" Her lips brushed my cheek, and her fingertips brushed my aching groin. "I expected something different from a D'Angeline," she whispered. "But I'll go."
She went.
I waited until she was gone, then went outside. I gazed at the distant stars, willing my blood to cool and the ache of desire to subside. It took a long time, and I cursed myself for a fool all over again, then laughed softly and went back into the inn, where I lay sleepless on my pallet until dawn came.
On the morrow, I was glad of my decision. We got an early start. Lucca was a bit less than a half-day's ride away, and Lucius was hoping to reach the city in time for our midday meal. Whatever misgivings he'd had about this marriage seemed to have vanished; or mayhap it was merely gladness at the prospect of returning home.
I had to own, it was beautiful country, marked by green mountains and vast stretches of fertile plains, glowing golden in the autumn light. We had to ascend to a fair height on the last leg of our journey. At one spot, Lucius pointed toward the west, where a castle was nestled in the crags of another distant range. It looked nigh unreachable.
"You see that?" he asked. "Valpetra. The city's on the far side, you can't see it from here. But that's Martelli's stronghold."
"Looks imposing," I offered.
He contemplated it. "It is."
"Is Lucca in the mountains?"
"No." Lucius grinned. "But it's imposing, too, in its own way. Did I tell you the city walls are so vast they grow trees?" I shot him a skeptical look and he laughed. "Come on, you'll see."
I didn't believe him, not until we descended and rounded a curve in the gorge and the plain of Lucca stretched before us. There was the city, walled around with red brick and surrounded by a moat. Smaller villages clustered around its base, and a river glinting to the north with a canal feeding into the city's moat. At first, I still refused to believe, certain that spreading oak-crowns visible above the city walls belonged to trees inside its perimeter. But as we drew near, I realized he spoke the truth. The trees were rooted atop the very walls themselves.
Brigitta frowned, pointing. "What is that?"
"Trees," I said. "Growing from the walls."
She shook her head. "Not the trees. That."
"That's the bell-tower." Lucius followed the line of her pointing finger. "They say that when Gallus Tadius and the Red Scourge descended—" He broke off his sentence.
"Smoke," Eamonn said briefly.
We all saw it, then; a trickle of smoke, rising to blend with the autumn haze, hanging over the city. I felt a feather of foreboding brush me.
Lucius turned pale. "Something's wrong." He rode alongside the carriage, pounding on the door. "Claudia! Deccus! Someone's set fire to the bell-tower."