Kushiel's Scion

Page 86

It was another letter from Helena Correggio. I walked away to read it. Although there was nothing in it Claudia couldn't have guessed, the words were naked and vulnerable on the page, and it didn't seem right to expose them to other eyes. Despite my denials, she believed I was the belated answer to her prayers; the Bella Donna's son, sent to rescue her in a time of need. As she had before, she begged me in fulsome terms to call upon her.
If I'd thought it would do any good, I would have; but I feared the opposite was true. Betimes, women in the zenana had clung to desperate delusions. Indulging them only made it worse when their delusions were shattered. And they were; they always were. It was another part of why I'd hated Phèdre for so long. She'd held out an impossible ray of hope, and hope killed quicker than despair in that place.
The other part…
Death's Whore.
I shuddered at my memories. But Lucca wasn't Daršanga, and I wasn't sent by Blessed Elua to save anyone. It was just a city under siege, and I was a mortal man struggling to set aside his childish notions of heroism to save his own skin. Still, I thought, it would be cruel to reply with naught but silence. And with luck, on the morrow I would be gone. In time, Helena would find the healing she needed.
"I'd like to send a letter," I said. "Have you the means?"
Claudia inclined her head. "Lucius hasn't begun rationing stationery yet. I'll have paper and an inkpot delivered to your chambers."
I submerged myself in the chilly waters of the unheated bath, scouring away the stench of smoke that clung to my hair and skin. The water wasn't stagnant yet, but it would be before long. Lucca's drinking water came from its deep wells, but the aqueduct fed the baths and fountains, public and private. They'd all be stagnant soon.
Afterward, I scrubbed myself dry and dressed hastily, trying to beat the chill, then sat down and penned a letter to Helena Correggio. It was innocuous and impersonal. Using formal language, I thanked her for the invitation to call on her and tendered my regrets. I offered condolences for her losses and extended my best wishes for happier days to come.
I signed it with my full name.
It felt strange and I felt guilty. I wanted, very much, to get out of Lucca. It wasn't my city and it wasn't my battle. Gilot had already died for it; surely that was enough? There was Lucius and loyalty… but Master Piero had never told us how to answer questions of loyalty when one's boon comrade was possessed by the spirits of the dead. And there was the mystery of Canis, languishing in Lucca's gaol… but I hadn't asked for that, either. If he couldn't be bothered to be honest with me, why should I care?
Anyway, I could do more good outside Lucca's walls than within them. I thought about what Claudia had said. If the Unseen Guild could exert such influence, well and good. If they wanted my allegiance that badly, let them bargain for it on my terms. And if they didn't… when all was said and done, I was a D'Angeline Prince of the Blood and not without influence. For the first time in my life, I might as well use it.
Feeling better, I sealed the letter and gave it a Tadeii servant to deliver.
By the time I had finished, it was late afternoon and Eamonn and Brigitta were awake. The past night's events had cast a pall on their nuptials, but even so, it was clear they had taken Deccus Fulvius' advice. They'd taken happiness where they found it, and I couldn't begrudge them. In the salon of the guest wing, I told them what had transpired earlier today with the D'Angeline delegation.
Brigitta's face lit up when I told them, almost as bright as it had yesterday at her marriage. "You mean we might be free to leave?"
"Might," I said cautiously. Hope kills. "Might."
"Oh, Eamonn!" She kissed him. "You could come to Skaldia!"
"And you to Alba, my heart." He returned her kiss, then settled her head on his shoulder. "What do you reckon the odds, Imri?"
I shook my head. "I've no idea."
He stroked Brigitta's golden hair, and his grey-green eyes were thoughtful. "So who sent an urgent message to the D'Angeline ambassadress in Tiberium?"
Our eyes met over Brigitta's head.
"Does it matter?" I asked. "If it works, does it matter?"
Eamonn shrugged. "Not if it works." Planting a last kiss on Brigitta's temple, he swung himself upright. "Time for patrol!" he said cheerfully. "Mustn't disappoint Gallus Tadius."
After the hectic events of last night, tonight's patrol was mercifully uneventful. We assembled in the central square, and Gallus Tadius addressed us briefly. His mood was somber. He bowed his head and offered a prayer for the dead, speaking stirringly of their sacrifice. In the lowering twilight, his face looked horribly like a mask. I closed my eyes and listened to his words, trying to shut out the vision of the lone conscript treading water in the moat, his face terrified and bewildered. His body, floating, a pair of javelins protruding from his back.
Not my fault. Not my responsibility.
We were given lanterns that night, as it was well and truly too dark to see without them. Eamonn and I traded ours back and forth, taking turns carrying it. Nothing was happening; everything was quiet. We chatted with the sentries atop the wall, who reported that the fields were still smoldering. One could see it at night, they said; the sullen glow of embers. The enemy remained where they were, encamped on the far side of the river. Gone, but within striking distance. The D'Angelines were there, yes, but no word.
So it went, around and around.
At dawn, I went to bed and dreamed of home.
It was another full day before the D'Angeline delegation returned. Every hour that passed seemed to drag into eternity. I was impatient; impatient at waiting, impatient at not knowing, impatient at being trapped in Lucca. The day wore on endlessly. I'd risen after a few hours of sleep and spent my time pacing the city, pestering the sentries for word. There was some activity at the river no one could make out, but the D'Angeline company showed no sign of movement.
Indeed, the only thing of note to occur that day was that I discovered Canis had been released. He was part of a group of conscripts laboring at the entrance of the aqueduct, hauling dirt and stones to reinforce its blockage, Gallus Tadius having determined it was a point of vulnerability. Rising water in the moat was trickling past the broken sluice gates and the millstone. Lucca's walls were too sturdy and well-defended to be easily breached by sappers, but if Valpetra was minded to try, that was the place he'd pick.
Canis sported a few fresh bruises and a red armband, already grimy from his labor. He gave me a covert grin when no one was looking. I had a nearly overpowering urge to grab him by the scruff of the neck and shake the truth out of him. Since it was highly unlikely to work, I merely shook my head at him and kept walking.
At least he was free of the gaol. Whatever else he was about, it was his own doing. I reckoned my conscience was clear on that score.
Another night.
Another endless round of patrolling.
This time, the distant sound of horns awoke me. Either Valpetra was launching a new attack or the D'Angelines were returning. I rolled out of bed and dragged on my boots and sword-belt without bothering to wait for word.
It was the D'Angeline delegation.
Gallus Tadius was already atop the wall engaged in a negotiation with Quentin LeClerc. I couldn't make out what they were saying and the guards wouldn't let me into the gatehouse until it was settled, which drove me half-mad. At length, one took pity on me.
"Your D'Angeline captain wants to enter the city," he said. "Seems he wants to talk to you in person."
Not for anything would Gallus Tadius open the gates of Lucca. It took the better part of an hour, with riders dashing back and forth to various sentry-points, before an accommodation was reached. The sentries confirmed that the bulk of Valpetra's army remained stationed across the river. The cavalry had taken up a position blocking the road almost a quarter of a league away. There they remained motionless. Gallus grudgingly agreed to lower a rope ladder and permit Quentin LeClerc and two men into Lucca, provided they came unarmed.
It was a considerable operation since the ladder had to stretch all the way across the moat, and by the time it was pegged into the ground, it was at a difficult angle. All I could hear were shouts and grunting, and a splash when someone fell off. I waited, breathing slowly and forcing myself to a state of composure.
At last, I caught a glimpse of Courcel blue. A pair of guardsmen helped LeClerc and his men atop the wall, while another pair stood by with swords drawn, ready to sever the ropes at the first indication that Valpetra's men were moving or the remainder of LeClerc's men attempted to scale the ladder. After the assault on the gatehouse, they weren't taking any chances.
But neither thing happened. The ladders was retrieved safely and LeClerc and his men were escorted through the tower and into the gatehouse square where I waited. All three of them bowed deeply. One was the embassy guard from before, the one who had remembered my stinking satchel of incense. None of them looked happy.
My heart sank. "He refused?"
"Not exactly." Quentin LeClerc glanced over at Gallus Tadius, who was lounging against the wall, arms folded over his chest. He was flanked by a pair of city guards. Their crossbows were cocked, and while they weren't aimed at the D'Angelines, the warning was clear. "Must we do this in public?"
I shrugged. "It's his city."
"So be it." LeClerc drew a deep breath. "Domenico Martelli, the Duke of Valpetra, maintains that his claim to Lucca is valid by right of marriage. He is willing to grant your highness mercy and allow you to leave… for a price."
"That's all?" I laughed, buoyant with relief. "Name of Elua, man! Why didn't you say so? Whatever it is, whatever markers Lady Denise has to call in to pay it, I'm sure the Queen will see her compensated. What does he want, the moon and stars?"
"No." He pointed. "Your left hand."
Chapter Fifty-Six
In the end, Gallus Tadius decided that LeClerc was in earnest and three unarmed D'Angelines represented no threat to Lucca, and allowed us to retreat to the villa for further discussion. We met in the grand salon, where the others might hear and give their counsel, for there were other issues at stake.
But in the matter of me, it was simple; Valpetra was adamant.
My hand, or nothing.
That was why the cavalry was waiting on the road. Once they'd severed my left hand, they'd allow me to pass. And once it was done, they'd return to Valpetra with their grisly token.
"I'm sorry, your highness." Quentin LeClerc's voice was strained. "I argued through two nights and a day with him, but he wouldn't hear reason. Not on this point." He took a sip of water. "He's a little mad, I think."
Claudia Fulvia leaned forward. "And the condottiere, Silvanus? He owes no allegiance to Valpetra beyond whatever spoils he and his men have been promised. Can he not be bribed?"
He shook his head. "My lady, believe me, I tried. He means to stand by the Duke until Lucca falls. They're all mad for war, and I don't quite know why." He glanced uneasily at the cup he held. "Something in the water, mayhap?"
None of us laughed. "What of the others?" I asked.
"Ah." LeClerc's expression eased. He cleared his throat and lifted his cup to his lips, then set it down untouched. "Yes. A touch of sanity, here. Valpetra's willing to barter, or at least Silvanus is and the Duke allowed it. They're willing to grant you"—he nodded at Deccus, Claudia, Brigitta, and Eamonn—"safe passage in exchange for the release of four of Silvanus' men."
"Excellent," Deccus said wryly. "All we have to do is convince Gallus Tadius."
"Lucius would do it," Claudia observed.
"Aye, but Lucius…" Eamonn sighed. LeClerc and his men looked at us with utter bewilderment. I explained to them about the mundus manes, the lemures, and the death-mask. It sounded mad when I said it, and they looked scarce less bewildered when I was done. Mayhap it was something in the water.
"Well, it's worth a try," Claudia murmured. "We'll speak to him. He seems to respect Deccus, and I was his sister, once. Or perhaps Mother can reach him." Her face was troubled. "I don't like to leave her."
"They'll only grant safe passage for a direct exchange," Quentin LeClerc said apologetically. "Four for four, and no Luccan citizens. I'm sorry, my lady." He gave her a halfhearted smile. "You're lucky to be Tiberian by marriage. I wouldn't mention your family ties if I were you."
Four for four…
I swore, remembering. "One's dead," I said grimly. "One of Silvanus' men. There are only three."
The others exchanged glances.
"I'll stay." Deccus Fulvius spoke without hesitation, taking Claudia's hand. "Let the young people go. It's not their battle. You know who to see in Tiberium, who to speak to?"
She nodded, still troubled.
"What about Imriel?" Eamonn asked.
Quentin LeClerc cleared his throat again. "Terre d'Ange will act, of course! Make no mistake. Only I fear it will take time. Our presence in Caerdicca Unitas is thin, and Lady Fleurais will have to rely on diplomacy to raise a sufficient force of allies."
"Hire a condottiere," I suggested.
"Yes." His eyes were a trifle glazed. "One such as Gallus Tadius would be ideal." He gave himself a shake. "We will act," he said firmly.
"But any course we take will take some time. The choice is yours, your highness."