Kushiel's Mercy
Page 41

I met with Maharbal and haggled over the terms of ending my lease of his cousin’s villa earlier than expected. I thanked the steward Anysus for his service and gave him a purse to share amongst the household.
I wrote out letters of manumission as I had promised for my bearers and had them witnessed and stamped by the city official in charge of such matters. I presented them to the lads and asked what they willed.
Ghanim received his letter with fierce joy. Through one of the Carthaginians, he made me to understand that he would be returning to the desert to seek vengeance against the brother who had wronged him. I wished him well. In turn, he uttered a lengthy prayer on my behalf in the Amazigh tongue that no one could translate.
I’d never thought before what a strange thing it was the way lives intersected. I had changed the course of Ghanim’s life, while the only trace of his impact on mine was a blood-stained robe hidden in the depths of my trunks. Passing strange.
The brothers elected to remain in Carthage, working as porters or bearers on the docks. It didn’t surprise me. They were young enough to be resilient. A couple weeks’ worth of a good diet had given them a measure of strength and, more important, hope.
Kratos . . . Kratos was the surprise.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll stay in your service,” he said, pocketing his letter of manumission. “Might be you could use a loyal man.”
I dismissed the others, then studied Kratos’ homely face. “How loyal?”
He shrugged. “I’m not a fool, my lord. Most people don’t see that. You did. I know you’re up to something. But you kept your word. I’ll keep mine. You’re not buying my loyalty this time. I’m giving it freely.”
“Why?” I asked. “You’re the one was clever enough to be concerned about my business being dangerous.”
“True.” A broad smile spread over his face. “Truth be told, I don’t rightly know. I’m curious. You’re not what I took you to be.”
“And what was that?” I inquired.
“A shallow fellow,” Kratos said frankly. “A smooth-tongued politician delighted by his own cleverness. Now . . .” He shrugged again. “I don’t know. You seem different, or mayhap there’s more to you than I gauged. I’m long past my prime. I’ve got nowhere to go, no family left to me. Those lads, the Carthaginian boys . . .” He jerked his thumb at the door. “They’re young. They’ve a chance to build lives for themselves. Might be they’ll succeed; might be they’ll fail. Me, I’m a broken-down wrestler with only a few good working years left in me. Might as well satisfy my curiosity. Good enough?”
I put out my hand. “Good enough.”
Kratos clasped it. “Care to tell me about this danger, my lord?”
“Not yet.” I shook my head. “For the moment, suffice to say that as far as you’re concerned, I’m exactly what you took me to be. And no careless remarks about the princess.” I released his hand and pointed at him. “I meant my threat.”
He grinned at me. “Not so effective now that I’m a freedman, my lord.”
“I don’t think General Astegal’s Amazigh guards will be concerned for such niceties,” I observed. “My lord Bodeshmun has made it clear to me that a similar threat hangs over my head, the mantle of Cythera’s protection notwithstanding.”
“Point taken.” Kratos sobered. “So why is it you’re doing . . . whatever you’re doing?”
I sorted through the reasons I’d once believed. None of them seemed adequate. Sidonie’s face surfaced in my memory, filled with that terrible mixture of fear, vulnerability, strength, and unlikely trust.
“Because I have to,” I said simply.
Kratos nodded. “I understand.”
I laughed. “That, my friend, makes one of us.”
I’d told my bearers that their freedom would take effect the day I sailed. To that end, I called on Captain Deimos and informed him that I required passage to New Carthage. He took the news with equanimity. We discussed the necessary preparations, including dispatching my letter to Ptolemy Solon by some other means. Happily, Deimos knew of an Ephesian merchant-ship that would be making port at Paphos, and promised to arrange for the letter’s delivery.
“What do you know of matters in New Carthage?” I asked him when we’d finished. Sailors always had the best gossip.
Deimos smiled briefly. “On the docks, they’re saying that Astegal’s set himself up like a king there. Every city and village within a hundred leagues is paying tribute and pledging loyalty to him. He’s not going to be content to wear the Council’s yolk for long. Is that what you mean?”
“Indeed,” I said. “What of this rebel, this Serafin?”
“Ah.” Deimos glanced around. “A stubborn fellow with a hopeless cause. I imagine he’ll be crushed in time.”
“No doubt.” I clapped his shoulder. “No doubt.”
As I returned from the harbor, I paid a visit to Jabnit of Philosir, ostensibly to inquire if he had an interest in purchasing a necklace set with rubies and seed-pearls that had been among Ptolemy Solon’s tribute-gifts, an item for which I’d found no suitable recipient. We haggled for a time and drank sweet tea. When I mentioned that I was bound for New Carthage and needed coin more than gems, Jabnit’s eyes lit up.
“At the invitation of the princess!” he exclaimed. “Such an honor. Will you sail under the auspices of the House of Sarkal?”
“No, no.” I sipped my tea. “My lord Ptolemy Solon has vouchsafed me the usage of a ship and crew for as long as I require.” I laughed. “’Tis a great deal of ship for a lone emissary, but his eminence has his foibles!”
Jabnit pressed his hands together, his eyes twinkling. “You know, I have a most excellent idea.”
I listened while he proposed to purchase the necklace for a generous price. In turn, Jabnit asked that I provide passage for his assistant, Sunjata, and once we reached New Carthage, hire out a few of my crew to serve as bodyguards while Sunjata went about the business of acquiring looted gems and jewelry at an advantageous price.
“Think of it!” Jabnit said. “Your men would otherwise be sitting idle in port, spending your wages on dicing and wenching. This way, they will spend my wages. And it is a very short journey between old Carthage and new. If your ship will ferry precious cargo for the House of Philosir, I will give you a percentage of the profits.” He gave me a broad wink. “And I do not think you will mind Sunjata’s company.”
“Not at all.” I smiled at the fat gem-merchant. “What an excellent idea, my lord.”
He chortled. “I knew you were a clever fellow!”
Sunjata was summoned from the rear of the establishment and given the news. He gave me a long, slow smile that could have meant anything. “I’ll make ready to leave at once,” he said to Jabnit. “How very clever it is of you to have conceived of this opportunity.”
Jabnit smiled complacently. “It is, isn’t it?”
Clever. I thought about what Kratos had said of me. He was right, a mere two weeks ago I would have been falling all over myself with inward delight for having arranged this so neatly. Now I was merely relieved to have it done.
How odd.
It was the difference, I supposed, between training and being engaged in the actual practice of the arts of covertcy. They say callow soldiers either become men or die quickly on the battlefield. This was a different field of battle, but the stakes were no less high. I’d never known real danger before. Bored and idle on Cythera, a hawk on a tether, I’d thought to crave danger and excitement.
Now I’d had a surfeit of it.
And then there was Sidonie.
That was the oddest thing of all. I truly hadn’t believed one could form such strong feelings for another in such a short time. It seemed an impossible fancy, a poet’s tale. Now I was awash in emotion, fairly drowning in it.
I sent a letter to notify her that my own plans for travel to New Carthage were in readiness. She sent a reply in short order, confirming the time of departure. A total of six ships would be escorting her to New Carthage, and she invited me to join their small fleet in the interest of safety. I sent a polite reply accepting with thanks, and dispatched Kratos to notify Captain Deimos.
Gods, I wanted to see her.
And it would be worse in New Carthage. I had to prepare myself for that. There was somewhat between us, and I knew Sidonie felt it. That spark of desire when she had touched me. Even when she’d grasped my wrist in fear the day of the hunting party. I could still feel her grip. On my flesh, in my bones.
But time and distance strained the spell, Bodeshmun said. He was convinced that she would forget her fears once she was reunited with Astegal. I wasn’t, not entirely. Bodeshmun saw her as a pawn, not a person. Her curiosity was merely an annoyance to be managed. He hadn’t truly seen the sharp intellect struggling against the magics that bound her thoughts. Beyond whatever purpose she served, he couldn’t have cared less about Sidonie herself. And for that, I was profoundly grateful, because if he had, Bodeshmun might have seen what I did.
Still, it wasn’t likely he was entirely wrong, either. Likely the spell would exert new strength.
And Astegal . . .
I’d have to see her with Astegal, this ambitious Carthaginian general styling himself a king in Aragonia. The man she thought she loved. I would have to witness it and smile pleasantly. The thought was unbelievably galling.
On the night before our departure, I went through my things once more. One of the trunks her ladyship had given me had a false bottom, a standard practice as such things went. It was there that I’d stowed the Amazigh garments and the ring Sunjata had made for me.
I took a moment to study the latter. I hoped to hell it was an accurate copy. Like as not it was. Sunjata had had the original in his possession, and he had an eye for detail trained by her ladyship.
A simple thing, a knot of gold. A love-token. Sidonie had given Prince Imriel the original. I slid the copy on my finger, wondering what it had meant to them. Some bit of girlish folly, I’d assumed when Ptolemy Solon had explained it to me. That seemed a very long time ago, when I’d been a different Leander Maignard, a callow young man still capable of imagining a Sidonie de la Courcel prone to girlish folly.
Lamplight gleamed softly on the gold. I felt a knot tighten in my throat, tighten around my heart. I tightened my hand to a fist.
“Astegal,” I said aloud. “I’m coming for you.”
Thirty-Seven
We departed for New Carthage on a sullen day, the skies grey and cloudy, spitting fitful bouts of rain. I stood beside my borrowed palanquin, watching hired porters carry my trunks onto Captain Deimos’ ship. Everything was packed away, the Amazigh garb and the false ring safely hidden once more.
I’d arrived early, hoping for a glimpse of Sidonie. A glimpse was all I got. I saw her ornate palanquin in the midst of a considerable entourage, flanked by her Amazigh guards. They escorted her aboard the House of Sarkal’s flagship. Her figure was cloaked and hooded against the chilly drizzle.
Still, I knew her.
I knew her by the way she moved, at once controlled and deft. There was a neatness to it, a precise grace. I’d seen it every time she left or entered a room. I’d seen it sitting opposite her, a chess board between us, in the way she had made her choices and moved the pieces.
Oddly, it made me think of the time my father had taken me to see the Cruarch’s entourage pass. They’d had that quality, some of Drustan mab Necthana’s Cruithne warriors. The Cruarch himself had had it. I’d shouted along with all the other children, tossing petals in his path. He’d glanced my way. His eldest daughter had inherited his black eyes, too.
Beside me, Sunjata shivered. “Gods, Leander! You are truly a man besotted.”
I jerked my chin at the ship. “Go aboard, then.”
“I will,” he said, suiting actions to words.
On the flagship, Sidonie vanished from view. On Captain Deimos’ ship, all my things were loaded. There was no more reason to linger on the quay. Kratos waited patiently to accompany me, blinking against the drizzle, his grey-brown hair plastered to his skull. I’d paid one of the porters to take his place at the palanquin, returning it to the villa of Maharbal’s cousin. Once that was done, my briefly held slaves were all freedmen. Ghanim eyed me hungrily, eager to enjoy his freedom and pursue his vengeance.
“Go,” I said gently to them. “May Blessed Elua hold and keep you.”
They went at a swift jog.
I watched them go, wondering. Wondering what had prompted me to speak the words of a blessing I hadn’t uttered since childhood. Wondering what private tale of great and terrible romance Ghanim inhabited. Wondering whether the Carthaginian brothers would turn freedom into success or sink back into abject poverty. Wondering what story the hired porter had to tell. All four of them trotted lightly, carrying the empty palanquin. Soon they were out of sight.
Gone.
I sighed. I had the strangest feeling that I’d been here before, done this before. That there had been too many leavetakings in my short life. It wasn’t true, but I felt it all the same.
Kratos put his hand beneath my elbow, steadying me. “Ready, my lord?”
I gazed at his stolid face. The squashed nose, the shrewd eyes. “Yes.”
He nodded. “Then let’s board.”
As Jabnit had indicated, the journey was a fairly short one. New Carthage was an old name; the port city had been founded by a Carthaginian conqueror before Blessed Elua walked the earth. Aragonia had been part of Carthage’s empire, that was true. And then it had been a Tiberian holding, even as Terre d’Ange itself had been long ago. But Tiberium’s star had set, and like Terre d’Ange, Aragonia had been an independent and sovereign nation for many centuries.