Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [18]
"Will you tell me Bryony House cannot find a half a dozen suitable clerkships for a trained apprentice?" I asked cynically; everyone knows the financial acumen with which Bryony's adepts are instilled. "I am saying that the system of indenture as it exists is imperfect. It allows legal means whereby an apprentice may become a virtual slave to his or her House."
There was a silence, at that; D'Angelines like to reckon themselves better than the rest of the world, for we are closer than others to our nation's begetting. Even the meanest peasant among us can trace his or her ancestry to Elua or one of his Companions, who gave us many gifts. We have not practiced slavery since Blessed Elua trod our soil. Love as thou wilt, he bade us; slavery by its very nature violates his Sacred Precept. And owing a vast debt against one's marque is almost as bad as being a slave, when one is prevented from receiving patron-gifts.
I have a couturiere, sharp-tongued and gifted, who was a failed adept, flawed by a scar that rendered her unfit by the tenets of the Night Court; fifteen years or more, it might have taken Favrielle nó Eglantine to make her marque on the commissions her Dowayne allowed her— meanwhile, her youth fled and her genius gone to make the marques of her erstwhile companions. It did not happen, for I used my own earnings to pay the price of her marque and buy her freedom. But there were others, and I did not have the means to save them all.
Even my freedom had been bought. That was Melisande's doing.
And the diamond . . . the diamond had been her gift.
In the end, they passed the measure by a slim margin, as I had gauged they would. The representatives of the street-guild had naught to lose, and the Temple of Naamah had endorsed the measure. It was the Night Court that stood to be inconvenienced . . . but not so greatlythat its Dowaynes were prepared to stand in opposition to the rest of Naamah's Servants.
Especially me, the Queen's favorite.
Afterward, I spoke with Bérèngere of Namarre, the priestess of the Great Temple, thanking her for her support in the matter. In a way, I have known her since I was scarce more than a child; she was there, as an acolyte, when I was first dedicated into the Service of Naamah. When I was rededicated, it was she who performed the rites.
"There is no need," she said simply, folding her hands inside the full, elegant sleeves of her crimson robe. "The measure was a good one. You have done good things in this cabinet, Phèdre nó Delaunay."
"I have tried." I flushed at the compliment; one does, from a member of the priesthood.
Bérèngere smiled, her green eyes tilted catlike in their regard. I remembered the taste of honeycake on my tongue, and her kiss; sunlight gilding the pinions of my offering-dove as it beat its wings toward the oculus. "Pride, they have in the Service of Naamah; pride and passion," she said, watching the Dowaynes of the Night Court leave. "I do not belittle these things, nor begrudge them coin and glory. But the heart of the matter is love." Her gaze returned to me. "There are a thousand reasons why Naamah chose to lie with strangers, to give and receive pleasure as she did. Devotion, greed, modesty, perfection, solace, genius, atonement, mastery, desire . . ." She named the attributes of the Thirteen Houses. "All of them are true, but the chiefest among them is love. Always love."
"I know," I whispered. I did. I have loved all my patrons, at least a little bit. It is not a thing I tell to Joscelin, who would not understand. For all that he was a priest, once, he was Cassiel's, and such things Cassiel does not comprehend. Naamah's priestess understood.
"They forget, in the Court of Night-Blooming Flowers," she said. "All the great Houses. Cereus, Heliotrope, Valerian, Jasmine . . . even Gentian, with their visions. They forget, or comprehend only a piece of the whole. You remember. Always remember." Bérèngere of Namarre reached out with one slender hand, laying delicate