Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [206]
"Yes," I said, unflinching. "It's a lot to bear, isn't it?"
His tears caught the morning light. "You said she loved me. You said she sent you."
I clasped my hands around my knees. "She does, Imri. The Queen sent Lord Amaury. Your mother sent me. And I gave her my promise, in Blessed Elua's name, that I would do aught I could to find you and keep you from harm. It wasn't enough. I know that. But it was the best I could do."
"Why would you help her? Why would she ask you?" Imriel looked away, staring into the gorge. "You gave the testimony that condemned her. Nicolas Vigny told me so, and he was there."
"Yes," I said. "He was." I thought about the caravan, near-loaded and waiting. I looked at Imriel's fine-carved profile and thought about all that he had been through, and the life that awaited him as Melisande's son, born of treason twice over, in the court of Ysandre de la Courcel. "Do you want to hear the story? The whole story?”
Without looking at me, he nodded.
And drawing a deep breath, I told him—the story, as best I knew it; his, his mother's and father's, and mine own. I told him of the marital alliances that had bound House Courcel, of my Lord Delaunay's secret vow, and of my upbringing as a pawn, a Servant of Naamah marked by Kushiel, trained in the arts of covertcy and shrouded in ignorance. I told him of his mother's patronage, and how she had freed me, paying the final price of my marque; and I told him without faltering of her betrayal after Delaunay's death—although I spared him the knowledge of how she had questioned me—and how Joscelin and I had awakened to find ourselves in a covered cart bound for Skaldia. I told him of our time there, and what we had learned; I told him how we had escaped, and of our desperate quest to Alba, of the Master of the Straits and Hyacinthe's terrible sacrifice, and then the battle that followed.
Some of it, he knew. Brother Selbert had not kept him completely unaware of history. He knew of the Skaldi invasion, and the Master of the Straits, though not Hyacinthe's name. Of Melisande's role, he knew nothing—nor of the near overthrow of the throne in La Serenissima.
It was hard, telling him that part. He was right. He was a gamepiece, gotten for his claim on the D'Angeline throne. I did not deny it, only stressed how his mother had sought to protect him, giving him unto Brother Selbert's keeping. On my own role, I touched lightly, saying only that I had returned in time to give the warning.
And then his disappearance, and his mother's bargain.
Of that, I did not lie or mince words.
"She bought you," he said softly when I had finished, staring at the dispersing mists. "She bought you with knowledge, as surely as with diamonds or gold."
"Imriel." I saw him hunch his shoulders at his name. "Your mother values pride and knowledge above either, and she spent them both to buy my aid. She spent every coin she had."
"What happened to me is because of her," he muttered bitterly. "Can you deny it is so?"
"In Siovale, I believed it to be," I admitted. "And I cursed Kushiel's name for it, believing it unjust, that you should suffer for your mother's punishment. In Aragonia, in Amílcar, I did the same. In Daršanga . . . Imri, your mother's bargain and my promise carried me as far as Nineveh. It was the will of Blessed Elua sent me into Drujan to find you, and I swear to you, I'd not have done it for anything less. Imriel. . . I'm no priestess, to reckon the will of the gods. But what do you thinkthe Mahrkagir would have done, if we had not stopped him?"
"Killed a lot of people," he murmured, scraping at the rocky escarpment with a jagged piece of stone. "Conquered the world."
"And laughed." I propped my chin on my hands. "He'd have thought it great sport."
Imriel nodded. "He would have laughed."
"Well." I took a breath. "He's not laughing now. And it's because of you, Imri. Had it not been for you—for who you are, for the terrible thing that befell you—the