Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [221]
"Yes?" I said, opening the door a crack.
It was Kaneka. I had guessed wrongly. "You will want to see this," she said, her expression undecipherable.
I opened the door wide and stared.
There, squirming in her grip, was Imriel de la Courcel.
SIXTY-FOUR
"How?"
I folded my arms and glared at him, looking as imposing as I could. Imriel's gaze darted, seeking allies and not finding them. Joscelin, leaning against the door of the cabin, was as grim and stoic as only a seasick Cassiline can be, and Kaneka . . . Kanaka was trying not to laugh, but I do not think Imri knew it. He'd not learned that much, not yet.
"There was a boy," he said defiantly. "At the inn. An Akkadian boy, one of the servants. He wanted to see Terre d'Ange, where the men look like sons of the gods, and the women, the women look like . . . like you. I got him to take my place."
I raised my eyebrows. "How?"
"He took my cloak," Imriel muttered. "In the service alley, before the stairs. And I gave him my dagger for it, the one the Lugal gave me. We traded places, when everyone was watching the trunks being brought down. I made as if to sulk, and told Lord Amaury not to bother me, so he would not notice when we changed."
"And how long," I asked, "do you suppose that endured aboard the ship?"
"Long enough." He set his chin. "I told him to pretend he was sick, and wanted only to sleep, and to keep his face turned away from the light."
"You arranged this under Lord Amaury's nose?" I said in patent disbelief.
"Lord Amaury," Imriel said stubbornly, "does not speak Akkadian."
I looked at Joscelin. "Would you be so good as to fetch the captain?"
The Menekhetan captain came at once and informed us apologetically in heavily accented Hellene that there was no question of turning back to Tyre. The Lugal of Khebbel-im-Akkad had commissioned this ship to sail directly to Iskandria, and sail it would. Yes, he understood the development was unforeseen, but the ship's passage was paid, so the boy's presence was no imposition. Ah, yes, he understood the boy was a personage of some import in his own country, but this was a Menekhetan ship, and relations with Khebbel-im-Akkad were ever delicate. Without direct orders from the Lugal himself, he dared not second-guess his wishes. Surely, we could book passage upon arrival if we wished to return to Tyre, for the journey was not overlong.
"Well," I said, defeated, when he had left. "That's what we'll have to do, then."
Kaneka cleared her throat. "Little one ..."
"What is it?" I didn't like her tone.
"It is not long, no, but... if you delay a month, no more, by the time you reach the south, the rains will come. And then no one may travel."
I clutched my hair, feeling kinship with Amaury Trente. "Elua! Imri, why did you do this?"
His face was a study in teary mutiny. "You said—you talked about friends, and honor, and the precept of Blessed Elua! Love as thou wilt." He spat the words like a curse. "Why am I not allowed to choose?"
I sat down on my cot and looked to Joscelin for aid.
"Fedabin." He bowed to Kaneka, crossing his forearms with care, speaking in the halting zenyan which was our only common tongue. "How dangerous is this trip, anyway?"
"To find the Melehakim?" Kaneka shrugged. "Dangerous, lord. There is a river greater than the Euphrate, and deserts that kill. There are crocodiles and lions, and scavengers in between—hyenas, jackals, even the blood-flies that drive strong men to madness. And there are tribes, many tribes, in Jebe-Barkal, some of them hostile. But," she added, a glint in her eye, "none of them will seek to kill a boy due to an accident of birth. Besides, he could always remain in Debeho, if you willed it. He would be warded well enough in my village."
Joscelin looked at me. I looked back at him. "You can't be serious," I said.
"Phédre." He sounded eminently reasonable. "Think of it. At least he'd be safe from assassination attempts. And . . . Name of Elua, the boy has a point! Is he never to be allowed a choice?”
"You weren't," I murmured.