Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [333]
No one spoke as he descended the stair, parting to make way for him. I saw how their eyes followed him — fearful, calculating, avid and forlorn by turns. Not until we reached the door did anyone utter a word.
"My lord!" It was Tilian who called after us, daring and defiant. "And if thou dost fail, my lord? 'Tis no secret thou has tried it before; didst do so this very day. We, who have attended thee these long years, know the truth of it. Why shouldst succeed now?"
Hyacinthe turned, staring at the man until he turned pale. "Because this time," he said, "I am not alone. You have served power a long time, Tilian, and come to relish the taste of it. Listen to me now when I tell you: Do not pray for my failure. Because this time, Rahab will come in the fullness of his might and ageless wrath, and my power is to his as a bucket of water is to the ocean. And if we fail, his anger may raise the seas and drown the isles of the Three Sisters, and when the fish nibble at your flesh and the crabs scuttle through your bones, you will not have to worry about how to live without the Master of the Straits to attend."
There were no further protests.
I waited until we were outdoors and the bright sun had chased the crawling chills from my flesh to ask him if he believed it.
"Yes," Hyacinthe said shortly. "Why do you suppose it terrifies me so?"
Well and so; the lives of hundreds of innocent people rested in my hands. I clutched my skirts, concentrating on descending the long stair, my breathing coming shallow and labored — not with exertion, this time, but with fear. Below us, Elua's Promise bobbed at anchor in the center of its tame whirlpool, laden with cargo too precious for words.
It would be better, I thought, if they were gone from this place.
"Can you send them away?" I asked him.
"Beyond Rahab's reach?" His mouth twisted. "No such place exists upon the seas."
"Out of sight, then. Surely it would be safer."
We had gained the promontory. Hyacinthe gazed at the ship, then at me, shifting the case he held under one arm, containing the pages salvaged from the Book of Raziel. "It may be so. They will not thank you for it."
"I know," I said. "Do it."
"Quintilius Rousse!" Hyacinthe's voice echoed off the cliff walls, resounding across the harbor. "Raise your anchor! You are journeying beyond Rahab's gaze!"
Across the shining waters, I heard the cries of protest and dismay. Poor Eleazar, I thought; he has travelled all this way to hear the Name of God spoken, and now I send him away. Yet it is better that it is so. I didn't even want to think about what Joscelin would say.
"You're sure?" Hyacinthe asked me.
I nodded. "Now, before I lose my nerve."
Hyacinthe stooped, laying the case upon the rock, then whispered, blowing out his breath. A sharp, stiff breeze sprang up from nowhere, filling the storm-rigged sails of the Elua's Promise. Rousse took his warning; I heard the chain clanking as the anchor was raised, a pair of sailors cranking at a furious pace. The sails bellied and snapped as the ship swung around, its prow pointing toward the narrow exit. Hyacinthe circled three fingers in the opposite direction and the whirlpool ceased, vanishing back into the waters.
The green water of the harbor humped and gathered, drawing back against the promontory. Once again, Hyacinthe pushed with both hands, murmuring under his breath. The unnatural wave surged forward, gathering speed, and picked up the ship as effortlessly as a cork. Sails taut, bobbing on the crest, it shot through the passageway and vanished out of sight beyond the cliff walls.
And like that, they were gone.
I sat on the promontory, numb. "Joscelin will be furious."
Hyacinthe continued to concentrate, his black eyes wide and blurred, shifting, seeing something beyond the bounds of mortal vision. "No. He's the boy to think of, now. He'll understand." Satisfied with his efforts, he retrieved his case.