Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [34]
"I will ask questions," I said. "Judiciously, of course. You ..." I smiled. "You can find me a Jebean scholar, Philippe. I've a document I need translated."
He pulled a face. "Poking about in academics' dusty corners? Sounds dull."
"Mayhap." I shrugged. "It will likely take you to Marsilikos, though. I doubt anyone in the City Academy reads Jeb'ez."
"Marsilikos." It cheered him to think on it. Marsilikos is a port city, beloved of sailors, a meeting-ground of the larger world. If there was any scholar who studied Jebe-Barkal, it would be at the Academy there. "Can I take Hugues, my lady? He wants to see the sea again."
"Why not? If it comes to it. And Philippe, I want you to call on Emile, in Night's Doorstep."
"The Tsingano?" Ti-Philippe looked perplexed, and Joscelin shot me a curious glance.
"He was Hyacinthe's closest companion. The Tsingani should know. Besides, they go everywhere and they hear things. Ask him if he will call upon me." I don't know what made me think of it. A hunch, a duty. It had been one of Hyacinthe's last requests, that I bequeath his mother's house and his own enterprise, a livery stable, to Emile.
"As you wish." Ti-Philippe reached out as Eugenie entered with a platter of tidbits of quail in puffed pastry. "Eugenie, my goddess! You read my mind, or at least my stomach."
"Leave be, Messire Chevalier!" She batted his hand away sternly. "These are first for my lady." The platter was lowered beneath my nose, and I knew I would have no peace if I didn't select a couple of morsels. If Eugenie was deigning to serve us with her own hands, she'd probably made them herself, too. She regarded me with disapproval. "You'll need to eat more than that if you're about to go gallivanting about the map again, running yourself into a ragged sliver, my lady."
I must admit, my lord Delaunay's staff never spoke to him thusly. Then again, my lord Delaunay was not an anguissette. I retrieved the silver tongs and took two more pastries. "I'm not going anywhere yet, Eugenie."
"No." She sniffed. "But you will. You've got that look again."
Joscelin laughed. "I didn't know you could tell, Eugenie."
"After ten years, and her like a daughter to me?" She cast an acerbic eye on him. "I don't forget, Messire Cassiline. And you ought not to laugh, stuck to her side like a shadow."
"Well." Joscelin was fond of Eugenie. "I've my vow to think of."
"Your vow!" She shook the serving-tongs at him. "I vow I'll warm your backside if you don't bring my lady home safe. And don't think I won't do it, Messire Cassiline. I've grown grandchildren as tall as you."
It made Ti-Philippe laugh uproariously as he leaned forward to pick her platter clean, and even Joscelin smiled, but I heard the genuine worry behind Eugenie's absurd threat. "I'll be careful, Eugenie," I said softly. "Whatever I do. I promise."
"You said that last time and it nearly killed you." My Mistress of the Household leveled a significant gaze at me, her figure broad and imposing in the dusk-lit garden. "Love means hearth and home too, my lady. Don't forget it."
"I won't." I watched her go, picking her way across the courtyard, vast figure swaying like a sea-born ship. It was a warm evening, and the scent of lavender and rosemary hung in the moist air. A new maidservant, one of Eugenie's nieces, slipped into the garden with a lit taper, kindling the lamps that hung about in glass globes, casting a fairy glow.
I had musicians play when I entertained here, harp and flute and tambour.
Jebe-Barkal. My heart ached at the thought of leaving this place, this gracious home. Eugenie was right; this, too, was love. And yet even as I thought it, I ached elsewhere, with the soul-deep need of an anguissette that no kindness, no compassion could assuage. I was bound by my nature as surely as any patron's shackles. Melisande might as well have set her diamond lead about my neck, I thought, a bitter laugh catching in my throat.
"Phèdre." It was Joscelin's voice, quiet and familiar. "Go to the temple."
"Elua's sanctuary?"