Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [70]
"And now," Nicola murmured, "you are not so sure."
"No." I drained my wine-cup and set it down. "Now that I have spoken to the warders and companions and parents of children, innocent children, who have suffered for Kushiel's justice, I am not so sure, not so sure at all whom I serve. There is something at work here. I do not know what it is."
A lesser friend would have spoken easy words of comfort. Nicola didn't. "I can make no promises, Phèdre. As you say, the trail is cold. But if it is to be found in Amílcar, Count Fernan's men will find it." Her smile this time was grim. "I don't care if it serves Melisande Shah-rizai or the Khalif of Khebbel-im-Akkad. If there is trade in D'Angeline flesh going on in Amílcar, I will see it stopped."
"Thank you," I said simply.
Nicola shrugged. "This one needs no thanks. I have some influence. I am pleased to have a good reason to exercise it. They're few and far enough between as it is."
"Speaking of which ..." I eyed her. "Will I find Marmion Shahrizai in residence?"
"Marmion?" Nicola relaxed again, looking amused. "No, Lord Marmion stayed at court, attending on the King. He has carved out a place for himself, and anyway, we quarrel if we are in the same place over-long, he and I."
I will own, I was relieved to hear it. 'Twas Marmion Shahrizai who betrayed Melisande, many years ago, giving her over to Quincel de Morhban, sovereign Duc of Kusheth, who brought her in tow toTroyes-le-Monte. He paid for it in the end, for his ally, his sister Persia, had proved duplicitous, and Marmion had inadvertently—so he claimed—caused her death, his men-at-arms accidentally setting the fire that took her life. Whether or not it was true, I cannot say; of a surety, he was banished for it. I daresay House Shahrizai would have had his head, had not Nicola offered him sanctuary in Aragonia.
It was well-done, for whatever the truth of Marmion's crime, he had indeed been loyal to the Queen. Still, I was glad not to have to face him.
It was enough to have one Shahrizai in my life again.
TWENTY-ONE
In AN hour's time, I told the story all over again to the King's Consul, Nicola's husband.
Ramiro Zornín de Aragon was a minor lordling of the House of Aragon, and a drunkard in the bargain. For all of that, I rather liked the man. He was good-natured and harmless, and capable of flashes of passion when prodded to it.
The rumor of Carthaginian slave-traders in Amílcar did just that.
I have no doubt Nicola would have urged him had it been necessary, but Lord Ramiro needed no prompting. Whether he liked a life of ease or no, he knew full well where his country's alliances lay, and knew too that his wife was cousin to the Queen of Terre d'Ange and his sons—two boys whom I never met—were half-D'Angeline themselves. By the time I'd finished the tale, he was already shouting for Count Fernan and the Captain of the Harbor Watch to be summoned.
It was rare, I gathered, for Ramiro to exercise the full authority of his role as King's Consul. He did it now, his narrow cheeks flushed with emotion, brown spaniel's eyes alight. Nicola watched him with affectionate pride; it had surprised me, when I first met him, that there was genuine fondness between them. In Terre d'Ange, she had spoken only of his shortcomings, but the bond went deeper than I had reckoned. Nicola was D'Angeline, after all, and no matter what the politics involved, none of Elua's children were likely to linger overlong in a loveless union.
And love takes many forms.
We had a hasty meal before the Count and his Captain of the Watch arrived, and then Fernan was there, black-bearded and broad-shouldered, slow to ire, but clearly unhappy at being summoned thuslyby a man he regarded as the King's tame Consul. I saw him rethink the wisdom of it upon being introduced to me, and twice-over to meet Joscelin and Luc, the sons of Verreuil. Joscelin's cool Cassiline bow, crossed vambraces flashing, would have given pause to any man of sense, and Luc