Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [74]
It was here that I interrupted, putting my questions, which Nicola translated, to the Count's enforcer. Where in Siovale? How many children? Where had they been taken? There was a pause, as one of Fernan's men retrieved the map. Mago pointed with a trembling finger, beads of sweat glistening on his face. Here, here and here. Yes, three children, there had been a third. A boy, yes, a flawless child, fierce as a wildcat, with black hair and eyes of blue, the prize of the lot.
And where was the boy now?
Neither wanted to answer, although I think they knew, then, that death was a foregone conclusion. I was unfamiliar with the laws of Aragonia, but I knew to read faces and I saw only death writ in the expressions of Count Fernan's men, and in the grave countenance of Nicola, who was wife to a King's Consul. Still, hope is tenacious, andmen will cling to it against overwhelming odds. In the corner, Harnapos whimpered, rattling his chains. Mago slumped on the stool, sweat-streaked and panting, raising his head to meet my eyes.
He was a man, only a man, thoughtlessly cruel and greedy, reduced by his folly to abject pain, his ruined feet useless as lumps of tallow. Caught in the net of Kushiel’s justice, he had walked into it of his own accord. And yet I had been in such a place, once, a terrible prison of stone, where humanity was stripped away by madness. Despite it all, despite his guilt, there was a spark of kinship between us.
One victim knows another.
What will you give me, his desperate gaze begged me, for the answers you seek? He did not speak my tongue, but he knew; he had heard my voice ask the questions.
I felt the presence of Kushiel, bronze wings buffeting—the Punisher of God, wielder of the rod and flail, despised, irresistible; ah, Elua! It was a storm in my head. Through the blood-haze that veiled my eyes, I saw the Count's enforcer nod, the men take Mago's arms, the torch lowered to his feet.
"Wait!" The word emerged harsh; I had spoken in Caerdicci unthinking. The Count's men knew it, and paused. "A clean death," I said, drawing a racking breath. "A clean death, if he answers it honestly."
It was all I had to give, and at that, not mine to offer. The Count's enforcer looked at Nicola. To her credit, she never paused, lifting her chin imperiously, addressing him in Aragonian. "The Comtesse of Montrève, favored of her majesty Ysandre de la Courcel, the Queen of Terre d'Ange, has spoken. The King's Consul of the House of Aragon concurs. Let it be so."
Mago exhaled, a long shuddering breath; the self-same breath, it seemed to me, that I had drawn. His hands, pinned by the Count's men, clenched and unclenched. Only a man, after all. I had no knowledge of his life, his history, the exigencies of a harsh lot that had driven him, had driven Harnapos, to commit such a vile act. His head fell forward, accepting the bargain. In a broken whisper, he told the rest of his tale.
Folly, nothing but folly. Although the Tsingani had refused them, they had procured a wagon in the end, smuggling the sedated children into Amílcar beneath the careless eyes of the Harbor Watch, who gave a cursory probe into the goods they carried. Thence to port, and the meeting ordained—the rest was but Menekhetan treachery, smooth-tongued Fadil Chouma and a ship bound for Iskandria claiming their agreement had been for autumn, not spring. He would arrange for buyers on theother end, yes, but it was a matter of some delicacy, they must understand. D'Angeline blood will out, and Terre d'Ange notoriously ferocious in its persecution of slavers, of course . . . Menekhet is far, but Khebbel-im-Akkad holds much sway, and the Khalif s son wed to the Queen's own kinswoman . . . perhaps he might take the one, yes, that one, peerless, that face . . . aiyee! And fierce, too, stronger than he looks, but Fadil Chouma had a buyer in mind; one, only one, mind, seeking somewhat special. . . another draught of opium, perhaps? Yes, a buyer in mind, and one fit to tame a mountain hellion, no, no names . . .
So much did I gather, piecing Mago's story together,