Kushiel's Avatar - Jacqueline Carey [75]
He didn't, nor did Harnapos. The Count's enforcer made sure of it, applying the flames over my protest. As much as they screamed and writhed, they knew no more; only that the Menekhetan had paid the purchase-price for the boy, less than they had agreed, promising to return in the fall for the other two if this deal went as planned, and meanwhile Mago and Harnapos left to care for a steadily weakening pair of D'Angeline children, keeping them hidden, keeping them silent, using the dwindling reserves of their money to buy lodgings, food, the opium that kept them sedated. No, they swore, both of them in extremis, they had left the children unmolested and intact, they were not such fools as to damage valuable merchandise, nor had they beaten them, no, not unduly, only enough to make them mind . . .
"Enough." I pressed my fingers to my aching temples. "It is enough. Let them give what information they may regarding Fadil Chouma and the arrangements for his return. I have no more questions."
Nicola spoke to the Count's enforcer, and I made no effort to follow the conversation. Kushiel's presence had faded, and I felt hollow, tired to the bone and ill with what I had seen. "It will be done," Nicola said to me when she had finished. Her voice was steady, lending me strength. "Fernan's clerk will see that you receive a full transcription of the account."
"Thank you," I murmured. "And the Carthaginians?"
"Execution at dawn. It will be public," she said, "but swift."
I nodded, and looked one last time at the men in the cell. "Then let us go."
Outside, evening sunlight gilded the Plaza del Rey. The fading blue sky seemed a vast openness, the salt tang of the harbor mingling with the fresh cool breeze from the north. Nicola shuddered, filling her lungs with clean air. "Elua! I'll not need to see the likes of that again soon.”
"No," I said. "Nor I."
"It's a long way from playing with silken ropes and deerskin floggers," she mused. An involuntary shiver ran over my skin and I closed my eyes briefly, opening them to find Nicola regarding me. "Even after that, Phèdre?" she asked simply.
"Always." I gritted my teeth. "Always."
"Ah." For a moment, she continued to look at me, our escort of Lord Ramiro's men waiting at a polite distance. "Somehow, I understand a little better now why you chose to fix your heart on that damned Cassiline."
Unexpectedly, it made me smile. "It wasn't a question of choice."
"Nor for him, I suppose. Well, credit it to the wisdom of Blessed Elua." Nicola gathered herself with a shake. "Come on. I've need of a bath and a drink, and mayhap not in that order."
In the private dining-hall of the King's Consul, we found our companions well ahead of us. The remnants of an early meal were scattered across the table and the wine had flowed freely; for once, even Joscelin had drunk enough for it to show.
"I'm sorry," he said unevenly, greeting me with an embrace. There was a tension in his body that the wine had not dispelled. "Phèdre, I'm sorry, but I couldn't go with you, I couldn't bear to watch. I knew you were safe enough. I'd have gone, otherwise."
"I know." I found a clean glass and a flagon of brandy, and downed a measure, welcoming the burning heat of it in my belly. "It wasn't something you needed to see."
"No." His expression twisted, nostrils flaring. "But I was near angry enough to want to. And it frightened me. What did you learn? What have they done with Imriel?"
"Sold him." I poured another glass and curled myself into a corner of a dining-couch, letting weariness claim me. "Sold him to a Menekhetan slaver, bound for a buyer in Iskandria. How are the children?"
Joscelin sat down beside me, head in his hands. "Menekhet," he murmured. "Blessed Elua. They're sleeping," he added belatedly, nodding in the vague direction of the guest quarters. "Well enough, under the circumstances. Ramiro's chirurgeon examined them, and said they've taken no serious harm. Fear mostly, and lack of proper food and light.