Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [19]
"No," I said firmly. "I will not barter with my lord Delaunay's inheritance, nor the roof that houses my retainers. In conscience, I cannot do so."
Jacques Brenin spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "If you are not willing to take these risks ..."
"Messire Brenin." I cut him off. "I do offer goods in kind." Slow and deliberate, I rose from my chair and began to unlace my bodice. He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue and stared as I slid the sleeves from my shoulders and let my gown fall to my hips, turning as I did so.
I had seen, in the mirrors at Eglantine House; I did not need to see to know how my bare skin glowed in the dim lamplight of my factor's office. And rising from the dimples at the small of my back to the final at my nape was my marque, the bold, intricate design etched in black, with crimson accents. It had been inked by Master Robert Tielhard, the greatest marquist of his day.
My factor swallowed audibly. Without haste, I drew my gown back up and laced my bodice. When I turned around, his face was pale. "You offer your services as surety if you should default on your loan." He kept his voice even with commendable effort.
"I do." I smiled. "But I do not think I will default."
"Neither do I," Jacques Brenin muttered, scribbling out a receipt. Licking his lips again, he handed it to me. 'Take this to my treasurer, she will advance you the funds. Repayment within sixty days at a rate of twelve percent. And Elua help your patrons."
I laughed. "Thank you, Messire Brenin."
"Don't thank me," he said dryly. "I find myself hoping you default."
SEVEN
In the days that followed, there was little enough to do in preparing for the Midwinter Masque. I went once to Eglantine House for Favrielle to check her measurements, but the draping proper awaited the arrival of the fabric.
A good time, then, to meet with the Rebbe.
It was Joscelin who arranged the meeting; he had become friendly with this grand Yeshuite scholar—Nahum ben Isaac, his name was—insofar as Joscelin became friendly with anyone in those days.
The day was cold and sharp, and I was glad of the carriage affording protection from the wind. We did not linger in the courtyard, but hurried into the hall.
Knowing some little bit about Yeshuite sensibilities, thanks first to our friends Taavi and Danele, who gave us succor on our flight from the Allies of Camlach, and latterly to Seth ben Yavin, the young scholar who had tutored me in Montrève, I dressed modestly. It is not my way to flaunt myself as a Servant of Naamah—whatever certain prudish Cassilines may think—but I have my vanity. Nonetheless, I put it aside to meet the Rebbe, donning a gown of brown worsted which I used to wear travelling, and a thick woolen shawl. Well-made, but the sort of stuff a rustic noblewoman might don for commonwear. With a woolen cap on my head, my hair coiled in a braid, and sturdy boots, surely, I thought, I was the very picture of drab modesty.
That is what I thought at home, anyway. When we entered the hall of the yeshiva, where charcoal braziers battled the chill and the sound of children's voices murmuring filled the air, it was another matter.
In a sea of foreign faces, a D'Angeline stands out like a beacon, flashing that deadly beauty that cuts like a blade. In the City, among my own kind, I forgot; here, as voices fell silent and Yeshuite children raised wondering eyes, I remembered. What must it be like, for them? I had offered Cecilie an apology on their behalf, but still. To see the blood-lineage of an errant branch of their own mythology stamped in the faces of the folk who surround them; it must be a strangeness. Yeshua ben Yosef walked the earth, and died, and was risen. So they believe, with enduring stubbornness; he is their .Mashiach, the Redeemer and the King-to-Come. But Blessed Elua, whom they do not acknowledge, walked the earth as well, and he and his Companions peopled a nation.