Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [231]
Kazan took it all in with a boy's wide-eyed wonder, and I am not too proud to admit that I envied him that, a little. No shadow of pain overlaid his soul; absolution had granted him a fresh-washed slate. But I was an anguissette, and the memory of pain was a familiar companion to me, never wholly unwelcome. I was what I was. It was enough.
And I had my own troubles to brood upon still.
When we were well clear of the Temenos, I asked him, though I feared to broach the topic. "Kazan," I said softly, below the creak of the oxcart, speaking in Caerdicci that none of our companions would overhear. I did not wish to pressure him unduly. "What will you do, now that you arefree of the blood-curse? Will you return home, to Epidauro?"
"Do?" He looked at me in surprise. "Did the Kore not speak to you of this, Phèdre? If this Archon, he will grant you the aid of Kriti, eh, then it is good, and I will go, but she does not think he will send warships, he. So we will see what he does, yes, and I will do what you ask, for I have a debt to you, eh?" His expression turned sober. "It is not only that I owe you my life, you, although I do. If I had done as you asked, if I had sailed to Marsilikos and not Dobrek, eh, none of this would have happened. And if I had spoken true when Nikanor returned; then, too. I could have sent you to Epidauro, yes, though I could not go myself; the Ban could have made a mighty alliance with your country. Such things did I see, I," he added quietly, "in the cavern."
I could have laughed, or wept; for the deaths we shared in common, his visions were as true as my own. "Then if the Archon does not aid us—"
"We sail to Epidauro," Kazan finished for me, grinning once more. "And I will see to Nikanor and the others, eh, and I will ask the Ban to aid you, I, for I once stood in his favor, and only my mother's curse put me from it. And if he will not, then where you wish to go, I will take you myself, yes!
Tears stung my eyes. "Thank you," I said, and repeated it. "Thank you."
"No matter," he said, shrugging, and added in Illyrian, "We have a score to settle with the Serenissimans!"
The latter part, Spiridon and Gavril overheard and cheered, chiming in with bloodthirsty vows of revenge. So it continues, I thought ruefully; though I could not help but be glad of their support. Even after the thetalos, Kazan is ready to shed fresh blood. Though he remembers, he has been cleansed of it; he begins anew,
Mayhap 'twas not such an ill thing, to carry the living memory of that pain.
With such thoughts did I occupy my mind, and we came in short order to the outer walls of Phaistos. Here the outermarket thronged, small-holders trading amongst themselves and those artisans and merchants from within the city who sold shoddy goods at cut-rate prices to the countryfolk. We picked our way between them, making slowly for the gates of the city.
Phaistos is situated on a gentle hill, with the Palace at the crest and the city sprawling around it and sloping down to Kommos harbor. It is a low wall that surrounds the city, although the Archon's guards were posted at the tall ceremonial gate. They wore light armor in the early autumn heat, helmets with red plumes, steel cuirasses over linen kilts that left bare their legs, with sandals and greaves. They carried short spears and ox-hide shields, although some half the squadron had left their shields leaning against the walls while they talked and jested together.
Our cart was given a cursory glance and waved into the city; some few of the guards smiled and touched their brows to our driver, and some few of them nudged each other and stared after us, pointing. I heard the buzz of speculation follow as we entered the city, but it was soon lost in the noise of the Kritian marketplace.
We had