Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [241]
"Yes." I swallowed, and bowed my head. 'Twas no more than I had expected, but disheartening nonetheless. "I understand, my lord Archon."
"Do you weigh your own options, Phèdre," he said gently, "you may find it is much the same. If what you tell me is true, your chance of succeeding in La Serenissima is slim. Capture or death are likely, if not certain. You have done all that you might and more, though the hand of fate has been raised against you at every turn. Listen well, then, and heed my advice. A courier is no certain thing, my dear, and a message in a stranger's hand too easily ignored. Do not send word to Marsilikos, but go, bear word yourself, and rouse those allies you trust, secure the throne against betrayal abroad. Your Queen's life may be forfeit for it, yes, but you have the surety of the realm to gain—and your own life as well. What do you say?"
He waited, watching, and I gave no answer. At my side, Kazan stirred restlessly. "He speaks wisely, he," he muttered. "I would say the same, did you ask."
It was tempting—Elua, it was tempting! To sail not backinto danger and near-certain death, but to Marsilikos and safety; home, to go home. To the calm wisdom of Roxanne de Mereliot, who would take matters into her capable hands, to the reassuring might of Quintilius Rousse, yes, even to go to Barquiel L'Envers, that clever, cunning Duc I had been so sure I could not trust...
... and condemn to death Ysandre de la Courcel, who had once trusted me enough to risk the entire nation on my bare word; not only Ysandre, but mayhap all who travelled with her in the progressus, all who supported her in La Serenissima...
Joscelin.
I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes, thinking. Demetrios Asterius was right, there was danger in trusting to a message in a stranger's hand, almost reason to go. Almost. I lowered my hands and opened my eyes. "My lord Archon, do you swear to me that your courier will do all that is humanly possible to deliver my message to the Lady of Marsilikos?"
He paused, then nodded soberly. "That much I do swear, my lady. By Mother Dia and the House of Minos, I swear it."
"And you ..." I turned to Kazan, "... you will get me to La Serenissima, no matter what happens in Epidauro?"
Kazan's eyes gleamed. "I have said it, I; may the kríavbhog swallow my soul if I lie! This is the debt I owe, and I will honor it, I." He gave a broad grin. "If you did the wise thing always, I would be dead, yes?"
I turned back to face the Archon. "I thank you, my lord, for your offer, which was generous," I said softly. "And for your advice, which was well-conceived. But I believe I can send a message that will not go unheeded."
"So be it." There was a starkness to his features, and I knew he did not look to see me alive again. "Deliver unto me your letter, and I will have the ship sail at once. May your gods protect you, Phèdre nó Delaunay. They've done a poor enough job of it thus far."
I made no reply but knelt briefly to him, and we took ourleave, though not before I caught a sympathetic glance from Timanthes, standing at his post beside the Archon's throne. Kazan departed for the harbor, where I was to meet him in two hours' time.
This time I spent writing my missives, and the first was the lengthiest; that was for Roxanne de Mereliot, the Lady of Marsilikos. There was no need and no purpose in concealing my intent now, and I wrote frankly of the situation in La Serenissima, of Benedicte's betrayal, of Melisande's role, of the plans of Marco Stregazza. I wrote too of the compliance of Percy de Somerville, and his role in Melisande's escape from Troyes-le-Mont, as well as the means by which she had blackmailed him, the letter regarding