Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [253]
It was strange, after so long on Kazan's pirate ship, to be aboard a proper vessel with square sails, broad decks and bunks in the hold. I stood gripping the railing as the ship moved slowly away from the shore and gazed back at the harbor. The Ban and his wife sat on their horses unmoving, watching us go as the early morning sun slanted through the mist.
"Your mother did not come?" I said to Kazan, finding him beside me.
"No." He shook his head. Droplets of moisture clung to his hair like gems. "I said good-bye at our house, I. My old boyhood home, eh?" he said, answering me in Caerdicci out of habit. "She says to me, she; Kazan, come home soon, come home twice a hero."
"Blessed Elua grant it may be so," I murmured.
Once we had cleared the harbor, Pjètri Kolcei gave the order to hoist sail and we were away, moving steadily and surely across the surging blue sea. Some twenty sailors manned the ship, neat-handed and competent. The Ban's hand-picked embassy numbered twenty as well, under Pjètri's leadership; and seven of those were Kazan and his men. When we were underway, the Ban's middle son made his way across the deck to join us.
Pjètri had his father's dark complexion, but the broad, slanting cheekbones and grey-blue eyes of his mother; he wore his hair in a topknot, and had long, pointed mustaches like Kazan. I wondered if it was in emulation, or if 'twas astyle set by the Ban's Guard. I never did learn which was true.
"Phèdre nó Delaunay," he said, greeting me with a sweeping bow. "Kazan Atrabiades. You come late to join this mission. I was awake into the small hours of the night, briefed by mother and father alike."
"I am grateful for your aid," I said formally. "On behalf of Terre d'Ange, I thank you."
He smiled, and there was somewhat of his father's tight shrewdness in it, and somewhat of a warrior's grin. "I have my orders. If aught goes awry, my men are to throw down their weapons," he said to Kazan, "and yours to make shift to hold them hostage, that we may claim you overcame us, by treachery and surprise. Such is the lot of a middle son, whose honor may be cast aside at need. But if all goes as planned..." His grin blossomed fully into a warrior's ferocity. "The Serenissimans will pay a heavy toll for the tribute they exact!"
"And the middle son rises in the eyes of the Zim Sokali!" Kazan agreed with bloodthirsty good cheer. "Yarovit's grace upon your sword, Pjètri Kolcei. Did you train under Gjergi Hamza?" he added, eyeing the aforementioned weapon.
I left them to compare notes on the merits of the Ban's swordmasters, perambulating the deck and taking simple pleasure in the sun's rising warmth, the bright rays burning off the mists as we gained the open seas. The Illyrian sailors startled to see me, hands moving in quick warding gestures; I had nearly forgotten how Kazan's men had received me at first. Now one of them trailed behind me, a self-appointed guard. It was Ushak, his prominent ears concealed beneath a conical steel helm. He turned scarlet whenever I glanced back at him, until I laughed aloud and paused to wait for him, giving him my arm which he took, blushing.
"It is a fair day," I mused in Illyrian. "Is it not, Ushak?"
"Y-yes." He was as red as a boiled lobster, and stammering with it. "Every day is f-fair, when it is graced with the sight of you!" he said all in a rush.
"Is it?" I halted, gazing at him. "Is that why you came, Ushak?"
His throat worked convulsively. "It is ... it is one reason, my lady," he said stiffly. "I think... we do not have such things on Dobrek, such things as you. To die in your name ... it, it w-would be an honor!"
"To live would be a better one," I said gently. "I am D'Angeline and Naamah's Servant, yes, but beauty is not worth dying for."
He shook his head, blushing and swallowing fiercely. "Not... not that alone, my lady. You, you were kind to us, you learned