Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [254]
I thought on it, searching the empty blue skies. "Is the world so cruel, then, that that is all that is required to move a man to risk his life? Kindness?"
"Yes." Trembling and gulping, Ushak stood his ground, holding manfully to my arm. "Sometimes ... y-yes, my lady," he finished firmly.
Ah, Elua! I bowed my head, overwhelmed by nameless emotion. I understood Kazan, and the debt he perceived; I understood the Ban and his kin, weighing merit against risk. Even those of Kazan's men who had been my shipmates, I understood better; we had forged a bond, we had, during that dreadful flight, and the terrors of the Temenos. But this ... this came straight from the heart.
Love as thou wilt.
They are fools, who reckon Elua a soft god, fit only for the worship of starry-eyed lovers. Let the warriors clamor after gods of blood and thunder; love is hard, harder than steel and thrice as cruel. It is as inexorable as the tides, and life and death alike follow in its wake.
I spent much time in contemplation during that journey, for there was naught else to be done and I wished to make my peace as best I might with Blessed Elua and his Companions before entering La Serenissima. Our plan was a simple one, insofar as it went. When we drew nigh unto theharbor, I would conceal myself within the trunk. If the harbor guards' search penetrated my hiding place ... well and so, it would go no further. If it did not, the tribute ship would continue up the Great Canal to make anchor at the residence of Janàri Rossatos, who was the Illyrian Ambassador to La Serenissima, and thence plot our next move.
It was my hope that the presentation of tribute-gifts to the newly elected Doge would take place before the ceremony of investiture, for it might afford an opportunity for Kazan and his men to get a message to Ysandre. We didn't know, though; not even Pjètri was certain of the protocol, and the exact date of the arrival of the D'Angeline progressus regalis was unknown.
I wished I knew what Melisande was planning.
For of a surety, no matter whose hand bore the dagger or the vial of poison, no matter whose mouth uttered the order, the mind that conceived it was hers ... although there would be no trail easily traced to her doorstep. Of that, I was equally sure. And Marco and Marie-Celeste Stregazza were canny, too; neither of them would risk showing their hands openly when it came to the death of a sitting monarch.
An accident, then? It would have to be very, very well orchestrated—and a sure thing. A greased step, an overturned gondola; plausible, but uncertain. No, Melisande's plan would have to be foolproof. Which meant... what?
It would be easy enough to do it in the Little Court. Poison, an assassin ... Ysandre's guards will be relaxed, not looking for treachery in Prince Benedicte's court. It was possible; but no, it would reek overmuch of suspicion. Gaining the throne was one thing; Melisande's ability to hold it—for surely she looked to long outlive Benedicte and establish her son as heir—depended on the D'Angeline people's acceptance of her blamelessness. Ysandre de la Courcel would not die under that roof.
Then, where?
A public place, I thought. A public place, where the eyes of all La Serenissima can see that Prince Benedicte and hislovely wife, as well as the new Doge, played no hand in the death of the Queen of Terre d'Ange.
Melisande would conceive of something that brilliant, I was sure. The only problem was, I still couldn't guess what.
Thus far did I get in my speculation, and no further. There were too many unknown variables, not least of which was the fact that, for all I knew, Ysandre's entourage had arrived and the deed was already done. When my thoughts began to chase themselves in circles, I let be and spent time with Kazan's men, listening to them swap tales with the Ban's Guard and improving my skill at dice. It had begun to rain on the second day at sea; naught to slow our progress, but a cold, relentless