Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [29]
At any rate, we were soon enough seated at the dining table, and Remy and Ti-Philippe told their story over bites of rich stew and warm bread, washed down with plenty of wine.
"So," I asked directly, "you found the men who were on guard the night Melisande escaped?"
Ti-Philippe, his mouth full of stew, shook his head vigorously. "No, my lady," Remy answered for them both, pulling a rueful expression. "That, no one seems to know, exactly; we have a couple of names, but no one knows where they're posted, and we dare not ask too closely if you don't want us to arouse suspicion. It may be that they're not attached to the Palace Guard. If they were among the men the Royal Commander sent to Camlach, they've been ordered to stand down, and it will be a hard job finding them. But we found somewhat almost as good."
"Go on," I said, intrigued.
"House Shahrizai is at war with itself." Ti-Philippe grinned lopsidedly. "The two that betrayed Melisande? Marmion and Persia? Well, Persia's dead.”
"What?"
"Oh, yes." Remy took a long drink of wine, eyes sparkling. "It was an accident, in Kusheth, my lady; a fire in her manor-house. Only a few of the Lady Persia's men-at-arms, they did not think it an accident. And neither did two of her kin. So they have sponsored them, three men-at-arms, to the Palace Guard, where they could keep an eye on Lord Marmion."
"They think Marmion did it? Her own brother, and an ally at that?" My mind began to tick over the possibilities. A dreadful thing, yes, but dreadful things have been known to happen even in the Great Houses of Terre d'Ange.
"This fellow," Ti-Philippe said, "Branion, his name was, he said it was the Lady Persia that the Duc de Morhban approached first. She was the one persuaded Lord Marmion to join her in giving over their cousin. This Branion, he thinks Lord Marmion only went along with it so he could set her free. Now Melisande holds him in high regard, all the while he holds the Queen's trust. Only Persia must have known something, or guessed. And now the House is split over it, but they don't dare accuse him without proof."
"Marmion might have got past the guards at Melisande's chamber," I said thoughtfully. "They knew he was her cousin; they'd have let him in to speak with her on the eve of her death. They did me. Joscelin." I turned to him. "Ysandre questioned the Shahrizai. There was talk about that, at least; they were under a lot of suspicion. Didn't one visit Melisande that night? After... after I did?"
He tore off a hunk of bread, frowning. "Yes. But it was Persia, not Marmion. She needed to beg Melisande's forgiveness, she said." He shrugged. "I don't know if it's true. But she did leave, and well before daybreak. The guard at the stairs backed her story, or Ysandre would never have let it go. He saw her coming and going." Joscelin paused, then added, "Ghislain de Somerville said he saw her leave the audience hall in tears, after Ysandre was done questioning her. He said it was the only time he'd ever seen one of House Shahrizai cry.”
"But not Marmion." Deep in thought, I rapped my spoon against my empty stew bowl. "Well. Even if he did visit Melisande, the guard at the postern gate would have challenged him. So if he was involved ..."
"There still had to be someone else," Fortun said, finishing my thought. "Someone the guard would have trusted."
"Yes." I set down my spoon. "Which gives us a new question: Who is in league with Lord Marmion Shahrizai, and why? And the answer to those questions ..." I smiled, "... lies in my purview."
"Phèdre," Joscelin murmured, gazing into his wineglass. "Have a care with the Shahrizai."
"He's not Melisande." I did not need to add that Marmion Shahrizai was as the pale moon beside the blazing