Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [4]
Glancing at Joscelin, I saw his shoulders set with resignation.
So we entered the City.
In some parts, it was small, and in others, vaster and more lovely than I remembered, gracious and proud. Ti-Philippe scrambled down to meet us, and led us inward, along the winding course of the river toward the Palace. In the street, citizens paused and watched curiously, marking our passage. I could hear the rumors begin to spread. To the east, the hill of Mont Nuit sloped upward. The Night Court was there, with its Thirteen Houses, where I had received my earliest training; in Cereus House, First among the Thirteen. At its foot lay Night's Doorstep, my refuge, where Hyacinthe had established himself as the Prince of Travellers.
That was the past. The future lay before us. In sight of the Palace, at the juncture of a narrow street, Remy met us. After a hurried conference, Ti-Philippe took stewardship of the wool-wagons, leading them to the worsters' district.
"My lady." Remy grinned, and swept me a bow from thesaddle, rising to point down the street. "Your quarters await you!"
If anyone might question the wisdom of allowing my wild sailor-lads to seek out lodgings for us, their fears would be mislaid; they were jealous of my honor, Phèdre's Boys, and no one was allowed to mock it save they themselves. Hidden away in the shadow of the Palace, it was a charming house. It had a tiny courtyard near overgrown with shade vines, a stable and a deceptively generous layout, being narrow, but deep. There was ample room for our party.
"I contracted a kitchen-mistress," Remy said anxiously, "and a day-maid. There's a lad to help with the stables, and I reckon between the three ... four of us ..." he shot a glance at Joscelin, "... we can do what else needs doing. Will it suit, my lady?"
I stood in the entry, where the winter light filtered cool and green through the hardy vines. "It will suit," I said, catching my breath in a laugh. "It will suit most admirably, chevalier!"
Thus did I take up residence as the Comtesse de Montrève in the City of Elua.
My first invitation arrived before I'd scarce gotten settled; no surprise, for I'd written to Cecilie in advance that I was returning. We had maintained a steady correspondence during my time at Montrève, for in addition to being one of my oldest acquaintances—and one of the few I trusted nearly as much as I did Joscelin—she was a delightful correspondent, her letters laden with bits of news and gossip that I relished to no end. I accepted her invitation at once.
"Phèdre." Meeting me at her door, Cecilie Laveau-Perrin enfolded me unhesitatingly in a warm embrace that I returned without reserve. Her light-blue eyes, set in a face no less beautiful for encroaching age, glowed as she held me at arm's length. "You look well. Country living must suit you." Smiling, she gave Joscelin the kiss of greeting. "And Joscelin Verreuil! I am still jealous of Cassiel's claim upon you."
Joscelin flushed to the roots of his hair and murmuredsomething in reply; he had been more gracious, the last time. "With your permission," he said stiffly to me, "I'll see if I can find the scholars' hall that Seth ben Yavin spoke of, and return for you in a few hours' time. I'm sure you and the Lady Cecilie have much to discuss."
"As you wish." It was awkward, this formality between us; I could have bitten my tongue at the tone of my voice, though it was no cooler than his.
Cecilie raised her eyebrows, but said nothing until we were seated in her lesser parlour, the cozily appointed room where she received her intimate friends. A maidservant poured wine and brought a tray of delicacies, withdrawing with the immaculate discretion of one trained to serve an adept of Cereus House. "So did the strain of your star-crossed union prove too great, my dear?" she asked then, kindly.
"Not in Montrève, no." I shook my head and took a sip of wine, then drew a deep breath. "I am returning to the Service of Naamah."
"Ah." Cecilie rested her chin on her fingertips, regarding me. "And Messire Joscelin grieves. Well,