Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [63]
Hanna's face changed when she saw me; guilt and defiance and passion all at once. A Yeshuite and a teacher, she was, but a woman too, and one in love. I had heard as much, in her voice. I am versed in such things. "My lady Comtesse," she said defensively, drawing back a step and clutching her shawl at her throat. "We were but talking. Joscelin Verreuil is not your servant, when all is said and done."
"No," I said softly, tilting my head to gaze at her. "When all is said and done, he is Cassiel's servant. And the gods are jealous of those they have marked their own. I ought to know."
"Gods!" The young Yeshuite teacher's eyes flashed, and her hand dropped from her throat, clenching into a fist. "Whom Joscelin worships as a god is but the least of Adonai's servants. Will you condemn me for telling him so?" When I did not answer, but shrugged, turning away, she raised her voice. "Comtesse!" Despair made her harsh. "The Rebbe has no knowledge that will save your friend. He plays you for a fool, knowing that where you are tied out of hope, Joscelin will be bound out of loyalty. You may be a lost cause; but he is nearly one of us, now. It is said that if ever Cassiel the Apostate returns to the throne of the Almighty and bows his head to the Mashiach, Elua's Companions will follow. All rivers flow to the ocean in time, Comtesse. Adonai is the sea, and one mortal soul may turn the tide."
Though her words struck like arrows betwixt my shoulder blades, I did not turn back, but walked steadily away from her. She had told me nothing I did not know, where the Rebbe was concerned; he had never pretended to have the answer to Hyacinthe's riddle. All I required of him was the knowledge to pursue it myself, and that, he taught me fairly.
As for Joscelin; well. Now I knew in full why the Yeshuites courted him. It was his choice, still. Cassiel's Choice, they call it, when a member of his Order chooses banishment rather than abandon his once-sworn ward. He had made it for me, though I had not asked it of him. I had warned her. I could do no more. And perhaps, truly, it would be different, when a god demanded the choice. I could not know, but only grieve at the necessity of it.
In the small courtyard, there was no sign of Joscelin, and three sword-bearing young Yeshuite men set upon Ti-Philippe as he drew up in my carriage; laughing in Habiru, catching at the horses' bridles and snatching at the longreins, mocking Ti-Philippe as he perched in the driver's seat. Wrapping the reins about his wrist, my chevalier scowled and hurled a D'Angeline insult at them; one of the Yeshuites drew his sword and prodded Philippe's boot with the point of his blade.
An anger I'd not known I was suppressing overcame me.
"Gentlemen!" My voice rang out across the courtyard with an icy contempt I didn't know I could muster. I stood motionless, wrapped in my cloak, as they turned guiltily. "Let him be." Lest they were unsure, I added in flawless Habiru, enunciating each word with chill precision. "Leave him. Do you understand?"
Swords were sheathed, the carriage abandoned. The young men walked past me, sullen. The last turned, his face full of loathing. "You would not speak to us so, in Adonai's country!"
Mayhap he was right; I do not know. But this was Elua's country, and free by the grace of soldiers like Ti-Philippe, who had risked his life to beat back the Skaldi invasion. If not for him and ten thousand like him, we would all be equally on our knees, baring our necks for Waldemar Selig's yolk and offering praise to All-Father Odhinn. I thought these things, and did not say them. The Yeshuite glanced quickly from side to side, to be sure no one saw, and made a gesture, poking forked fingers at my face.
"A pox on your witch-marked eyes!" he jeered, spitting at my feet.
Men mock what they fear. I looked at him without answering, until his belligerence turned to unease and he shuffled, jerking away from me and hurrying to rejoin his companions, his walk turning to a swagger as they neared the yeshiva.
Ti-Philippe