Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [74]
"Joscelin!"
He froze, and stepped back, raising his hands in surrender. Remy, swearing furiously, straggled to his feet, shaking his head like the dancer in the Aragonian bull-masque, ready to attack again.
"Enough!" I was angry, truly angry. "Remy, I granted youthe title of chevalier at your Lord Admiral's request; if you wish to hold it, act the part. Joscelin ..." Glaring at him, I rapped the daggers at his belt, then flicked the khaì pendant on his chest with my finger. "Live by one or the other, if you must, but don't break faith with both."
He drew himself up at that, but I stood my ground.
"This is my household," I said softly. "And I will not countenance violence within it, least of all from you. If you do not like it, you may leave."
Joscelin muttered something—I could not hear it—and stalked off. And even as I watched, Remy gathered himself to follow.
"Don't." I made my voice flat and emotionless. "Have I ever given you an order? I order it now: Let him be, Remy."
He stared at me and shook his head, his auburn queue moving fiercely. "You're mad, my lady. I know you care for him, I do. But he'll break your heart, that one, grind it to bits against his cursed Cassiline pride."
"Mayhap," I murmured. "And mayhap his pride will break first. It is between Cassiel and Naamah, who make our mortal flesh their battleground. Either way, let be."
Remy paused, then bowed stiffly to me. "My lady."
I would have spoken to Joscelin afterward, and told him aloud what I had whispered unheard, in the matter of Barquiel L'Envers' interest, had somewhat else not arisen. We learned of it in the morning, from the lips of a runner sent by Nicola L'Envers y Aragon, racing so quickly with the news that he needs must double over on my doorstep, breathing hard.
"Comtesse," he gasped, trying to straighten. "My lady bids me ... my lady bids me tell you Marmion Shahrizai is charged with murder!"
I ordered water brought him, and by the time he had the story out, Fortun had quietly made ready the carriage. It seemed that Barquiel L'Envers had wasted no time in pursuing his investigation. Where House Shahrizai quarrelled among itself and feared to risk Ysandre's displeasure while Marmion stood in her favor, the Duc L'Envers had no suchfears. Putting all his considerable resources to the task, he sent his men-at-arms on swift Akkadian horses to ruthlessly question Shahrizai retainers and survivors of the fire, and gathered enough evidence to confront Marmion, within a scant fortnight of our conversation. When he played his trump card—my guess at Persia's role in Melisande's escape—Marmion turned pale as death, and Barquiel L'Envers ordered him taken into custody.
All of this, I learned, and more. Outraged at L'Envers' inquiry, Paragon, Duc de Shahrizai, the patriarch of House Shahrizai himself, had left his estates for the first time in fifteen years, riding toward the City of Elua the moment he'd heard word of it, with a large retinue. And if that were not trouble enough, Quincel de Morhban, the sovereign Duc of Kusheth, had gotten wind of the matter, and elected to lead a delegation of his own.
It all converged at once, and Ysandre de la Courcel, Queen of Terre d'Ange, was furious.
"What," she said succinctly, pacing the floor of her chambers and fetching up before Barquiel, "were you thinking?" Her eyes flashed violet with anger. "If this is a matter of state—and I have heard no evidence that it is so—you should have informed me, uncle! And if it is not, then it is most certainly not in your purview!"
To his credit, Barquiel L'Envers never flinched; and Ysandre's was scarce the only fury cast his way. In the center of the room, surrounded by the Palace Guard, stood Marmion, glowering and shackled. Clustered to his right were the representatives of House Shahrizai, their Duc Faragon at the forefront. A black-and-gold