Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [86]
Before I left, I knelt before him, placing two fingersagainst his lips. "Naamah's Servant, in her name, I bid you keep her secrets. Do you understand?"
Raphael nodded against my fingers. There were violet smudges of weariness beneath his eyes; this process took a toll on him. "It is a sacrosanct law of Gentian House. You need not fear. I have taken an oath." His expression changed, lightening a shade as he smiled at me. "Anyway, I would never betray your dreams. It must be difficult," he added gently, "to have feelings for a patron that conflict so deeply."
I did not need to ask who he meant. "Yes," I said, a tremor in my voice, more grateful than I could say. There was a tremendous relief in uttering the words, in the one place it would not draw suspicion upon me. "Yes. It is." And to that, Raphael Murain said nothing, but merely understood. "Thank you." I kissed him lightly, and went to leave a purse of coin, my patron's gift to him, on the night-stand. There is an item they use in the Night Court for the purpose—Naamah's Hands, we called it, a sculpture carved to resemble a stylized pair of cupping hands. Raphael's was of pale, translucent jade. He had prospered in Naamah's Service, I was thinking as I set down the purse, and well he should.
"My lady!" His voice rang like an untuned lyre, and ] turned to see a stricken look on his face. "Please. I cannot accept a patron-gift from you!"
"Why?" I asked curiously. "You have opened my dream to me like a book."
Standing, Raphael Murain nó Gentian shifted and ran a hand through his shining hair. "You paid the fee of the House," he said awkwardly. "For the rest, it was gift enough to serve." Seeing me hesitate, he gave that sweet smile so reminiscent of Alcuin. "I will only give it in offering to Naamah. Better you should do it, and speak my name. I would have her hear it from your lips." "Then I will," I promised.
In the courtyard of Gentian House, Fortun glanced at my face and asked me no questions, which was well. Freed ofthe oppressive weight of my nightmares, I felt my mind keen and sharp again. Upon returning home, I went immediately to my study and drafted a note to Ysandre, begging a meeting with her and Drustan, sealing it with a blot of red wax and the impress of the official signet of Montrève. I dispatched Remy with it forthwith, giving him explicit instructions. "If you cannot gain access directly to the Queen, try the Cruarch. Drustan's guard will make allowances for a veteran of Troyes-le-Mont. Only to her or him, mind! No one else, not even one of her Cassilines."
"I understand," Remy said solemnly, bowing; when he raised his head, his eyes gleamed. "Are we bound for trouble, my lady?"
"We will be, if you don't do exactly as I say, and quietly," I threatened him. He just laughed, bowed again and left. I don't know why I worried about Raphael Murain's discretion, with retainers like Phèdre's Boys.
For all my concerns, Remy carried out my instructions faithfully. I daresay Ysandre was intrigued; at any rate, she granted my request almost immediately, making time in her schedule and sending a royal coach to escort me into the joint presence of the regents of Terre d'Ange and Alba. A private audience in truth, neither servants nor guards nor Cassilines in attendance.
"Well?" Ysandre asked, raising her eyebrows.
Taking a deep breath, I began, telling her the whole story, beginning with Gonzago de Escabares bringing me the san-goire cloak, and leaving out none of the details I had omitted in the Hall of Portraits. Melisande's challenge, and all my quest thereafter, all the suspicions I harbored, and the winding path I'd taken in pursuing them.
When I had done, both of them were troubled and thoughtful.