Kushiel's Chosen - Jacqueline Carey [97]
I gazed into the hearth-fire, burning merrily against the evening chill that fell during spring in Camlach. "Isidore d'Aiglemort," I said presently.
"Even so." Captain d'Eltoine nodded. "You gave him a chance to die a hero, and he took it. He did. Those of us who survived, we will not sway from the course you set,not until we die. What you have given us is a chance to endure Kushiel's punishment here on earth, and expiate our sins."
I looked reluctantly at him. "My lord ... I am grateful for the lives you spared. But I didn't ask Isidore d'Aiglemort and the Allies of Camlach to fight for the sake of their souls. I asked because I was desperate, and I could think of no other way we stood to defeat the Skaldi."
"That doesn't matter." He gazed at his wineglass and lowered it untasted. "Kushiel's hand need not know its master's mind; it does his bidding all the same. We are the Unforgiven. We have a debt we must honor unto death, should you command us. That is all you need know."
"You could have notified me," I murmured. D'Eltoine blinked; my humor was lost on him. It was true, most Camaelines do think with their swords. Isidore d'Aiglemort was an exception, but then, he was fostered among the Shahrizai. "Never mind." My head was reeling. It is not every day that one learns an entire militia has sworn unbeknownst to obey you. "My lord," I said, gathering my thoughts. "Why did your men attack the Yeshuites?"
"We sought to question them." He shrugged apologetically. "A party of that size, seeking to cross into Skaldia? There can be no good reason for it, my lady, save espionage. But when we sought to detain them for questioning, they drew steel. So my men say, and I have no reason to doubt them." He eyed me. "Though if you demand it, I will put them to questioning."
"No." After what had passed in the City, it rang altogether too true. "They seek to cross Skaldia, and find refuge in lands further north, my lord. They mean us no harm."
"You know this to be true?" Firelight washed his face, etching in shadow the severe Camaeline beauty of his features. Some of us live closer in the hand of those we serve than others; this Captain was one such. Whether he had broken faith or no, I could see the bright edge of Camael's sword hovering over him.
"Yes." I said it firmly. What he was asking for, I couldwell guess; the stern truth of Kushiel's chosen, a terrible justice. I did not think it wise to tell him I was as much Naamah's Servant as Kushiel's, that the immortal hand that pricked my left eye with a crimson mote had led me not to pass sentence on the errant scions of Elua and his Companions, but to find luxuriant pleasure in enduring pain. But I thought of the Rebbe, and the depth of grief in his eyes, and I did not doubt the truth of my response. "Yes, my lord, I know it to be true."
"Madness." He shook his head, then looked squarely at me. "We will allow them passage. My lady, what else do you ask of us?"
Ah, Elua; such power, and so useless to me! If I could have put a name to an enemy who could be fought with cold steel, I would have. The ancient Hellenes claimed that the gods mocked their chosen victims. I never quite understood, until then, the double-edged curse of my gift. Melisande, I thought, would have relished the irony of it.
There remained, though, that which I had come for. "My lord," I said, leaning forward. "I am in search of the garrison of Troyes-le-Mont, those guardsmen who were on duty the night that Melisande Shahrizai escaped. I am given to understand that some number of them requested service among the Unforgiven, pursuing the remnants of Selig's army. What