Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [132]
I do not think, then, that we were quite so rotten-ripe; Ganelon de la Courcel held the throne, and no one challenged it. He had the support of Percy de Somerville, at command of the royal army, a powerful ally still in his brother, Prince Benedicte, and the interest of the Duc L'Envers, who held the favor, distant but lucrative, of the Khalif of Khebbel-im-Akkad.
But Ganelon was old and doddering, and de Somerville's hold on the duchy of Trevalion was tenuous, for the Azzallese had loved their Prince Baudoin, and did not take kindly to having a scion of Anael rule them. Courageous or no, Ghislain's compliance with the King's order was held by some to be folly, causing disquiet in Azzalle. Most of Prince Benedicte's attention was still devoted to La Serenissima, and where it was not, his new enmity with the Duc L'Envers undermined them both, for where one said yea, the other said nay, and neither would both support the King at once.
And all the while, Ysandre de la Courcel remained a shadow in the wings, heir to a throne that looked increasingly unstable.
There is a power in naming things. I do not doubt that the rumors from the Caerdicci city-states weakened Terre d'Ange; and I knew it for certain when I learned from whence they came, though that was yet to come. But of a surety, the political unrest that had marked the realm all the days of my life drew ever more pointed as the Longest Night drew nigh.
I do not pretend I saw it all at the rime; these pieces of the great puzzle I put together later, when the pattern was clear to see. That I had the wherewithal to do even that much is a credit to Delaunay's teaching. I daresay if he'd known how matters would fall out, he'd have armed me with better knowledge, but at the time, I think he was glad enough to have me safely ignorant and out of harm's way.
And I, of course, had my own concerns.
In the past, Delaunay had always briefed me before an assignation, reminding me of the patron's connections and influences; with Melisande Shahrizai, he shrugged, turning his hands palm upward. "Melisande is Melisande," he said, "and anything you may learn of her game may be useful. But I think she is too chary, even with you, my dear, to let anything slip unwitting. Still, learn what you may, and pay heed to the guests' conversation at the Duc de Morhban's Masque."
"I will, my lord," I promised.
He kissed me then on my brow. "Have a care, Phedre; and may you have joy on the Longest Night. It is the time for it, after all, and even Kushelines rejoice to see the Sun Prince woo the Winter Queen into loosing her grip on the darkness."
"Yes, my lord," I said. He smiled and adjusted my cloak. Already I could see his thoughts turning elsewhere. He would attend Cecilie Laveau-Perrin's private Midwinter Masque, he and Alcuin.
Thus did Delaunay advise me, and then there was no more time, for Melisande's coach arrived, and a livery servant in Shahrizai black-and-gold stood at the door, bowing. It was a new coach, a cunning little trap I'd not seen before, black trimmed in gold, with room only for two in the plush velvet seats. The door panels bore the insignia of House Shahrizai, three keys intertwined, nigh lost in the elaborate pattern. I knew the legend; Kushiel was said to have held the keys to the portals of hell. A matched team of four white horses drew the trap, beautiful creatures with arching necks, picking up their hooves daintily on the flagstones.
Joscelin Verreuil was like a dire shadow, accompanying me to