Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [151]
The other soldiers moved belatedly to surround the whirling Cassiline as Joscelin fought with hands and feet, limbs moving in a blur of precisely executed movements.
He might have succeeded, against fewer men; six or eight, I would even believe. He'd taken them by surprise. But their leader got his wind back and his voice. Roaring, he waded into the fray, kicking a loose blade away from Joscelin's reaching grasp. "Ware your swords, you idiots! Don't let him get armed!" They surrounded him, pressing him hard, and then someone brought the pommel of a dagger down hard atop his head, and Joscelin sagged to his knees.
Cursing, one of the soldiers he'd injured stepped up and drew back his blade to run him through.
"Stop!" I hadn't even realized I was on my feet until I heard my own voice shout fiercely. The man stayed his hand; they were all staring at me. I had remembered the rest of it, and drew up the few ragged ounces of dignity I could summon. "If this man dies, you'll be accountable to Melisande Shahrizai for it," I said coldly. "Sooner or later, one way or another. Do you want to take that chance?"
The soldier considered it and glanced at his leader, who nodded. He sheathed his sword. At a word, the leader had the flask retrieved. "Hold him," he ordered, and two men wrenched Joscelin's arms behind his back, while two others held him. The leader uncorked the flask and grabbed Joscelin's chin, forcing the neck of the flask between his teeth and tipping it while another soldier pinched his nostrils shut.
Joscelin choked and sputtered, clear liquid spilling out the corners of his mouth, but a good deal of it went down his throat. It took effect quickly, and he pitched forward onto the ground.
"Tie his arms behind him," the leader ordered. "He'll give us less trouble." He came toward me, holding out the flask. "Lady, I hope you'll not give me the same."
"No, my lord." It was the first time I could recall using a formal address sarcastically. I took the flask from his hand and drank.
He took it back, eyeing me wryly. "You needn't take that tone, you know. I've treated you fair and kept my men off you, and it's the last kindness you're like to see, where you're going, lady. It's a strange way to keep someone alive, that's all I've to say."
That much I heard, and then darkness claimed me. I was vaguely aware of being lifted and slung back into the straw of the cart, feeling Joscelin's limp form near me and hearing the gate chained behind us.
Slipping down into unconsciousness, I heard again what I had remembered: Melisande's voice, at the end, tender and rich.
"Don't worry, my dear, I'd no more kill you than I'd destroy a priceless fresco or a vase," she had said, somewhere beyond my failing vision. "But you know too much, and I can't afford the risk of keeping you here. It may not be much, but believe me when I say I'm giving you the best chance I can to stay alive. I'll even leave you the Cassiline, and pray he does a better job protecting you than he's done so far." Her fingers, twining in my hair, cruel and sweet. "When it's over, if you live, I'll find you. That much, I promise, Phedre."
Elua help me, but then, even then, there was a part of me that hoped she would.
The Night Court taught me to serve, and Delaunay taught me to think; but from Melisande Shahrizai, I learned how to hate.
My memories of the remainder of our journey are blurred. Wishing to take no further risks, the Camaeline leader kept us confined to the cart and drugged, allowed full consciousness and freedom only long enough to eat, drink and relieve ourselves. I knew that the terrain grew harsher and we entered the mountains from the steep angle of the cart and the swearing of soldiers. I knew that we went further north from the cold that gripped me night and day, even in my drugged and bloodstained dreams.
But I didn't know where we were bound until they released us, stumbling and blinking in the bright light of day, on a snowy plain beyond the Camaeline Mountains.