Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [267]
"May the Lungo Drom prosper you, tseroman of Neci's kumpania," he said, bowing formally. "You have been a good comrade on the way."
Neci stroked the tips of his mustache, twiddling them to elegant points. "And you," he added, and grinned. "Rinkeni chavo," He looked solemn then, with one of those quick shifts of emotion of which the Tsingani are masters. "Chavo, I don't know if it's true that you speak the dromonde or not. I do not care. When people say Manoj has no grandson, I will say it is untrue. I will speak your name and remember it. In my kumpania, your name will always be spoken."
"Thank you." Hyacinthe clasped his wrist, hard and firm. "And yours."
"The great trade of outermost west." Neci gazed at the sea, the waves breaking on the shore. "It is true. It will make our lav." He bowed to me. "And you, chavi, who was never born in a back alley, else I am a fool. We will remember you, too."
"Thank you." I kissed him, on the cheek. "Be kind to women without laxta, then, if you would remember me."
"I will remember you in my dreams." His white grin flashed, and he turned to stride back to his family, waving a last farewell.
"It's not too late," I said to Hyacinthe.
He gazed out at the sea, rippling silver in the dusk. "What did Rousse say? Maybe he's right. The Long Road doesn't end where the sea begins. If anyone is to cross it, it should be the Prince of Travellers, yes?"
"Yes," I said, tucking one hand around his arm. We watched the sea together, endless and amazing, moving without cease. "If we're not still here when de Morhban comes," I added, spotting the unmistakeable figure of Quintilius Rousse pacing the shore, pausing and staring out at his fleet.
"No," Hyacinthe said certainly. "He'll go. He has to. One ship; I saw it." He was silent a moment, then asked drolly, "And how was the dear Duc de Morhban, anyway?"
"You really want to know?" I glanced up at his starlit face.
He laughed. "Why not? I always did."
"Good," I said, looking back at the sea. "The Duc de Morhban was very, very good."
"I thought so. You had that look." Hyacinthe wound a lock of my hair around one finger. "I'm not afraid of it, you know," he said softly. "What you are."
"No?" I touched Melisande's diamond. "I am."
We went back, then, to Rousse's encampment, and I left Hyacinthe to go speak with the Admiral, still pacing the shoreline like an angry lion, wisely avoided by his men. A gibbous moon had arisen by that time, standing overhead to set a shining path across the sea, as if to show where the Long Road lay. "My lord," I said, kneeling near him. The sand was cool and damp beneath me. Quintilius Rousse turned on me, glaring.
"Ah, don't waste your Night Court decorum on me, girl! I've a hard choice to make here."
"Yes, my lord," I said, remaining on my knees. "To obey the Crown, or not."
"It's not that!" His voice rose above the sound of the waves, then he lowered it, squatting in front of me. "Listen, child. Ysandre de la Courcel's loyal to the land, and she's the making of a good Queen. I know it, and Delaunay knew it, and Caspar Trevalion, too. That's why we aided her. And it would be a grand thing, this alliance ... if it stood a chance of happening. But the chance is precious slim, and the reality is, if you tell me true, that we face civil war and Skaldi invasion, all at once. So I must ask myself, you see, where can I do the most good? On a hare-brained mission nigh-doomed to fail, or fighting for my country? I've over forty ships and nigh a thousand men here, hand-picked, who can fight at sea or on land. Elua's Balls, they whipped the Akkadians, who fight like their ten thousand devils! Ysandre de la Courcel is young and untried, and knows little yet of statecraft, and nothing of war. How am I best to aid her? By obeying, or defying?"
Kneeling, abeyante, as I had been taught since earliest childhood, I lifted my face and gazed at him. "You have nothing," I said softly. Quintilius Rousse stared at me. "Do you think your ships will make a difference in a land battle? Do you