Kushiel's Dart - Jacqueline Carey [353]
Joscelin and I were another matter.
I met his father and his brother, and two men-at-arms who had survived the terrible battle.
What I had expected ... I don't know. Nothing, truly; I was numb for days afterward, too tired to think. I spent days and nights at Ysandre's call, translating at will, for Cruithne and Skaldi alike. There were some others as skilled, it is true, in all that mass of folk, but none she trusted as she did me, Delaunay's other pupil. And there were the hospital wards too, with many Albans in them; and some of Phedre's Boys; as well, of whom no more than a dozen had survived. Wracked with anguish, I spent time at each of their bedsides.
Still, I found the time, when Joscelin informed me that House Verreuil would be leaving.
With d'Aiglemort's forces committed to the pursuit of the Skaldi, it freed Percy de Somerville to release the most far-flung vestiges of the Royal Army. The standing army, of course, would remain intact, mobilizing to reinforce the Skaldi border, but those who had abandoned home and hearth to serve were dismissed with thanks and honor; especially the wounded. There was a special ceremony, too, for the valiant spear-company of the Royal House of Aragon, whose commander made pledges of friendship on behalf of his King with not only Ysandre, but the young Cruarch of Alba as well.
Percy de Somerville's reunion with Ghislain had brought tears to my eyes, father and son embracing, pounding one another's backs with L'Agnacite disregard for onlookers.
The Chevalier Millard Verreuil, the stump of his missing left hand bound in a sling, was cooler with his son; but it was only his way, I think. He was a tall, lean man, with greying hair in an austere Siovalese braid and the same old-fashioned beauty as his middle son. I had learned, since the battle, that he had been the first in the courtyard to reach the inner gate, had lost shield and hand alike defending it.
"I understand you are somewhat of a scholar," he said gravely when Joscelin had made the introductions.
I opened my mouth, and closed it. It was not entirely untrue, but I had never been thus introduced. "I do but sample from the feast-table of my forefathers," I said in Caerdicci, quoting the Tiberian orator Nunnius Balbo. Joscelin's father smiled unexpectedly, the corners of his eyes crinkling.
"Naamah's Servants are seldom so learned in Siovale," he said, laying his sound hand on my shoulder. "A rebellion against the teachings of Shemhazai, mayhap."
"Shemhazai had his passions, my lord," I replied, smiling back at him, "and Naamah her store of wisdom."
The Chevalier Verreuil laughed, patting my shoulder. "I have heard what you did," he said, growing serious once more. "Terre d'Ange owes you a great debt for your service."
I inclined my head, uncomfortable with praise. "If not for your son, I would be dead many times over, my lord."
"I know." He shifted his sling and rested his gaze on Joscelin with quiet pride. "Whether or not I agree with the path you have chosen, I cannot say, but you have acquitted yourself upon it with honor."
Joscelin bowed and said nothing. His brother Luc, half a head taller than both of them, grinned.
"Can't disagree, seeing the cause!" he remarked, beaming at me. Luc had the same fair hair and blue eyes as his brother, but an open, merry cast to his features that must surely be their mother's legacy. "Elua! Will you come visit us, at least, Phedre? You ought to give me a fair chance before you decide on Joscelin!"
I wasn't sure how Joscelin would take his brother's teasing; we'd scarce had a private moment to speak since I'd kissed him on the battlements. I didn't even know what it meant myself. But glancing sidelong at him, I saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the shadow of a smile. "Neither of us have decided anything,