Kushiel's Justice - Jacqueline Carey [121]
Joscelin took a deep breath. "It's been a long time since I saw that.”
"'Tis not the same vessel," Hyacinthe said. "This one was wrought of ore smelted on Alban soil. Still, it serves the same purpose. Is there aught you would see, Cassiline?”
"No." Joscelin shook his head. "I saw enough the last time.”
"Phèdre?" Hyacinthe asked.
She smiled. "All I desire to see is here. Let the children choose.”
Hyacinthe turned to us. "What will you?”
"Can it show my mother?" Dorelei asked.
"Of course." He inclined his head and swept one arm over the basin. The water within it rippled in a manner that owed nothing to the wind, then went still. When it did, it reflected not sky, but a scene unfamiliar to me: a room filled with afternoon light, three Cruithne women sitting and conversing, their hands busy with embroidery-work. I leaned over the basin and stared, fascinated.
"That's your mother?" I pointed to the one with a look of Dorelei and Sibeal, careful not to disturb the surface of the water.
"It is." Her voice was warm. "And that's Kinada beside her, Kinadius' mother, and her daughter, Kerys. She's a friend of mine. They're in the parlor of Clunderry Castle.”
It looked to be a pleasant place; a safe harbor. Nice.
"What will you see, Imriel?" Hyacinthe asked.
I shrugged. "I can't think of anything.”
"Imri!" Dorelei nudged me. "What of Alais?”
"All right, yes," I agreed. "May I see Alais?”
"You may." Hyacinthe made no second pass over the basin, but the water rippled and the images on its surface blurred and changed.
It was another scene of domesticity, this one set in a place I knew well. The room had been the royal nursery once; it had been converted into a study, and Alais and I had spent many hours there under the ollamh Firdha's tutelage.
Alais was there.
So was Sidonie.
My heart gave an odd, constricted leap. From the look of it, they were quarrelling. I watched Alais fold her arms, scowling. Although I couldn't make out her face as well, Sidonie looked perturbed. I was aware, at a great distance, of a desire to make her laugh, to smooth the troubled look from her brow. Her lips moved; Alais shook her head, then glanced sharply away. I saw her mouth tighten. Maslin de Lombelon entered the room. He made a stiff bow to Alais, then offered his arm to Sidonie.
I fought the urge to clutch the croonie-stone.
She didn't take his arm, not right away. The perturbed look gave way to puzzlement. Her head turned, as though someone distant had called her name. For a moment, it seemed Sidonie gazed directly out of the sea-mirror at me.
My heart thudded in my breast. The red yarn around my wrists and ankles seemed suddenly tight and binding.
And then Maslin must have spoken, although his back was to the sea-mirror, for Sidonie's expression changed to her usual one of composure, and her lips moved in reply. She moved past Alais to take Maslin's arm and they left the room together. Alais flung herself into a chair, glaring after them. The wolfhound Celeste padded over and laid her hairy chin on Alais' knee, begging to have her ears scratched.
The image faded. The water became water, reflecting only sky.
"Siblings." Dorelei smiled. "Talorcan and I used to fight when we were younger. You wouldn't think it, but we did. What do you suppose they were quarrelling about?”
"I don't know," I murmured. "Maslin, mayhap. Alais doesn't like him.”
"Sidonie does," she said. "So I heard, while she was away at Naamah's shrine.”
"Yes." I gathered myself and turned to our host. "My thanks, my lord. That was most interesting.”
"You're welcome." Hyacinthe looked at me for a moment, dark and grave. His sea-shifting eyes had gone still. I remembered that he had another gift; a Tsingano gift. The dromonde, the gift of sight. It was what had